Stardust: Chapters 3–4

Four of his sons were dead: Secundus, Quintus, Quartus and Sextus, and they stood unmoving, grey figures, insubstantial and silent.

They stood, solidly, uncomfortably, on the right of the chamber, shifting from foot to foot, scratching their cheeks and noses, as if they were shamed by the silent repose of their dead brothers.

And whether this is because they could not see their dead brothers, or because, having murdered them (one apiece, save Septimus, who had killed both Quintus and Sextus, poisoning the former with a dish of spiced eels, and, rejecting artifice for efficiency and gravity, simply pushing Sextus off a precipice one night as they were admiring a lightning storm far below), they chose to ignore them, scared of guilt, or revelation, or ghosts, their father did not know.

And whether this is because they could not see their dead brothers, or because, having murdered them (one apiece, save Septimus, who had killed both Quintus and Sextus, poisoning the former with a dish of spiced eels, and, rejecting artifice for efficiency and gravity, simply pushing Sextus off a precipice one night as they were admiring a lightning storm far below), they chose to ignore them, scared of guilt, or revelation, or ghosts, their father did not know.

And whether this is because they could not see their dead brothers, or because, having murdered them (one apiece, save Septimus, who had killed both Quintus and Sextus, poisoning the former with a dish of spiced eels, and, rejecting artifice for efficiency and gravity, simply pushing Sextus off a precipice one night as they were admiring a lightning storm far below), they chose to ignore them, scared of guilt, or revelation, or ghosts, their father did not know.

But the youth of today were a pasty lot, with none of the get-up-and-go, none of the vigor and vim that he remembered from the days when he was young....

The lord's voice wheezed out of him, like the wind being squeezed from a pair of rotten bellows.

His living sons raised their heads: Primus, the oldest, with white hairs in his thick brown beard, his nose aquiline, his eyes grey, looked expectant; Tertius, his beard red-and-golden, his eyes a tawny brown, looked wary; Septimus, his black beard still coming in, tall and crowlike, looked blank, as he always looked blank.

His fingers, swollen-knuckled and twiglike, fumbled with the topaz that hung on a heavy silver chain about his neck.

His living sons raised their heads: Primus, the oldest, with white hairs in his thick brown beard, his nose aquiline, his eyes grey, looked expectant; Tertius, his beard red-and-golden, his eyes a tawny brown, looked wary; Septimus, his black beard still coming in, tall and crowlike, looked blank, as he always looked blank.

Then he threw the stone into the air. The living brothers caught their breath, as the stone arced up over the clouds. It reached what they were certain must be the zenith of its curve, and then, defying all reason, it continued to rise into the air.

There are all manner of more familiar animals as well, cats affectionate and aloof, dogs noble and cowardly, wolves and foxes, eagles and bears.

In the middle of a wood, so thick and so deep it was very nearly a forest, was a small house, built of thatch and wood and daubed grey clay, which had a most foreboding aspect.

A small, yellow bird in a cage sat on its perch outside the house. It did not sing, but sat mournfully silent, its feathers ruffled and wan.

Smoked meats and sausages hung from the rafters, along with a wizened crocodile carcass.

On this day, one crone came in from the woods, carrying a stoat, its throat a splash of red.

In the mirror, a dark woman stretched and rose from her divan.

The youngest, the one who had come in from the outhouse, walked, painfully slowly, over to a high and ramshackle chest of drawers, and bent over.

"Then it's a good thing that we've found a new one, isn't it?" said the oldest, tartly, and with that she thrust a clawed hand into the box.

"Exactly," said the witch-queen, putting a circlet of silver upon her head. "The first in two hundred years. And I'll bring it back to us."

"Poor fare," said the voice. "Country fare, it is. Nothing like the gentry are used to, but the likes of me treasures a fine mushrump."

"Is there more? he says, as if it were poached quail's eggs and smoked gazelle and truffles, not just a mushrump, what tastes more or less like something what's been dead for a week and a cat wouldn't touch. Manners."

"Look at you," said the little hairy person, his voice a mixture of pride and gloom, "eatin' those mushrumps as if you liked them, as if they wasn't sawdust and wormwood and rue in your mouth."

"What," he asked, in what he was certain were lofty and scornful tones, "would possibly make you imagine that my lady-love would have sent me on some foolish errand?"

"Because that's the only reason a lad like you would be stupid enough to cross the border into Faerie. The only ones who ever come here from your lands are the minstrels, and the lovers, and the mad. And you don't look like much of a minstrel, and you're—pardon me saying so, lad, but it's true—ordinary as cheese-crumbs. So it's love, if you ask me."

The path they were walking became harder to discern.

"Before they come? Why—they're here, you puddenhead. It's the trees themselves. We're in a sere wood."

"Yes, sir. Through that copse and up a little way to the right. That's where the path is."

And then they were standing on the true path: a swath of green sward running through the grey wood.

"Are we safe here?" asked Tristran, panting, and looking about apprehensively.

The little hairy man wiggled his own large, hairy ears, dismissively.

In the case of Primus, this took the shape of a long, black, monkish robe; Tertius was dressed in the sober costume of a merchant in mourning, while Septimus wore a black doublet and hose, a black hat with a black feather in it, and looked for all the world like a foppish assassin from a minor Elizabethan historical play.

In the case of Primus, this took the shape of a long, black, monkish robe; Tertius was dressed in the sober costume of a merchant in mourning, while Septimus wore a black doublet and hose, a black hat with a black feather in it, and looked for all the world like a foppish assassin from a minor Elizabethan historical play.

The innkeeper, who was a choleric gnome of poor disposition, looked out of the door.

The innkeeper, who was a choleric gnome of poor disposition, looked out of the door.

For Lord Tertius of Stormhold was writhing back and forth on the bed, his eyes wide, his breathing labored.

Incontrovertibly
Journeys through Fäerie
Strip off the blanket to
See who you are.

Thus it was, that when the little hairy man arrived back from the village of Revelry (although why it was so called no man alive could say, for it was a gloomy, somber place, and had been for time out of mind) he found Tristran sitting glumly beside a hawthorn bush, wrapped in a blanket, and bewailing the loss of his hat.

In the village of Wall, men wore brown, and grey, and black; and even the reddest neckerchief worn by the ruddiest of farmers was soon faded by the sun and the rain to a more mannerly color.

There was a swagger to his steps, a jauntiness to his movements, that had not been there before.

Tristran had not given the matter any thought, hitherto, but he found himself saying, "A man could walk, only stopping to sleep, while the moon waxed and waned above him a half a dozen times, crossing treacherous mountains and burning deserts, before he reached the place where the star has fallen."

Tristran had not given the matter any thought, hitherto, but he found himself saying, "A man could walk, only stopping to sleep, while the moon waxed and waned above him a half a dozen times, crossing treacherous mountains and burning deserts, before he reached the place where the star has fallen."

Tristran could see nothing in any way out of the ordinary about the candle-stub. It was a wax candle, not tallow, and it was much used and melted.

Tristran let the chain fall into his palm: it felt like quicksilver.

He took another step, but he was still in the glen. There were high ferns, and elm trees, and foxgloves in abundance, and the moon had set in the sky.