The Wee Free Men (10 page)

“No!” she said. “I don’t dinna any ken at all! I haven’t done this before! Please help me!”

“That’s true, Rob,” said a Feegle. “She’s new to the haggin’. Tak’ her to the kelda.”

“Not e’en Granny Aching ever went to see the kelda in her ain cave!” snapped Rob Anybody. “It’s no a—”

“Quiet!” hissed Tiffany. “Can’t you hear that?”

The Feegles looked around.

“Hear what?” said Hamish.

“It’s a susurration!”

The turf was trembling. The sky looked as though Tiffany was inside a diamond. And there was the smell of snow.

Hamish pulled a pipe out of his waistcoat and blew it. Tiffany couldn’t hear anything, but there was a scream from high above.

“I’ll let ye know what’s happenin’!” cried the pictsie, and started to run across the turf. As he ran, he raised his arms over his head.

He was moving fast by then, but the buzzard sped down and across the turf even faster and plucked him neatly into the air. As it beat at the air to rise again, Tiffany saw Hamish climbing up through the feathers.

The other Feegles had formed a circle around Tiffany, and this time they’d drawn their swords.

“Whut’s the plan, Rob?” said one of them.

“Okay, lads, this is what we’ll do. As soon as we see somethin’, we’ll attack it. Right?”

This caused a cheer.

“Ach, ’tis a good plan,” said Daft Wullie.

Snow formed on the ground. It didn’t fall, it…did the opposite of melting, rising up fast until the Nac Mac Feegle were waist deep, and then buried up to their necks. Some of the smaller ones began to disappear, and there was muffled cursing from under the snow.

And then the dogs appeared, lumbering toward Tiffany with a nasty purpose. They were big, black, and heavily built, with orange eyebrows, and she could hear the growling from where she stood.

She plunged her hand into her apron pocket and pulled out the toad. It blinked in the sharp light.

“Wazzup?”

Tiffany turned him around to face the things. “What are
these
?” she said.

“Oh, doak! Grimhounds! Bad! Eyes of fire and teeth of razor blades!”

“What should I do about them?”

“Not be here?”

“Thank you! You’ve been very helpful!” Tiffany dropped him back in her pocket and gripped the frying pan.

It wasn’t going to be good enough, she knew that. The black dogs were big, and their eyes
were
flames, and when they opened their mouths to snarl, she could see the light glint on steel. She’d never been afraid of dogs, but these dogs weren’t from anywhere outside of a nightmare.

There were three of them, but they circled so that no matter how she turned, she could only see two at once. She knew it would be the one behind her that attacked first.

“Tell me something more about them!” she said, turning the other way to the circle so that she could watch all three.

“Said to haunt graveyards!” said a voice from her apron.

“Why is there snow on the ground?”

“This has become the Queen’s land. It’s always winter there! When she puts out her power, it comes here too!”

But Tiffany could see green some way off, beyond the circle of snow.

Think, think…

The Queen’s land. A magical place where there really were monsters. Anything you could dream of in nightmares. Dogs with eyes of flame and teeth of razors, yes. You didn’t get them in the real world, they wouldn’t work….

They were drooling now, red tongues hanging out, enjoying her fear. And part of Tiffany thought: It’s amazing their teeth don’t rust….

…and took charge of her legs. She dived between two of the dogs and ran toward the distant green.

There was a growl of triumph behind her, and she heard the crunch of paws on snow.

The green didn’t seem to be getting nearer.

She heard yells from the pictsies and a snarl that turned into a wail, but there was something behind her as she jumped over the last of the snow and rolled on the warm turf.

A grimhound leaped after her. She jerked herself away as it snapped, but it was already in trouble.

No eyes of fire, no teeth of razors. Not here, not in the
real
world, on the home turf. It was blind here and blood was already dripping from its mouth. You shouldn’t jump with a mouthful of razors….

Tiffany almost felt sorry for it as it whined in pain, but the snow was creeping toward her and she hit the dog with the frying pan. It went down heavily and lay still.

There was a fight going on back in the snow, which was flying up like a mist, but she could see two dark shapes in the middle, spinning around and snapping.

She banged on the pan and shouted, and a grimhound sprang from the whirling snow and landed in front of her, a Feegle hanging from each ear.

The snow flowed toward Tiffany. She backed away, watching the advancing, snarling dog. She held the pan like a bat.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Jump!”

The eyes flamed at her, and then the dog looked down at the snow.

And vanished. The snow sank into the ground. The light changed.

Tiffany and the Wee Free Men were alone on the downs. Feegles were picking themselves up around her.

