Dogsbody

  The lost life of the Dog Star

  Sirius remained in the yard, puzzled and unhappy, until long after sunset. He had never seen night fall before. He watched the red sun flaring down behind the roofs, leaving an orange stain behind it and a much darker blue sky. After a while, the sky was nearly black. And the stars came out. Wheeling overhead they came, tiny discs of white, green, and orange, pinpricks of bluish white, cold tingly red blobs, large orbs, small orbs, more and more, crowding and clustering away into the dark, while behind them wheeled the spangled smear of the Milky Way. Sirius stared upwards, dumbfounded. This was home. He should have been there, not tied up in a yard on the edge of things. They were his. And they were so far away. He had no way of reaching them.

  He was filled with a vast green sense of loss. Out there, invisible, his lost Companion must be. She was probably too far away to hear. All the same, he threw up his head and howled. And howled. And howled. . . .

  BOOKS BY DIANA WYNNE JONES

  The Dalemark Quartet

  Cart and Cwidder

  Drowned Ammet

  The Spellcoats

  The Crown of Dalemark

  The Chrestomanci Books

  Charmed Life

  The Magicians of Caprona

  Witch Week

  The Lives of Christopher Chant

  Conrad’s Fate

  The Pinhoe Egg

  Other Books

  Changeover

  Wilkins’ Tooth (USA: Witch’s Business)

  The Ogre Downstairs

  Eight Days of Luke

  Dogsbody

  Power of Three

  Who Got Rid of Angus Flint?

  The Four Grannies

  The Time of the Ghost

  The Homeward Bounders

  Archer’s Goon

  Fire and Hemlock

  Warlock at the Wheel (short stories)

  The Skiver’s Guide

  The Thirteenth Enchanter

  Howl’s Moving Castle

  A Tale of Time City

  Chair Person

  Wild Robert

  Hidden Turnings (editor)

  Castle in the Air

  Black Maria (USA: Aunt Maria)

  A Sudden Wild Magic

  Yes, Dear (picture book)

  Hexwood

  Fantasy Stories (editor)

  Everard’s Ride (short stories)

  Stopping for a Spell (short stories)

  The Tough Guide to Fantasyland

  Minor Arcana (short stories)

  Deep Secret

  Believing is Seeing (short stories)

  Dark Lord of Derkholm

  Puss in Boots (retelling)

  Mixed Magics (short stories)

  The Year of the Griffin

  The Merlin Conspiracy

  Unexpected Magics (short stories)

  The Game

  House of Many Ways

  Enchanted Glass

  Earwig and the Witch

  FIREBIRD

  WHERE FANTASY TAKES FLIGHT™

  The Blue Sword Robin McKinley

  The Coyote Road: Trickster Tales Ellen Datlow and

  Terri Windling, eds.

  Dragonhaven Robin McKinley

  Eon Alison Goodman

  Eona Alison Goodman

  Fire Kristin Cashore

  Fire: Tales of Elemental Spirits Robin McKinley and

  Peter Dickinson

  Fire and Hemlock Diana Wynne Jones

  Firebirds:

  An Anthology of Original

  Fantasy and Science Fiction Sharyn November, ed.

  Firebirds Rising:

  An Anthology of Original

  Science Fiction and Fantasy Sharyn November, ed.

  The Game Diana Wynne Jones

  The Hero and the Crown Robin McKinley

  Incarceron Catherine Fisher

  Sapphique Catherine Fisher

  The Seven Towers Patricia C. Wrede

  Snow White and Rose Red Patricia C. Wrede

  A Tale of Time City Diana Wynne Jones

  Tam Lin Pamela Dean

  The Tough Guide to Fantasyland Diana Wynne Jones

  DIANA

  WYNNE

  JONES

  Introduction by Neil Gaiman

  FIREBIRD

  AN IMPRINT OF PENGUIN GROUP (USA) INC.

  FIREBIRD

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in the United Kingdom by Macmillan London Limited, 1975

  First published in the United States of America by Greenwillow Books, 1988

  Published by Firebird, an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2012

  Excerpt from Fire and Hemlock copyright © Diana Wynne Jones, 1985

  Excerpt from A Tale of Time City copyright © Diana Wynne Jones, 1987

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Copyright © Diana Wynne Jones, 1975

  Introduction copyright © Neil Gaiman, 2012

  All rights reserved

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA IS AVAILABLE

  ISBN: 978-1-101-56698-5

  Set in Minion

  Design by Tony Sahara

  Printed in the United States of America

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed

  or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of

  copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  ALWAYS LEARNING

  PEARSON

  For Caspian, who might really be Sirius

  INTRODUCTION

  Neil Gaiman

  Don’t read this introduction.

  Read the book first.

