The Tales of Aylfenhame Compendium

Chapter Sixteen-2

‘Felebre!’ Sophy cried in relief. Then she questioned her own feelings, for had not Felebre been responsible for leading her to Hidenory? The cat was in some measure responsible for Sophy’s current predicament, so she ought not be pleased to see her. But the cat’s behaviour towards the sleeping girl—and Sophy herself—was strange: gone was her quiet dignity, and in its place she displayed a kind of bounding joyousness, like a gambolling kitten. Sophy noticed, with faint unease, that Felebre’s eyes and Lihyaen’s were almost the same colour.

She was not given a great deal of time to consider these points, for a great howling reached her ears, distant but growing rapidly closer. It sounded as though a pack of hunting dogs was approaching through the trees; and why not? Plenty of stranger things had happened. But they were moving impossibly fast; barely had she had time to register the sound before the dogs swept through the trees and crashed over the table.

They were incorporeal, mere hound-shapes sketched in the air, but they made enough noise for five hunting-packs together. Goblins crouched low over their backs—solid creatures, these, with ferocious grins wreathing their pointed faces. They came at her at a dead run and swarmed over her, howling and yipping and bellowing as they rode victorious circles around her.

Sophy barely had time to feel afraid—yet again—before another thing happened. A tall figure appeared in the wake of the goblin hunters; tall and lithe and brown-skinned, with long dark hair flying everywhere in the wind. She caught the briefest glimpse of his disfigured face before she found herself swept up in a fierce embrace and held very closely indeed against a hard male body.

‘Miss Landon, I am so relieved…’ he was saying into her ear. ‘I have never been so afraid in all my life!’

‘Aubranael?’ she said in confusion. ‘How came you to be here?’ And how came he to recognise her in her hag-form? But when she glanced down at her own hands, they were smooth and young once more. Hidenory’s enchantment had worn off, she supposed, or it had retreated in the face of some greater power. She did not much care which; she was only relieved to be restored to herself.

But… Aubranael. His embrace confused and embarrassed her—and prompted some other feelings as well, to which she could not precisely put a name. But she was so relieved to see him, too, that for one very shocking instant she melted against him and allowed herself to be held, and hang the impropriety.

Aubranael smiled into her face and made as if to kiss her. Shocked, Sophy pulled away.

‘I forgot,’ he said, his face registering some manner of sudden realisation. ‘I apologise. There is much to explain.’

But Sophy had not time for his explanations just at that moment, for her attention was distracted by the sight of Mr. Balligumph stamping mightily through the trees and bearing down upon the tea-table at great speed. ‘Balligumph?’ she said incredulously. Behind the troll came Isabel Ellerby carrying Thundigle, and Charles Ellerby carrying another brownie. Behind them came poor Mary, staggering as though her feet pained her very much. They caught sight of Sophy, and their faces lit up with delight and relief. Sophy’s own heart thumped weirdly with a mixture of emotions she could not immediately put a name to. Had all of these people come here—into the heart of Aylfenhame—in order to find her? For a moment she was so overcome with love and gratitude and relief that she could not speak.

Then she saw Anne. Her young friend had found a seat at the table and was already in the thick of the party, with three teapots set before her and three matching cake-boxes. ‘Oh, no,’ Sophy groaned. ‘Anne would be the first to sit down!’

The next half-hour was a mess of pure chaos. Her attempts to extricate Anne from the never-ending tea party were as unsuccessful as her attempts to free Pinch, Graen and the others, but that did not keep her from trying. But then the gathering was greatly augmented when fully half of the goblin hunt-riders found seats and began to gorge themselves; the rest might have followed suit, but a barked command from—inexplicably—Mr. Green recalled them before they could commit themselves. How came Mr. Green to be here? And how was it that he commanded such unthinking obedience from a small army of goblins? Sophy wanted to ask, but she could find no opportunity amidst the chaos.

When Isabel and Charles Ellerby began to drift towards the table, Sophy did her best to intercept them, but she was too late. Soon they, too, were honoured guests at the sleeping girl’s party, sitting either side of Anne and joining with her in every gaiety. Felebre took up a position near the strange hostess’s head and lay there, watching the festivities with an unreadable expression, her tail twitching at the tip. Balligumph attempted to reach Sophy with some manner of message for her, if she was reading his gestures correctly; but his bulk was against him, and he could not find a path between the trees and the table, and past the remnants of Mr. Green’s goblins.

