The Wee Free Men (20 page)

And then, after a few moments, he pushed the law book aside and said: “Perhaps we should do this a different way.”

And there was a different way, involving people paying a little more
attention to Miss Robinson. It wasn’t perfect, and not everyone was happy, but it worked.

Tiffany smelled the scent of Jolly Sailor outside the hall when the meeting was over, and thought about the Baron’s dog. “Remember this day,” Granny Aching had said, and, “Ye’ll have cause to.”

Barons needed reminding.

“Who will speak up for you?” Tiffany said aloud.

“Speak up for me?” answered the Queen, her fine eyebrows arching.

And Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Watch her face when she is worried.

“There isn’t anyone, is there?” said Tiffany, backing away. “Is there anyone you’ve been kind to? Anyone who’ll say you’re not just a thief and a bully? Because that’s what you are. You’ve got a…You’re like the dromes, you’ve just got one trick.”

And there it was. Now she could see what her Third Thoughts had spotted. The Queen’s face
flickered
for a moment.

“And that’s not your body,” said Tiffany, plunging on. “That’s just what you want people to see. It’s not real. It’s just like everything else here, it’s hollow and empty—”

The Queen ran forward and slapped her much harder than a dream should be able to. Tiffany landed in the moss and Wentworth rolled away, yelling, “Wanna go-a toy-lut!”

Good, said Tiffany’s Third Thoughts.

“Good?” said Tiffany aloud.

“Good?” said the Queen.

Yes, said her Third Thoughts, because she doesn’t know you can have Third Thoughts and your hand is only a few inches from the frying pan and things like her hate iron, don’t they? She’s angry.
Now make her furious, so that she doesn’t think. Hurt her.

“You just live here in a land full of winter and all you do is dream of summers,” said Tiffany. “No wonder the king went away.”

The Queen stood still for a moment, like the beautiful statue she so much resembled. Again, the walking dream flickered and Tiffany thought she saw…something. It was not much bigger than her, and almost human, and a little shabby and, just for a moment, shocked. Then the Queen was back, tall and angry, and she drew a deep breath—

Tiffany grabbed the pan and swung it as she rolled onto her feet. It hit the tall figure only a glancing blow, but the Queen wavered like air over a hot road, and screamed.

Tiffany didn’t wait to see what else was going to happen. She grabbed her brother again, and ran away, down through the grass, past the strange figures looking around at the sound of the Queen’s anger.

Now
shadows moved in the shadowless grasses. Some of the people—the joke people, the ones that looked like a flap-the-pages picture book—changed shape and started to move after Tiffany and her screaming brother.

There was a booming noise on the other side of the clearing. The two huge creatures that Roland had called the Bumblebee women were rising off the ground, their tiny wings blurring with the effort.

Somebody grabbed her and pulled her into the grasses. It was Roland.

“Can you get out now?” he demanded, his face red.

“Er…” Tiffany began.

“Then we’d better just run,” he said. “Give me your hand. Come
on
!”

“Do
you
know a way out?” Tiffany panted, as they dashed through giant daisies.

“No,” Roland panted back. “There isn’t one. You saw…the dromes outside…this is a really
strong
dream.”

“Then why are we running?”

“To keep out of her way. If you hide long enough…Sneebs says she…forgets.”

I don’t think she’s going to forget me very quickly, Tiffany thought.

Roland had stopped, but she pulled her hand away and ran onward, with Wentworth clinging to her in silent amazement.

“Where are you going?” shouted Roland behind her.

“I
really
want to keep out of her way!”

“Come back! You’re running right back!”

“No I’m not! I’m running in a straight line!”

“This is a dream!” Roland shouted, but it was louder now because he was catching up to her. “You’re running right around—”

Tiffany burst into a clearing……
the
clearing.

The Bumblebee women landed on either side of her, and the Queen stepped forward.

“You know,” said the Queen, “I really expected better of you, Tiffany. Now, give me back the boy, and I shall decide what to do next.”

“It’s not a big dream,” mumbled Roland behind her. “If you go too far, you end up coming back—”

“I could make a dream for you that’s even smaller than you are,” said the Queen pleasantly. “That can be quite painful!”

The colors were brighter. And sounds were louder. Tiffany
could smell something, too, and what was strange about that was that up until now there had been no smells.

It was a sharp, bitter smell that you never forgot. It was the smell of snow. And underneath the insect buzzings in the grass, she heard the faintest of voices.

