The Value Of Asking Directly

by Gullwhacker

Summary:

A followup to Threads from the Misshapen Sweater of Time. Nanny Ogg wants details on Esmerelda's relationship with Mustrum Ridcully. She might need luck with that.

Notes:

• For hamsterwoman.

Springtime in the Ramtops was, as ever, a season of new life and flourishing rejuvenation. A time for birdsong and wildflowers, for snowmelt and warmer days. A time for farmers and their families to sow seeds in hopes of a harvest later in the autumn.^[1]

Witches, in the Ramtops, were considered by many to be masters of knowledge.^[2] One mistress of her domain was busy digging up a garden bed on a particularly noisome day, pausing only to sigh as she heard the humming approach of a fellow practitioner in search of new knowledge.

It was not, however, important enough to interrupt her work.

Gytha Ogg strolled down the twisting narrow path, giving the barest nod to the fangs hidden amidst the trees.^[3] She had a merry tune upon her lips, a basket hooked onto one arm, a cat on her shoulder, and a corked bottle in her other hand. There was a nearly-new-ish-looking sign, naturally, but one she could breeze freely past. This was important business, after all.

"Esme! You're back from Ankh-Morpork, you are! How was the honeymoon?"

Esmerelda Weatherwax finally paused in her gardening, sighing once more. "T'weren't a honeymoon, Gytha. We aten't wed, after all."

If anything, Gytha's smile grew even broader, some of her remaining teeth showing. "So you and Mustrum went off to scandalize all those wizards with your lifestyle!" She let out a deep laugh.

"Aye. Living in sins, we are." Esmerelda paused a moment as Gytha's laughter echoed. "You saw the sign, didn't you?"

The laughter cut off abruptly, as Gytha blinked owlishly. Frowning, she retraced her steps and took a moment to trace the letters of the sign. "Sins You're Heer..."^[4]

"Thought we'd try a new name for the place." The witch stood carefully from her gardening, pointedly ignoring the look of irritation on her friend's face. "Might get Mustrum to take down the sign later. So. Here for tea, Gytha?"

Gytha Ogg hefted the bottle in one hand first. "Tea's all well and good, Esme, though I wouldn't say no if I tempted you into a drink of apple brandy. Well. Sort of apples."

"No need for that, Gytha." The witch paused, hand on her own front door. "Mustrum might take a bottle. He'll be tinkering with his steak sauce recipe as soon as he builds a new shed for it."^[5]

The door opened to reveal the interior of the recently expanded cabin shared by some of Bad Ass's more renowned magical practitioners. Granny Weatherwax and Grampy Ridcully had partitioned most of the space to their respective decoration styles, with a few seats set aside for the odd visitor or student. The kettle was already on the stove, just coming to a boil on the slow heat, and Gytha eyed a pile of envelopes on the table as she set down her bottle and basket.

"So who's been-"

"Never you mind those," Esmerelda said. "Just a bunch of letters from wizards who're trying to ask something without sayin' it outright. They'll get an answer when they can ask for it straight."^[6]

Gytha paused, fractionally, but then took a seat and opened up the basket. "Oh, I'm always a fan of being straightforward about intentions. Like that time with that little off-the-shoulder dress-"

"Did you ever get the grass stains out?"

The answer was a beaming grin and a wink. "Oh, it wasn't good for much afterwards. I'm sure you've got stories of your own, what with you and Mustrum and your little vacation away from home." There was a twinkle in Gytha Ogg's eye as she started setting out little cookies and Maids of Honour.^[7]

Esmerelda Weatherwax said nothing as she poured the tea. Too many years of knowing Gytha Ogg said that there was little hope of escaping this conversation, that the other witch would not rest without details. So she took a first sip of her own tea, looking out the window as she considered what to say. Waiting until Gytha had a mouthful of tea.

"Well, I suppose I could tell you about Mustrum's vigorous deflowering." Esme leaned to one side to avoid the worst of the spray, carefully brushing at her skirts as Gytha spluttered. Another sip of her own tea, with the slightest of tight smiles as she continued. "The best spot for growing carrots was overgrown with lupins, you see. A lot of hard work needed to clear it, but he certainly did set himself-"

"Esmerelda Weatherwax! You - that wasn't what I was insinuating!"

