Phoenix slogged on, looking over his shoulder regularly to make sure the boulderfrog wasn't following him. A small wooden sign was flapping in the wind not too far ahead of Phoenix, who was feeling extra dehydrated simply because the stupid frog ate his water bottle. The sign was your classic three planks nailed sideways to one plank contraption, with what was hopefully red paint scrawled into tidy letters along the front face.

Phoenix stood in front of it and stared thoughtfully at the words. Not only were they quite incredibly neat and tidy for a Waste sign most of the way up a mountain, but the content itself was very helpful. It so kindly reminded Phoenix that he was entering a sacred and holy place and, as you would expect, he should turn back immediately lest he face ... face ... Hmm. He wasn't entirely sure what the Excruciating and Mercilessly Swift Castigation of Six Million Stars was, but it had sufficient emotional impact behind it to leave the reader feeling threatened, which was presumably the idea.

He considered the threat for a moment longer, then with all the respect in the world, strolled right past it with a happy little tune on his lips. Six Million Stars was for other people - Phoenix was a VIP.

About twenty minutes further up the slope, Phoenix rounded an exceptionally crumbly corner and finally saw it. Saw something, anyway. Something that wasn't fucking brown.

A large, rusting metal gate, moulded into what appeared to be a spiky circle - oh, it was a star, duh, it was a star - blockaded the rest of the path up the hill. More importantly, though, Phoenix could make out buildings, houses mostly, lathered across Mount Butt's florpadorps and growing like black mould further up the hill, towards the peak where the housing density seemed to increase. The gate was connected to a similarly imposing fence that was determined to defy whatever Mount Butt could throw at it, twisting and turning in any particular direction it felt was required so that it created a precarious perimeter around the entire village - or at least what Phoenix could see of the entire village.

Phoenix whistled. This place was a lot bigger than he expected.

"Oi!" cried a voice.

Phoenix cocked his head.

There were two robed figured next to the gate, both of whom were now running towards Phoenix. He could make out that they wore the typical regalia of Starry folk, which entailed black robes with white speckles all over them, and not a whole lot else that was of much interest. These guys additionally, however, carried long, ornate spears (in the sense that they were regular spears with colourful tassels stuck to both ends), tipped with glinting metal blades that were also shaped like stars.

Phoenix stopped walking and watched with interest as the duo charged at full speed towards him. Their robes flapped wildly in the wind, but to their credit, and to Phoenix's admiration, somehow their hoods stayed on with what appeared to be minimal effort. These guys were clearly professionals.

When the pair arrived in front of Phoenix, both tipped their spears uncomfortably close towards him. Phoenix smiled warmly and waved.

"Hi there," he said, ensuring each individual got an equal share of his charming smile.

"Halt ... stranger!" one of the hooded figures shouted, his breathing at a level of harshness Phoenix could readily sympathise with. The figure was the figure of a man, mostly because it was a man, a man whose face was chubby and misshapen, and awash with sweat. He abruptly propped the end of his spear in the dirt and leaned on it for support, doubling over as gasps fell out of his mouth. The other figure tried to remain composed and fearsome, but it just seemed embarrassing for them both.

The doubled-over figure glanced up at Phoenix, glaring between ragged breaths. "You have ... hath, I mean ... strayed unto the Starry Place, heathen traveller. Thus, I, Abbelous, and ... bloody Stars I'm unfit ... I, Abbelous, and my fellow gatekeeper Fabbelous, shalt render, woo boy, render unto you the Merciless and Supremely Painful Castigation of Seven Million Stars. Prepare ... prepare yoursel- thineself - Stars it, you know what I mean!"

Phoenix smiled as sweetly as he could, which is to say, sweet enough to rot the teeth right out of someone's mouth. And if that didn't work, metal-plated fists always finished the job. "Six million."

The guard apparently known as Abbelous stood more upright and squinted at Phoenix. "Eh?"

"Six million. And I think it's meant to be Excruciating and Mercilessly Swift, or at least that's what your sign says down thataways."

Fabbelous spoke up next, a woman with a tiny and highly un-guard-like voice. But, the type of tiny voice where there's a lot of passion behind it, and nobody has the heart to tell her that she's not as intimidating a guard as she perceives herself. But, self-perception is more important than what other people think, so, here they all were. "Oh, we upgraded thine Castigation since then," she said.

Abbelous nodded. "Aye, got a brand new'th one. Not even used yet."

"Oh," replied Phoenix, still smiling. "Well isn't that lovely. I'm glad to hear you're developing. That's really nice to see, in this day and age. Anyway, before this whole Castigation business, I'd like to quickly see the Constellator-"

"CONSTELLATOOOOOR!"

