‘Stories?’ the King mused. ‘A way into the minds of your peoples, mistress. And I can wait … the stories will survive when this “railway” you speak of is long gone.’
‘But we will not stand by to see small children taken as playthings for elves any more,’ Tiffany said. ‘I and others will burn those who take them. This is a warning — I would like it to be friendly but, alas, it seems this is not possible. You are living in railway time and you should leave us be.’
The King sighed again. ‘Perhaps … perhaps,’ he said. ‘New lands to discover could be entertaining. But I have told you, I have no desire to visit your land in this time of iron. After all, I have all the time I wish for …’
‘What about the elves who have already come through?’
‘Oh, just kill them if you wish.’ The King smiled again. ‘I may remain here until the end of time, and I don’t think that you would want to be there. But I have always liked the ladies, and so I will say that if elves are stupid, they deserve my censure and your wrath. My dear Mistress Aching — and yes, I do know who you are — you clasp good intentions to you like a mother clutches her young. Now, should I even let you leave? When I am looking for … entertainment.’ He sighed. ‘I do so desire new amusements sometimes — perhaps to tinker with something, to discover new interests. And one new interest could be you. Do you think that I will let you leave my home?’ His heavy-lidded eyes caressed her.
Tiffany swallowed. ‘Yes, your majesty. You will let me leave.’
‘You are so sure?’
‘Yes.’ Tiffany wrapped her hand around the shepherd’s crown once again, and felt the flint at its centre give her strength, draw her back to her own land, to her land above the wave. She stepped backwards slowly.
And nearly tripped over something on the floor behind her.
The King was staring too. It was a white cat and she heard the King’s voice, surprised for the first time: ‘You!’
And then there was an end to it, and Tiffany and You spiralled back the way they had come, and the Feegles were outside, patrolling up and down and enjoying the happy opportunity of fighting a tree or two, since no elves had turned up, but these trees were still right scunners, stickin’ their barbs as they did into Feegle heads and beards. They deserved a guid kickin’.
‘Well, I’m not sure that did any good,’ Tiffany said to Rob as she emerged from the tunnel.
‘Weel,’ said Rob Anybody, ‘let them come. Ye will always have your Feegles. We Feegles are everlasting.’
‘Everlasting if there is enough to drink!’ Wee Dangerous Spike added.
‘Rob,’ said Tiffany firmly. ‘Right now, not one of you needs a drink. We need a plan.’ She thought for a moment. ‘The King will not help — yet. But he is looking for new entertainments. Perhaps if we offer him something of that ilk, then he will think more kindly upon us and at least leave us alone?’ Leave us to kill his elves, she thought to herself. He did say he wouldn’t mind. Would he change his mind?
‘Ach, nae problem,’ said Rob proudly, confident of his ability to find a PLN. ‘That King of the Elves, he needs some-thin’ tae do, ye say.’
‘Like the men of Lancre!’ Tiffany said suddenly. ‘Rob, you know how Geoffrey has them all building sheds … Well, you built a pub once. How difficult would a shed be?’
‘Nae trouble at all, right, lads?’ said Rob, happy now. For he had his PLN. ‘Let’s offski.’ He looked down at You. ‘How come your pussycat follows you around, mistress?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Tiffany. ‘She’s a cat. They can go anywhere. And after all, she was Granny Weatherwax’s cat and that means quite a lot.’
But Rob wasn’t listening. Not now. He was thinking of his PLN. And the following day, at the mouth of the Long Man there was a shed replete with everything a gentleman could require, including fishing line and every tool you can think of, all made of wood or stone. Tiffany thought that might make the King of the Elves happy. But she did not feel it would get his help …
Lord Peaseblossom lounged on a velvet-covered couch in Fairyland, idly fingering the ruff of feathers around his neck, swigging from a goblet of rich wine.
Lord Lankin had just entered the chamber. He bowed before his new king, a glorious red broom of a tail slung casually round his neck, a memento of a recent raid. ‘I believe, my lord,’ he said lazily, silkily, ‘that our warriors will soon wish for … greater enjoyments in the human world. The barriers seem weak, and those of us who slip through to hunt are finding no real opposition.’
Peaseblossom smiled. He knew that his elves had been testing the gates, some skipping through the red stones of Lancre whilst others had gambolled near the villages of the Chalk, wary only of the little red-haired men who liked nothing more than a fight with an elf. The elves were like the Feegles in one respect — if there was nobody to fight, they would fight amongst themselves. And squabbling was de rigueur in Fairyland — not even cats were as bad.[43]
And elves could take umbrage. They loved umbrage, and as for sulking, that was a top entertainment. But everywhere they had been, they had stirred up little pockets of trouble, being nuisances, causing damage for damage’s sake. Stealing sheep, cows, even the occasional dog. Only yesterday Mustardseed had gleefully snatched a ram from its flock on the hills and then loosed it in a small china shop, laughing as it had lowered its horns and — yes — rammed the shelves.
But there was no rhyme nor reason to it. They needed to show what they could really do. Perhaps, Peaseblossom mused, the time was afoot to lead his elves on a raid that all elves would sing about for a long time to come.
A smile flickered across his thin, sharp face, and he waved a hand in the air, changing his tunic instantly to one of leather and fur, a crossbow tucked into his belt.
‘We will put a girdle of glamour around their world,’ he laughed. ‘Go, my elves, go make your mischief. But when this still-bent moon swells to her full glory, we will go together in force. That land will be ours once more!’
In her father’s barn, Tiffany was watching Nightshade wake up. She had mixed up a new tonic for her yesterday: a good strong dose of reciprocal greens[44] which had made the elf sleep deeply for a whole day, giving her body a chance to regain its strength.
And, incidentally, giving Tiffany a chance to go round the houses without worrying about what the Feegles might do in her absence. I might even have time to fly to Lancre and check on Geoffrey if I do it once more, she thought. She knew the Feegles would never hurt a sleeping elf, but one awake? Well, their instincts might just take over if Nightshade should put a single dainty finger wrong. And, of course, she didn’t trust the elf either …
‘Time for a walk,’ she said as Nightshade stretched her limbs and looked around her as she woke. ‘I think it is time you saw a few more humans.’ For how else could she teach Nightshade about how this world worked if Nightshade mostly only saw the inside of the barn and a few ready-to-boil-over Feegles?
43
It has in fact been said that elves are
44
It looked a rather poisonous green before it was heated up, but in most cases the end certainly justified the greens.