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of people encircled him, some of whom reached out to touch his shoulder as wonder flashed within their eyes. A number of those eyes were of silver hue. He looked down at his shoulder and was amazed to see that the etched emblem was glowing as if composed of yellow illumination.
    Stanley felt an enchantment on his tongue as he studied the combined sigils on those who gathered round him. He began to speak loudly as he deciphered the combined signs, which formed an arcane language. All music stopped, and Simon was suddenly before him, wonder and amazement flashing in his unholy eyes.
    “Speak it again! Great Yuggoth, we have never heard it so announced! Shout it, to the stars and beyond them!”
    The outsider caught their fever. He shouted the alien tongue and then joined the screaming of ecstasy as the golden archway appeared before them, the arc of fire on which glowing emblems had been embossed. Stalking to the amazing threshold, Stanley unwrapped the Yellow Deck and held up the cards. One by one the cards flew from his hand and positioned themselves within the glittering archway, until one card only was left in Stanley’s hand, unturned. The mortal world transformed around him and became unreal. He felt his flesh alter as well, until he was not the thing he had been. The archway alone seemed valid and substantial, and he smiled as he crossed its threshold, as the unturned card he held burst into flame, as did his frame of flesh.
    The children of Sesqua Valley watched and howled, as Stanley began to resemble a spool of melting celluloid. Yet still he mouthed the arcane language, that immortal and outrageous idiom, until the archway flickered and faded and took him from their view.

 
    An Ecstasy of Fear
     
     
     
     
    I
     
    S arah Paget-Lowe stepped off the train and into fog, a miasma so thick she could not see the majority of the small train depot. She stood and shivered in the chilly air, and then looked up at the sound of beating wings. A hazy shadow drifted over her, the outline of some large winged thing. Looking at the copy of Christina Rossetti’s Goblin Market that she held, and that she had read during portions of her long journey, she smiled bemusedly. The thin book had dark green boards and its text was illustrated with color reproductions of artwork by the author’s elder brother, Dante. Had her choice of the book been a kind of presage, indicating what she could expect in this unfamiliar setting? Two figures approached her from different directions, and she waved a hand to the porter who carried her bags. Then she turned and named the young poet, Akiva Loveman, as he floated to her through the mist.
    “I apologize for the fog—it’s quite unwarranted; usually our weather is fair and fine. Are these your bags?”
    Sarah answered in the affirmative as the train pulled away and disappeared into the brumous cloud that had settled over the valley. She then followed her friend onto a dirt road and to the place where his car was parked. Her mouth curved at the sight of that vehicle. “This is yours, this beautiful relic?”
    “Yes. It’s a 1928 Model A Ford Sedan. A local fellow sold it to me after I first moved to Sesqua Town. It runs perfectly well. I had new upholstery put in, but otherwise it’s mostly original.”
    She watched as he placed her luggage into the back seat of the car. Then he slammed shut the door, turned to face her and held out his hands. “Welcome to Sesqua Valley. I imagine you’re exhausted.”
    “I’ve never traveled so far by rail. It was a long journey, and I am a little tired.”
    Escorting her to the passenger side of the car, he opened the door and stepped aside as she bent to enter the vehicle. “I have some nice stew and home-made bread awaiting you, and then you can have a quick bath and sleep as long as you like.”
    Sarah moaned in pleasure and sank into the soft leather of her seat, trying to fight the temptation to shut her eyes during the brief trip from the