And then there was Hidenory, of whom Sophy was powerfully aware. The witch kept to one side, watching the proceedings with an inscrutable expression on her face. Twilight was rapidly approaching; she would soon be restored to her youth and beauty, and then what would she do? For Sophy read a degree of resolve in her pose and in the set of her withered old lips. But she could not guess what the witch might be planning; she could only keep a part of her attention fixed upon her, in the hopes that she might be able to protect herself—and if necessary, her friends—from any further interference.

Aubranael left her side; for a moment she panicked that he had succumbed to the lure of the table, but she spotted him bending solicitously over the sleeping girl. He began talking to her, words which were lost amidst the roar of merriment. Sophy considered following him, but quickly changed her mind. She wanted to speak to Balligumph; he was always the voice of reason, the source of exactly the piece of information one needed. If anybody knew how to resolve the problem of the Teapot Society, it would be he.

She began to force her way through the hound-riders, past the haphazardly-placed chairs at the tea-table and between the slender trees that arched over the tea-drinkers. Balligumph saw her intent and planted himself firmly, looking as immoveable as a small tree, or perhaps a very large rock. She had almost reached him when Mary bustled past her, making her way towards the table. Sophy saw an empty chair nearby.

‘No!’ she cried, catching at Mary’s wrist. ‘Mary, you must not! You see the consequences before you.’

Mary clucked her disapproval, and gently—but firmly—withdrew her arm from Sophy’s grip. ‘What a thing to say! I would think my Sophy would remember that I was never a tea-drinker. I had far rather drink washing-up water.’ She picked up one of the discarded tea cups and, to Sophy’s mild amazement, began to tidy up. ‘Such a shocking mess,’ she was muttering. ‘I cannot think too well of any lady who permits such a ruckus as this at her own table.’

Sophy’s astonishment grew when the red-capped hob who had previously owned the tea cup in question looked directly at Mary, his face a picture of horror. He swiped at the cups she was holding, but Mary was too fast for him. ‘Fear not, little master! I will bring them back, fresh and new, in a trice.’

She continued to tidy with the efficiency of long years of practice: polishing soiled teapots, collecting tea-stained cups and wiping up cake crumbs. While they had ignored—or been oblivious to—Sophy’s presence entirely, the tea-drinkers watched Mary’s progress with full comprehension, and no small amount of anger.

‘Mary, I think perhaps you had better take care,’ Sophy said, darting after her old friend. When a teacup fell from Mary’s overloaded arms and smashed upon the floor, a tide of angry muttering swept over the table and Sophy’s fear for Mary grew.

But then she noticed something else. The owner of the broken cup—a little flower-fae who resembled Graen—began to blink and yawn, as though waking up from a long sleep. She stared around herself with confusion, her face registering complete surprise at her situation. The effect lasted for only a few moments, but to Sophy it was highly significant.

Experimentally, she picked up one of Pinch’s teacups and began to ostentatiously polish the tea-stained exterior. It was not long before the cup fell through her fingers and fell upon the table. It broke into four pieces.

‘Oh, gracious,’ she murmured. ‘How very clumsy of me.’

Pinch blinked at her in complete astonishment, his expression dazed.

‘Ha!’ Sophy cried, delighted. ‘Very well: breaking things is, after all, one of my particular talents.’

She began to smash tea cups with enthusiasm, even sending a few of the precious teapots onto the floor. Mary quickly caught on to her plan and began to follow suit: it evidently pained her immensely to destroy such beautiful tableware, but she did not hesitate. They worked their way down the table, smashing everything they could reach, and behind them they left a trail of dazed and blinking party guests.

Then Sophy heard Balli’s heavy tread behind her. She turned just in time to see him forcing his way through to the table; once he reached it he swept out his great arms and sent at least twenty tea-things crashing to the floor. ‘Sometimes,’ he winked, ‘size is a great boon.’

Sophy grinned at him. She turned back to her work, making her way rapidly towards the head of the table and Aubranael. He had left off speaking to the girl and was now hurling crockery into the trees with quick, efficient movements. Most of the items he threw collided directly with the slender trunks and broke on impact.

