THE TALENDE TREE

CHAPTER 9 - The Peace Conference

David edged the white Porsche carefully along the narrow lane. There were so many fallen leaves and so much sodden vegetation that it was hard to see where the edge of the lane even was, and he had a nasty feeling there was a water-filled ditch about two inches from his off-side wheels. Rowan had her nose to the side window, looking out for him.
“Ugh, what was that?” he said, as a wheel lurched alarmingly.
“Only a big stone,” said Rowan. “You're doing fine.”
“Maybe we should have parked in Burneside and walked the rest. If we meet anything coming the other way, we're sunk.”
“We must be nearly there now,” said Rowan, consulting her phone. “There's a track off to the left soon, maybe that's it.”

It seemed a long time before the track came in sight, and meanwhile the lane got more and more bumpy, with big clumps of grass growing right in the middle of it. They went over a rise that made David worry the car might snap in half, then juddered down again, to see a stretch of old stone wall, with a gap in it where there might once have been a gate. Through the gap they could see a grass-covered yard containing an old stone sink, a broken tractor and a rusty metal contraption they couldn't put a name to. There was a name on a board, though, propped up against the wall. The board was warped and the painted name nearly obliterated, but when they looked carefully, they could see that it did say, Fayrfield Farm.
“This is it!” whispered Rowan.
“I'll never get in there!” said David.
Rowan got out to investigate.
“Yes, you can,” she called through the open window. “Go back a bit, swing as far right as you can – it's solid enough here – and I'll stay out and help.”
Slowly, carefully, with Rowan guiding and encouraging, David succeeded in squeezing the magnificent elf-built car into the farmyard. He reversed onto a patch of grass next to the old stone sink and got out.
“Thanks,” he said. “You made all the difference. Well, let's go and see if anyone's at home.”

The farmhouse was built of stone and looked as if it had been there for hundreds of years. It had a dignity that wasn't diminished by superficial things like cobwebby windows and a dandelion growing through a crack in the doorstep. The door was solid wood and there was a big iron knocker. David reached up and banged it hard. In the distance, a dog barked in response. David and Rowan waited patiently and after nearly five minutes, a border collie came trotting round from behind the house and circled them enquiringly. The dog was followed by a man, who stopped and stared for a moment before approaching. He was tall and thin, with straggly silver hair, and his lined face was kind and peaceful. David's spirits rose. This was the person they wanted, he was sure of it.
“Hello,” he said. “Know and be known.”
“Know and be known?” said the man. “You mean... what do you mean?”
“I mean we're Allies too,” said David. “My name's David Chambers and this is Rowan Grey.”
“John Selby,” said the man automatically, as if he couldn't quite fathom this. “David and Rowan? I've heard of you, from Hogweed.”
“Hogweed Moseley? Yes, that's us. And we'd love to see him if he's not too busy, but it's you we've really come to see. General Madge Arley asked us to come.”
“You'd better come in, then. At least... d'you mind just walking round the back? I never open that door, these days.”
The back of the house and the rest of the farm were much better cared for than the front. David suspected the front had been left like that on purpose to deter casual visitors. Sitting at the kitchen table, with a mug of strong tea and a plate of home-made biscuits, David could look out of the window and see a field of sheep, a large vegetable garden, mostly harvested now except for the sprouts and winter cabbage, and a well-stocked woodpile. There were some hens wandering about, and a small paddock containing half a dozen goats.
“Goat's milk,” said Rowan, smiling.
Mr. Selby looked rather sheepish.
“Well, yes, I do keep the goats for the sprites. My wife, Barbara, used to think it was a bit daft. I don't think she really believed they were there, sometimes. But she was a kind lady and a good one and she didn't mind. But she's gone to a better place now. I miss her.”
He looked so distraught for a moment that Rowan reached out and stroked his hand. He smiled at her and then at David.
“When you find a kind one, hang on to her,” he said.
“I will,” said David, and smiled at Rowan himself. The he coughed a bit and sat up straighter. “It's a lovely place you've got here.”
“It's not bad, not bad at all,” smiled Mr. Selby. “I don't do as much as I used to. Getting old. Just do enough to keep me going. I don't need much money.”
“Where do the sprites live?” asked Rowan. “Behind those rocks over there?”
“That's right. Just look like part of the hillside, don't they? You'd never guess there was so much space behind there. And no human could fit through the crack they use to get in and out.”
“But another sprite could,” said David. “That's why we've come. Have you had any trouble here, or seen any strange sprites?”
“No, nothing. Why, what's going on? Is it something to do with this war?”
“Probably,” said David. “You know there are three other schools, across Europe?”
“I heard tell, years ago. Don't know where they are, though.”
“One's in Poland, one's in Italy. And there's another in Romania. And that one was attacked, a week ago. No-one knows who did it, except that they made themselves look like a gang, a group of sprites that roam free with no settled home. But the senior people in the army think it was more likely to be a plot by Special Brigade.”
“We forget, here, that the rest of the world exists, sometimes. I do, and so do the sprites, I think. Only Hogweed ever talks about what's going on in the world, but he never mentioned this. So what happened at the school in Romania?”
“Four little sprites were killed,” said Rowan. “It's heart-breaking. They were so tiny. It was cruel, and it was deliberate. Whoever did this, did it for some warped reason. And General Arley thinks, maybe it was to shock. If so, they may have achieved what they wanted. That might be it. But on the other hand, it might not. What if attacks are being planned on the other schools?”
Mr. Selby got up and went to the door to look out, to reassure himself that all was still peaceful around the school.
“Killed? Little sprites, killed?”
His dog was at his feet, ready for action, knowing something was wrong.
“It's all right, Ben. Good boy, good boy.”
Mr. Selby sat down again. Ben laid his head on Rowan's lap. Rowan gave him a bit of biscuit.
“What can we do? This place is secure against humans, but not against other sprites. And it must be well known where it is, so people know where to bring lost babies. That happens – it happens all the time – but I've never seen it happen.”
“They don't realise you're an Ally, so they slip past unseen. So an enemy could, too.”
“In Romania, they had no warning,” said David. “No-one dreamed that a school could be attacked. At least we can warn them, here. And I hope we can do more than that. I hope we can give them a really solid defence. Since the sprites lost their Signals – do you know...”
“Yes, I heard about that,” said Mr. Selby. “They didn't seem to think it would affect them, here.”
“Since then, the army's been keeping in touch using old mobile phones.”
“Old mobile phones?”
“I understand,” said David. “It's awful, I know, but they get upgraded every couple of years. They didn't send a phone here because it was well known that there wasn't an elf tree, and you can't use the elf network without an elf tree.”
“David,” said Mr. Selby, “I haven't even got a telephone. I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You have got electricity though, haven't you?” said David, suddenly worried. Mr. Selby had boiled water for the tea on a wood-fired range.
“Oh yes, I have a telly. I like the telly.”
“Excellent. Well, I thought we could do two things, and I've brought all the gear to do them. First, I thought we could lay a cable between the school and your house. They could press a button at the first sign of trouble, and a buzzer would sound in your house – a bit like a doorbell – and you could go and see if you could help. We captured some enemies in fishing nets once, for instance. It worked very well.”
“That's a very good idea. And you could do that, you could set that up?”
“Yes, it's fairly straightforward. And if the enemy only sends a small team, like they did in Romania, that might be enough. Between you and Hogweed, and any other sturdy sprites he's got, you might capture them all. But then you'd need someone to take them off your hands. Or if they send more, or if you need help of any kind, that's where the other thing comes in.”
He pulled a phone out of his pocket. It was chunkier than the one he used himself, but it was just as new. He didn't mention it had been designed to be used by aged people with failing eyesight and zero confidence.
“This is a special mobile phone, designed to be used just to make calls. It's got big buttons and it's very simple to operate. It's on a human 4G network, it doesn't need wifi and it's got a very good battery. All it needs is to be plugged into an electric socket now and then to keep it charged. I can show you how to use this, or, if you prefer, I can show Hogweed, or both of you. Then you can call me at any time of the day or night and I can be with you in a couple of hours.”
Mr. Selby looked at the phone with great respect but with a dubious expression.
“Let's go and get Hogweed,” he said.

