The Wee Free Men

“Now, that’s a heid that’d be a day’s work e’en for Big Yan,” said Rob Anybody. “I reckon we’d have to come back tomorrow! Row, boys!”



“It’s a dream of mine,” said Tiffany, as calmly as she could manage. “It’s the whale fish.”



I never dreamed the smell, though, she added to herself. But here it is, a huge, solid, world-filling smell of salt and water and fish and ooze—



“Whut does it eat?” Daft Wullie asked.



“Ah, I know that,” said Tiffany, as the boat rocked on the swell. “Whales aren’t dangerous, because they just eat very small things…”



“Row like the blazes, lads!” Rob Anybody yelled.



“How d’ye ken it only eats wee stuff?” said Daft Wullie as the whale fish’s mouth began to open.



“I paid a whole cucumber once for a lesson on beasts of the deep,” said Tiffany as a wave washed over them. “Whales don’t even have proper teeth!”



There was a creaking sound and a gust of fishy halitosis about the size of a typhoon, and the view was full of enormous, pointy teeth.



“Aye?” said Wullie. “Weel, no offense meant, but I dinna think this beastie went to the same school as ye!”



The surge of water was pushing them away. And Tiffany could see the whole of the head now, and in a way she couldn’t possibly describe, the whale looked like the Queen. The Queen was there, somewhere.



The anger came back.



“This is my dream,” she shouted at the sky. “I’ve dreamed it dozens of times! You’re not allowed in here! And whales don’t eat people! Everyone who isn’t very stupid knows that!”



A tail the size of a field rose and slapped down on the sea. The whale shot forward.



Rob Anybody threw off his yellow hat and drew his sword.



“Ach, weel, we tried,” he said. “This wee beastie’s gonna get the worst belly ache there ever wuz!”



“Aye, we’ll cut oour way out!” shouted Daft Wullie.



“No, keep rowing!” said Tiffany.



“It’s ne’er be said that the Nac Mac Feegle turned their back on a foe!” Rob yelled.



“But you’re rowing facing backward!” Tiffany pointed out.



The pictsie looked crestfallen. “Oh, aye, I hadna thought o’ it like that,” he said, sitting down again.



“Just row!” Tiffany insisted. “We’re nearly at the lighthouse!”



Grumbling, because even if they were facing the right way, they were still going the wrong way, the pictsies hauled on the oars.



“That’s a great big heid he’s got there, ye ken,” said Rob Anybody. “How big would you say that heid is, gonnagle?”



“Ach, I’d say it’s verrra big, Rob,” said William, who was with the team on the other oar. “Indeed, I might commit myself to sayin’ it’s enorrrrmous.”



“Ye’d go as far as that, would ye?”



“Oh, aye. Enorrrrmous is fully justified.”



It’s nearly on us, Tiffany thought.



This has got to work. It’s my dream. Any moment. Any moment now…



“An’ how near us would you say it is, then?” asked Rob conversationally, as the boat wallowed and jerked just ahead of the whale.



“That’s a verrra good question, Rob,” said William. “And I’d answer it by sayin’ it’s verrra close indeed.”



Any moment now, thought Tiffany. I know Miss Tick said you shouldn’t believe in your dreams, but she meant you shouldn’t just hope.



Er…any moment now, I…hope. He’s never missed….



“In fact I’d go so farrr as to say exceedingly close—” William began.



Tiffany swallowed and hoped that the whale wouldn’t. There was only about thirty yards of water between the teeth and the boat.



And then it was filled with a wooden wall that blurred as it went past, making a zipzipzip noise.



Tiffany looked up, her mouth open. White sails flashed across the storm clouds, pouring rain like waterfalls. She looked up at rigging and ropes and sailors lined up on the spars, and cheered.



And then the stern of the Jolly Sailor’s ship was disappearing into the rain and mist, but not before Tiffany saw the big bearded figure at the wheel, dressed in yellow oilskins. He turned and waved just once, before the ship vanished into the murk.



She managed to stand up again, as the boat rocked in the swell, and yelled at the towering whale: “You’ve got to chase him! That’s how it has to work! You chase him, he chases you! Granny Aching said so! You can’t not do it and still be the whale fish! This is my dream! My rules! I’ve had more practice at it than you!”



“Big fishy!” yelled Wentworth.



That was more surprising than the whale. Tiffany stared at her little brother as the boat rocked again.



“Big fishy!” said Wentworth again.



“That’s right!” Tiffany said, delighted. “Big fishy! And what makes it particularly interesting is that a whale isn’t a fish! It is in fact a mammal, just like a cow!”



Did you just say that? said her Second Thoughts, as all the pictsies stared at her and the boat spun in the surf. The first time he’s ever said anything that wasn’t about sweeties or weewee and you just corrected him?



Tiffany looked at the whale. It was having trouble. But it was the whale, the whale she’d dreamed about many times after Granny Aching had told her that story, and not even the Queen could control a story like that.