“Are you fine, mistress?” said Rob Anybody.

“Yes!” said Tiffany. “It’s easy! If you get them off the snow, they’re just dogs!”

“We’d best move on. We lost some of the lads.”

The excitement drained away.

“You mean they’re dead?” Tiffany whispered. The sun was shining brightly again, the skylarks were back…and people were dead.

“Ach, no,” said Rob. “
We’re
the one’s who’s deid. Did ye not know that?”

“Y
ou’re
dead
?” said Tiffany. She looked around. Feegles were picking themselves up and grumbling, but no one was going “Waily waily waily.” And Rob Anybody wasn’t making any sense at all.

“Well, if you think you’re dead, then what are they?” she went on, pointing to a couple of small bodies.

“Oh, they’ve gone back to the land o’ the livin’,” said Rob Anybody cheerfully. “It’s nae as good as this one, but they’ll bide fine and come back before too long. No sense in grievin’.”

The Achings were not very religious, but Tiffany thought she knew how things ought to go, and they started out with the idea that you were alive and not dead yet.

“But you are alive!” she said.

“Ach, no, mistress,” said Rob, helping another pictsie to his feet. “We wuz alive. And we wuz good boys back in the land o’ the livin’, and so when we died there, we wuz borned into this place.”

“You mean…you think…that you sort of died somewhere else and then came here?” said Tiffany. “You mean this is like…heaven?”

“Aye! Just as advertised!” said Rob Anybody. “Lovely sunshine,
good huntin’, nice pretty flowers, and wee burdies goin’ cheep.”

“Aye, and then there’s the fightin’,” said another Feegle. And then they all joined in.

“An’ the stealin’!”

“An’ the drinkin’ and fightin’!”

“An’ the kebabs!” said Daft Wullie.

“But there’s bad things here!” said Tiffany. “There’s monsters!”

“Aye,” said Rob, beaming happily. “Grand, isn’t it? Everythin’ you could ever ask for, even things to fight!”

“But
we
live here!” said Tiffany.

“Ach, well, mebbe all you humans wuz good in the Last World, too,” said Rob Anybody generously. “I’ll just round up the lads, mistress.”

Tiffany reached into her apron and pulled out the toad as Rob walked away.

“Oh. We survived,” it said. “Amazing. There are very definite grounds for an action against the owner of those dogs, by the way.”

“What?” said Tiffany, frowning. “What are you
talking
about?”

“I…I…don’t know,” said the toad. “The thought just popped into my head. Perhaps I knew something about dogs when I was human?”

“Listen, the Feegle think they’re in heaven! They think they died and came here!”

“And?” said the toad.

“Well, that can’t be right! You’re supposed to be alive here and then die and end up in some heaven somewhere else!”

“Well, that’s just saying the same thing in a different way, isn’t it? Anyway, lots of warrior tribes think that when they die, they go to a heavenly land somewhere,” said the toad. “You know, where they can drink and fight and feast forever? So maybe this is theirs.”

“But this is a real place!”

“So? It’s what they believe. Besides, they’re only small. Maybe the universe is a bit crowded and they have to put heavens anywhere there’s room? I’m a toad, so you’ll appreciate that I’m having to guess a lot here. Maybe they’re just wrong. Maybe you’re just wrong. Maybe
I’m
just wrong.”

A small foot kicked Tiffany on the boot.

“We’d best be moving on, mistress,” said Rob Anybody. He had a dead Feegle over his shoulder. Quite a few of the others were carrying bodies, too.

“Er…are you going to bury them?” said Tiffany.

“Aye, they dinna need these ol’ bodies noo, an’ it’s no’ tidy to leave ’em lyin’ aboot,” said Rob Anybody. “Besides, if the bigjobs find little wee skulls and bones aroound, they’ll start to wonder, and we don’t want anyone pokin’ aboot. Savin’ your presence, mistress,” he added.

“No, that’s very, er…practical thinking,” said Tiffany, giving up.

The Feegle pointed to a distant mound with a thicket of thorn trees growing on it. A lot of the mounds had thickets on them. The trees took advantage of the deeper soil. It was said to be unlucky to cut them down.

“It’s nae very far noo,” he said.

“You live in one of the mounds?” Tiffany asked. “I thought they were, you know, the graves of ancient chieftains?”

“Ach, aye, there’s some ol’ dead kingie in the chamber next door, but he’s nae trouble,” said Rob. “Dinna fret, there’s nae skelingtons or any such in oour bit. It’s quite roomy, we’ve done it up a treat.”

