‘And you can take me with you?’
‘Yes.’ Well, she hoped so.
‘All right. I’ll let you do that,’ said Roland, relaxing.
‘Oh, you’ll let me, will you?’ said Tiffany.
‘Look, I didn’t know what you were, all right?’ said Roland. There’s always weird things in the forest. Lost people, bits of dreams that’re still lying around . . . you have to be careful. But if you really know the way, then I ought to get back before my father worries too much.’
Tiffany felt the Second Thoughts starting. They said: Don’t change your expression. Just. . . check . . .
‘How long have you been here?’ she asked carefully. ‘Exactly?’
‘Well, the light doesn’t really change much,’ said the boy. ‘It feels like I’ve been here . . . oh, hours. Maybe a day . . .’
Tiffany tried hard not to let her face give anything away, but it didn’t work. Roland’s eyes narrowed.
‘I have, haven’t I?’ he said.
‘Er . . . why do you ask?’ said Tiffany, desperately.
‘Because in a way it . . . feels like . . . longer. I’ve only been hungry two or three times, and been to the . . . you know . . . twice, so it can’t be very long. But I’ve done all kinds of things . . . it’s been a busy day . . .’ His voice trailed off.
‘Um. You’re right,’ said Tiffany. “Time goes slowly here. It’s been . . . a bit longer . . .’
‘A hundred years? Don’t tell me it’s a hundred years! Something magical has happened and it’s a hundred years, yes?’
‘What? No! Um . . . nearly a year.’
The boy’s reaction was surprising. This time he looked really frightened. ‘Oh, no! That’s worse than a hundred years!’
‘How?’ said Tiffany, bewildered.
‘If it was a hundred years I wouldn’t get a thrashing when I got home!’
Hmm, thought Tiffany. ‘I don’t think that’s going to happen,’ she said aloud. ‘Your father has been very miserable. Besides, it’s not your fault you were stolen by the Queen—’ She hesitated, because this time it was his expression that gave it all away. ‘Was it?’
‘Well, there was this fine lady on a horse with bells all over its harness and she galloped past me when I was out hunting and she was laughing, so of course I spurred my horse and chased after her and . . .’ He fell silent.
‘That probably wasn’t a good decision,’ said Tiffany.
‘It’s not . . . bad here,’ said Roland. ‘It just keeps . . . changing. There’s . . . doorways everywhere. I mean entrances into other . . . places. . .’ His voice tailed off.
‘You’d better start at the beginning,’ said Tiffany.
‘It was great at first,’ said Roland. ‘I thought it was, you know, an adventure? She fed me sweetmeats—’
‘What are they, exactly?’ said Tiffany. Her dictionary hadn’t included that one. ‘Are they like sweetbreads?’
‘I don’t know. What are sweetbreads?’
‘The pancreas or thymus gland of a cow,’ said Tiffany. ‘Not a very good name, I think.’
Roland’s face went red with the effort of thought. These were more like nougat.’
‘Right. Go on,’ said Tiffany.
‘And then she told me to sing and dance and skip and play,’ said Roland. ‘She said that’s what children were supposed to do.’
‘Did you?’
‘Would you? I’d feel like an idiot. I’m twelve, you know.’ Roland hesitated. ‘In fact, if what you say is true, I’m thirteen now, right?’
‘Why did she want you to skip and play?’ said Tiffany, instead of saying, ‘No, you’re still twelve and act like you’re eight.’
‘She just said that’s what children do,’ said Roland.
Tiffany wondered about this. As far as she could see, children mostly argued, shouted, ran around very fast, laughed loudly, picked their noses, got dirty and sulked. Any seen dancing and skipping and singing had probably been stung by a wasp.
‘Strange,’ she said.
‘And then when I wouldn’t she gave me more sweets.’
‘More nougat?’
‘Sugar plums,’ said Roland. They’re, like, plums. You know? With sugar on? She’s always trying to feed me sugar! She thinks I like it!’
