A Hat Full Of Sky

wee eiggs an’ fruits an’ old clothes and—” Daft Wullie began.
    Rob gave him a look.
    “Er…wuz that one o’ those times when I shouldna open my big fat mouth?” said Wullie.
    “Aye. It wuz,” said Rob. He turned back to both of Miss Level. “Mebbe we tak’ the odd bitty thing lyin’ aboot—”
    “—in locked cupboards an’ such—” added Daft Wullie happily.
    “—but it’s no’ missed, an’ we keeps an eye on the ships in payment,” said Rob, glaring at his brother.
    “You can see the sea from down there?” said Miss Level, entering that state of general bewilderment that most people fell into when talking to the Feegles.
    “Rob Anybody means the sheep,” said Awf’ly Wee Billy. Gonnagles know a bit more about language.
    “Aye, I said so, ships,” said Rob Anybody. “Anywa’…aye, we watch her farm. She’s the hag o’ oor hills, like her granny.” He added proudly, “It’s through her the hills knows they are alive.”
    “And a hiver is…?”
    Rob hesitated. “Dunno the proper haggin’ way o’ talking aboot it,” he said. “Awf’ly Wee Billy, you know them lang words.”
    Billy swallowed. “There’s old poems, mistress. It’s like a, a mind wi’oot a body, except it disna think. Some say it’s nothing but a fear, and never dies. And what it does…” His tiny face wrinkled. “It’s like them things you get on sheep,” he decided.
    The Feegles who weren’t eating and drinking came to his aid.
    “Horns?”
    “Wools?”
    “Tails?”
    “Legs?”
    “Chairs?” This was Daft Wullie.
    “Sheep ticks,” said Billy thoughtfully.
    “A parasite, you mean?” said Miss Level.
    “Aye, that could be the word,” said Billy. “It creeps in, ye ken. It looks for folks wi’ power and strength. Kings, ye ken, magicians, leaders. They say that way back in time, afore there wuz people, it lived in beasts. The strongest beasts, ye ken, the ones wi’ big, big teeths. An’ when it finds ye, it waits for a chance tae creep intae your head and it becomes ye.”
    The Feegles fell silent, watching Miss Level.
    “Becomes you?” she said.
    “Aye. Wi’ your memories an’ all. Only…it changes ye. It gives ye a lot o’ power, but it takes ye over, makes ye its own. An’ the last wee bit of ye that still is ye…well, that’ll fight and fight, mebbe, but it will dwindle and dwindle until it’s a’ gone an’ ye’re just a memory….”
    The Feegles watched both of Miss Level. You never knew what a hag would do at a time like this.
    “Wizards used to summon demons,” she said. “They may still do so, although I think that’s considered so fifteen-centuries-ago these days. But that takes a lot of magic. And you could talk to demons, I believe. And there were rules.”
    “Never heard o’ a hiver talkin’,” said Billy. “Or obeyin’ rules.”
    “But why would it want Tiffany?” said Miss Level. “She’s not powerful!”
    “She has the power o’ the land in her,” said Rob Anybody stoutly. “’Tis a power that comes at need, not for doin’ wee conjurin’ tricks. We seen it, mistress!”
    “But Tiffany doesn’t do any magic,” said Miss Level helplessly. “She’s very bright, but she can’t even make a shamble. You must be wrong about that.”
    “Any o’ youse lads seen the hag do any hagglin’ lately?” Rob Anybody demanded. There were a lot of shaken heads, and a shower of beads, beetles, feathers, and miscellaneous head items.
    “Do you spy—I mean, do you watch over her all the time?” said Miss Level, slightly horrified.
    “Oh, aye,” said Rob, airily. “No’ in the privy, o’ course. An’ it’s getting harder in her bedroom ’cuz she’s blocked up a lot o’ the cracks, for some reason.”
    “I can’t imagine why,” said Miss Level carefully.
    “No’ us, neither,” said Rob. “We reckon it was ’cuz o’ the drafts.”
    “Yes, I expect that’s why it was,” said Miss Level.
    “So mostly we get in through a mousehole and hides out in her old dolly house until she guz tae sleep,” said Rob. “Dinna look at me like that, mistress—all the lads is perrrfect gentlemen an’ keeps their eyes tight shut when she’s gettin’ intae her nightie. Then there’s one guarding her window and another at the door.”
    “Guarding her from what?”
    “Everything.”
    For a moment Miss Level had a picture in her mind of a silent, moonlit bedroom with a sleeping child. She saw, by the window, lit by the moon, one small