They started by milking the goats.
“It's a bit early, but the sprites won't mind,” said Mr. Selby.
David stood and watched, but Rowan joined in and soon got the hang of it.
“Well done, Rowan,” said Mr. Selby. “Now we pour the milk into this big jug, and fill these little cans.”
Using a small funnel, he carefully poured milk into two dozen cans, each only three inches high, shaped just like old-fashioned milk churns. The cans were already in a wooden carrier, and this he carried over to the school rock. He set it down and rang an old handbell which was kept there. Then he stood and waited, with David and Rowan close beside him, and presently a team of older pupils filed through the gap, each one bringing back an empty can and picking up a full one.
Mr. Selby spoke to the first one in the line.
“Please would you ask Hogweed to come out? I need to speak to him urgently.”
“Yes, of course,” said the fairy he had spoken to. “I'll tell him right away.”
Many of the sprite pupils looked startled to see other humans with the one they knew, but every single one of them waved to him and called out,
“Thank you, Farmer John!”
Before the milk monitors had finished filing back in, Hogweed emerged, looking cheerful and enquiring. His expression soon changed to beaming delight.
“David! Rowan! Oh, it's lovely to see you! I didn't know you knew John!”
“We didn't, but we do now,” said David. “It's great to see you too. You look terrific.”

Hogweed did look different, David thought. Being a teacher, being acknowledged as a goblin who was clever enough to teach the next generation, had made its mark on him. He looked confident and he looked very happy.
“There's a lot of news,” said Mr. Selby. “Let's go in the house.”
Hogweed didn't look happy when he'd heard the news, of course. He looked distressed and very sombre. But he didn't look worried.
“Years ago,” he told the others, “I asked Ace how to defend this place if I ever needed to. There were a lot of gangs causing trouble at the time. It might have seemed like an easy target. And he said, having a plan was half the battle. He said what he would do is have someone watch the gap round the clock. And that person would have a loud signal to sound at any sign of trouble. And when everyone else heard the signal, the defenders would get their weapons and get ready to fight, and everyone else would go to some hiding places.”
“I should have known you'd have it all worked out,” said David, impressed.
“But thanks to you, we know that a serious attack is possible, and maybe quite soon. We can take extra care. Guard Duty has been good for the little sprites. They like being old enough and sensible enough to go on the rota. It teaches them to tell the time – they only do an hour at a time – and it teaches them to be patient and endure the weather. And they all dream of sounding the signal. It's an old bike horn, so it doesn't get confused with John's milk bell, and it does make a terrific racket.”
“Brilliant,” said David. “I can see you'll be fine. Now, if anything does happen, General Arley would really like it if instead of driving them off, you could capture them all. If it is the same gang, you see, they need to stand trial for murder. And that's where we'd like to add some extra things that might help.”

Hogweed was delighted about the doorbell contraption and the mobile phone. He was quick to see that John and David would be a great help in capturing and removing intruders, and he was quick at learning how to use the mobile phone. David was astounded that Hogweed already knew his number. Hogweed laughed.
“Ace gave me that,” he said. “His last piece of advice – if all else fails, send for David. He'll never let you down.”
David went a bit misty-eyed at that and Rowan smiled at him.
“Hogweed,” said Rowan, “if Mr. Selby keeps the phone in here, that'll be better for keeping it charged. But what about you? Is it too big for you to use?”
“No, I can manage it,” said Hogweed. “It's big, but it's light. But the school end of the buzzer will need shrinking. Can you open it, so I can see if I can do it?”
It was a very simple piece of electronics indeed, but Hogweed shook his head dubiously.
“This is too important to mess up,” he said. “I know a young elf who'd do a good job. I'll go and get him. I'd better bring the head teacher too. I'm head of security, but it's only polite to let her know what's going on.”

While Hogweed was gone, Mr. Selby said to Rowan and David that they were all friends now and would they please call him John. And he made some more tea and also produced orange juice and sprite-sized cups. And presently Hogweed came back, saying the head teacher would come across very soon. By his side walked a bright-eyed elf who looked about twelve, and on his hip he carried a tiny, beautiful goblin with golden hair and bright blue eyes.
“Oh, is this Kulsukker?” exclaimed Rowan. “Oh, you beauty, you little darling!”
“This is Rowan, one of our clever Allies,” said Hogweed.
“Beautiful Ally,” said Kulsukker, and held out his arms for Rowan to hold him.
“Hi, Kulsukker,” grinned David, well aware that Rowan was too entranced by the baby goblin to bother about boring things like buzzers.
“And this is Cap,” said Hogweed. “He's a willow, and what a brain.”
The elf looked at David fearlessly.
“Is it true you know Will Moseley?” he said.
“We do,” said David, “and it's obvious to me that you're exactly the same kind of clever elf that he is. D'you think you can shrink this for us?”
“Yes, I can do that,” he said. “This is an electromagnet, isn't it? And that button completes the circuit.”
“I'll take your word for it,” smiled David. He is like Will, he mouthed to Rowan as Cap began to concentrate.
He'd just finished and they were testing the device when the head teacher arrived, an older fairy with white wings and white hair. In front of her pupils, Hogweed introduced her as Miss Galantha, while John handed drinks round.
“Snowdrop,” she said, banging knuckles with David and Rowan. “I am so pleased to meet you. I would be very grateful to hear all the news you have.”
She asked more questions than the others had done. She obviously knew some of the staff at Amutria and also the Judge who'd sent the news to the Commander. David answered everything as well as he could, and promised to make sure they got more news here in future.
“Now John has a phone, I'll call it every few days with a summary of the latest news.”
“That'll be good practice,” said John. “And I'll write it all down for you and leave it with the milk.”
When she heard their plans for enhanced security, she was very grateful.
“I feel we are in very safe hands,” she said. “Without such good friends we would be very vulnerable. Thank you for all you have done, and all you plan to do. But now I must leave you, I have to take a class in a few minutes.”
They watched her flying back, then had great fun laying the wire across the field and testing the buzzer. It worked beautifully, but by then it was starting to go dark and Hogweed regretfully said he had better go as Kulsukker should be back in the nursery now. Kulsukker gave Rowan a kiss and waved goodbye to John and David, then the three sprites walked off together, holding hands.
David sighed, watching them go. “We'd better go home too,” he said. “It's been a great day. Really good to meet you at last, John.”
“Best day I've had in ages,” said John. “Please come again soon.”
“We will,” promised Rowan. “We definitely will.”
John watched them go, two thoughts in his mind. One was a feeling of hope, that somehow now he could stop worrying about what would happen to the sprites when he had gone. And the second was that he really needed to take a few stones out of the wall to make that gate wider.


