In the center of it, surrounding what looked like a rock slab, was a dim yellow glow. There was a small figure lying on the slab.

"Here we are," said Rob Anybody. "That wasna so bad, aye?"

Roland blinked. Hundreds of bogles were clustered around the slab, but at a distance, as if they were not keen on going any closer.

"I can see…someone lying down," he said.

"That's Summer herself," said Rob. "We have tae be canny aboot this."

"Canny?"

"Like…careful," said Rob helpfully. "Goddesses can be a wee bit tricky. Verra image conscious."

"Don't we just…you know, grab her and run?" said Roland.

"Oh, aye, we'll end up doin' somethin' like that," said Rob. "But you, mister, will have tae be the one tae kiss her first. You okay wi' that?"

Roland looked a bit strained, but he said: "Yes…er, fine."

"The ladies expect it, ye ken," Rob went on.

"And then we run for it?" said Roland hopefully.

"Aye, 'cuz probably that's when the bogles will try an' stop us gettin' awa.' It's people leavin' that they don't like. Off ye go, laddie."

I've got a Plan, thought Roland, walking toward the slab. And I'll concentrate on it so that I don't think about the fact that I'm walking through a crowd of scribbly monsters that are only there if I blink and my eyes are watering. What's in my head is real to them, right?

I'm going to blink, I'm going to blink, I'm going to…

…blink. It was over in a moment, but the shudder went on for a lot longer. They had been everywhere, and every toothy mouth was looking at him. It should not be possible to look with teeth.

He ran forward, eyes streaming with the effort of not closing, and looked down at the figure lying in the yellow glow. It was female, it was breathing, it was asleep, and it looked like Tiffany Aching.

From the top of the ice palace Tiffany could see for miles, and they were miles of snow. Only on the Chalk was there any sign of green. It was an island.

"You see how I learn?" said the Wintersmith. "The Chalk is yours. So there summer will come, and you will be happy. And you will be my bride and I will be happy. And everything will be happy. Happiness is when things are correct. Now I am human, I understand these things."

Don't scream, don't shout, said her Third Thoughts. Don't freeze up, either.

"Oh…I see," she said. "And the rest of the world will stay in winter?"

"No, there are some latitudes that never feel my frost," said the Wintersmith. "But the mountains, the plains as far as the circle sea…oh, yes."

"Millions of people will die!"

"But only once, you see. That is what makes it wonderful. And after that, no more death!"

And Tiffany saw it, like a Hogswatch card: birds frozen to their twigs, horses and cows standing still in the fields, frozen grass like daggers, no smoke from any chimney; a world without death because there was nothing left to die, and everything glittering like tinsel.

She nodded carefully. "Very…sensible," she said. "But it would be a shame if nothing moved at all."

"That would be easy. Snow people," said the Wintersmith. "I can make them human!"

"Iron enough to make a nail?" said Tiffany.

"Yes! It is easy. I have eaten sausage! And I can think! I never thought before. I was a part. Now I am apart. Only when you are apart do you know who you are."

"You made me roses of ice," said Tiffany.

"Yes! Already I was becoming!"

But the roses melted at dawn, Tiffany added to herself, and glanced at the pale-yellow sun. It had just enough strength to make the Wintersmith sparkle. He does think like a human, she thought, looking into the odd smile. He thinks like a human who's never met another human. He's cackling. He's so mad, he will never understand how mad he is.

He just doesn't have a clue what "human" means, he doesn't know what horrors he's planning, he just doesn't…understand. And he's so happy he's almost sweet….

Rob Anybody banged on Roland's helmet.

"Get on wi' it, laddie," he demanded.

Roland stared at the glowing figure. "This can't be Tiffany!"

"Ach, she's a goddess, she can look like anythin'," said Rob Anybody. "Just a wee peck on the cheek, okay? Dinna get enthusiastic, we havena got all day. A wee peck an' we're offski."

Something butted Roland on the ankle. It was a blue cheese.

"Dinna fash yerself aboot Horace—he just wants ye tae do the right thing," said the mad Feegle whom Roland had come to know as Daft Wullie.

He went closer, with the glow crackling around him, because no man wants to be a coward in front of a cheese.

"This is kind of…embarrassing," he said.

"Crivens, get on wi' it, will ye?"

Roland leaned forward and pecked the sleeping cheek.

The sleeper opened her eyes, and he took a step back very quickly.

"That's not Tiffany Aching!" he said, and blinked. Bogles were as thick around him as grass stems.

"Now take her by the hand an' run," said Rob Anybody. "The bogles will turn nasty when they see we're leavin'." He banged cheerfully on the side of the helmet and added: "But that's okay, right? 'Cuz ye have a Plan!"

"I hope I've got it right, though," said Roland. "My aunts say I'm too clever by half."

"Glad tae hear it," said Rob Anybody, "'cuz that's much better than bein' too stupid by three quarters! Now grab the lady an' run!"

Roland tried to avoid the stare of the girl as he took her hand and pulled her gently off the slab. She said something in a language he couldn't understand, except that it sounded as though there were a question mark on the end of it.

"I'm here to rescue you," he said. She looked at him with the golden eyes of a snake.

"The sheep girl is in trouble," she said, in a voice full of unpleasant echoes and hisses. "So sad, so sad."

"Well, er, we'd better run," he managed, "whoever you are…."

The not-Tiffany gave him a smile. It was an uncomfortable one, with a bit of a smirk in it. They ran.

"How do you fight the bogles?" he panted when the Feegle army jogged through the caves.

"Ach, they dinna like the taste o' us overmuch," said Rob Anybody as the shadows parted. "It may be 'cuz we think aboot the drinkin' a lot—it makes 'em squiffy. Keep movin'!"

And it was at this point that the bogles struck, although that was hardly the right word. It was more like running into a wall of whispers. Nothing grabbed; there were no claws. If thousands of tiny weak things like shrimps or flies were trying to stop someone, this would be how it felt.

But the ferryman was waiting. He raised a hand as Roland staggered toward the boat.

THAT WILL BE SIX PENNIES, he said.

"Six?" said Roland.

"Ah, we wasna doon here more'n two hour, an' bang went sixpence!" said Daft Wullie.

ONE ONE-DAY ROUND TRIP, ONE ONE-WAY, said the ferryman.

"I don't have that much!" Roland shouted. He was beginning to feel little tugs in his head now. Thoughts had to push hard to get as far as his mouth.

"Leave this tae me," said Rob Anybody. He turned to look down on his fellow Feegles and banged on Roland's helmet for silence.

"Okay, lads," he announced. "We're no' leavin'!"

WHAT? said the ferryman. OH NO, YOU LEAVE! I'M NOT HAVING YOU DOWN HERE AGAIN! WE'RE STILL FINDING THE BOTTLES FROM LAST TIME! COME ON, GET ON THE BOAT THIS MINUTE!

"Crivens, we canna do that, pal," said Rob Anybody. "We're under a geas to help this lad, ye ken. Where he disna go, we dinna go!"

PEOPLE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO WANT TO STAY HERE! snapped the ferryman.

"Ach, we'll soon ha' the old place jumpin' again," said Rob Anybody, grinning.