"Oh? Was there something else you wanted to ask, Gytha Ogg? I thought you just wanted stories from our trip."

There was a huff as Gytha started pulling more sweets from the basket. Elaborate little pastries and cakes and cookies of every variety - and yet for all the sweetness it was a discerning eye that focused on each detail, each flaw.^[8] She took a moment to nibble at her words before responding, "Well - how was the city? Our Nev doesn't say much except how much lead is left lying around."^[9]

"Mm. Not much as would interest you, Gytha. Mustrum was there on interesting business. I just did what I saw as fitting. Argued with a tyrant every other week. Kept bees. Played with Mustrum's girthy staff."

Gytha Ogg did not answer immediately, on account of choking on a mouthful of cookie.

Esmerelda Weatherwax took a slow sip of her tea before continuing. "His staff of wizards, before you misunderstand, Gytha. A bunch of old men who think themselves masters of magic, with egos almost as large as their robes. You'd have had as much fun as me taking them down a notch, I wager."

"...Esme. That was on purpose, wasn't it?"

"No idea what you mean, Gytha. I could tell you about some of the stranger sights, if you'd rather?"

"I can wager a guess. Next you'll say some fool made a beast with two backs?"^[10] Gytha eyed the snacks, nudging the cookies to one side. "This wasn't to be about magic, Esme. You've been...together with Mustrum for years now, and I thought you might like a chance to talk about...activities."

"Activities."

"The fun kind!"

Esmerelda sighed. "Well, Gytha, if you must press for details, I can say that I've always kept in mind the advice you offered once. Something about wearing something in bed?"

Gytha Ogg beamed. "Always good to keep a man guessing, isn't it? Why I always kept my hat on, you know!"

"Yes, you've said as much." Esmerelda picked up one of the little Maids of Honour from the table. "I've kept that in mind, Gytha, and I certainly agree. Good to keep people guessing as much as one can."

Gytha Ogg beamed. Then frowned. Then eyed the sheer number of layers Granny Weatherwax was known to wear at almost all times - or was it all? She wasn't sure, and that-

"When you keep people guessing, that's not supposed to include me!"

---

¹ Or to be surprised with a new generation in the winter, in the case of incautious youth and more allegorical seeds. ^{[ return to text ]}

² At a minimum, knowledge of how to be very scary to anyone who disrespected them. ^{[ return to text ]}

³ These particular fangs stayed hidden in part because they had been taught repeatedly to lurk ominously but not strike rashly - but largely because the ragged one-eyed cat on the witch's shoulder was a terror even unto them. ^{[ return to text ]}

⁴ Granny Weatherwax's approach to spelling was the second most ballistic thing to be found at Sins You're Heer; she was a firm believer that a word was spelled correctly if someone could puzzle it out eventually. ^{[ return to text ]}

⁵ Mustrum's succession of work sheds took first place above Esmerelda's spelling. ^{[ return to text ]}

⁶ The particular concern of the wizards of Unseen University concerned the rooms that Madame Weatherwax had occupied and supposedly vacated, and which were now home to a number of beehives. Furthermore, the concerns were not about the bees themselves, but that on a weekly basis, they would swarm toward the High Energy Magic Building and buzz - at tremendous volume - "Don't be a damned fool, Ponder Stibbons." ^{[ return to text ]}

⁷ Nanny Ogg's cookbook admits that those treats were very close to being tarts. ^{[ return to text ]}

⁸ The myriad daughters-in-law of the Ogg matriarch lived in fear of her judgment, hoping that tributes of baked goods and a good mood might spare them scathing criticism. The canny ones had put alcohol in their submissions. ^{[ return to text ]}

⁹ Conveniently laid out in rows in helpful locations like the roofs of opera houses. ^{[ return to text ]}

¹⁰ Putting aside students' nocturnal activities, there were in fact good reasons for the bees of UU to call Ponder Stibbons a damned fool. ^{[ return to text ]}