25
‘Dead…?’ White Fringe – or Jack as he was now called – looked to Nicko for an explanation. Then he laughed. ‘Ah, yes. Nicko’s little white lie. Well… I say little. He’s been holding those cards close to his chest for centuries. Not so little anymore, I suppose!’
Dropping from the platform, Jack discarded his robe, to reveal an ice-blue tunic, a navy, leather breastplate and a pair of willowy, pointed boots. Where his feet landed, he left a film of frost.
‘Allow me to explain by way of a myth,’ he swept a hand towards Toby, ‘for the younger among us.
‘There once was a man called Nicko who lived in the woods. One day he was approached by some elves. They fancied themselves refugees and thought Nicko, a lowly human, could protect them from a very bad man named Oberon.’ The word “bad” c