For months now, Essen had been an unofficial headquarters for the western army. It had been convenient, a secure base where people could assemble and disperse, report back and get new orders, but there had also been an unforeseen and surprising advantage.
The office block in Essen, being the headquarters of the Technical Section, was not a place many army sprites had visited before. They had thought of it as a place where unnaturally brainy sprites like Colonel Dünnwald and Captain Pamisos worked, aided by embarrassing incompetents like Campanilla Eume and Lupa Berounka. But the Technical Section, taking their lead from their kind-hearted colonel, were superb at hospitality. Everyone who turned up, whether passing through or staying for weeks, had felt welcome and cared for, and the homely comforts of the now-famous Green Room had astonished everyone. And so, gently and naturally, everyone had come into close contact with the latest human technology.
Any flyer with nothing to do had been likely to get sent off to collect a mobile phone from a Hill, and any sprite at all might get invited along to the recycling centre to pick up spare parts. As well as the phones, there were two computers now, one staffed night and day for keeping in touch with the Allies, and one keeping on top of the ever-increasing number of phones, who had them, where they were and what their latest news was. Fairies who had arrived not knowing which way up you held a mobile phone left talking about signal strength and charging time. They'd had a feeling that tech was a bit of an elf thing, then discovered that it was useful and interesting and a lot easier than they had thought.
Then there were older sprites like Major Jokkmokk, passing through, who had been roped in to read messages on computer screens and also found it easier than they had expected. They'd had a vague feeling that tech was only for youngsters and found it was useful for everyone. They realised you didn't have to be able to make something yourself to be good at using it. Over a few weeks, attitudes had changed.
Madge Arley was one of the most astounded, but she was very pleased. Communications were getting better and better, all the invitations to the Peace Conference had been delivered and she didn't need to stay in Essen any longer. General Széchenyi was here now and had everything under control. Gia Biagioni had sent for Madge, and it was time she left for the Bohemian Forest. A big push by everyone had provided a bag of mobile phones for her to deliver to the eastern army, where the need was greatest. Madge packed them away in a new backpack with her own few possessions and on a chilly November morning she said goodbye to friends old and new at Essen and flew off east.

Madge took her time over the journey. There were colonies she wanted to visit on the way, old friends she needed to talk to, to get a feeling for what other sensible, middle-aged fairies were thinking. She also had to keep her phone charged and find elf trees. It wouldn't do for her to be out of touch. So it was the middle of November before she finally reached the borders of the Bohemian Forest. Once she was under the cover of the trees, she stopped for a brief rest. She was so tired. Tired of flying and tired of worrying. But both had to be done. She sipped some water and looked back west, the way she'd come. Hundreds of miles from home, she was now, and, as so many others had realised before her, further east than she had ever been. She just wished she could shake off the nagging feeling that she was flying in the wrong direction.
It was Fayrfield School that was worrying her most of all. It was six weeks now since Amutria School had been attacked and everyone seemed to think the danger had passed. It had been a one-off, they said, designed to shock and provoke outrage – which it certainly had done – so what could the wicked sprites who had done it have to gain by repeating their crimes? The other schools must be safe now, surely? And in any case, all of them now had much better security, they couldn't be caught off guard. But still, she couldn't stop worrying. She was the senior English sprite, it was her job to worry about it, she told herself. And back in the days when she'd worked in Guidance, she'd delivered many a little tot into its safe and welcoming arms. But though Fayrfield had a special place in her heart, every rational thought told her that her duty lay east. It was time to move on. She drew out from her pocket a little brass compass, checked her bearing and flew due east. The setting sun behind her brought out every shape and colour and cast a rosy glow. It really was, as many before her had also realised, a very lovely place.
It was fully dark before she reached her destination, but by then there were fairy lights here and there to guide her, and then she was landing on a well-lit grassy landing pad, and a gallant young elf was running to meet her and carry her bag for her, ready to escort her to whichever person she wanted to see first.
“Thank you,” said Madge. “I'm General Arley and I ought to greet the Commander first.”
“She's seen you!” exclaimed the elf. “Look, here she comes!”
Madge saw a younger, slimmer fairy with beautiful streaks tearing towards her and opened her arms wide to hug her.
“Dearest Gia,” she said. “I daresay no-one else would presume, but I would: your courage at the battle of Fjaerland was awesome and so was your leadership. I was so very, very proud of you.”
“Thank you, Madge,” said Gia softly. “You are kind. But goodness, how long ago that seems now! You comfort me and cheer me up at once, you and Gran. Or at least, Gran used to.”
“Any idea where he's gone or what he's up to?”
“I suspect he's gone after Huskvarna, but where he thinks he'll find him, I have no idea.”
They were following the elf who was carrying Madge's bag, and he led them to an empty sprite house between the roots of a great beech.
“This house was saved for you, General Arley, ma'am,” he said.
The house was small and simply furnished, but it had everything a weary fairy could need.
“Even a tea pot! And matches for the fire! Thank you very much indeed. What's your name?”
“Sam Groszowy, thanks, ma'am. Bye for now!”
Gia already had the fire going. The night was cold, and getting colder. The two fairies shared a cup of tea together.
“I expect I'm the last to arrive,” said Madge. “I didn't want to leave Essen until I knew that all the messages had got through. But they did, and Dizzy's got everything under control now.”
“Now you're here, nearly everyone we invited has arrived. But a few we still await, and for a very interesting reason. The senior sprite of Gruski colony – whom we invited, of course – had already, on his own initiative, organised a meeting of the founder colonies over at Zurich. And now that's over, and what they did or said I have no idea. But one thing I do know, because our scouts spotted them. They're on their way here, and I think they'll arrive soon.”
“That sounds like good news. They will speak with some authority and are unlikely to think much of Huskvarna.”
“I hope so,” said Gia. “Since the conference started, there has been too much complaining and too little thinking of how to put things right. We need a jolt to move forward. But sleep now, Madge. You must be so tired.”
“That lovely bed is calling me,” said Madge. “Goodnight, Gia.”