Tiffany looked up at the endless blue sky over the endlessly green downland. It was all so peaceful again, a world away from
headless men and big savage dogs.

What if I hadn’t taken Wentworth down to the river? she thought. What would I be doing now? Getting on with the cheese, I suppose….

I never knew about all this. I never knew I lived in heaven, even if it’s only heaven to a clan of little blue men. I didn’t know about people who flew on buzzards.

I never killed monsters before.

“Where do they come from?” she said. “What’s the name of the place the monsters
come
from?”

“Ach, ye prob’ly ken the place well,” said Rob Anybody. As they grew nearer to the mound, Tiffany thought she could smell smoke in the air.

“Do I?” she said.

“Aye. But it’s no’ a name I’ll say in open air. It’s a name to be whispered in a safe place. I’ll no’ say it under this sky.”

It was too big to be a rabbit hole and badgers didn’t live up here, but the entrance to the mound was tucked among the thorn roots, and no one would have thought it was anything but the home of some kind of animal.

Tiffany was slim, but even so she had to take off her apron and crawl on her stomach under the thorns to reach it, dragging the apron behind her. And it still needed several Feegles to push her through.

At least it didn’t smell bad and, once you were through the hole, it opened up a lot. Really, the entrance was just a disguise. Underneath, the space was the size of quite a large room, open in the center but with Feegle-sized galleries around the walls from floor to ceiling. They were crowded with pictsies of all sizes, washing
clothes, arguing, sewing and, here and there, fighting, and doing everything as loudly as possible. Some had hair and beards tinged with white. Much younger ones, only a few inches tall, were running around with no clothes on, and yelling at one another at the tops of their little voices. After a couple of years of helping to bring up Wentworth, Tiffany knew what
that
was all about.

There were no girls, though. No Wee Free Women.

No…there was one.

The squabbling, bustling crowds parted to let her through. She came up to Tiffany’s ankle. She was prettier than the male Feegles, although the world was full of things prettier than, say, Daft Wullie. But, like them, she had red hair and an expression of determination.

She curtsied, then said, “Are ye the bigjob hag, mistress?”

Tiffany looked around. She was the only person in the cavern who was over seven inches tall.

“Er, yes,” she said. “Er…more or less. Yes.”

“I am Fion. The kelda says to tell you the wee boy will come to nae harm yet.”

“She’s found him?” said Tiffany quickly. “Where is he?”

“Nae, nae, but the kelda knows the way of the Quin. She didna want you to fash yersel’ on that score.”

“But she stole him!”

“Aye. ’Tis comp-li-cate-ed. Rest a wee while. The kelda will see you presently. She is…not strong now.”

Fion turned around with a swirl of skirts, strode back across the chalk floor as if she was a queen herself, and disappeared behind a large round stone that leaned against the far wall.

Tiffany, without looking down, carefully lifted the toad out of her pocket and held it close to her lips. “Am I fashing myself?” she whispered.

“No, not really,” said the toad.

“You would tell me if I was, wouldn’t you?” said Tiffany urgently. “It’d be terrible if everyone could see I was fashing and I didn’t know.”

“You haven’t a clue what it means, have you…?” said the toad.

“Not exactly, no.”

“She just doesn’t want you to get upset, that’s all.”

“Yes, I thought it was probably something like that,” lied Tiffany. “Can you sit on my shoulder? I think I might need some help here.”

The ranks of the Nac Mac Feegle were watching her with interest, but at the moment it appeared that she had nothing to do but hurry up and wait. She sat down carefully, drumming her fingers on her knees.

“Whut d’ye think of the wee place, eh?” said a voice from below. “It’s great, yeah?”

She looked down. Rob Anybody Feegle and a few of the pictsies she’d already met were lurking there, watching her nervously.

“Very…cozy,” said Tiffany, because that was better than saying “how sooty” or “how delightfully noisy.” She added: “Do you cook for all of you on that little fire?”

The big space in the center held a small fire, under a hole in the roof that let the smoke get lost in the bushes above and in return brought in a little extra light.

“Aye, mistress,” said Rob Anybody.

“The small stuff, bunnies an’ that,” added Daft Wullie. “The big stuff we roasts in the chalk pi—mmph mmph…”

“Sorry, what was that?” said Tiffany.

“What?” said Rob Anybody innocently, his hand firmly over the mouth of the struggling Wullie.

“What was Wullie saying about roasting ‘big stuff’?” Tiffany demanded. “You roast ‘big stuff’ in the chalk pit? Is this the kind of big stuff that goes ‘baa’? Because that’s the only big stuff you’ll find in these hills!”

