embarrassment. “Miss Treason has just been telling us how well you have been doing here.”
“Thank you, Miss Tick.”
“She says that you have a fine eye for hidden detail,” Miss Tick went on.
Like the labels on skulls, Tiffany thought. “Miss Tick,” she said, “do you know anything about people wanting me to take over the cottage?”
“Oh, that’s all been decided,” said Miss Tick. “There was some suggestion that it should be you, since you’re already here, but really, you are still young, and Annagramma has had much more experience. I’m sorry, but—”
“That’s not fair, Miss Tick,” said Tiffany.
“Now, now, Tiffany, that’s not the sort of thing a witch says—” Miss Tick began.
“I don’t mean not fair to me, I mean unfair to Annagramma. She’s going to make a mess of it, isn’t she?”
Just for the skin of a moment Miss Tick looked guilty. It really was a very short space of time indeed, but Tiffany spotted it.
“Mrs. Earwig is certain that Annagramma will do a very good job,” said Miss Tick.
“Are you?”
“Remember whom you are talking to, please!”
“I’m talking to you, Miss Tick! This is…wrong!” Tiffany’s eyes blazed.
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. An entire plate of sausages was moving across the white cloth at very high speed.
“And that is stealing,” she growled, leaping after it.
She chased after the dish as, skimming a few inches above the ground, it rounded the cottage and disappeared behind the goat shed. She plunged after it.
There were several plates lying on the leaves behind the shed. There were potatoes, oozing butter, and a dozen ham rolls, and a pile of boiled eggs, and two cooked chickens. Everything except the sausages in the dish, which was now stationary, had a gnawed look.
There was absolutely no sign of the Feegles. That was how she could tell they were there. They always hid from her when they knew she was angry.
Well, this time she was really angry. Not at the Feegles (much), although the stupid hiding trick got on her nerves, but at Miss Tick and Granny Weatherwax and Annagramma and Miss Treason (for dying), and the Wintersmith himself (for a lot of reasons she hadn’t had time to sort out yet).
She stepped back and went quiet.
There was always a feeling of sinking slowly and peacefully, but this time it was like a dive into darkness.
When she opened her eyes, it felt as if she were looking through windows into a huge hall. Sound seemed to be coming from a long way away, and there was an itching between her eyes.
Feegles appeared, from under leaves, behind twigs, even from under plates. Their voices sounded as though they were underwater.
“Ach, crivens! She’s done some big hagglin’ on us!”
“She’s ne’er done that before!”
Hah, I’m hiding from you, thought Tiffany. Bit of a change, eh? Hmm, I wonder if I can move. She took a step sideways. The Feegles didn’t seem to see it.
“She’s gonna jump oot on us any moment! Ooohhh, waily—”
Ha! If I could walk up to Granny Weatherwax like this, she’d have to be so impressed—
The itch on Tiffany’s nose was getting worse, and there was a feeling that was similar to, but fortunately not yet the same as, the need to visit the privy. It meant: Something is going to happen soon, so it would be a good idea to be ready for it.
The sound of the voices began to get clearer, and little blue and purple spots ran across her vision.
And then there was something that, if it had made a noise, would have gone wwwhamp! It was like the popping you got in your ears after a high broomstick flight. She reappeared in the middle of the Feegles, causing immediate panic.
“Stop stealing the funeral meats right now, you wee scuggers!” she shouted.
The Feegles stopped and stared at her. Then Rob Anybody said: “Socks wi’oot feets?”
There was one of those moments—you got a lot of them around the Feegles—when the world seems to have got tangled up and it is so important to unravel the knot before you can go any further.
“What are you talking about?” asked Tiffany.
“Scuggers,” said Rob Anybody. “They’re like socks wi’oot feets in ’em. For keepin’ yer legs warm, ye ken?”
“You mean like legwarmers?” said Tiffany.
“Aye, aye, that would be a verra guid name for ’em, it bein’ what they do,” said Rob. “In point o’ fact, mebbe the term ye meant to use wuz ‘thievin’ scunners,’ which means—”
“—us,” said Daft Wullie helpfully.
“Oh. Yes. Thank you,” said Tiffany