Madge woke refreshed, excited and hopeful. She was looking forward to the day, but goodness, it was cold. The little windows had a beautiful frost pattern on the glass. She stuck her head out of the door and found that someone had left a bucket of water for her. Pleased, she broke the ice off the top and brought it inside. She poked the fire into life, had a wash, made tea and then wrapped herself up warmly and ventured outside. She saw a forest transformed by frost into sparkling beauty. The low sun caught every crystal. Her breath made a little cloud in front of her face and her feet crunched on frozen grass. But as she left the forest and entered the clearing she stopped in amazement to stare. She had heard all about Rowan Hall but nothing could have prepared her for its beauty this morning as its frosted roofs and hanging icicles glittered and shone. It looked almost unreal, insubstantial, as if some trick of the light had conjured it, yet from every direction, people were walking purposefully towards it. Some were alone, some in small groups, already talking with their heads together. Some ambled, some walked with military bearing, some swaggered, and some, like Madge, kept stopping to look at the beauty of the morning. Madge saw many faces she knew, but many more she did not. More than anything she wanted to get a feel for what she had missed, what was going on. And that meant not just what seemed to be going on, but what was really going on. So when she had looked around inside, she decided against sitting in the main hall and introducing herself. Instead, she slipped upstairs to the gallery, intending to spend the first day watching and listening. Gia, she knew, was chairing the talks and Madge was certain she'd be good at that, being fair and generous, but also crisp and decisive. Madge settled down in an inconspicuous spot and watched the hall fill up. She was surprised at first to see a handful of young army sprites sitting on the rainbow steps, facing the delegates, but she recognised all of them and quickly realised that they were translators.
At eight o'clock precisely, Gia climbed onto the stage and greeted everyone.
“First, I will summarise the agreements we have reached so far, for the benefit of later arrivals. These are statements that have been voted on and passed by over three quarters of those present, and can therefore be considered settled.
One, that the army was at war with Special Brigade, not with parliament, and that the army has won.
Two, that regardless of the wrongness or rightness of its cause, Special Brigade should never have damaged the Talende Tree, and Lars Huskvarna, also called Lord Protector, bears responsibility for that.
Three, that parliament, while still claiming the right to govern the realm, recognises that not all sprites think it has such a right.
Four, that the army recognises that it might have done more to make Fjaerland and the Talende Tree accessible to all, and that any future plans will put that right.”
Then she smiled.
“I know. Those were the easy things. It will get harder, but it's a start. Let's move on and consider this: if we are to continue to have a parliament, what sort of parliament should it be? Let's hear opinions from as many as possible. As before, be brief, stick to the point and if you are able to, use German or English.”
People stood up who wished to speak and Gia pointed at the one whose turn was next. First to speak was a fairy Madge knew well, Bergfrue Grytten, the Judge of Vingen Hill in Norway.
“The war started when parliament crossed a line and attacked civilians. I would want a parliament that had no power to do that. No private army of its own.”
Immediately, more people stood up to respond to that, and Madge couldn't always see who was speaking as the comments came thick and fast.
“But that would mean it had to ask the army to enforce the law!”
“Why not? The army doesn't make laws, it doesn't act like a parliament, so the parliament shouldn't act like an army.”
“Fine in theory! It would never work. Are you telling me that the army would obey an order it didn't agree with?”
Gia was thinking that over, Madge could tell, but she continued to indicate the next speaker, and half a dozen voices expressed, with varying degrees of civility, scepticism that the army would ever do as it was told.
“We are not discussing what is or is not possible,” said Gia, “we are discussing what we wish for. More wishes, please.”
Some people sat down and Madge saw Gia gesture towards a tall old elf who spoke Polish. Krokus Zawoja at once translated for him.
“I wish that parliament would not make any laws at all. Too many laws, it's difficult. People used to manage with a few simple laws.”
“The world's changed! If we're going to survive, we need things to be under control!”
Gia let the old Polish elf respond.
“Things are not the same everywhere. If extra laws are needed, let them be local ones. Law and order belong to the Hills and the Judges.”
“The Hills use army police, and we all know how well that worked out!”
“We have an opportunity here to organise anything we want to, let's not spoil it by bickering. Granted that law and order belong to the Hills, what is parliament for? Surely it should be to organise those things – and those things only – that can't be done locally?”
That remark – Madge only knew that it had come from a German fairy – got a lot of applause and once again, Gia was sensitive.
“That was a well-received point,” she said. “Let's think here, then, what those things might be, that would be useful to do at an international level.”