“Crivens! I canna find the way oot!”

O
n the other side of the clearing, where the nut-cracking man had been at work, was the last nut, half as high as Tiffany. And it was rocking gently. The cracker took a swipe at it with the hammer, and it rolled out of the way.

See what’s really there, said Tiffany to herself, and laughed.

The Queen gave her a puzzled look. “You find this funny?” she demanded. “What’s funny about this? What is amusing about this situation?”

“I just had a funny thought,” said Tiffany. The Queen glared, as people without a sense of humor do when they’re confronted with a smile.

You’re not very clever, thought Tiffany. You’ve never needed to be. You can get what you want just by dreaming it. You believe in your dreams, so you never have to
think
.

She turned and whispered to Roland, “Crack the nut! Don’t worry about what I do, crack the nut!” The boy looked at her blankly.

“What did you say to him?” snapped the Queen.

“I said good-bye,” said Tiffany, holding on tightly to her brother. “I’m not handing my brother over, no matter what you do!”

“Do you know what color your insides are?” said the Queen.

Tiffany shook her head mutely.

“Well, now you’ll find out,” said the Queen, smiling sweetly.

“You’re not powerful enough to do anything like that,” said Tiffany.

“You know, you are right,” said the Queen. “That kind of physical magic is, indeed, very hard. But I can make you
think
I’ve done the most…terrible things. And that, little girl, is all I need to do. Would you like to beg for mercy now? You may not be able to later.”

Tiffany paused. “No-o,” she said at last. “I don’t think I will.”

The Queen leaned down. Her gray eyes filled Tiffany’s world. “People here will remember this for a long time,” she said.

“I hope so,” said Tiffany. “Crack…the…nut.”

For a moment the Queen looked puzzled again. She was not good at dealing with sudden changes. “What?”

“Eh? Oh. Right,” muttered Roland.

“What did you say to him?” the Queen demanded, as the boy ran toward the hammer man.

Tiffany kicked her on the leg. It wasn’t a witch thing. It was
so
nine years old, and she wished she could have thought of something better. On the other hand, she had hard boots and it was a good kick.

The Queen shook her. “Why did you
do
that?” she said. “Why won’t you do what I say? Everyone could be so happy if only they’d do what I say!”

Tiffany stared at the woman’s face. The eyes were gray now, but the pupils were like silver mirrors.

I know what you are, said her Third Thoughts. You’re something that’s never learned anything. You don’t know
anything
about people. You’re just…a child that’s got old.

“Want a sweetie?” she whispered.

There was a shout behind her. She twisted in the Queen’s grip and saw Roland fighting for the hammer. As she watched, he turned desperately and raised the heavy thing over his head, knocking over the elf behind him.

The Queen pulled her around savagely as the hammer fell. “Sweetie?” she hissed. “I’ll show you swe—”

“Crivens! It’s the Quin! An’ she’s got oour kelda, the ol’ topher!”

“Nae Quin! Nae Laird! Wee Free Men!”

“I could murrrder a kebab!”

“Get her!”

Tiffany might have been the only person, in all the worlds that there are, to be happy to hear the sound of the Nac Mac Feegle.

They poured out of the smashed nut. Some were still wearing bow ties. Some were back in their kilts. But they were all in a fighting mood and, to save time, were fighting with one another to get up to speed.

The clearing…cleared. Real or dreams, the people could see trouble when it rolled toward them in a roaring, cursing, red-and-blue tide.

Tiffany ducked out of the Queen’s grasp and hurried into the grasses to watch.

Big Yan ran past, carrying a struggling full-sized elf over his head. Then he stopped suddenly and tossed it high over the clearing.

“An’ away he goes, right on his
heid!
” he yelled, then turned and ran back into the battle.

The Nac Mac Feegle couldn’t be trodden on or squeezed. They worked in groups, running up one another’s backs to get high enough to punch an elf or, preferably, bash it with their heads. And
once anyone was down, it was all over bar the kicking.

There was some method in the way the Nac Mac Feegle fought. For example, they always chose the biggest opponent because, as Rob Anybody said later, “It makes them easier to hit, ye ken.” And they simply didn’t
stop.
It was that which wore people down. It was like being attacked by wasps with fists.

