Wintersmith by Terry Pratchett Page B

scary to the Feegles, and witches were the worst. At last, when he was really nervous, Tiffany said: “How did you know where that letter would be?”
    She glanced sideways at Daft Wullie. He was chewing the edge of his kilt. He only ever did this when he was frightened.
    “Er…would you accept a wee bittie lie?” Rob said.
    “No!”
    “It’s interestin’. There’s dragons an’ unicorns in it—”
    “No. I want the truth!”
    “Ach, it’s so boring. We go to the Baron’s castle an’ read the letters ye sent him, an’, an’ ye said the postman knows to leave letters tae you in the hollow tree by the waterfall,” said Rob.
    If the Wintersmith had got into the cottage, the air couldn’t have been any colder.
    “He keeps the letters fra’ ye in a box under his—” Rob began, and then shut his eyes as Tiffany’s patience parted with a twang even louder than Miss Treason’s strange cobwebs.
    “Don’t you know it’s wrong to read other people’s letters?” she demanded.
    “Er…” Rob Anybody began.
    “And you broke into the Baron’s cast—”
    “Ah, ah, ah, no, no, no!” said Rob, jumping up and down. “Ye canna get us on that one! We just walked in through one of them little wee slits for the firin’ o’ the arrows—”
    “And then you read my personal letters sent personally to Roland?” said Tiffany. “They were personal!”
    “Oh, aye,” said Rob Anybody. “But dinna fash yersel’—we willna tell anyone what was in ’em.”
    “We ne’er tell a soul what’s in yer diary, after all,” said Daft Wullie. “Not e’en the bits wi’ the flowers ye draw aroound them.”
    Miss Treason is grinning to herself behind me, Tiffany thought. I just know she is. But she’d run out of nasty tones of voice. You did that after talking to the Feegles for any length of time.
    You were their Kelda, her Second Thoughts reminded her. They think they have a solemn duty to protect you. It doesn’t matter what you think. They’re going to make your life sooo complicated.
    “Don’t read my letters,” she said, “and don’t read my diary, either.”
    “Okay,” said Rob Anybody.
    “Promise?”
    “Oh, aye.”
    “But you promised last time!”
    “Oh, aye.”
    “Cross your heart and hope to die?”
    “Oh, aye, nae problemo.”
    “And that’s the promise of an untrustworthy, lying, stealing Feegle, is it?” said Miss Treason. “Because ye believe ye’re deid already, do ye no’? That’s what ye people think, right?”
    “Oh, aye, mistress,” said Rob Anybody. “Thank ye for drawin’ ma attention tae that.”
    “In fact, Rob Anybody, ye ha’ nae intention o’ keepin’ any promise at all!”
    “Aye, mistress,” said Rob proudly. “Not puir wee weak promises like that. Becuz, ye see, ’tis oor solemn destiny to guard the big wee hag. We mus’ lay doon oor lives for her if it comes to it.”
    “How can ye do that when ye’re deid already?” said Miss Treason sharply.
    “That’s a bit o’ a puzzler, right enough,” said Rob, “so probably we’ll lay doon the lives o’ any scunners who do wrong by her.”
    Tiffany gave up and sighed. “I’m almost thirteen,” she said. “I can look after myself.”
    “Hark at Miss Self-Reliant,” said Miss Treason, but not in a particularly nasty way. “Against the Wintersmith?”
    “What does he want?” said Tiffany.
    “I told you. Perhaps he wants to find out what kind of girl was so forward as to dance with him?” said Miss Treason.
    “It was my feet! I said I didn’t mean to!”
    Miss Treason turned around in her chair. How many eyes is she using? Tiffany’s Second Thoughts wondered. The Feegles? The ravens? The mice? All of them? How many of me is she seeing? Is she watching me with mice, or insects with dozens of glittery eyes?
    “Oh, that’s all right then,” said Miss Treason. “Once again, you didn’t mean it. A witch takes responsibility! Have you learned nothing , child?”
    Child. That was a terrible