The Wee Free Men

'Dinnae fash yersel', mistress,' said Rob Anybody. The bird curved up at the bottom of its dive and as it climbed again a dot dropped from it. As it fell it seemed to grow two wings and start to spin like a sycamore bract, which slowed down the fall somewhat.

It was a pictsie, still spinning madly when he hit the turf a few feet away, where he fell over. He got up, swearing loudly, and fell over again. The swearing continued.

'A good landin', Hamish,' said Rob Anybody. 'The spinnin' certainly slows ye doon. Ye didnae drill right into the ground this time hardly at al'.'

Hamish got up more slowly this time, and managed to stay upright. He had a pair of goggles over his eyes.

'I dinna think I can tak' much more o' this,' he said, trying to untie a couple of thin bits of wood from his arms. 'I feel like a fairy wi' the wings on.'

'How can you survive that?' Tiffany asked.

The very small pilot tried to look her up and down, but only managed to look her up and further up.

'Who's the wee bigjob who knows sich a lot about aviation?' he said.

Rob Anybody coughed. 'She's the hag, Hamish. Spawn o' Granny Aching.'

Hamish's expression changed to a look of terror. 'I didnae mean to speak out o' turn, mistress,' he said, backing away. 'O' course, a hag'd have the knowing of anythin'. But 'tis nae as bad as it looks, mistress. I allus make sure I lands on my heid.'

'Aye, we're very resilient in the heid department,' said Rob Anybody.

'Have you seen a woman with a small boy?' Tiffany demanded. She hadn't much liked 'spawn'.

Hamish gave Rob Anybody a panicky look, and Rob nodded.

'Aye, I did,' said Hamish. 'Onna black horse. Riding up from the lowlan's goin' hell for—'

'We dinnae use bad language in front o' a hag!' Rob Anybody thundered.

'Begging your pardon, mistress. She was ridin' heck for leather,' said Hamish, looking more sheepish than the sheep. 'But she kenned I was spyin' her and called up a mist. She's gone to the other side, but I dinnae ken where.'

"Tis a perilous place, the other side,' said Rob Anybody, slowly. 'Evil things there. A cold place. Not a place to tak' a wee babbie.'

It was hot on the downs, but Tiffany felt a chill. However bad it is, she thought, I'm going to have to go there. I know it. I don't have a choice.

'The other side?' she said.

'Aye. The magic world,' said Rob Anybody. There's... bad things there.'

'Monsters?' said Tiffany.

'As bad as ye can think of,' said Rob Anybody. 'Exactly as bad as ye can think of.'

Tiffany swallowed hard, and closed her eyes. 'Worse than Jenny? Worse than the headless horseman?' she said.

'Oh, aye. They were wee pussycats compared to the scunners over there. 'Tis an ill-fared country that's come callin', mistress. Tis a land where dreams come true. That's the Quin's world.'

'Well, that doesn't sound too—' Tiffany began. Then she remembered some of the dreams she'd had, the ones where you were so glad to wake up... 'We're not talking about nice dreams, are we?' she said.

Rob Anybody shook his head. 'Nay, mistress. The other kind.'

And me with my frying pan and Diseases of the Sheep, thought Tiffany. And she had a mental picture of Wentworth among horrible monsters. They probably wouldn't have any sweeties at all.

She sighed. 'All right,' she said, 'how do I get there?'

'Ye dinnae ken the way?' said Rob Anybody.

It wasn't what she'd been expecting. What she had been expecting was more like 'Ach, ye cannae do that, a wee lass like you, oh dearie us no!' She wasn't so much expecting that as hoping it, in fact. But, instead, they were acting as if it were a perfectly reasonable idea—

'No!' she said. 'I don't dinnae 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!'

It felt as though 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.

'OK, 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.