The Wee Free Men

lighthouse!” she said, pointing. “Can you see it? A lighthouse so ships don’t run into the rocks! Right? Understand? This is a trap made just for you! The Queen’s still around!”
    “Mebbe just can we go down and look inside one wee ship?” said Rob Anybody wistfully.
    “No! Because”—Tiffany looked up; a gleam had caught her eye—“because…the sea…is…coming…back…” she said.
    What looked like a cloud on the horizon was getting bigger, and glittering as it came. Tiffany could already hear the roar.
    She ran back up the beach and got her hands under Roland’s armpits, so that she could drag him to the lighthouse. She looked back, and the pictsies were still watching the huge, surging wave.
    And there was Wentworth, watching the wave happily, and bending down slightly so that, if they stood on tiptoe, he could hold hands with two Feegles.
    The image branded itself on her eyes. The little boy, and the pictsies, all with their backs to her, and all staring with interest at the rushing, glittering, sky-filling wall of water.
    “Come on!” Tiffany yelled. “I was wrong, this isn’t the tide, this is the Queen—”
    Sunken ships were lifted up and spun around in the hissing mountain of surf.
    “Come on !”
    Tiffany managed to haul Roland across her shoulder and, staggering across the rocks, made it to the lighthouse door as the water crashed behind her—
    —for a moment the world was full of white light—
    —and snow squeaked underfoot.
    It was the silent, cold land of the Queen. There was no one around and nothing to see except snow and, in the distance, the forest. Black clouds hovered over it.
    Ahead of her, and only just visible, was a picture in the air. It showed some turf, and a few stones, lit with moonlight.
    It was the other side of the door back home.
    She turned around desperately.
    “Please!” she shouted. It wasn’t a request to anyone special. She just needed to shout. “Rob? William? Wullie? Wentworth? ”
    Away toward the forest there was the barking of the grimhounds.
    “Got to get out,” muttered Tiffany. “Got to get away.”
    She grabbed Roland by the collar and dragged him toward the door. At least he slid better on snow.
    No one and nothing tried to stop her. The snow spilled a little way through the doorway between the stones and onto the turf, but the air was warm and alive with nighttime insect noises. Under a real moon, under a real sky, she pulled the boy over to a fallen stone and sat him up against it. She sat down next to him, exhausted to the bone, and tried to get her breath back.
    Her dress was soaked and smelled of the sea.
    She could hear her own thoughts, a long way off:
    They could still be alive. It was a dream, after all. There must be a way back. All I have to do is find it. I’ve got to go back in there.
    The dogs sounded very loud.
    She stood up again, although what she really wanted to do was sleep.
    The three stones of the door were a black shape against the stars.
    And as she watched, they fell down. The one on the left slipped over, slowly, and the other two ended up leaning against it.
    She ran over and hauled at the tons of stone. She prodded the air around them in case the doorway was still there. She squinted madly, trying to see it.
    Tiffany stood under the stars, alone, and tried not to cry.
    “What a shame,” said the Queen. “You’ve let everybody down, haven’t you?”

CHAPTER 13
    Land Under Wave
    T he Queen walked over the turf toward Tiffany. Where she’d trodden, frost gleamed for a moment. The little part of Tiffany that was still thinking thought: That grass will be dead in the morning. She’s killing my turf.
    “The whole of life is but a dream, when you come to think of it,” said the Queen in the same infuriatingly calm, pleasant voice. She sat down on the fallen stones. “You humans are such dreamers. You dream that you’re clever. You dream that you’re important. You dream that you’re special. You know, you’re almost better than dromes. You’re certainly more imaginative. I have to thank you.”
    “What for?” said Tiffany, looking at her boots. Terror clamped her body in red-hot wires. There wasn’t anywhere to run to.
    “I never realized how wonderful your world is ,” said the Queen. “I mean, the dromes…well, they’re not much more than a kind of walking sponge, really. Their world is ancient. It’s nearly dead. They’re not really creative anymore. With a little help from me,