Henri Matisse Odalisques

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wizard?"
"There's witches," said the smith uncertainly. "And enchantresses too, I've heard."
"Witches is a different thing altogether," snapped Granny Weatherwax. "It's magic out of the ground, not out of the sky, and men never could get the hang of it. As for enchantresses," she added. "They're no better than they should be. You take it from me, just burn the staff, bury the body and don't let on it ever happened."
Smith nodded reluctantly, crossed over to the forge, and pumped the bellows until the sparks flew. He went back for and said, "I see. That's the way of it, is it?"
"The way of what?" said Smith, totally bewildered.
"Help me up, you fool. And fetch me a chopper."
The tone of her voice suggested that it would be a very good idea not to disobey. Smith rummaged desperately among the junk at the back of the forge until he found an old double-headed axe.the staff. It wouldn't move. "It won't move!" Sweat stood out of his brow as he tugged at the wood. It remained unco-operatively immobile. "Here, let me try," said Granny, and reached past him. There was a snap and a smell of scorched tin. Smith ran across the forge, whimpering slightly, to where Granny had landed upside down against the opposite wall. "Are you all right?" She opened two eyes like angry diamonds