### Part VIII: The Underneath-People Small grey watchers, still and stone, Against the threshold, not alone. Wall-side watchers, corner-bound, Doorway shadows without a sound. Older than the Court, older than the shore, Older than the Fae that came before. Older than the Isle, older than the name, They sit where history catches flame. They do not speak. They do not plead. They do not bargain. They do not need. When something breaks and something bends, When an old road turns and an old age ends, The little grey ones gather near, And those who see them disappear. ### Witch-Chant Chorus **Hush the tongue and dim the flame, Fold the veil and lose the name. Stone by stone and shade by shade, Let the old ones watch the old parade. Hear no whisper, heed no sign, Leave the hidden things behind. Round the door and round the stone, What watches there must watch alone.** The courtiers pass with lowered eyes, Never looking, never surprised. They know the shape against the wall, They know the meaning of its call. But there is no call. There is no sound. Only something waiting there, Where wall meets floor, And floor meets air. Heh... Heh-heh... Do not see them. Do not stare. ### Witch-Chant Chorus **Hush the tongue and dim the flame, Fold the veil and lose the name. Stone by stone and shade by shade, Let the old ones watch the old parade. Hear no whisper, heed no sign, Leave the hidden things behind. Round the door and round the stone, What watches there must watch alone.** Something flat beneath the stair, Dragging fingers through its hair. Hair for fingers, hair for feet, Hair that crawls where stones should meet. Three behold it. Three will swear. Three see different limbs crawl there. One sees four. One sees ten. One says, “Friend, I saw it then.” But none agree. None can explain. The creature bends the floor again. Heh... Heh-heh-heh... Look away. Look away. For what you count may change today. ### Witch-Chant Chorus **Hush the tongue and dim the flame, Fold the veil and lose the name. Stone by stone and shade by shade, Let the old ones watch the old parade. Hear no whisper, heed no sign, Leave the hidden things behind. Round the door and round the stone, What watches there must watch alone.** Then glamour cracks and kindness dies, And something opens underneath its disguise. Six long limbs. Six crooked knees. Six black joints that climb with ease. Up the wall and across the ceiling, Over frost where mirrors are healing. Eyes within eyes with their own pale light, A nightmare wearing a friendly sight. The harmless face was only skin. The pleasant thing was only a grin. Underneath it waits the terror. Underneath it waits the error. Heh... Heh-heh... Do you see the mask? Do you see what's under? ### Witch-Chant Chorus **Hush the tongue and dim the flame, Fold the veil and lose the name. Stone by stone and shade by shade, Let the old ones watch the old parade. Hear no whisper, heed no sign, Leave the hidden things behind. Round the door and round the stone, What watches there must watch alone.** There are ears that cover all, Ears that rise and ears that fall. Ears so wide and ears so deep, Ears that fold the body in to sleep. No blanket there. No cloak of thread. Only listening wrapped around the head. Phanesii, hearing near, Hearing far and hearing fear. Then come those without a mouth, Sweetness in and sweetness out. Wild apple scent is all they take, One foul breath and they break. No tongue to curse. No teeth to bite. One bitter smell and gone from sight. Gangines trembling by the tree, Living only where the apples be. Ha... Ha-ha... Sweetness keeps them. Bitterness breaks them. ### Witch-Chant Chorus **Hush the tongue and dim the flame, Fold the veil and lose the name. Stone by stone and shade by shade, Let the old ones watch the old parade. Hear no whisper, heed no sign, Leave the hidden things behind. Round the door and round the stone, What watches there must watch alone.** Headless faces, chests that stare, Eyes and mouths where heads should bear. Blemmyes breathing through the breast, Never sleeping, never rest. One great foot beneath the rain, One great leg across the plain. Hop and thunder, leap and fly, Fold that foot beneath the sky. Sciapod shadow, monopod stride, One-foot thing that cannot hide. But when the rain begins to fall, It folds itself above them all. Umbrella. Foot. Leg. Rain. Heh-heh-heh. Say the names. Say them wrong. Something listens all night long. ### Witch-Chant Chorus **Hush the tongue and dim the flame, Fold the veil and lose the name. Stone by stone and shade by shade, Let the old ones watch the old parade. Hear no whisper, heed no sign, Leave the hidden things behind. Round the door and round the stone, What watches there must watch alone.** Down beside the river bend, There sits one who cannot mend. Gaunt and grieving, pale and thin, Washing where the dead have been.
