The Wee Free Men

And that was it. It was one of the very few times Granny Aching had ever said anything to Tiffany that wasn't, in some way, about sheep. It was the only time she ever acknowledged that there was a world beyond the Chalk. Tiffany used to dream about the Jolly Sailor chasing the whale fish in his boat. And sometimes the whale fish would chase her, but the Jolly Sailor always arrived in his mighty ship just in time and their chase would start again.

Sometimes she'd run to the lighthouse, and wake up just as the door swung open. She'd never seen the sea, but one of the neighbours had an old picture on the wall that showed a lot of men clinging to a raft in what looked like a huge lake full of waves. She hadn't been able to see the lighthouse at all.

And Tiffany had sat by the narrow bed and thought about Granny Aching, and about the little girl Sarah Grizzel very carefully painting the flowers in the book, and about the world losing its centre.

She missed the silence. What there was now wasn't the same kind of silence there had been before. Granny's silence was warm, and brought you inside. Granny Aching might sometimes have had trouble remembering the difference between children and lambs, but in her silence you were welcome and belonged. All you had to bring was a silence of your own.

Tiffany wished that she'd had a chance to say sorry about the shepherdess.

Then she'd gone home and told everyone that Granny was dead. She was seven, and the world had ended.

Someone was tapping politely on her boot. She opened her eyes and saw the toad. It was holding a small rock in its mouth. It spat it out.

'Sorry about that,' it said. 'I'd have used my arms but we're a very soggy species.'

'What am I supposed to do?' said Tiffany.

'Well, if you hit your head on this low ceiling you would have a definite claim for damages,' said the toad. 'Er... did I just say that?'

'Yes, and I hope you wish you hadn't,' said Tiffany. 'Why did you say it?'

'I don't know, I don't know,' moaned the toad. 'Sorry, what were we talking about?'

'I meant, what do the pictsies want me to do now?'

'Oh, I don't think it works like that,' said the toad. 'You're the kelda. You say what's to be done.'

'Why can't Fion be kelda? She's a pictsie!'

'Can't help you there,' said the toad.

'Can I be of serrrvice?' said a voice by Tiffany's ear.

She turned her head and saw, on one of the galleries that ran around the cave, William the gonnagle.

Up close, he was noticeably different from the other Feegles. His hair was neater, and plaited into one pigtail. He didn't have as many tattoos. He spoke differently too, more clearly and slowly than the others, sounding his Rs like a drumroll.

'Er, yes,' said Tiffany. 'Why can't Fion be kelda here?'

William nodded. 'A good question,' he said politely. 'But, ye ken, a kelda cannot wed her brrrrotherrrr. She must go to a new clan and wed a warrrrior there.'

'Well, why couldn't that warrior come here?'

'Because the Feegles here would not know him. They'd have no rrrrespect for him.' William made 'respect' sound like an avalanche.

'Oh. Well... what was that about the Queen? You were going to say something and they stopped you.'

William looked embarrassed. 'I don't think I can tell you aboout — '

'I am the temporary kelda,' said Tiffany, stiffly.

'Aye. Well... there was a time when we lived in the Queen's world and served her, before she grew so cold. But she tricked us, and we rrrrebelled. It was a dark time. She does not like us. And that is all I will say,' William added.