Madge carried on listening carefully as again and again Gia guided people towards thinking about things they could agree about. It seemed to her that the delegates were genuinely thinking this one through and coming up with ideas: organising help for refugees, sharing news between countries, responding to emergencies.
“It seems clear,” said Gia, “that no-one has a problem with a parliament that simply organises things that need doing on a big scale. There would be some overlap there with things that the army has traditionally done, but that need not be a problem. Do you see the function only as organisation? Is there a role for discussion and debate?”
“A talking shop!” exclaimed a young imp with her hands on her hips. “That's all it ever was, a talking shop!”
That raised a laugh, and even Gia smiled.
“But is there anything wrong with a talking shop?” It was an extraordinary fairy, very tall and brightly coloured. “I was head of communications, and I say that even if you strip parliament of the right to make laws, there is still room for a place where sprites from all over the continent can come together to discuss issues. Sharing a local problem, for instance, you might hear that another region had had a similar problem and had found a solution. A talking shop doesn't do any harm, and can actually do a lot of good.”
“Another good point,” said Gia. “Thanks, Strelitzia. So, just supposing that we had a parliament with no military power, that doesn't make laws, but does organise large-scale things and does provide a place for meeting and discussion... supposing all that, what else would you like to see?”
“Better reporting back,” called another voice. “The envoys lived at Wielkopolska all the time, sending out their orders. They should have shorter sessions, they need to give news to and from the regions that sent them.”
Another one that got applause... Madge thought this was going very well. She was beginning to think that she could live with a parliament that behaved like that, when another voice cut across the optimistic mood.
“I don't want a parliament at all, no matter how civilised it is. Nothing's gone well for the realm since we got it. I only want a queen again, and so say all my colony of Schwarzee. The Hills and the queen, that's all we ever needed. Let's get back to how things used to be!”
“Oh, you want a human to rule us?” jeered a goblin, and he also got a fair bit of applause.
“It's not a question of ruling,” said the Schwarzee fairy. “A queen doesn't give orders.”
“No,” said the goblin, “but you get daft people singing to her as if she was the boss of us all.”
An imperious-looking, ancient fairy was on her feet at once.
“You goblins would prefer a king, perhaps? Some hulking bully with big fists and a small brain?”
That caused noisy outrage from most goblins there, until General Ormul got to his feet.
“Calm down, lads. It's obvious that some sprites still think goblins and imps are second class. Nothing you can do about that. Here's my wish, that if we have a parliament, it's fair shares for all. Envoys – if you still call them that – in equal numbers for each order.”
“How on earth could you organise that?”
“I don't know,” said Gia, “but it's a good point and we might be able to think of a way to do it. It's a valid wish and it's going down on my list.”
She pointed next to the Senior Envoy, who had been waiting patiently to speak.
“I have served in parliament since before Special Brigade was founded. In the days when there was only the Wielkopolska Unit, there was never a problem. They were guards, they didn't try to enforce anything, that wasn't their job. You can't really enforce laws anyway, unless people want to obey them. My wish is that the Wielkopolska Unit should be restored to its former dignity and function. And to the roles already mentioned for parliament, I wish to add four more, which in my opinion would make it more than a talking shop, would make it a serious and important assembly. Those things are to advise, to warn, to encourage and to give a lead.”
“Thank you,” said Gia, making more notes. “Before we move on, will you please raise your hand if you don't agree with the Senior Envoy's points?”
Madge watched carefully. Only a few hands were raised. One was the Schwarzee fairy who had spoken out for a queen and nothing but a queen, with a few others like her, stubborn and silent. Gia was drawing attention to how few the actual extremists were, on both sides. The opposite extreme was just as stubborn, but it was certainly not silent. They were on their feet as one, bursting to have their say, and Gia let them, which meant others were keen to respond to their points and once again Madge could hardly see who was speaking.
“But that would mean parliament had no power at all! What use is warning and encouraging and all the rest of it? You might as well not bother. We have to adapt to cope with the world as it is now, and if parliament can't enforce anything, nothing will happen!”
“Actually, that's not true,” said a voice speaking in Italian. Gia smiled to hear her own language, and did the translation herself. “Remember what happened in the reign of Queen Luigia, she whose gold crown still resides at Fjaerland. At that time, only elves and fairies could be senior sprites, or judges, or hold office of any kind. But opinions were changing, and the queen noticed this, and wherever she went, year after year, patiently she got people everywhere to think differently. By the end of her life, there was no-one left who could imagine that such things had once never been allowed, and there were goblins and imps in important positions all over the realm.”
A short silence followed this remark, then another voice spoke.
“All right, so sometimes you can change people's minds, and that's great if you've got the time. But there are emergencies where you don't have time. Look at the refugee situation in the Bosnian war! If parliament hadn't enforced the transfer to refugee camps, a lot of those sprites would have been lost.”
That one caused a lot of sceptical noises, some of them rather rude.
“Very debatable point! A faster response might have saved even more, and a more flexible response, less bossy and controlling, might have avoided a lot of bitter resentment.”
“A big problem like that, though... it proves there's a use for a parliament. Even a parliament with no power. It could have sent people to see what was happening, decided it was a bigger problem than one colony or one Hill could cope with, and sent word to the army.”
“The army didn't need telling. People know who to call on when they need help. The army was in there from the start, hindered by Special Brigade at every turn. And they were not saying, 'Go here!', but 'Where would you like to go?' I tell you, Dizzy Széchenyi saved more sprites than parliament's refugee camps ever did!”
That one got a roar of applause and Madge wished Dizzy had been there to hear it. But nothing could have been less suited to Dizzy's temperament than this patient plodding through point after point – or Gran's either, she thought with a wry smile. But now an old elf had risen to speak, one Madge didn't know, though Ace would have recognised him. It was Judge KokoÅ™insko himself, from Mladá Boleslav and Madge could see the regard – even awe – in which he was held by the respectful silence that fell.
“If we are to continue having a parliament, then there is no reason why it should not have a role in organising emergency responses. Exactly what that role should be, and who does what, is a detail that can be worked on later. But large-scale emergencies, even these days, are uncommon. Far more common are local emergencies. Local emergencies need local help. Local help is fast help. Local help needs to come from the Hills. But the Hills are weak. Parliament drew away sprites who could have worked in them, tempted away sprites who could read and write, who could understand what was going on in the world. This is fundamental and until this problem is addressed, no solutions will actually work. Parliament weakened the Hills, and it is my opinion that they did it on purpose.”
“Yes, that is true,” said Strelitzia coolly. “Yes, I know, Senior Envoy, it doesn't sound good, but there's no point denying it was deliberate policy. The idea was that things could be much better organised from the centre. The aim was good, not malicious.”
“And do you say it was successful?”
“No. Personally, I don't. It was too much, too soon and could only have worked with better communications. Those of you who were not in parliament – and maybe some who were – need to understand that not everyone had the same motives. Some were sprites of good will, genuinely trying to modernise things for the good of all. Whether or not you think their ideas good, you ought to credit them with good intentions. But some were always working with a deeper purpose. Why not be honest? Lars Huskvarna wanted – still wants – war against humans. That was his motive for supporting centralisation, for silencing opposition, for setting up the re-training camp. He has been manipulating people for a long time. Even this war is only to him a means to an end – that end being pushing humans back into an age before modern technology.”
“He's insane!”
“Possibly. But you can't deny he has vision. He sees it as the only way sprites can survive. He is right to be worried. This peace conference must succeed. Because that's what we should really be thinking about – how to ensure that sprites aren't wiped out.”
That got another good response, a rather gloomy but fervent mutter of approval. Then a young fairy got up to speak, quite shyly.
“But where is Lars Huskvarna? Why isn't he here, to answer these charges and defend himself?”
“I don't know where he is,” said Gia. She addressed the hall. “Does anyone know – or suspect – where Lars Huskvarna is? Has anyone seen him, or heard of him at any location since the battle of Mladá Boleslav?”
“He may have been at Passau,” said Major Mecsek. “A fragmented message, nothing really to go on. That was just before the army won here. Since then, nothing.”
No-one else had anything to offer.
“This may be a good place,” said Gia, “to mention that, while I have no idea where Huskvarna is, I do believe that a party of army sprites has gone in search of him. I did not order them to go. They left without permission, to be honest. But I do believe that's what they're doing.”
“Oho,” chuckled a Czech goblin. “So that's where Gran Herdalen is!”
Gia's lips twitched.
“No comment,” she said.
The young fairy spoke again. “Thank you for the information. But if he can't be found, what about the Premier? Don't we know where he is, either?”
“I'll let you answer this one, Strelitzia.”
Envoy Rabot rose to her feet and inclined her head to Gia.
“The Premier... yes, well, it's my belief he's dead.” A gasp ran round the hall and Strelitzia held up her hand. “On the day parliament was evacuated from Wielkopolska, I said goodbye to the Premier before I left for France. The Premier said he wished to be the last to leave. By that time, everyone else had gone. I think Lars Huskvarna was still there, lurking, waiting for his opportunity. Because I don't think anyone has seen the Premier since. And people have been searching for him. The Wielkopolska Unit, no less, liberated by this same Gran Herdalen for this very purpose. My colleague, the Judge of Kamieniece, will confirm that some from that unit called in only weeks ago, for the second time, requesting any information they had. The Wielkopolska Unit has a good reputation. If they have been searching since soon after the sacking of Wielkopolska, they would have found him by now if he were alive.”
“Thank you,” said Gia. “We cannot be certain. It's possible he is in hiding. But it doesn't look good.”
“But if that's right,” said the young fairy, “who's going to speak for parliament if we do a deal? Who's his deputy?”
“He didn't have one,” said Strelitzia. “But seven of central cabinet are here, and also several former envoys. Between ourselves, we have agreed that Hársfa Héfiz, the Senior Envoy, can consent to any agreements on behalf of parliament.”
To Madge's surprise, that comment, which seemed sensible to her, caused an angry flurry of responses.
“That's all very well, but you weren't the ones doing the fighting!”
“Who are you to say if the war's over or not?”
“If the Lord Protector is still fighting, maybe the war isn't over at all!”
Madge saw Gia decide to let the pot boil over, watching and listening. It was a row about who really represented parliament, and tempers were flaring. Gia simply waited until people had shouted themselves hoarse.
“This issue is important. It needs settling – who has the authority to treat on parliament's behalf? This is not the army's business. I speak now simply as the chair of these talks. I suggest that we take a break and that this afternoon, I and all other army sympathisers will leave the hall free for all who have an opinion on this matter to discuss it and if possible come to some agreement, even if only a temporary or conditional one. Does that meet with the conference's approval?”
There was a murmur of agreement, and just one voice spoke up. It was Major Mecsek.
“A good idea, but Special Brigade members are rather outnumbered by parliamentary envoys and other politicians. To even things up, perhaps just this afternoon, all members of Special Brigade – officially prisoners of war – might be allowed to attend? It seems fair to let the people who were doing the work have a say and they are here on the spot and can represent the ordinary ranks.”
“It sounds like a good idea to me – show of hands... army, please abstain, let the parliament people decide this one... yes, carried clearly. Resume in an hour, then. Who will chair your talks this afternoon? You, Senior Envoy?”
“Thank you, but I think the Chief of Intelligence would be better, because he served in the Wielkopolska Unit as a young elf and is a soldier as well as a politician.”
The Chief of Intelligence stood and bowed and Gia nodded graciously in return.
“The platform is yours, Chief of Intelligence,” she said.