  I’m going to talk, in general terms, about the end of this book, and I’m going to talk about Diana Wynne Jones, and they intertwine (one made the other, after all), and it’ll be better for all of us if you’ve read the book before you read my introduction. It’s out of order and jumbled-up, but that can’t be helped.

  If you need an introduction before you start reading, here’s one: this is the story of the Dog Star, Sirius, who is punished for a crime by being incarnated as a real dog, here on Earth. It’s a detective story, and an adventure; it’s a fantasy, and sometimes it’s science fiction, and then it breaks all the rules by twining myth into the mix as well, and does it so well that you realize that really, there aren’t any rules. It’s an animal story for anyone who has ever had, or wanted, a pet—or a human story for any animal that has ever wanted a person. It’s funny, and it’s exciting and honest, and it has some sad bits too.

  If you read it, you’ll like it.

  Trust me. Come back when you’ve read the book.

  Welcome back.

  Diana Wy
nne Jones wrote some of the best children’s books that have ever been written. She started writing them with Wilkins’ Tooth (AKA Witch’s Business) in 1973, and she continued writing them until she died in March 2011. She wrote about people, and she wrote about magic, and she wrote both of them with perception and imagination, with humour and clearness of vision.

  We met in 1985, at a British Fantasy Convention, and we met before the convention started because we had both got there early, so I introduced myself, and I told her that I loved her books, and we were friends that quickly and that easily, and we stayed friends for over a quarter of a century. She was a very easy person to stay friends with, smart and funny and wise and always sensible and honest.

  At her best, Diana’s stories feel real. The people, with their follies and their dreams, feel as real as the magic does. In this book she takes you inside the head of someone learning to be a dog, and it is real, because the people are real, and the cats are real, and the voice of the sunlight feels real as well.

  Her books are not easy. They don’t give everything up on first reading. If I am reading a novel by Diana Wynne Jones to myself, I expect to have to go back and reread bits to figure everything out. She expects you to be bright: she has given you all the pieces, and it is up to you to put them together.

  Dogsbody isn’t easy. (It’s not hard, either. But it’s not easy.) It begins in the middle, at the end of a trial. Sirius, the Dog Star, is being tried by a court of his peers. It’s five pages of science fiction, and just as we’re getting used to it we are thrust, like Sirius, into the mind, what there is of it, of a newborn puppy, and we are in a dog’s-eye view look at the world.

  The magic of Dogsbody is that it’s a book about being a dog. And it’s a book about being a star. It’s a love story, and Diana Wynne Jones wrote very few love stories, and normally in those she wrote, the love was flawed and imperfect. But the love of this dog for his girl, and of this girl for her dog, is a perfect and unconditional thing, and we know this is true as soon as we meet Kathleen. We learn about her life—the politics of the family she’s in, and the greater politics that put her there.

  Had Diana simply written a story about Kathleen and her dog from the dog’s point of view, one that felt as right as this one does, that would have been an achievement, but she does so much more than that: she creates a whole cosmology of effulgences—creatures who inhabit stars, or, perhaps, who are stars. There is something called a Zoi that must be found before Sirius runs out of time. Then she adds the Wild Hunt, the hounds of Annwn, the Celtic underworld, to the tale, while never losing sight of the humanity at the heart of it.

  I remember reading Dogsbody to my youngest daughter, almost ten years ago.

  When I finished it she didn’t say very much. Then she looked at me and put her head on one side and said, “Daddy? Was that a happy end? Or a sad one?”

  “Both,” I told her.

  “Yes,” she said. “That was what I thought. I was really happy, but it made me want to cry.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “Me too.”

  It also made me try to figure out why and how Diana had made the ending work so well, triumphant and heartbreaking at the same time. I wanted to be able to do that.

  Three weeks ago, I was in England, in Bristol, in a hospice, which is a place that provides care for people who are going to die. I sat beside Diana Wynne Jones’ bed.

  I felt very alone, and very helpless. Watching someone you care for die is hard.

  And then I thought of this introduction. I had been looking forward to writing it, looking forward to talking to Diana about the book, and now it would never happen. I thought, “If Diana was a star, I wonder which star she would be,” and I imagined her shining in the night sky, and I was comforted.

  Once, long ago, people thought that heroes were placed in the night sky, as stars or as constellations, after their death. Diana Wynne Jones was my hero: a brilliant writer who wrote satisfying book after satisfying book for generations of readers; the kind of writer whose work will be remembered and loved forever, and who was as funny and smart and honest and wise in person as she was on the page. She will shine for a long time to come.

  (My friend Peter Nicholls, who was Diana’s friend too, told me that he thought she could be Bellatrix, the Female Warrior, who is the star in the constellation Orion’s left shoulder, and I think that is a fine suggestion. Diana was a warrior, even if her weapon was not a sword.)

