“You're not a witch yet. Name me three herbs good for the bowels.”
Esk put her hands behind her back, closed her eyes, and said: “The flowering tops of Greater Peahane, the root pith of Old Man's Trousers, the stems of the Bloodwater Lily, the seedcases of -”
“All right. Where may water gherkins be found?”
“Peat bogs and stagnant pools, from the months of -”
“Good. You're learning.”
“But it's not magic!”
Granny sat down at the kitchen table.
“Most magic isn't,” she said. “It's just knowing the right herbs, and learning to watch the weather, and finding out the ways of animals. And the ways of people, too.”
“That's all it is!” said Esk, horrified.
“All? It's a pretty big all,” said Granny, “But no, it isn't all. There's other stuff.”
“Can't you teach me?”
“All in good time. There's no call to go showing yourself yet.”
“Showing myself? Who to?”
Granny's eyes darted towards the shadows in the corners of the room.
“Never you mind.”
Then even the last lingering tails of snow had gone and the spring gales roared around the mountains. The air in the forest began to smell of leaf mould and turpentine. A few early flowers braved the night frosts, and the bees started to fly.
“Now bees,” said Granny Weatherwax, “is real magic.”
She carefully lifted the lid of the first hive.
“Your bees,” she went on, “is your mead, your wax, your bee gum, your honey. A wonderful thing is your bee. Ruled by a queen, too,” she added, with a touch of approval.
“Don't they sting you?” said Esk, standing back a little. Bees boiled out of the comb and overflowed the rough wooden sides of the box.
“Hardly ever,” said Granny. “You wanted magic. Watch.”
She put a hand into the struggling mass of insects and made a shrill, faint piping noise at the back of her throat. There was a movement in the mass, and a large bee, longer and fatter than the others, crawled on to her hand. A few workers followed it, stroking it and generally ministering to it.
“How did you do that?” said Esk.
“Ah,” said Granny, “Wouldn't you like to know?”
“Yes. I would. That's why I asked, Granny,” said Esk, severely.
“Do you think I used magic?”
Esk looked down at the queen bee. She looked up at the witch. “No,” she said, “I think you just know a lot about bees.”
Granny grinned.
“Exactly correct. That's one form of magic, of course.”
“What, just knowing things?”