Stardust

The ruddy-faced man extended a hand. “Welcome aboard,” he said. “This is the Free Ship Perdita, bound on a lightning-hunting expedition. Captain Johannes Alberic, at your service.” He coughed, deep in his chest. And then, before Tristran could say a word in reply, the captain spied Tristran’s left hand, and called “Meggot! Meggot! Blast you, where are you? Over here! Passengers in need of attention. There lad, Meggot’ll see to your hand. We eat at six bells. You shall sit at my table.”

Soon a nervous-looking woman with an explosive mop of carrot-red hair—Meggot—was escorting him belowdecks, and smearing a thick, green ointment onto his hand, which cooled it and eased the pain. And then he was being led into the mess, which was a small dining room next to the kitchen (which he was delighted to discover they referred to as the galley, just as in the sea stories he had read).

Tristran did indeed get to eat at the captain’s table, although there was in fact no other table in the mess. In addition to the captain and Meggot there were five other members of the crew, a disparate bunch who seemed content to let Captain Alberic do all the talking, which he did, with his ale-pot in one hand, and the other hand alternately concerned with holding his stubby pipe and conveying food into his mouth.

The food was a thick soup of vegetables, beans and barley, and it filled Tristran and contented him. To drink, there was the clearest, coldest water Tristran had ever tasted.

The captain asked them no questions about how they came to find themselves high on a cloud, and they volunteered no answers. Tristran was given a berth with Oddness, the first mate, a quiet gentleman with large wings and a bad stammer, while Yvaine berthed in Meggot’s cabin, and Meggot herself moved into a hammock.

Tristran often found himself looking back on his time on the Perdita, during the rest of his journey through Faerie, as one of the happiest periods of his life. The crew let him help with the sails, and even gave him a turn at the wheel from time to time. Sometimes the ship would sail above dark storm clouds, as big as mountains, and the crew would fish for lightning bolts with a small copper chest. The rain and the wind would wash the deck of the ship, and he often would find himself laughing with exhilaration, while the rain ran down his face, and gripping the rope railing with his good hand to keep from being tumbled over the side by the storm.

Meggot, who was a little taller and a little thinner than Yvaine, had lent her several gowns, which the star wore with

relief, taking pleasure in wearing something new on different days. Often she would climb out to the figurehead, despite her broken leg, and sit, looking down at the ground below.

How’s your hand?” asked the captain.

“A lot better, thank you,” said Tristran. The skin was shiny and scarred, and he had little feeling in the fingers, but Meggot’s salve had taken most of the pain, and sped the healing process immeasurably. He had been sitting on deck, with his legs dangling over the side, looking out.

“We’ll be taking anchor in a week, to take provisions, and a little cargo,” said the captain. “Might be best if we were to let you off down there.”

“Oh. Thank you,” said Tristran.

“You’ll be closer to Wall. Still a good ten-week journey, though. Maybe more. But Meggot says she’s nearly got your friend’s leg up to snuff. It’ll be able to take her weight again soon.”

They sat, side by side. The captain puffed on his pipe: his clothes were covered in a fine layer of ash, and when he was not smoking his pipe he was chewing at the stem, or excavating the bowl with a sharp metal instrument, or tamping in new tobacco.

“You know,” said the captain, staring off toward the horizon, “it wasn’t entirely fortune that we found you. Well, it was fortune that we found you, but it’d also be true to say that I was keeping half an eye out for you. I, and a few others about the place.”

“Why?” said Tristran. “And how did you know about me?”

In reply, the captain traced a shape with his finger in the condensation on the polished wood.

“It looks like a castle,” said Tristran.

The captain winked at him. “Not a word to say too loudly,” he said, “even up here. Think of it as a fellowship.”

Tristran stared at him. “Do you know a little hairy man, with a hat and an enormous pack of goods?”

The captain tapped his pipe against the side of the boat. A movement of his hand had already erased the picture of the castle. “Aye. And he’s not the only member of the fellowship with an interest in your return to Wall. Which reminds me, you should tell the young lady that if she fancies trying to pass for other than what she is, she might try to give the impression that she eats something—anything—from time to time.”

“I never mentioned Wall in your presence,” said Tristran. “When you asked where I was came from, I said ‘Behind us’ and when you asked where we were going, I said, ‘Ahead of us.’ “