“And that’d gi’ us time tae sort oout the guest list an a’ that,” the pictsie went on.
“That’s right.”
“Plus there’s a’ that business wi’ the wedding dress and buckets o’ flowers and a’ that kind of stuff,” said Rob Anybody, looking more cheerful by the second. “That sort thing can tak’ forever, ye ken.”
“Oh yes,” said Tiffany.
“But she’s really just said no!” Fion burst out. “It’d take millions of years for the bird to—”
“She said aye!” Rob Anybody shouted. “Ye a’ heard her, lads! An’ she’s named the day! That’s the rules!”
“Nae problem aboot the mountain, neither,” said Daft Wullie, still holding out the flowers. “Just ye tell us where it is and I reckon we could ha’ it doon a lot faster than any wee burdie—”
“It’s got to be the bird!” yelled Rob Anybody desperately. “Okay? The wee burdie! Nae more arguin’! Anyone feelin’ like arguin’ will feel ma boot! Some o’ us ha’ got a wee laddie to steal back fra’ the Quin!” He drew his sword and waved it in the air. “Who’s coming wi’ me?”
That seemed to work. The Nac Mac Feegle liked clear goals. Hundreds of swords and battleaxes, and one bunch of battered flowers in the case of Daft Wullie, were thrust into the air, and the war cry of the Nac Mac Feegle echoed around the chamber. The period of time it takes a pictsie to go from normal to mad fighting mood is so tiny, it can’t be measured on the smallest clock.
Unfortunately, since the pictsies were very individualistic, each one had his own cry and Tiffany could only make out a few over the din:
“They can tak’ oour lives but they canna tak’ oour troousers!”
“Ye’ll tak’ the high road an’ I’ll tak’ yer wallet!”
“There can only be one t’ousand!”
“Ach, stick it up yer trakkans!”
But the voices gradually came together in one roar that shook the walls:
“Nae King! Nae Quin! Nae laird! Nae master! We willna be fooled again!”
This died away, a cloud of dust dropped from the roof, and there was silence.
“Let’s gae!” cried Rob Anybody.
As one Feegle, the pictsies swarmed down the galleries and across the floor and up the slope to the hole. In a few seconds the chamber was empty, except for the gonnagle and Fion.
“Where have they gone?” said Tiffany.
“Ach, they just go,” said Fion, shrugging. “I’m going tae stay here and look after the fire. Someone ought to act like a proper kelda.” She glared at Tiffany.
“I do hope you find a clan for yourself soon, Fion,” said Tiffany sweetly. The pictsie scowled at her.
“They’ll run arroond for a while, mebbe stun a few bunnies and fall over a few times,” said William. “They’ll slow down when they find oout they don’t ken what they’re supposed to do yet.”
“Do they always just run off like this?” said Tiffany.
“Ach, well, Rob Anybody disna want too much talk about marryin’,” said William, grinning.
“Yes, we have a lot in common in that respect,” said Tiffany.
She pulled herself out of the hole and found the toad waiting for her.
“I listened in,” he said. “Well done. Very clever. Very diplomatic.”
Tiffany looked around. There were a few hours to sunset, but the shadows were already lengthening.
“We’d better be going,” she said, tying on her apron. “And you’re coming, toad.”