"So, it would be miracles and wonders that you would be
after, is it?" (1.69)
The tall gentleman in
the top hat who rents a room from Dunstan Thorn is apparently a
miracle-and-wonder-dealer. Dunstan figures this out, and asks for one of those
in addition to the monetary rent that the tall gentleman pays him. After all,
how often do you have a chance to ask for a miracle or wonder for yourself?
Mr. Bromios had sent up a wine-tent and was selling wines
and pasties to the village folk, who were often tempted by the foods being sold
by the folk from Beyond the Wall but had been told by their grandparents, who
had got it from <em>their</em>
grandparents, that it was deeply, utterly wrong to eat fairy food, to eat fairy
fruit, to drink fairy water and sip fairy wine. (1.114)
Okay, kids, you don't
have to be a genius to know that eating fairy food is generally a bad idea for
humans. The folks from Wall seem to have this figured out. It also, conveniently,
is a great business strategy for Mr. Bromios to provide human-friendly food at
the Faerie Market. Just sayin'.
There were wonders for sale, and marvels, and miracles;
there were things undreamed-of and objects unimagined (<em>what need</em>, Dunstan wondered, <em>could someone have of the
storm-filled eggshells?</em>). (1.116)
People are selling
all kinds of magical stuff at the Faerie Market, like swords and wands and
rings and glass flowers… and, apparently, eggshells stuffed with weather phenomena.
We're with Dunstan on this one. What are they for, conversation starters?
"Look at his eyes. Can't you see the poor boy's dazed in his
wits, dazed and confused? He's bespelled, I'll wager you." (1.157)
When Dunstan shows up
with the glass snowdrop for Daisy, he's acting a little funny. Mr. Hempstock's
interpretation is that it's the fault of someone/something magical; clearly the
boy's under a spell.
The three women in the mirror were also the Lilim: but
whether they were the successors to the old women, or their shadow-selves, or
whether only the peasant cottage in the woods was real, or if, somewhere, the
Lilim lived in a black hall, with a fountain in the shape of a mermaid playing
in the courtyard of stars, none knew for certain, and none but the Lilim could
This description of
the Lilim kind of breaks our brains. Do they actually live in an alternate
universe? Do they have shadow-selves? Come to think of it, what <em>is</em> a shadow-self?
Is it a witch thing? Or are the Lilim the proto-witches, the witches who came
before witches? Almost goddesses? Whatever they are, they're full of magic, and
they're kind of scary.
"Say," said a small and hairy voice in his ear, "but
would you mind dreamin' a bit quieter?" (4.5)
Last we checked, it
wasn't possible for one person to dream loudly enough for another person to
hear them. Or for people to share dreams. It seems the hairy little man is
gifted (or cursed?) with especially strong dream senses. Or maybe Tristran is.
This whole thing is a little odd.
Once he had eaten, he wiped his hands upon his robe and then
he cast the runes to find the topaz stone which conferred the lordship of the
crag towns and the vast estates of the Stormhold. (5.158)
Primus has runes that
he consults in order to divine the location of the topaz, a.k.a. the Power of
Stormhold. What are runes? They're carved stones or tiles that can be used like
Tarot cards to tell the future—or in this case, the present (since he's after
the current location of the topaz, not necessarily where it <em>will</em> be). We'll
take runes over animal guts any day when it comes to divination.
They left the inn behind them, the howls of the witch-queen
ringing in their ears. They were underground, and the candlelight flickered from
the wet cave walls; and with their next halting step they were in a desert of
white sand, in the moonlight; and with their third step they were high above
the earth, looking down on the hills and trees and rivers far below them.
We'll say this about
travel by candlelight: It sure is efficient. It'll take you farther and faster
than just about anything else we've seen in <em>Stardust</em>.
But then, it's also not the most reliable means of travel. If the flame goes
out, you're screwed, and this happens not just once, but twice to Tristran. So
much for his good luck.
She took the unicorn's head by the horn and placed it beside
the body, on the rock; thereupon she looked with her hard, grey eyes into the
red pool she had made. Two faces peered out at her from the puddle: two women,
older by far in appearance than she was now. (8.50)
operator? Yes, we'd like to place a call through this puddle of unicorn blood
sitting under a decapitated unicorn head. Yes, we can hold. No trouble at all.
Something hit him, then, stunning him; although he had been
still, he felt as if he had just run at full tilt into in invisible wall.
And here's yet
another kind of magic that exists in Faerie: You can feel like you've slammed
into a wall even when you're not moving. Madame Semele unleashes this on
Tristran when she thinks he's stealing her brightly colored bird (which turns
out to be his mom in bird-form). Of course, in a way, Tristran does help steal
Lady Una away from Madame Semele's enslavement. Ha.