“What do you mean?”
“You keep talking about ‘they,’” said Tiffany. “Who do you mean? The people out there?”
“Those? Most of them aren’t even real,” said Roland. “I mean the elves. The fairies. That’s who she’s queen of. Didn’t you know?”
“I thought they were small!”
“I think they can be any size they like,” said Roland. “They’re not exactly real. They’re like…dreams of themselves. They can be thin as air or solid as a rock. Sneebs says.”
“Sneebs?” said Tiffany. “Oh…the little man that just says sneebs but real words turn up in your head?”
“Yes, that’s him. He’s been here for years. That’s how I knew about the time being wrong. Sneebs got back to his own world once, and it was all different. He was so miserable, he found another doorway and came straight back.”
“He came back?” said Tiffany, astonished.
“He said it was better to belong where you don’t belong than not to belong where you used to belong, remembering when you used to belong there,” said Roland. “At least, I think that’s what he said. He said it’s not too bad here if you keep out of the Queen’s way. He says you can learn a lot.”
Tiffany looked back at the hunched figure of Sneebs, who was still watching the nut cracking. He didn’t look as though he was learning anything. He just looked like someone who’d been frightened for so long, it had become part of his life, like freckles.
“But you mustn’t make the Queen angry,” said Roland. “I’ve seen what happens to people who make her angry. She sets the Bumblebee women on them.”
“Are you talking about those huge women with the tiny wings?”
“Yes! They’ve vicious. And if the Queen gets really angry with someone, she just stares at them, and…they change.”
“Into what?”
“Other things. I don’t want to have to draw you a picture.” Roland shuddered. “And if I did, I’d need a lot of red and purple crayon. Then they get dragged off and left for the dromes.” He shook his head. “Listen, dreams are real here. Really real. When you’re inside them you’re not…exactly here. The nightmares are real, too. You can die.”
This doesn’t feel real, Tiffany told herself. This feels like a dream. I could almost wake up from it.
I must always remember what’s real.
She looked down at her faded blue dress, with the bad stitching around the hem caused by it being let out and taken in as its various owners had grown. That was real.
And she was real. Cheese was real. Somewhere not far away was a world of green turf under a blue sky, and that was real.
The Nac Mac Feegle were real, and once again she wished they were here. There was something about the way they shouted “Crivens!” and attacked everything in sight that was so very comforting.
Roland was probably real.
Almost everything else was really a dream, in a robber world that lived off the real worlds and where time nearly stood still and horrible things could happen at any moment. I don’t want to know anything more about it, she decided. I just want to get my brother and go home, while I’m still angry.
Because when I stop being angry, that’ll be the time to get frightened again, and I’ll be really frightened this time. Too frightened to think. As frightened as Sneebs. And I must think….
“The first dream I fell into was like one of mine,” she said. “I’ve had dreams where I wake up and I’m still asleep. But the ballroom, I’ve never—”
“Oh, that was one of mine,” said Roland. “From when I was young. I woke up one night and went down to the big hall and there were all these people with masks on, dancing. It was just so…bright.” He looked wistful for a moment. “That was when my mother was still alive.”
“This one’s a picture from a book I’ve got,” said Tiffany. “She must have got that from me—”
“No, she often uses it,” said Roland. “She likes it. She picks up dreams from everywhere. She collects them.”
Tiffany stood and picked up the frying pan again. “I’m going to see the Queen,” she said.
“Don’t,” said Roland. “You’re the only other real person here except Sneebs, and he’s not very good company.”
“I’m going to get my brother and go home,” said Tiffany flatly.