anything’s better than the Queen—
There was a rushing, rattling noise behind her. She turned, and saw the sea disappearing, very quickly. It was pulling back down the shore. As she watched, rocks and clumps of seaweed rose above the surf and then were suddenly high and dry.
‘Ah,’ she said, after a moment. ‘It’s all right. I know what this is. It’s the tide. The sea does this. It goes in and out every day.’
‘Aye?’ said Rob Anybody. ‘Amazin’. It looks like it’s pourin’ awa’ though a hole…’
About fifty yards away the last rivulets of sea water were disappearing over an edge, and some of the pictsies were already heading towards it.
Tiffany suddenly had a moment of something that wasn’t exactly panic. It was a lot slower and nastier than panic. It began with just a nagging little doubt, that said: isn’t the tide a bit slower?
The teacher (Wonders of the Nattral Wurld, One Apple) hadn’t gone into much detail. But there were fish flapping on the exposed sea bed, and surely the fish in the sea didn’t die every day?
‘Er, I think we’d better be careful.’ she said, trailing after Rob Anybody.
‘Why? It’s nae as though the water’s risin’,’ he said. ‘When does the tide come back?’
‘Um, not for hours, I think,’ said Tiffany, feeling the slow, nasty panic getting bigger. ‘But I’m not sure this—’
‘Tons o’ time, then,’ said Rob Anybody.
They’d reached the edge, where the rest of the pictsies were lined up. A little bit of water still trickled over their feet, pouring down into the gulf beyond.
It was like looking down into a valley. At the far side, miles and miles away, the retreating sea was just a gleaming line.
Below them, though, were the shipwrecks. There were a lot of them. Galleons and schooners and clippers, masts broken, rigging hanging, hulls breached, lay strewn across the puddles in what had been the bay.
The Nac Mac Feegles, as one pictsie, sighed happily.
‘Sunken treasure!’
‘Aye! Gold!’
‘Bullion!’
‘Jools!’
‘What makes you think they’ve got treasure in?’ said Tiffany.
The Nac Mac Feegles looked amazed, as if she’d suggested that rocks could fly.
‘There’s
‘That’s right,’ said Rob Anybody. ‘There’s got t’be gold in sunken ships, otherwise it wouldnae be worth fighting all them sharkies and octopussies and stuff. Stealin’ treasure fra’ the ocean’s bed, that’s aboout the biggest, best thievin’
And now what Tiffany felt was real, honest panic.
‘That’s a lighthouse!’ she said, pointing. ‘Can you see it? A lighthouse so ships don’t run into the rocks! Right? Understand? This is a trap made just for you! The Queen’s still around!’
‘Mebbe just can we go down and look inside one wee ship?’ said Rob Anybody, meekly.
‘No! Because—’ Tiffany looked up. A gleam had caught her eye. ‘Because… the sea… is… coming… back…’ she said.
What looked like a cloud on the horizon was getting bigger, and glittering as it came. Tiffany could already hear the roar.
She ran back up the beach and got her hands under Roland’s armpits, so that she could drag him to the lighthouse. She looked back, and the pictsies were still watching the huge, surging wave.
And there was Wentworth, watching the wave happily, and bending down slightly so that, if
The image branded itself on her eyes. The little boy, and the pictsies, all with their backs to her, and all staring with interest at the rushing, glittering, sky-filling wall of water.
‘Come on!’ Tiffany yelled. ‘I was wrong, this isn’t the tide, this is the Queen—’
Sunken ships were lifted up and spun around in the hissing mountain of surf.
‘Come
Tiffany managed to haul Roland across her shoulder and, staggering across the rocks, made it to the lighthouse door as the water crashed behind her—
–for a moment the world was full of white light—
–and snow squeaked underfoot.
It was the silent, cold land of the Queen. There was no one around and nothing to see except snow and, in the distance, the forest. Black clouds hovered over it.
Ahead of her, and only just visible, was a picture in the air. It showed some turf, and a few stones, lit with moonlight.
It was the other side of the door back home.
She turned round desperately.
‘Please!’ she shouted. It wasn’t a request to anyone special. She just needed to shout. ‘Rob? William? Wullie?
Away towards the forest there was the barking of the grimhounds.
‘Got to get out,’ muttered Tiffany. ‘Got to get away…’
She grabbed Roland by the collar and dragged him towards the door. At least he slid better on snow.
No one and nothing tried to stop her. The snow spilled a little way through the doorway between the stones and onto the turf, but the air was warm and alive with night-time insect noises. Under a real moon, under a real sky, she pulled the boy over to a fallen stone and sat him up against it. She sat down next to him, exhausted to the bone, and tried to get her breath back.
Her dress was soaked, and smelled of the sea.
She could hear her own thoughts, a long way off:
She stood up again, although what she really wanted to do was sleep.
The three stones of the door were a black shape against the stars.
And as she watched, they fell down. The one on the left slipped over, slowly, and the other two ended up leaning against it.
She ran over and hauled at the tons of stone. She prodded the air around them in case the doorway was still there. She squinted madly, trying to see it.
Tiffany stood under the stars, alone, and tried not to cry.
‘What a shame,’ said the Queen. ‘You’ve let everybody down, haven’t you…?’
Chapter 13
Land Under Wave
The Queen walked over the turf towards Tiffany. Where she’d trodden, frost gleamed for a moment. The little part of Tiffany that was still thinking thought: That grass will be dead in the morning. She’s killing
‘The whole of life is but a dream, when you come to think of it,’ said the Queen in the same infuriatingly calm, pleasant voice. She sat down on the fallen stones. ‘You humans are such dreamers. You dream that you’re clever. You dream that you’re important. You dream that you’re special. You know, you’re almost better than