She knelt down on the grimy floor and brought her face to within an inch of Rob Anybody’s face, which was grinning madly and sweating.

“Is it?”

“Ach…ah…weel…in a manner o’ speakin’…”

“It is?”

“’Tis not thine, mistress!” shrieked Rob Anybody. “We ne’er took an Aching ship wi’out the leave o’ Granny!”

“Granny Aching let you have sheep?”

“Aye, she did, did, did that! As p-payment!”

“Payment? For what?”

“No Aching ship ever got caught by wolves!” Rob Anybody gabbled. “No foxes took an Aching lamb, right? Nor no lamb e’er had its een pecked out by corbies, not wi’ Hamish up in the sky!”

Tiffany looked sideways at the toad.

“Crows,” said the toad. “They sometimes peck out the eyes of—”

“Yes, yes, I know what they do,” said Tiffany. She calmed down a little. “Oh. I see. You kept away the crows and wolves and foxes for Granny, yes?”

“Aye, mistress! No’ just kept ’em awa’, neither!” said Rob Anybody triumphantly. “There’s good eatin’ on a wolf.”

“Aye, they kebabs up a treat, but they’re no’ as good as a ship, tho…mmph mmph…” Wullie managed, before a hand was clamped over his mouth again.

“From a hag ye only tak’ what ye’s given,” said Rob Anybody, holding his struggling brother firmly. “Since she’s gone, though,
weel…we tak’ the odd old ewe that would’ve deid anywa’, but ne’er one wi’ the Aching mark, on my honor.”

“On your honor as a drunken rowdy thief?” said Tiffany.

Rob Anybody beamed. “Aye!” he said. “An’ I got a lot of good big reputation to protect there! That’s the truth o’ it, mistress. We keeps an eye on the ships of the hills, in mem’ry o’ Granny Aching, an’ in return we tak’ what is hardly worth a thing.”

“And the baccy too, o’ course…mmph mmph…” and then, once again, Daft Wullie was struggling to breathe.

Tiffany took a deep breath, not a wise move in a Feegle colony. Rob Anybody grinned nervously.

“You take the tobacco? The tobacco the shepherds leave for…my grandmother?”

“Ach, I forgot about that,” squeaked Rob Anybody. “But we allus wait a few days in case she comes to collect it hersel’. Ye can ne’er tell wi a hag, after all. And we do mind the ships, mistress. And she wouldna grudge us, mistress! Many’s a night she’d share a pipe wi’ the kelda outside o’ her house on the wheelies! She’d not be one to let good baccy get all rainy! Please, mistress!”

Tiffany felt intensely angry, and what made it worse was that she was angry with herself.

“When we find lost lambs and suchlike, we drives ’em here for when the shepherds come lookin’,” Rob Anybody added anxiously.

What did I think happened? Tiffany thought. Did I think she’d come back for a packet of Jolly Sailor? Did I think she was still somehow walking the hills, looking after the sheep? Did I think she…was still here, watching for lost lambs?

Yes! I want that to be true. I don’t want to think she’s just…gone. Someone like Granny Aching can’t just…not be there
anymore. And I want her back so much, because she didn’t know how to talk to me and I was too scared to talk to her, and so we never talked and we turned silence into something to share.

I know
nothing
about her. Just some books, and some stories she tried to tell me, and things I didn’t understand, and I remember big red soft hands and that smell. I never knew who she really was. I mean, she must have been nine too, once. She was Sarah Grizzel. She got married and had children, two of them in the shepherding hut. She must’ve done all sorts of things I don’t know about.

And into Tiffany’s mind, as it always did sooner or later, came the figure of the blue-and-white china shepherdess, swirling in red mists of shame….

Tiffany’s father took her to the fair at the town of Yelp one day not long before her seventh birthday, when the farm had some rams to sell. That was a ten-mile journey, the farthest she’d ever been. It was off the Chalk. Everything looked different. There were far more fenced fields and lots of cows and the buildings had tiled roofs instead of thatch. She considered that this was foreign travel.

Granny Aching had never been there, said her father on the way. She hated leaving the Chalk, he said. She said it made her dizzy.

It was a great day. Tiffany was sick on cotton candy, had her fortune told by a little old lady who said that many, many men would want to marry her, and won the shepherdess, which was made of china painted white and blue.

She was the star prize on the hoop-la stall, but Tiffany’s father had said that it was all cheating, because the base was so wide that not one throw in a million could ever drop the hoop right over it.