The Wee Free Men

A bubbling feeling in her ear suggested that someone was playing the mousepipes. She looked around, and saw William the gonnagle standing on a fallen stone. His cheeks were bulging and so was the bag of the mousepipes.

She waved at him. ‘Can you see anything?’ she called.

William took the pipe out of his mouth and the bubbling stopped. ‘Oh, aye,’ he said.

‘The way to the Queen’s land?’

‘Oh, aye.’

‘Well, would you care to tell me?’

‘I dinnae need to tell a kelda,’ said William. ‘A kelda would see the clear way hersel’.’

‘But you could tell me!’

‘Aye, and you coulda said “please”,’ said William. ‘I’m ninety-six years old. I’m nae a dolly in yer dolly hoose. Yer granny was a fiiine wuman, but I’ll no’ be ordered about by a wee chit of a girl.’

Tiffany stared for a moment and then lifted the toad out of her apron pocket.

‘Chit?’ she said.

‘It means something very small,’ said the toad. ‘Trust me.’

‘He’s calling me small—!’

‘I’m biggerrr on the inside!’ said William. ‘And I dare say your da’ wouldnae be happy if a big giant of a wee girl came stampin’ aroound ordering him aboout!’

‘The old kelda ordered people about!’ said Tiffany.

‘Aye! Because she’d earned rrrespect!’ The gonnagle’s voice seemed to echo around the stones.

‘Please, I don’t know what to do!’ wailed Tiffany.

William stared at her. ‘Ach, weel, yer no’ doin’ too badly so far,’ he said, in a nicer tone of voice. ‘Ye got Rob Anybody out of marryin’ ye wi’oout breakin’ the rules, and ye’re a game lass, I’ll gi’ ye that. Ye’ll find the way if ye tak’ yer time. Just don’t stamp yer foot and expect the world to do yer biddin’. All ye’re doing is shoutin’ for sweeties, yer ken. Use yer eyes. Use yer heid.’

He put the pipe back in his mouth, puffed his cheeks until the skin bag was full, and made Tiffany’s ears bubble again.

‘What about you, toad?’ said Tiffany, looking into the apron pocket.

‘You’re on your own, I’m afraid,’ said the toad. ‘Whoever I used to be, I didn’t know much about finding invisible doors. And I resent being press-ganged, too, I may say.’

‘But… I don’t know what to do! Is there a magic word I should say?’

‘I don’t know, is there a magic word you should say?’ said the toad, and turned over.

Tiffany was aware that the Nac Mac Feegle were turning up. They had a nasty habit of being really quiet when they wanted to.

Oh, no, she thought. They think I know what to do! This isn’t fair! I’ve not got any training for this. I haven’t been to the witch school! I can’t even find that! The opening must be somewhere around here and there must be dues but I don’t know what they are!

They’re watching me to see if I’m any good. And I’m good at cheese, and that’s all. But a witch Deals With Things…

She put the toad back in her pocket and felt the weight of the book Diseases of the Sheep.

When she pulled it out, she heard a sigh go up from the assembled pictsies.

They think words are magical…

She opened the book at random, and frowned.

‘Cloggets,’ she said aloud. Around her, the pictsies nodded their heads and nudged one another.

‘Cloggets are a trembling of the greebs in hoggets,’ she read, ‘which can lead to inflammation of the lower pasks. If untreated, it may lead to the more serious condition of Sloke. Recommended treatment is daily dosing with turpentine until there is no longer either any trembling, or turpentine, or sheep.’

She risked looking up. Feegles were watching her from every stone and mound. They looked impressed.

However, the words in Diseases of the Sheep cut no ice with magic doorways.

‘Scrabbity,’ read Tiffany. There was a ripple of anticipation.

‘Scrabbity is a flaky skin condition, particularly around the lollets. Turpentine is a useful remedy—’

And then she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the teddy bear.

It was very small, and the kind of red you don’t quite get in nature. Tiffany knew what it was. Wentworth loved the teddy-bear sweets. They tasted like glue mixed with sugar and were made of 100% Artificial Additives.

‘Ah,’ she said aloud. ‘My brother was certainly brought here.’

This caused a stir.

She walked forward, reading aloud about Garget of the Nostrils and the Staggers but keeping an eye on the ground. And there was another teddy-bear sweet, green this time and quite hard to see against the turf.

O-K, Tiffany thought.

There was one of the three-stone arches a little way away; two big stones with another one laid across the top of them. She’d walked through it before, and nothing had happened,

But nothing should happen, she thought. You can’t leave a doorway into your world that anyone can walk through, otherwise people would wander in and out by accident. You’d have to know it was there.

Perhaps that’s the only way it would work.

Fine. Then I’ll believe that this is the entrance.

She stepped through, and saw an astonishing sight: green grass, blue sky becoming pink around the setting sun, a few little white clouds late for bed, and a general warm, honey-coloured look to everything. It was amazing that there could be a sight like this. The fact that Tiffany had seen it nearly every day of her life didn’t make it any less fantastic. As a bonus, you didn’t even have to look through any kind of stone arch to see it. You could see it by standing practically anywhere.

Except…

…something was wrong. Tiffany walked through the arch several times, and still wasn’t quite sure. She held up a hand at arm’s length, trying to measure the sun’s height against the horizon.

And then she saw the bird. It was a swallow, hunting flies, and a swoop took it behind the stones.

The effect was… odd, and almost upsetting. It passed behind the stone and she felt her eyes move to follow the swoop… but it was late. There was a moment when the swallow should have appeared, and it didn’t.

Then it passed across the gap and for a moment was on both sides of the other stone at the same time.

Seeing it made Tiffany feel that her eyeballs had been pulled out and turned round.

Look for a place where the time doesn’t fit…

‘The world seen through that gap is at least one second behind the time here,’ she said, trying to sound as certain as possible. ‘I thi—I know this is the entrance.’

There was some whooping and clapping from the Nac Mac Feegles, and they surged across the turf towards her.

‘That was great, al’ that reading’ ye did!’ said Rob Anybody. I didnae understand a single word o’ it!’

‘Aye, it must be powerful language if you cannae make oout what the heel it’s goin’ on aboot!’ said another pictsie.

‘Ye definitely ha’ got the makin’s of a kelda, mistress,’ said Not-as-big-as-Medium-Sized-Jock-but-bigger- than-Wee-Jock-Jock.