A small bell rang in Tiffany’s memory. ‘You don’t think she’s trying to feed you up before she bakes you in an oven and eats you, do you?’
‘Of course not. Only wicked witches do that.’
Tiffany’s eyes narrowed. ‘Oh yes,’ she said carefully. ‘I forgot. So you’ve been living on sweeties?’
‘No, I know how to hunt! Real animals get in here. I don’t know how. Sneebs thinks they find the doorways in by accident. And then they starve to death, because it’s always winter here. Sometimes the Queen sends out robbing parties if a door opens into an interesting world, too. This whole place is like . . . a pirate ship.’
‘Yes, or a sheep tick,’ said Tiffany, thinking aloud.
‘What’re they?’
‘They’re insects that bite sheep and suck blood and don’t drop off until they’re full,’ said Tiffany.
‘Yuck. I suppose that’s the kind of thing peasants have to know about,’ said Roland. ‘I’m glad I don’t. I’ve seen through the doorways to one or two worlds. They wouldn’t let me out, though. We got potatoes from one, and fish from another. I think they frighten people into giving them stuff. Oh, and there was the world where the dromes come from. They laughed about that and said if I wanted to go in there I was welcome. I didn’t! It’s all red, like a sunset. A great huge sun on the horizon, and a red sea that hardly moves, and red rocks, and long shadows. And those horrible creatures sitting on the rocks, living off crabs and spidery things and little scribbity creatures. It was awful. There was this sort of ring of little claws and shells and bones around every one of them.’
‘Who are they?’ said Tiffany, who had noted the word ‘peasants’.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You keep talking about “they”,’ said Tiffany. ‘Who do you mean? The people out there?’
‘Those? Most of them aren’t even real,’ said Roland. ‘I mean the elves. The fairies. That’s who she’s Queen of. Didn’t you know?’
‘I thought they were small!’
‘I think they can be any size they like,’ said Roland. They’re not. . . exactly real. They’re like . . . dreams of themselves. They can be as thin as air or solid as a rock. Sneebs says.’
‘Sneebs?’ said Tiffany. ‘Oh . . . the little man that just says sneebs but real words turn up in your head?’
‘Yes, that’s him. He’s been here for years. That’s how I knew about the time being wrong. Sneebs got back to his own world once, and it was all different. He was so miserable he found another doorway and came straight back.’
‘He came back?’ said Tiffany, astonished.
‘He said it was better to belong where you don’t belong than not to belong where you used to belong, remembering when you used to belong there,’ said Roland. ‘At least, I think that’s what he said. He said it’s not too bad here if you keep out of the Queen’s way. He says you can learn a lot.’
Tiffany looked back at the hunched figure of Sneebs, who was still watching the nut-cracking. He didn’t look as though he was learning anything. He just looked like someone who’d been frightened for so long it had become part of his life, like freckles.
‘But you mustn’t make the Queen angry,’ said Roland. ‘I’ve seen what happens to people who make her angry. She sets the Bumble-Bee women on them.’
‘Are you talking about those huge women with the tiny wings?’
‘Yes! They’ve vicious. And if the Queen gets really angry with someone, she just stares at them, and . . . they change.’
‘What into?’
‘Other things. I don’t want to have to draw you a picture.’ Roland shuddered. ‘And if I did, I’d need a lot of red and purple crayons. Then they get dragged off and left for the dromes.’ He shook his head. ‘Listen, dreams are real here. Really real. When you’re inside them you’re not . . . exactly here. The nightmares are real, too. You can die.’
This doesn’t feel real, Tiffany told herself. This feels like a dream. I could almost wake up from it.
I must always remember what’s real.
She looked down at her faded blue dress, with the bad stitching around the hem caused by it being let out and taken in as its various owners had grown. That was real.
And she was real. Cheese was real. Somewhere not far away was a world of green turf under a blue sky, and that was real.
The Nac Mac Feegle were real, and once again she wished they were here. There was something about the way they shouted ‘Crivens!’ and attacked everything in sight that was so very comforting.