It took them a little while to realize that they’d run out of people to fight. They went on fighting one another for a bit anyway, since they’d come all this way, and then settled down and began to go through the pockets of the fallen in case there was any loose change.

Tiffany stood up.

“Ach, weel, no’ a bad job though I says it mysel’,” said Rob Anybody, looking around. “A very neat fight, an’ we didna e’en ha’ to resort to usin’ poetry.”

“How did you get into the nut?” said Tiffany. “I mean, it was…a nut!”

“Only way we could find in,” said Rob Anybody. “It’s got to be a way that fits. ’Tis difficult work, navigatin’ in dreams.”

“Especially when ye’re a wee bittie sloshed,” said Daft Wullie, grinning broadly.

“What? You’ve been…drinking?” said Tiffany. “I’ve been facing the Queen and you’ve been in a
pub
?”

“Ach, no!” said Rob Anybody. “Ye ken that dream wi’ the big party? When you had the pretty frock an’ a’? We got stuck in it.”

“But I killed the drome!”

Rob looked a little shifty. “Weeeel,” he said, “we didna get oout as easily as you. It took us a wee while.”

“Until we finished all the drink,” said Daft Wullie helpfully.

Rob glared at him. “Ye didna ha’ to put it like that!” he snapped.

“You mean the dream keeps on going?” said Tiffany.

“If ye’re thirsty enough,” said Daft Wullie. “An’ it wasna just the drink—there was can-a-pays as well.”

“But I thought if you ate or drank in a dream, you stayed there!” said Tiffany.

“Aye, for most creatures,” said Rob Anybody. “Not for us, though. Hooses, banks, dreams, ’tis a’ the same to us. There’s nothing we canna get in or oot of.”

“Except maybe pubs,” said Big Yan.

“Oh, aye,” said Rob Anybody cheerfully. “Gettin’ oot o’ pubs sometimes causes us a cerrrtain amount o’ difficulty, I’ll grant ye that.”

“And where did the Queen go?” she said.

“Ach, she did an offski as soon as we arrived,” said Rob Anybody. “An’ so should we, kelda, afore the dream changes.” He nodded at Wentworth. “Is this the wee bairn? Ach, what a noseful o’ bogeys!”

“Wanna sweetie!” shouted Wentworth, on automatic candy pilot.

“Weeel, ye canna ha’ none!” shouted Rob Anybody. “An’ stop snivelin’ and come awa’ wi’ us and stop bein’ a burden to your wee sister!”

Tiffany opened her mouth to protest—and shut it again when Wentworth, after a moment of shock, chuckled.

“Funny!” he said. “Wee man! Weewee man!”

“Oh dear,” said Tiffany. “You’ve got him started now.”

But she was very surprised, nonetheless. Wentworth never showed this much interest in anyone who wasn’t a jelly baby.

“Rob, we’ve got a real one here,” a pictsie called out. To her horror, Tiffany saw that several of the Nac Mac Feegle were holding up Roland’s unconscious head. He was full length on the ground.

“Ah, that was the laddie who wuz rude to ye,” said Rob. “An’ he tried to hit Big Yan wi’ a hammer, too. That wasna a clever thing to try. What shall we do with him?”

The grasses trembled. The light was fading from the sky. The air was growing colder, too.

“We can’t leave him here!” said Tiffany.

“Okay, we’ll drag him along,” said Rob Anybody. “Let’s move right
noo!
”

“Wee wee man! Wee wee man!” shouted Wentworth gleefully.

“He’ll be like this all day, I’m afraid,” said Tiffany. “Sorry.”

“Run for the door,” said Rob Anybody. “Can ye no’ see the door?”

Tiffany looked around desperately. The wind was bitter now.

“See the door!” Rob Anybody commanded. She blinked and spun around.

“Er…er…” she said. The sense of a world beneath that had come to her when she was frightened of the Queen did not turn up so easily now. She tried to concentrate. The smell of snow…

It was ridiculous to talk about the smell of snow. It was just pure frozen water. But Tiffany always knew, when she woke up, if it had snowed in the night. Snow had a smell like the taste of tin. Tin
did
have a taste, although admittedly it tasted like the smell of snow.

She thought she heard her brain creak with the effort of thinking. If she was in a dream, she had to wake up. But it was no use running. Dreams were full of running. But there was one direction that looked…thin, and white.

She shut her eyes and thought about snow, crisp and white as fresh bed sheets. She concentrated on the feel of it under her feet. All she had to do was wake up….

