Enchanted
Inspired by a still photograph probably from a movie or a TV show, of a Dark Enchantress in the regalia, a young woman calling up dark magic and eldritch forces. However, her headdress looks as if it has been knocked up on the kitchen table from hastily assembled twigs. Very Lancre. From an FB discussion that, without my intending to, opened up a Short.
The senior Witches in Lancre are conferring about young Pamela Hodgkinson, who these days is calling herself Xcelsia Ravendark, has said she doesn't easily see herself in a village steading, and has insisted she is on the Dark Sorceress track in the Profession. While Nanny Ogg thinks "she'll probably grow out of it", and that "Like it or not, Sorceress is a part of Witchcraft and somebody's got to be one. There has to be a Witch for everythin'. Well-known fact, is that.", the other older witches are not so sure.
"Sides, we ain't had one since Lily Weatherwax. Lilith. We're overdue."(1)
My continuing thoughts on Pamela, sorry, Xcelsia. A duty visit to Lancre by Professor Ponder Stibbons, Vice-Chancellor of Unseen University, saw Ponder taking a deep breath and admitting to Nanny Ogg that this one could be an, err, bit of an, err, embarrassment to you. Err." (2) Ponder took a wary look over to Johanna, whose eyes had narrowed and whose lips had pursed. he winced. He'd married a career Assassin, who saw her wifely duties as involving the provision of professional bodyguarding services and the active deterrence of other Wizards who perceived Ponder as a threat. Any Wizard attempting a return to the Good Old Days of "Dead Man's Pointy Shoes" tended to find Mrs Stibbons might call by and briefly explain this was not an inspired idea.
He winced. Johanna and the Sorceress were eying each other speculatively. It didn't look as if nipping off to a wine bar together for girl-talk was going to be an option. In fact, it looked quite the opposite.
He thought quickly.
"Err. Nanny. I could suggest to the Arch-Chancellor there could be an internship opening up at the University. It takes somebody out of Lancre who could be a bit of an embarrassment, I can see that, and I suspect she'd fit right in, at the Department of Post-Mortem Communications. Maybe, I don't know, Junior Reader In Women's Studies, or something? And Professor Hix has been shouting that he needs an assistant. This could be good for everybody."
He smiled. Hix had been getting annoying lately. Ridcully had as good as asked for suggestions as to how to wipe the damned smirk off the damned man's face.
And besides, in Ankh-Morpork there are people like Mrs Proust, or Olga Romanoff, who can drop by to make her aware we've got Witches too.
(1) Nanny Ogg was also thinking "This time, we can steer her right. Keep an Eye. Get it over that while there has to be an Evil Witch livin' in a Palace of Dark Solitude somewhere, there are limits as to how Evil she can get, and we enforce them. Nanny was also thinking "Could be the Perditax thing again. So she might grow out of it. And, 'sides, show me a Palace of Doom in Lancre. Best she could get'd be a Run-Down Cottage of Quiet Unease."
(2) At this point, for new readers, I inserted a bracketed note as to where my Discworld diverges from canon. It read: (In my Discworld, Ponder is older and married, btw. His wife has professional skills of her own).