Madge was stiff from sitting so long and very glad to move. She stretched her wings and flew over the forest, thinking about what she had heard. She felt optimistic. There were implacable extremists on both sides, of course, but there seemed to be plenty of support for a different sort of parliament. Still, she felt uneasy too. A lot of army sprites were not so much against parliament as in favour of a queen. She sensed that parliament opposition to that idea was less open-minded.
They just hate humans too much. It's understandable. If only we could show them that there are some special ones. But at the moment, there are too many people in there on both sides who would vote against a queen, and no-one to speak up for humans. Where are all our Ally makers? Off with Gran, that's the trouble. Even Clover and her team, by the sound of it. Still, so far, so good.
She landed, spoke cheerfully to some Czech fairies who had hot drinks on offer, then slipped back upstairs. She was only observing today, and anyone could do that. These were not her people and not her arguments and for that reason she was, if anything, even more interested. She made herself comfortable again and prepared to listen.

When Captain Thurlgrove and his team had been putting up buildings, they had really used their imaginations and the house they had made for the Commander had a good-sized room she could use for small meetings. When it had gone dark and the conference was over for the day, Madge enquired for Gia and was directed to her house. She entered to find a comfortable chair by the fire had been saved for her and a group of familiar faces smiling at her. Nella Stalden was there, and Bergfrue Grytten, Buchel Arnsberg and Heldreich Pesentheim. Gia passed her a glass of something hot and fragrant. Madge sighed happily and slipped off her shoes.
“Well, what happened?” smiled Gia. “Did they come to any agreement?”
“Yes, actually, they did in the end,” said Madge. “I didn't think they were going to. They spent the first hour arguing about whose fault everything was. But then that terrifying Strelitzia tore into them and told them to forget the past, it was over and done with and they had better start thinking about the future. Never mind what happened or should not have happened, she told them. What do you want to happen next, that's all that matters.”
“Gran hates her,” chuckled Colonel Arnsberg, “but she's got a sharp, clear mind. Ruthless, I'd say.”
“She likes control,” said Gia. “But to do her justice, I'm not sure she minds who's in control, so long as someone is.”
“Which is a very unusual attitude for a sprite,” said Madge. “Let's face it, most of us don't like being told what to do. We like to make our own minds up. And that's exactly what happened this afternoon. Once they'd been given the chance to have their say, they soon came to the conclusion that after all, Hársfa Héfiz was the right person to speak for parliament in the absence of the Premier, and Mento Zsennye for Special Brigade in the absence of Huskvarna, and anything those two agreed upon would be accepted by all.”
“That's not bad,” said Bergfrue. “Except we haven't got Zsennye, have we?”
“No,” said Gia. “We invited him – he's a prisoner of war at Mladá Boleslav Hill – and he refused to come on parole, insisting on being freed first. Judge KokoÅ™insko refused his demand.”
“Leave KokoÅ™insko to me,” said Bergfrue. “I'll rustle up a few other judges to persuade him to change his mind. We can send an escort or something for Zsennye, can't we?”
“Easily,” said Gia. “Thanks, Bergfrue.”
“After that,” said Madge, “things got more interesting. They went on to agree that in future it should be impossible for one person to just take over.”
“They wouldn't have said that if we'd been there,” commented Colonel Pesentheim. “Letting them talk among themselves was a good idea, Gia.”
“It certainly was,” said Madge, “because what they spent the rest of the time on was Judge KokoÅ™insko's remark about the weakening of the Hills. Yes, they want laws. They see laws as a vital tool in keeping sprites safe from humans. But most of all they want strong Hills, and to achieve that they want organised education.”
“Extraordinary!” said Colonel Arnsberg. “I would never have guessed they would go there. That's very interesting.”
“It certainly is,” said Nella. “Did they go into details, Madge? How do they see that working?”
“Into very great detail,” said Madge. “I was astounded. Hills should organise schools, and it should be an expected thing that every young sprite should go to one. They should learn to read and write and tell the time, and learn practical skills like dealing with traffic and catching trains. There should be awards and prizes and leagues and challenges to make it exciting and provide an incentive, and the biggest prize of all, for the cleverest and hardest-working, would be a place at Sprite College.”
“Sprite College?” said Colonel Pesentheim. “What's that?”
“Even more education, with the chance to meet sprites from other countries, meet the Tree and be able to understand any language.”
“What! At Fjaerland?”
“Oh, yes,” said Madge quietly. “That's what they want. They want Fjaerland. It's all good stuff, no denying that. It's imaginative, forward-thinking and practical. But the price is very high. Very high indeed.”
“I... my goodness,” said Gia. “I don't know what to say.”
“I do,” said Colonel Arnsberg. “They're trying it on. Just say no.”
And to Madge's horror, she saw the first crack appear in their own side. Gia's face clouded over and she looked at Colonel Arnsberg with a puzzled expression.
“It seems a little drastic to condemn their ideas out of hand,” she said slowly. “The more people come to the mountain, the more people have a chance to meet the Tree and the more people will always be able to understand one another.”
“Then let them join the army,” said the colonel. “Like in the old days. Nearly everyone came, but they weren't all selected for active service. That would meet the case perfectly well.”
“Yes, it would, Buchel,” said Nella, “if it had always continued so. But it hasn't, and too much has happened in between. To too many sprites, the army is now the enemy. They resent us for what they see as keeping the Tree to ourselves. We have to find some way of showing them that it isn't so.”
“I don't believe any of them really give a toss about the Tree,” retorted the colonel. “What they really hate about us is that they think we're soft about humans.”
“Well, yes, for some that is no doubt true,” said Gia. “But not all. We mustn't fall into the trap of ignoring shades of opinion and lumping thousands of distinct individuals together into one block called the enemy.”
“They do,” said Colonel Pesentheim. “I think Buchel's right. They're pushing you, seeing how much you'll give away.”
“I'd like your assurance, Commander, that you'll never give Fjaerland away, our home where the army was born, where we've been based forever.”
“Fjaerland belongs to the realm, not to us,” said Gia. “I can promise you that I would never agree to the army not having some presence there. But I can't promise that there won't be changes.”
“You should have been a politician, ma'am,” said Colonel Arnsberg, getting up. “I'll bid you goodnight.”
He left, and Colonel Pesentheim went with him, leaving the four fairies looking stunned.
“Don't worry about it,” said Madge. “We haven't heard anything official yet. Give your minds a rest and talk about something else. What do the local sprites say about the weather here? Will it snow soon?”

