Tiffany gasped as the other witches turned to look at her. And as the muttering began, she stepped forward hesitantly.
Then You meowed, the cry cutting through the murmuring in the crowd, and the white cat came again to Tiffany’s side. Suddenly there was a humming in the air, and the bees were there too. They flowed out of Granny Weatherwax’s hive, circling Tiffany like a halo, crowning her, and swarm and girl stood on the threshold of the cottage and Tiffany reached out her arms and the bees settled along them, and welcomed her home.
And after that, on that terrible day when a farewell was said to the witch of witches, there was no more argument as Tiffany Aching became in all eyes the witch to follow.
fn1 Pig-boring saved a lot of nasty squealing. A pig-borer, like Petulia, would talk to the pigs until they simply died of boredom.
CHAPTER 5
A Changing World
THE QUEEN OF the Elves sat in state on a diamond throne in her palace, surrounded by her courtiers, foundlings and lost boys, and creeping creatures with no names – all the detritus of the fairy folk.
She had chosen to sparkle today. The everlasting sunlight shining through the exquisitely carved stone windows had been pitched exactly to strike the tiny gems on her wings so that delicate rainbows of light danced around the audience chamber as she moved. The courtiers lounging about the place in lace-trimmed velvet and feathers were almost, but not quite, as beautifully dressed.
Her eyes slid sideways, ever alert to the actions of her lords and ladies. Was that Lord Lankin over there in the corner with Lord Mustardseed? Whispering . . . And where was Lord Peaseblossom? One day, she thought, she would have his head on a pole! She didn’t trust him at all, and his glamour had been strong of late, almost as glorious as her own. Or, she reminded herself bitterly, as glorious as her own had been . . . before.
Before that young witch – Tiffany Aching – had come into Fairyland and humiliated her.
Lately she had felt shivers between their two worlds, understood that things were shifting, the edges becoming more blurred. Softer. A few of the stronger elves had even been slipping through from time to time for a little mischief. Perhaps soon she could lead the elves on a proper raiding party . . . fetch another child to play with. Have her revenge on the Aching witch. The Queen smiled at the thought, licking her lips in anticipation of the fun ahead.
But for now there was other troubling news to deal with. Goblins! Mere worms, who should be grateful if an elvish lord or lady even looked their way, but who were now foolishly refusing to do her bidding. She would show them all, she thought. Lords Lankin, Mustardseed, Peaseblossom – they would all see how powerful she was again. They would see her strike down this goblin filth . . .
But where was Peaseblossom?
The goblin prisoner was brought into the audience chamber under guard. The whole effect was visually stunning, the goblin thought sourly. Exactly as a fairy court would look in a human child’s story book. Until you looked at the faces and realized that there was something not quite right about the eyes and the expressions of the beautiful creatures in the scene.
The Queen considered the goblin for a while, resting her fine-boned chin on the fingers of one exquisitely thin hand. Her alabaster brow furrowed.
‘You, goblin, you call yourself Of the Dew the Sunlight, I believe. You and your kind have long enjoyed the protection of this court. Yet I hear talk of rebellion. A refusal to do my bidding. Before I hand you over to my guards for their . . . amusement, tell me why this is.’
Her melodious voice was rich with charm as the words were spoken, but the goblin seemed unmoved. He should have fallen to his knees and begged for her forgiveness, hypnotized by the power of the Queen’s glamour, but instead he stood his ground stockily and grinned at her. Grinned at the Queen!
‘Well, Queenie, it’s like this, you see. Goblins is now treated as upright citizens in human world. Humans say goblins useful. We likes being useful. We gets paid for being useful and finding out things and making things.’
The Queen’s beautiful visage slipped and she glared at the cheeky creature in front of her.
‘That’s impossible,’ she shouted. ‘You goblins are the dregs, everyone knows that!’
‘Ah ha!’ laughed the goblin. ‘Queenie not so clever as she thinks. Goblins riding on hog’s back now. Goblins know how to drive the iron horses.’
There was a shiver in the court as the goblin uttered the word ‘iron’ and the magical glimmer dimmed. The Queen’s dress changed colour from silver gossamer to blood-red velvet and her blonde ringlets turned into straight, raven-black locks. Her courtiers followed suit as the pastel silks and lace made way for leather breeches, scarlet sashes and scraps of fur over woad-covered torsos. Elven stone knives were drawn and sharp teeth bared.
The little goblin did not flinch.