All at once, the tea-drinkers seemed to awaken en masse from the weird enchantment that had held them in thrall. Observing the destruction in progress, they immediately began to participate, and for a full minute the clearing resounded with a terrific din of splintering porcelain, and the cackling laughter of the erstwhile cake-eaters.

At last, every single item of crockery lay in pieces along the table or the floor or between the trees, and a heavy silence descended. There must be hundreds of creatures gathered around the table, Sophy thought, and for a long, heavy moment not one of them spoke.

Then they all began to talk at once.

There was much angry gesticulating and excitable waving-of-arms, a great many scowling faces, almost as many highly confused ones, and so many opinions expressed altogether that Sophy could distinguish nothing sensible at all. After a few minutes of this, a few of the tea-drinkers retreated from the table and disappeared into the trees. Many others followed, and the throng quickly depleted itself.

As soon as Sophy had room to move and breathe, she hastened to find Anne, Isabel and Charles and ensure that they were restored to themselves.

‘I am so sorry,’ she said breathlessly, pressing each of their hands in turn and staring anxiously into their faces. The confusion was clearing from their eyes and they began to look much more like their usual selves.

‘That was the oddest thing,’ Isabel said thoughtfully. ‘I can hardly remember what I was thinking, but it was absolutely imperative to drink as much tea as possible. I had an intense fear that it would run out before I had drunk my fill, and then something terrible would happen.’ She paused, and then said in a low voice, ‘Though it is awfully shocking to mention such things before company, I cannot help asking… do you imagine there is a commode somewhere here abouts?’

Sophy laughed with relief to find such a commonplace concern on Isabel’s mind, but before she had chance to reply she noticed something odd.

Pieces of broken porcelain were creeping across the tablecloth and pressing their edges together. As she watched, several splintered chunks reformed themselves into a perfect tea cup, which wobbled upright and then sat there with—she could have sworn—an air of smugness.

All across the table and the floor, the same thing was happening. The Teapot Society was reforming itself before Sophy’s eyes, and it was all coming together very quickly indeed.

‘Back from the table!’ roared Balligumph. His great, deep voice easily carried across the clearing, and no doubt far beyond. As one, all of the remaining goblins and tea-drinkers jumped backwards. Sophy and her friends backed away, too, eyeing the inexplicable crockery warily.

Sophy noticed that Hidenory had given up her silent vigil and was now making her way towards the head of the table, where Aubranael still sat. A nameless fear seized her heart and she began to push her way towards him. If Hidenory intended him some form of harm, she had little idea how she would intervene; but she knew she must at least try.

‘All right, that’s quite enough!’ roared Balligumph. ‘I will be makin’ an end t’ this unnatural business an’ no mistake. Who among the lot of ye can tell me what this nonsense is about?’

His gaze was fixed on the sleeping girl who, Sophy now saw, was no longer sleeping at all. She was sitting up, her thin body trembling with the effort and her eyes fixed on Aubranael’s face. He was sitting with one arm around her shoulders and his free hand at her waist, lending her his strength.

Their faces wore identical expressions of stricken horror and wonder, and they were so lost in the contemplation of each other that they patently did not hear Balligumph’s shout.

Sophy felt a small, unpleasant sensation growing somewhere inside of her as she watched this display. Aubranael’s every gesture, every movement, was full of a heartbreaking tenderness, and he stared at her as though he never wished to release her ever again.

‘OI!’ roared Balligumph, so loudly that Sophy could feel the trees shake. ‘AUBRANAEL! CRAZY LADY! I’M WANTIN’ AN ANSWER HERE!’

Aubranael and the lady both turned to stare unseeingly at Balligumph, incomprehension written on both their faces. ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Aubranael.

Balligumph glowered at him, and took a deep breath. ‘I said,’ he repeated in a more reasonable tone, ‘does one of ye two crazies have any notion at all what in the blazes is goin’ on here?’

Aubranael stared down the long, long table: at the teacups and teapots still gluing themselves back together; at the crowd of goblins and elves and flower-fae and hobs and brownies and humans staying as close to the trees as possible; and finally at Sophy herself.

‘Yes,’ he said in a heartbroken voice. ‘I—that is—some of it.’

‘Yes,’ said Balligumph in a knowing way. ‘I had a feelin’ ye might. Would ye be plannin’ t’ explain? Or shall we ask the lady Lihyaen?’