A Hat Full Of Sky

But now something, this thing, has taken her over and she’s locked inside somewhere. But she never used to do magic! I could understand it if it was one of the other girls, messing around, but… Tiffany?

One of the Feegles was slowly raising a hand.

‘Yes?’ she said.

‘It’s me, mistress, Big Yan. I dinnae know if it wuz proper hagglin’, mistress,’ he said nervously, ‘but me an’ Nearly Big Angus saw her doin’ something odd a few times, eh, Nearly Big Angus?’ The Feegle next to him nodded and the speaker went on. ‘It was when she got her new dress and her new hat…’

‘And verra bonny she looked, too,’ said Nearly Big Angus.

‘Aye, she did that. But she’d put ‘em on, and then standing in the middle o’ the floor and said—whut wuz it she said, Nearly Big Angus?’

‘ “See me”,’ Nearly Big Angus volunteered.

Miss Tick looked blank. The speaker, now looking a bit sorry that he’d raised this, went on: ‘Then after a wee while we’d hear her voice say “See me not” and then she’d adjust the hat, ye know, mebbe to a more fetchin’ angle.’

‘Oh, you mean she was looking at herself in what we call a mirror,’ said Miss Level. ‘That’s a kind of—’

‘We ken well what them things are, mistress,’ said Nearly Big Angus. ‘She’s got a tiny one, all cracked and dirty. But it’s nae good for a body as wants tae see herself properly.’

‘Verra good for the stealin’, mirrors,’ said Rob Anybody. ‘We got oor Jeannie a silver one wi’ garnets in the frame.’

‘And she’d say “See me”?’ said Miss Level.

‘Aye, an’ then “See me not”,’ said Big Yan. ‘An’ betweentimes she’d stand verra still, like a stachoo.’

‘Sounds like she was trying to invent some kind of invisibility spell,’ Miss Level mused. ‘They don’t work like that, of course.’

‘We reckoned she was just tryin’ to throw her voice,’ said Nearly Big Angus. ‘So it sounds like it’s comin’ fra’ somewhere else, ye ken? Wee Iain can do that a treat when we’re huntin’.’

‘Throw her voice?’ said Miss Level, her brow wrinkling. ‘Why did you think that?’

‘ ‘Cuz when she said “See me not”, it sounded like it wuz no’ comin fra’ her and her lips didnae move.’

Miss Level stared at the Feegles. When she spoke next, her voice was a little strange.

‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘when she was just standing there, was she moving at all? ’

‘Just breathin’ verra slow, mistress,’ said Big Yan.

‘Were her eyes shut?’

‘Aye!’

Miss Level started to breathe very fast.

‘She walked out of her own body! There’s not one—’

‘—witch in a hundred who can do that!’ she said. ‘That’s Borrowing, that is! It’s better than any circus trick! It’s putting—’

‘—your mind somewhere else! You have to—’

‘—learn how to protect yourself before you ever try it! And she just invented it because she didn’t have a mirror? The little fool, why didn’t she —’

‘—say? She walked out of her own body and left it there for anything to take over! I wonder what—’

‘—she thought she was—’

‘—doing?’

After a while Rob Anybody gave a polite cough.

‘We’re better at questions about fightin’, drinkin’ and stealin’,’ he mumbled. ‘We dinna have the knowin’ o’ the hagglin’.’

Chapter Seven The Matter of Brian

Something that called itself Tiffany flew across the treetops.

It thought it was Tiffany. It could remember everything—nearly everything—about being Tiffany. It looked like Tiffany. It even thought like Tiffany, more or less. It had everything it needed to be Tiffany…

…except Tiffany. Except the tiny part of her that was… me.

It peered from her own eyes, tried to hear with her own ears, think with her own brain.

A hiver took over its victim not by force, exactly, but simply by moving into any space, like the hermit elephant7 It just took you over because that was what it did, until it was in all the places and there was no room left…

Except–

–it was having trouble. It had flowed through her like a dark tide but there was a place, tight and sealed, that was still closed. If it had the brains of a tree, it would have been puzzled.

If it had the brains of a human, it would have been frightened…

Tiffany brought the broomstick in low over the trees, and landed it neatly in Mrs Earwig’s garden. There really was nothing to it, she decided. You just had to want it to fly.

Then she was sick again or, at least, tried to be, but since she’d thrown up twice in the air there wasn’t much left to be sick with. It was ridiculous! She wasn’t frightened of flying any more, but her stupid stomach was!

She wiped her mouth carefully and looked around.

She’d landed on a lawn. She’d heard of them, but had never seen a real one before. There was grass all round Miss Level’s cottage, but that was just, well, the grass of the clearing. Every other garden she’d seen was used for growing vegetables, with perhaps just a little space for flowers if the wife had got tough about it. A lawn meant you were posh enough to afford to give up valuable potato space.

This lawn had stripes.

Tiffany turned to the stick and said, ‘Stay!’ and then marched across the lawn to the house. It was a lot grander than Miss Level’s cottage but, from what Tiffany had heard, Mrs Earwig was a more senior witch. She’d also married a wizard, although he didn’t do any wizarding these days. It was a funny thing, Miss Level said, but you didn’t often meet a poor wizard.