"But we're dressed as women, Mrs Enid," said Polly meekly.
Mrs Enid's mouth moved ferociously. Then she folded her arms. It was like a barricade going up against all that was ungodly.
"It's not right," she said. "I've got a son and a husband prisoner in this place and I'm working meself to the bone for the enemy just so's I can keep an eye on 'em. They're gonna invade, y'know. It's amazing what we hear down here. So what good's rescuing your men going to do 'em when we're all under the heel of the Zlobenian hand-painted clog, eh?"
"Zlobenia will not invade," said Wazzer confidently. "The Duchess will see to it. Be not afraid."
Wazzer got given the sort of look she always got when someone heard her for the first time.
"Been praying, 'ave yer?" said Mrs Enid kindly.
"No, just listening," said Wazzer.
"Nuggan talks to you, does he?"
"No. Nuggan is dead, Mrs Enid," said Wazzer.
Polly took Wazzer's matchstick-thin arm and said: "Excuse us a moment, Mrs Enid." She hustled the girl behind a huge, water-driven clothes mangle. It heaved and clanked as a background to their conversation.
"Wazzer, this is getting..." Polly's native tongue had no word for "freaky", but if she had known about the word she would have welcomed its inclusion "...strange. You're worrying people. You can't just go around saying that a god is dead."
"Gone, then. Dwindled... I think," said Wazzer, her brow furrowing. "No longer with us..."
"We still get the Abominations."
Wazzer tried to concentrate. "No, they're not real. They're like... echoes. Dead voices in an ancient cave, bouncing back and forth, the words changing, making nonsense... like flags that were used for signals but now just flap in the wind..." Wazzer's eyes went unfocused and her voice altered, became more adult, more certain "...and they come from no god. There is no god here now."
"So where do they come from?"
"From your fear... They come from the part that hates the Other, that will not change. They come from the sum of all your pettiness and stupidity and dullness. You fear tomorrow, and you've made your fear your god. The Duchess knows this."
The water-mangle creaked onwards. Around Polly the boilers hissed, water gushed in the runnels. The air was loaded with the smells of soap and damp cloth.
"I don't believe in the Duchess, either," said Polly. "That was just trickery in the woods. Anyone'd look round. It doesn't mean I believe in her."
"That doesn't matter, Polly. She believes in you."
"Really?" Polly glanced around the steaming, dripping cave. "Is she here, then? Has she graced us with her presence?"
Wazzer had no concept of sarcasm. She nodded. "Yes."
Yes.
Polly looked behind her.
"Did you just say yes?" she demanded.
"Yes," said Wazzer.
Yes.
Polly relaxed. "Oh, it's an echo. This is a cave, after all. Uh..."
...which doesn't explain why my voice doesn't come bouncing back...
"Wazz... I mean, Alice?" she said thoughtfully.
"Yes, Polly?" said Wazzer.