It turned reluctantly in the water and dived in the wake of the Jolly Sailor’s ship.



“Big fishy gone!” said Wentworth.



“No, it’s a mammal—” Tiffany’s mouth said, before she could stop it.



The pictsies were still staring at her.



“It’s just that he ought to get it right,” she mumbled, ashamed of herself. “It’s a mistake lots of people make….”



You’re going to turn into somebody like Miss Tick, said her Second Thoughts. Do you really want that?



“Yes,” said a voice, and Tiffany realized that it was hers again. The anger rose up, joyfully. “Yes! I’m me! I am careful and logical and I look up things I don’t understand! When I hear people use the wrong words, I get edgy! I am good with cheese. I read books fast! I think! And I always have a piece of string! That’s the kind of person I am!”



She stopped. Even Wentworth was staring at her now. He blinked.



“Big water cow gone,” he suggested meekly.



“That’s right! Good boy!” said Tiffany. “When we get home, you can have one sweet!”



She saw the massed ranks of the Nac Mac Feegle still looking at her with worried expressions.



“Is it okay wi’ you if we get on?” asked Rob Anybody, holding up a nervous hand. “Before yon whale fi—before yon whale cow comes back?”



Tiffany looked past them. The lighthouse wasn’t far. A little jetty stretched out from its tiny island.



“Yes, please. Er…thank you,” she said, calming down a bit. The ship and the whale had vanished into the rain, and the sea was merely lapping at the shore.



A drome was sitting on the rocks with its pale, fat legs sticking out in front of it. It was staring out to sea and didn’t appear to notice the approaching boat. It thinks it’s home, Tiffany thought. I’ve given it a dream it likes.



Pictsies poured onto the jetty and tied up the boat.



“Okay, we’re here,” said Rob Anybody. “We’ll just chop yon creature’s heid off and we’ll be right oout o’ here…”



“Don’t!” said Tiffany.



“But it—”



“Leave it alone. Just…leave it alone, all right? It’s not interested.” And it knows about the sea, she added to herself. It’s probably homesick for the sea. That’s why it’s such a real dream. I’d have never have got it right by myself.



A crab crawled out of the surf by the drome’s feet and settled down to dream crab dreams.



It looks as though a drome can get lost in its own dream, she thought. I wonder if it’ll ever wake up?



She turned to the Nac Mac Feegle. “In my dream I always wake up when I reach the lighthouse,” she said.



The pictsies looked up at the red-and-white tower and, as one Feegle, drew their swords.



“We dinna trust the Quin,” said Rob. “She’ll let ye think ye’re safe, and just when ye’ve dropped your guard, she’ll leap oout. She’ll be waitin’ behind the door, ye can bet on it. Ye’ll let us go in first.”



It was an instruction, not a question. Tiffany nodded and watched the Nac Mac Feegle swarm over the rocks toward the tower.



Alone on the jetty, except for Wentworth and the unconscious Roland, she lifted the toad out of her pocket. It opened its yellow eyes and stared at the sea.



“Either I’m dreaming or I’m on a beach,” it said. “And toads don’t dream.”



“In my dream they can,” said Tiffany. “And this is my dream.”



“Then it is an extremely dangerous one!” said the toad ungratefully.



“No, it’s lovely,” said Tiffany. “It’s wonderful. Look at the way the light dances on the waves.”



“Where are the notices warning people they could drown?” complained the toad. “No life preservers or shark nets. Oh, dear. Do I see a qualified lifeguard? I think not. Supposing someone was to—”



“It’s a beach,” said Tiffany. “Why are you talking like this?”



“I—I don’t know,” said the toad. “Can you put me down, please? I feel a headache coming on.”



Tiffany put it down, and it shuffled into some seaweed. After a while she heard it eating something.



The sea was calm.



It was peaceful.



It was exactly the moment anyone sensible should distrust.



But nothing happened. It was followed by nothing else happening. Wentworth picked up a pebble from the beach and put it in his mouth, on the basis that anything might be a candy.



Then, suddenly, there were noises from the lighthouse. Tiffany heard muffled shouts, and thuds, and once or twice the sound of breaking glass. At one point there was a noise like something heavy falling down a long spiral staircase and hitting every step on the way.



The door opened. The Nac Mac Feegle came out. They looked satisfied.



“Nae problemo,” said Rob Anybody. “No one there.”



“But there was a lot of noise!”



“Oh, aye. We had to make sure,” said Daft Wullie.



“Weewee men!” shouted Wentworth.



“I’ll wake up when I go through the door,” said Tiffany, pulling Roland out of the boat. “I always do. It must work. This is my dream.” She hauled the boy upright. “Can you bring Wentworth?”



“Aye.”



“And you won’t get lost or—or drunk or anything?”



Rob Anybody looked offended. “We ne’er get lost!” he said. “We always ken where we are! It’s just sometimes mebbe we aren’t sure where everything else is, but it’s no’ our fault if everything else gets lost! The Nac Mac Feegle are never lost!”