It hadn't snowed by next morning, though Madge had been told that it wouldn't be long. At the moment, the skies were clear and it was bitterly cold, and that meant frost, not snow. Today, Madge entered the hall itself and stood to introduce herself as a new arrival. She wasn't feeling nervous for herself, but she was for Gia, who was going to have to ask for a summary of yesterday afternoon's debate. But Gia had scarcely drawn breath when there was a bustle of noise outside. The big outer doors were pulled back and Captain Zawoja hurried in. Everyone turned to look.
“Excuse me, ma'am, a delegation from Zurich has arrived, led by a senior sprite called Jesion Gruski. He says that they represent the twelve founder colonies and asks if they may come and join the debate.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Gia. “I will come down there myself and welcome them in.”
All those sprites, Madge knew, had been invited, but had already been organising talks of their own. Madge thought that had been a very promising sign. She appreciated the courtesy of waiting to ask if they might come in. These would be sprites of dignity, a cut above Special Brigade or even envoys, quite possibly with a large sense of their own importance. But Gia was onto that... how quickly she had matched them in courtesy. And whatever they had to say, it would postpone any rows about Fjaerland, and that wasn't a bad thing. Giving people more time to think things through was always useful.
Now the delegation sprites were standing on the steps one after another, saying their names and sitting down near the front. Jesion Gruski, Wici Gruski – Madge had a feeling she had met that fairy before, somewhere – and sprites from Huskvarna in Sweden and Pentreath in England, Uetliburg in Switzerland and Minius in Spain, Saal in Germany, Svir in Russia, Lacul Bodi in Romania, Pieria in Greece, Drina in Serbia, Bled in Slovenia and Kysuce in Slovakia, one or two from each place. Then, astonishingly, an elf who introduced himself as Stan Gruski, Wielkopolska Unit and even more astonishingly, Wayne Langdon, army placement with Special Brigade. Madge sat up straighter, very interested. What on earth was young Wayne doing with this lot?

While some translation was being organised, Madge looked carefully at the new arrivals. They were all very smart. They had planned this carefully, she thought, to arrive just at the right moment and looking so impressive. There were some national costumes there, and Stan and Wayne were in the uniform of Special Brigade, though Wayne had added a green London scarf. Wayne himself didn't look worried or intimidated in any way, he was just staring around, seeming mesmerised by the beautiful building he was in. Then Jesion stood ready to speak and there was an instant hush.
“Thank you for your welcome,” he said. “I have not come to interfere in these most welcome peace talks. I and my colleagues simply wish to help, to contribute, just as all of you are doing. But before that, there is one thing I do have to say that I alone can say, and it is this.”
He stopped and extracted from a bag a very old-looking sheet of paper.
“I have here the only surviving copy of the Agreement of the Founders,” he said. “It is signed by the then senior sprites of the twelve colonies. It tells of how parliament was to be set up and what it was to do. But it also contains a clause that for the first time has become very relevant. It authorises me, as the acknowledged leader of the current twelve, to depose the Premier if it has become necessary to do so and parliament is powerless to act against one who has become a dictator. I understand that Vinco Gennargentu is missing, believed dead and that Lars Huskvarna has usurped leadership, calling himself Lord Protector. I have heard evidence from these two courageous young elves” – he indicated Stan and Wayne – “that he has planned and authorised murder and unlawful execution. I therefore depose Lars Huskvarna. He no longer holds any rank or authority in the realm from this moment.”
There was utter silence, then an uproar. Half the sprites there were cheering at the tops of their voices and the other half were on their feet protesting, shouting and angrily conferring. Madge was feeling rather stunned. She hadn't seen that coming, and neither had Gia, by the look of it. Gia was watching carefully, sensing the mood and for the moment, letting people have their heads. She would step in when the moment was right.
“Thank you, Senior Gruski. As you see, your announcement has produced quite a reaction. Of course we must hear responses!” she called out to some who were trying to shout over her. “But one at a time! Just have patience and you will have your say. But first, may I ask your colleagues here, had you heard previously of this Agreement of Founders?”
“Yes, ma'am,” said one – the Swiss one, Madge thought - “but only Jesion's colony could lay their hands on the actual paper. But all of us were aware of the Agreement and what it said, though to be honest with you, I for one hadn't given it a thought for years. Decades, even.”
“Thank you,” said Gia. “I ask the hall now – just this one question first, please! - would anyone else who had previously heard of this Agreement please rise to confirm it?”
The only one who did was the Senior Envoy.
“Yes, it's true enough,” he said. “I have myself seen a copy, at Wielkopolska. Years ago now, when Vinco Gennargentu was first appointed. I saw it and so did Calla Babele. None of the others were there then. Too young. Doubt anyone's looked at it since.”
“Then I think we may accept the authenticity of the document and the authority it confers,” said Gia. “Yet I did notice a lot of disagreement. One at a time, please! Where do your objections lie? Major Mecsek?”
Major Mecsek rose indignantly, bounced to her feet as if holding her words back had been an effort.
“I accept the authenticity – seems a sensible provision – but I utterly dispute Senior Gruski's grounds for invoking it! The word of a couple of renegades who got into trouble and ran for it! Lars Huskvarna has the best interests of the realm at heart, and you condemn him on the word of those two!”
“I see we will need to present the evidence again,” said Jesion. “Madam Commander, may these elves now bear the testimony they have been giving to my colleagues?”
“I think this is the right moment. Go ahead.”

