Audio-book - 7 h 42 min
Размышления с ведьминской-точки-зрения, почему ведьма не может быть волшебницей и волшебник не может быть ведьмом.
А всё дело в том, что женщины слабы в георгметрии, хотя права у всех с одной стороны, а именно с противолежащей левой.
The old witch yanked the staff out of its shadow and waved it vaguely at Esk.
"Here. It's yours. Take it. I just hope this is the right thing to do."
Esk took the staff and peered at it.
"It's very nice," she said uncertainly. "The carvings are pretty. What's it for?"
"Sit down now. And listen properly for once. On the day you were born . . . ."
". . . and that's the shape of it."
Esk looked hard at the staff, then at Granny.
"I've got to be a wizard?"
"Yes. No. I don't know."
"That isn't really an answer, Granny," Esk said reproachfully. "Am I or aren't I?"
"Women can't be wizards," said Granny bluntly. "It's agin nature. You might as well have a female blacksmith."
"Actually I've watched dad at work and I don't see why -"
"Look," said Granny hurriedly, "you can't have a female wizard any more than you can have a male witch, because -"
"I've heard of male witches," said Esk meekly.
"Warlocks!"
"I think so."
"I mean there's no male witches, only silly men," said Granny hotly. "If men were witches, they'd be wizards. It's all down to -"she tapped her head "- headology. How your mind works. Men's minds work different from ours, see. Their magic's all numbers and angles and edges and what the stars are doing, as if that really mattered. It's all power. It's all -" Granny paused, and dredged up her favourite word to describe all she despised in wizardry, "- jommetry."
"That's all right, then," said Esk, relieved. "I'll stay here and learn witchery."
"Ali," said Granny gloomily, "that's all very well for you to say. I don't think it will be as easy as that."
"But you said that men can be wizards and women can be witches and it can't be the other way around." ...
Granny pointed to the staff. Esk shrugged.
"It's just an old stick."
Granny shook her head. Esk blinked.
"No?"
"No."
"And I can't be a witch?"
"I don't know what you can be. Hold the staff."
"The tinderbox is -" Esk began.
Granny stood up. In the dimness of the kitchen she seemed to grow until she filled it with shifting, ragged shadows, shot with menace. Her eyes glared down at Esk.
"Show me," she commanded, and her voice had ice in it.
"But -"said Esk desperately, clutching the heavy staff to her and knocking her stool over in her haste to back away.
"Showme."
With a scream Esk spun around. Fire flared from her fingertips and arced across the room. The kindling exploded with a force that hurled the furniture around the room and a ball of fierce green light spluttered on the hearth.
Changing patterns sped across it as it spun sizzling on the stones, which cracked and then flowed. The iron fireback resisted bravely for a few seconds before melting like wax; it made a final appearance as a red smear across the fireball and then vanished. A moment later the kettle went the same way. .. She patted her singed hair gingerly with a shaking hand. "I think this calls for a nice cup of, a nice cup of cold water."
Esk sat looking in wonder at her hand.
"That was real magic." she said at last, "And I did it."
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