"Now talk," said Harold, stabbing the immobilised pixy with the rubber end of a pencil. "Where is the damned necromancer?"
"I can't say," said the pixie. "You know you're going to get into trouble for this, don't you? The Queen doesn't take kindly to kidnappers."
"Look," said Julie, her false eye hovering inches away from the pixie's face. "Tell us what we need to you or we're going to fit you for wooden shoes."
"Isn't it supposed to be concrete shoes?" said Harold. "You'd still float in wooden shoes, surely?"
"If you want to drown him, sure," said Julie, "but I was going to make him clog dance."