So Wayne and Stan told their story yet again. They told it together, with a fluency and conciseness that constant repetition had given them. There was a murmur of sympathy and outrage when they'd finished, even, Madge noticed, from some parliament people. That ancient senior envoy, for instance. Well-meaning, no doubt, but with absolutely no clue about what had been going on in his name. But Major Mecsek was having none of it.
“Where's your evidence? Who heard you being condemned to death? Who witnessed your escape?”
“Cor Dniester saw us escape. Sergeant Olt also.”
“Oh, very convenient. Neither of them here just now! And you exaggerate completely the removal of certain people from the re-training camp to an actual prison. No malice was involved! The people in question were known trouble-makers who had failed the re-training. The idea that they were about to be murdered is preposterous! Where's your evidence for that?”
Bergfrue Grytten rose to her feet, stately and dignified and Gia acknowledged her immediately.
“I am the evidence!” she thundered. “I am the Judge from Vingen in Norway and I was one of these so-called trouble-makers, by which of course they mean sprites who stood up to them and refused to be brainwashed. The rigours of the journey alone nearly killed us. It was all deliberate. I myself collapsed and they were going to leave me by the wayside, bound and blindfolded. If that great hero, Bjørk Kinnekulle, had not offered to carry me, I would be dead now. If this kind-hearted renegade, Stan Gruski, had not given me extra water, I would be dead now. If this brave army spy, Wayne Langdon, hadn't slipped a knife to his amazing friend, Betch Knightwood, all fifty of us would have been dead by now, for we were to be kept blindfolded for ever, tied up both night and day, with little water and no covering against the cold. And these fifty murders were authorised by Lars Huskvarna. His guilt is clear. But he wasn't doing the dirty work himself. No, that was done by the sadistic little elf, Bépin Étretat. And who gave Bépin Étretat his orders? You did, Major Mecsek! You are as guilty as they. So the less we hear about evidence from you, the better!”
This time, the cheering came from even more voices and went on for longer. Finally Gia calmed everyone down and invited more and more people to speak. One of them was Sergeant Brunescio of the Renegades.
“I'm guilty too,” he said. “I was there when Wayne was condemned to death, I heard what Lars Huskvarna said. I knew it was wrong, but I wasn't brave enough to do anything about it, like Stan there. I'm very sorry, lads, and gladder than anything to see you both safe and well.”
Wayne and Stan went over and shook his hand before taking their seats again to listen. But then Strelitzia rose to speak.
“I acknowledge the overwhelming evidence that some members of Special Brigade have acted appallingly. But – and it is a big but – Special Brigade is still the lawful force. If you have the authority to depose a dictator, so be it. But not to override parliament itself. That Special Brigade is the pre-eminent force in the realm, and that the army was to disband, were passed by a majority vote in full session in the presence of the Premier. Lars Huskvarna wasn't even there. There is nothing you can say to invalidate the legality of that!”
“Actually, there are two things we can say,” said Nella Stalden, cool and courteous. “One is that not everyone accepts that parliament ever had legality in the first place. It was imposed on sprites who would rather have had another queen. And the second is that the army declared parliament to have lost what authority it had when it attacked civilians at Vingen, and I would remind you, Envoy Rabot, that it is the army that has won the war.”
“And so we come to the very crux and heart of the matter,” said a quiet voice, and Madge was astounded to realise it was her own. Rapidly she pulled herself together and gathered her wits. “Who is, ultimately, in charge? Where does authority lie? Surely the answer will only be found if we all – all of us – rise above past quarrels and look to the future. The fact that we are here now proves that the things we have tried in the past have not worked, or will not work in the world we now live in. Can we not take the good things from the past – ancient past and recent past - and use them as building bricks to construct something good, something that everyone can approve of, something that will last for centuries and safeguard the sprite race?”
“I agree with General Arley,” said the Senior Envoy. “As we on parliament's side agreed yesterday, bickering over the past won't help anyone. What we need now are proposals and we need them from everyone, because between us we represent every shade of opinion, every age and order and nationality. But we are not the whole realm. Once Colonel Zsennye has arrived, and we have come to some decisions, we have to find a way of submitting those decisions for approval to the whole realm. For that is where authority really lies, in the hands of those whom the whole realm has had a voice in choosing.”
“Please rise if you agree with the Senior Envoy,” said Gia.
Not a single sprite remained seated.

Madge and Nella strolled across the frosty grass together, glad to stretch their legs. After such a pivotal morning, Gia had called a break until tomorrow, to give smaller groups a chance to talk it all through on their own.
“Where is she?” said Nella.
“Looking after the Gruski party, I expect,” said Madge. “No, wait... here she comes.”
“Well done, you two!” said Gia as soon as she was near enough. “You helped to turn it. That's what I was hoping for – to get to a place where we had a clean page and could look forward, not back. To be honest, I never thought we'd get to this point so quickly.”
“I was astounded,” said Madge. “Give yourself some credit too – you have been guiding everyone to this point.”
“In some ways, this is the real beginning, now,” said Nella. “It's still very finely balanced. A lot of compromises will be needed, a lot of give and take and goodwill. It's going to take a very long time.”
“It'll be two weeks before Zsennye even arrives,” said Gia. “That's if he'll come. You don't think he'll try anything do you? Try to start fighting again?”
“He might,” Madge admitted. “He was there at Fjaerland, he's a good commander. A lot of Hills did release their prisoners when the news about the school got out. So there are plenty of remnants around if he wanted to gather them. But if he starts fighting, we'll defeat them again until they realise that talking is the only way forward.”
“We're going to be here all winter, then,” said Nella. “We'll be snowed in soon, and some of the elves will be getting sleepy.”
“Yes, I think we will,” said Gia. “At least people won't be tempted to walk out in a huff in the middle of winter. I must ask Captain Thurlgrove to make sure there are enough warm places to hibernate, though he's probably onto that already. Ah, look, there's our Wayne!”
“Oh, hello Commander! General Arley... General Stalden!”
“Wayne Langdon, I am very proud of you,” said Gia. “Thank you so much for all the brave things you have done. Your secondment to Special Brigade is over now, change back to army uniform as soon as you like.”
“Thank you, ma'am!”
“And this is Stan? I am honoured to meet you. I don't know yet what forces we shall have when the peace is concluded, but you will always be welcome in any force that I command. Well done, both of you!”

She had to move away then, as so many people were waiting to catch a private word with her. Nella went off to the phone tree and Madge stayed to talk to Wayne, hearing more details of his story and giving him news of all his friends, until Captain Thurlgrove arrived, asking Wayne and Stan to come and see the house he had for them. Alone for a moment, Madge looked around. Despite the arguments and bitter differences of opinion, the atmosphere was cheerful. A lot of that was coming from the sprites who were doing all the work, looking after them all and each other with a good will and a generous spirit. Look at Kiefer Schwarzee there, laughing and joking with what looked like a couple of gang sprites, as they carried hot water to fill the tea pots. And look at that sergeant of Renegades who had spoken earlier, deep in discussion with Major Jokkmokk about, by the look of it, the strength of different types of pine.
Underneath all the heated discussions, there was healing going on here. And now they were at the point where there was hope for the discussions, too. It wouldn't be easy. Even when you had persuaded people to look forward, not back, you would still arrive at the sticking point of who had the final say. Would the army answer to parliament? Would parliament answer to the army? Could both of them answer, ultimately, to some higher authority? A queen? That would never be accepted by the ones who hated humans. But would the ones who had fought for a queen ever accept anything less? Madge could see no answer to that question. Without an answer, smaller agreements would be meaningless. But with an answer, even the most difficult problems stood a chance of being resolved.
She thought of all her friends out there in the realm, still working hard for the army, trusting them here to get it right. Dizzy in Essen and Gran Herdalen, wherever he was, and all the Allies, David with his computers and wise Karl and old Hanna. And little Marta... Madge thought of Marta and wondered very much.