(only NOT)
Maskerade, by Terry Pratchett
CONTENT WARNING: Humor
(overindulgence may lead to sore cheeks — not the ones on your backside — or cramped sides; please read responsibly)
~
Meet Agnes Nitt.
Agnes is a witch. She doesn’t want to be a witch, partially because to be a witch means she will have to stay out in the sticks, which is a place she desperately wants to escape. It also means she would come under the tutelage of Esmeralda Weatherwax, who is THE Witch of Lancre (though Esme’s sidekick, Nanny Ogg, sort of usurps the title in her attempt to become a celebrated author of ‘recipes’) and that – if she’s lucky – she would never get any farther away from her hometown than, possibly, to Bad Ass*, which is the next town over.
So Agnes Nitt escapes.
She runs away escapes.
To the big city.
Specifically, to the the big city of Ankh-Morpork.**
Where she takes a new name (Perdita) and a new profession: opera singer. (She can throw her voice, of course. And she can sing harmony with herself in three parts. Also, she is the embodiment of the concept It ain’t over til the fat lady sings. So really, the profession is nearly perfect.)
Except that there is a ghost in the opera house. And the ghost seems to have gone from benign lucky influence to murdering nutcase.
Or has he?
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