  This is one of her best books, although many of her books are good, and all of them are different in their own respective ways. I hope it made you happy and sad.

  Neil Gaiman

  April 22, 2011

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  1

  The Dog Star stood beneath the Judgment Seats and raged. The green light of his fury fired the assembled faces viridian. It lit the underside of the rooftrees and turned their moist blue fruit to emerald.

  “None of this is true!” he shouted. “Why can’t you believe me, instead of listening to him?” He blazed on the chief witness, a blue luminary from the Castor complex, firing him turquoise. The witness backed hastily out of range.

  “Sirius,” the First Judge rumbled quietly, “we’ve already found you guilty. Unless you’ve anything reasonable to say, be quiet and let the Court pass sentence.”

  “No I will not be quiet!” Sirius shouted up at the huge ruddy figure. He was not afraid of Antares. He had often sat beside him as Judge on those same Judgment Seats—that was one of the many miserable things about this trial. “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, all through. I did not kill that luminary—I only hit him. I was not negligent, and I’ve offered to look for the Zoi. The most you can accuse me of is losing my temper—”

  “Once too often, in the opinion of this Court,” remarked big crimson Betelgeuse, the Second Judge, in his dry way.

  “And I’ve admitted I lost my temper,” said Sirius.

  “No one would have believed you if you hadn’t,” said Betelgeuse.

  A long flicker of amusement ran around the assembled luminaries. Sirius glared at them. The hall of blue trees was packed with people from every sphere and all orders of effulgence. It was not often one of the high effulgents was on trial for his life—and there never had been one so notorious for losing his temper.

  “That’s right—laugh!” Sirius roared. “You’re getting what you came for, aren’t you? But you’re not watching justice done. I tell you I’m not guilty! I don’t know who killed that young fool, but it wasn’t me!”

  “The Court is not proposing to go through all that again,” Antares said. “We have your Companion’s evidence that you often get too angry to know what you’re doing.”

  Sirius saw his Companion look at him warningly. He pretended not to see her. He knew she was trying to warn him not to prove the case against him by raging any more. She had admitted only a little more than anyone knew. She had not really let him down. But he was afraid he would never see her again, and he knew it would make him angrier than ever to look at her. She was so beautiful: small, exquisite and pearly.

  “If I were up there, I wouldn’t call that evidence,” he said.

  “No, but it bears out the chief witness,” said Antares, “when he says he surprised you with the body and you tried to kill him by throwing the Zoi at him.”

  “I didn’t,” said Sirius. He could say nothing more. He could only stand fulminating because his case was so weak. He refused to tell the Court that he had threatened to kill the blue Castor-fellow for hanging around his Companion, or that he had stru
ck out at the young luminary for gossiping about it. None of that proved his innocence anyway.

  “Other witnesses saw the Zoi fall,” said Antares. “Not to speak of the nova sphere—”

  “Oh go to blazes!” said Sirius. “Nobody else saw anything.”

  “Say that again,” Betelgeuse put in, “and we’ll add contempt of court to the other charges. Your entire evidence amounts to contempt anyway.”

  “Have you anything more to say?” asked Antares. “Anything, that is, which isn’t a repetition of the nonsense you’ve given us up to now?”

  Rather disconcerted, Sirius looked up at the three Judges, the two red giants and the smaller white Polaris. He could see they all thought he had not told the full story. Perhaps they were hoping for it now. “No, I’ve nothing else to say,” he said. “Except that it was not nonsense. I—”

  “Then be quiet while our spokesman passes the sentence,” said Antares.

  Polaris rose, quiet, tall and steadfast. Being a Cepheid, he had a slight stammer, which would have disqualified him as spokesman, had not the other two Judges been of greater effulgence. “D-denizen of S-sirius,” he began.

  Sirius looked up and tried to compose himself. He had not had much hope all through, and none since they declared him guilty. He had thought he was quite prepared. But now the sentence was actually about to come, he felt sick. This trial had been about whether he, Sirius, lived or died. And it seemed only just to have occurred to him that it was.

  “This Court,” said Polaris, “has f-found you guilty on three counts, namely: of m-murdering a young luminary s-stationed in Orion; of grossly m-misusing a Zoi to com-m-mit that s-said m-murder; and of culpable negligence, causing t-trepidation, irregularity and d-damage in your entire s-sphere of inf-fluence and l-leading t-to the l-loss of the Z-zoi.” For the moment, his stammer fazed him, and he had to stop.

  Sirius waited. He tried to imagine someone else as denizen of his green sphere, and could not. He looked down, and tried not to think of anything. But that was a mistake. Down there, through the spinning star-motes of the floor, he looked into nothing. He was horrified. It was all he could do not to scream at them not to make him into nothing.