She
was
standing in snow.

“Right,” said Rob Anybody.

“I got out!” said Tiffany.

“Ach, sometimes the door’s in yer ain heid,” said Rob Anybody. “Noo let’s move!”

Tiffany felt herself lifted into the air. Nearby, a snoring Roland rose up on dozens of small blue legs as the Feegles got underneath him.

“Nae stoppin’ until we get right oout o’ here!” said Rob Anybody. “Feegles wha hae!”

They skimmed over the snow, with parties of Feegles running on ahead. After a minute or two Tiffany looked behind them and saw the blue shadows spreading. They were getting darker, too.

“Rob—” she said.

“Aye, I ken,” said Rob. “Run, lads!”

“They’re moving
fast
, Rob!”

“I ken that, too!”

Snow stung Tiffany’s face. Trees blurred with the speed. The forest sped past. But the shadows were spreading across the path ahead, and every time the party ran through them, they seemed to have a certain solidity, like fog.

Now the shadows behind were night black in the middle.

But the pictsies has passed the last tree, and the snowfields stretched ahead.

They stopped, so quickly that Tiffany almost toppled into the snow.

“What’s happened?”

“Where’s all oour old footprints gone?” said Daft Wullie. “They wuz there a moment ago! Which way
noo
?”

The trampled track, which had led them on like a line, had vanished.

Rob Anybody spun around and looked back at the forest. Darkness curled above it like smoke, spreading along the horizon.

“She’s sendin’ nightmares after us,” he growled. “This is gonna be a toughie, lads.”

Tiffany saw shapes in the spreading night. She hugged Wentworth tightly.

“Nightmares,” repeated Rob Anybody, turning to her. “Ye wouldna want to know about
them
. We’ll hold ’em off. Ye must mak’ a run for it. Get awa’ wi’ ye, noo!”

“I’ve got nowhere to run to!” said Tiffany.

She heard a high-pitched noise, a sort of chittering, insect noise, coming from the forest. The pictsies had drawn together. Usually they grinned like anything if they thought a fight was coming up, but this time they looked deadly serious.

“Ach, she’s a bad loser, the Quin,” said Rob.

Tiffany turned to look at the horizon behind her. The boiling blackness was there, too, a ring that was closing in from all sides.

Doors everywhere, she thought. The old kelda said there’s doors everywhere. I must find a door. But there’s just snow and a few trees….

The pictsies drew their swords.

“What, er, kind of nightmares are coming?” said Tiffany.

“Ach, long-leggity things with muckle legs and huge teeth, and flappy wings and a hundred eyes, that kinda stuff,” said Daft Wullie.

“Aye, and wuss than that,” said Rob Anybody, staring at the speeding dark.

“What’s worse than that?” said Tiffany.

“Normal stuff gone wrong,” said Rob.

Tiffany looked blank for a moment, and then shuddered. Oh
yes
, she knew about those nightmares. They didn’t happen often,
but they were horrible when they did. She’d woken up once shaking at the thought of Granny Aching’s boots, which had been chasing her, and another time it was a box of sugar. Anything could be a nightmare.

She could put up with monsters. But she didn’t want to face mad boots.

“Er…I have an idea,” she said.

“So do I,” said Rob Anybody. “Dinna be here—that’s my idea!”

“There’s a clump of trees over there,” said Tiffany.

“So what?” said Rob. He was staring at the line of nighmares. Things were visible in it now—teeth, claws, eyes, ribs. From the way he was glaring, it was obvious that whatever happened later, the first few monsters were going to face a serious problem. If they had faces, anyway.

“Can you
fight
nightmares?” said Tiffany. The chittering noise was getting a lot louder.

“There’s no’ a thing we canna fight,” growled Big Yan. “If it’s got a heid, we can gie it a faceful o’ dandruff. If it disna have a heid, it’s due a good kickin’!”

Tiffany stared at the onrushing…things.

“Some of them have got
more
than one head!” she said.

“It’s oour lucky day, then,” said Daft Wullie.

The pictsies shifted their weight, ready to fight.

“Piper,” said Rob Anybody to William the gonnagle, “play us a lament. We’ll fight to the sound of the mousepipes—”

“No!” said Tiffany. “I’m not standing for this! The way to fight nightmares is to wake up! I am your kelda! This is an order! We’re heading for those trees right now! Do what I say!”