"Yeah, that person," Phoenix said, maintaining his smile at all times despite getting a little fright from the sudden outburst. "They're expecting me, I believe."

Abbelous, regaining his breath finally, squinted again. "She expect'th you?"

"Yessir, spot on the money."

"Oh," he said, before glancing at Fabbelous.

Fabbelous reached up to pull down her hood, revealing she had two noses and a Picasso mouth. Not that anybody here knew who the hell Picasso was, and that it was even a person - not a type of nut.

"Is thee Trader Bill?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Johnny Lentil?" Abbelous added.

"Negative."

"Starry Petunia Sara?"

"Negamundo, ma'am."

"Then who are you? Thine are the only three names on'th the list."

"I'm Phoenix."

"Who?"

"Phoenix."

"Phoenix," Fabsy repeated.

"Phoenix," replied Phoenix, whose name was Phoenix.

"Like'th the bird?" asked Abbelous.

"What bird?"

"You know, the phoenix."

"Don't know any phoenix bird, me buckaroo. Just a Phoenix me."

"Well who is thee, then?"

"Phoenix, I just said."

"Yeah, but who is thee in relation to the Constellator-"

"CONSTELLATOOOOOOR!"

"-in relation to the Constellator expecting thee?"

"I've got an appointment," Phoenix lied.

"An appointment, eh?" said Abbelous.

"Thassaone, sir."

"When'th is thine appointment?" Fabbelous chimed in, examining Phoenix intently. She moved a step closer, her head zooming in slowly, eyes sweeping across Phoenix's many fine features.

"Oh, it's right now," Phoenix said, his smile wavering as he tried to edge politely away from this invasion of his personal bubble.

"Well then thee is late, isn't thee?" said Abbelous, clearly getting grouchier. "The Constellator-"

"CONSTELLATOOOOOR!"

"-the Constellator's hut is still going take thee a good twenty minutes to get to."

"Is that right?" Phoenix said, scratching his beard. "Well, it's in twenty minutes then."

"What?"

"Yeah, it's in twenty minutes."

"No it isn't."

"Well it isn't anymore."

"Then when is it?"

"About nineteen minutes and thirty seconds."

Abbelous, having only just flushed the red of exhaustion out of his wobbly face, now found himself floundering in a sea of crimson exasperation. "But you just said it was now!"

"Did I?" Phoenix replied, practically dripping with innocence. Slimy, slimy innocence. "I must have been rounding."

Fabbelous stepped back, snapping her fingers as her face widened open. It turned out there was a second mouth kicking around unseen just next to her left ear, and it revealed itself with a little O of realisation along with the rest of the orifices. "Hey! Thee is the Grubby Chef from the Place of the Burny Drink, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, the chef that is grubby, and works for the Devil Woman at the Place of the Burny Drink."

"Never heard of him."

"No, it is thee, I know it's thee. I'm a real big fan of thine work."

This caught Phoenix's attention, and so the first little crack in his facade snuck its way into the conversation. "Oh you are? Well, would you like me to sign something? One of your three fine breasts, perhaps?"

"Five, actually, and no that's OK. Because ahah!"

"Ahah?"

"Ahah?" repeated Abbelous, who wasn't keeping up.

"Ahah!" restated Fabbelous. "Because thee just admitted to being the Grubby Chef!"

Phoenix's face froze. "Err, no I didn't."

"Oh shit ... 'th," exclaimed Abbelous, his angry expression wobbling open with horror like a shocked flan. He quickly picked his spear off the dust and lowered the blade to threaten Phoenix's torso.

Now the both of them had their starry spears almost pressed into Phoenix's armour and clothing, and their faces suddenly seemed a whole lot less accommodating than just before.

"Thee is lucky, for thine Grubby Chef is someone who has an appointment with our mighty Constellator."

"CONSTELLATOOOOOOR!"

Phoenix smiled grimly, taking a step back. "Is that right?"

Fabbelous sneered. "Oh yeah, thee is most wanted, you might'th say. In fact, we're going to have to insist that thee come'th with us right now."

"Oh, err, right now?"

They narrowed their eyes.

Phoenix took another step backwards. "You know, I just remembered I actually have this, you know, appointment somewhere else. Argh, foolish, double-booked myself. You know how it is. Ha ha."

And the last thing he remembered hearing was the shuffling of feet he didn't realise were behind him. Then something heavy struck him on the back of the head, and the last thing he remembered seeing was the ground.

And it was coming closer than it normally would be.

* * *

We are now getting into what became some of my favourite chapters to write in this entire novel. Phoenix is a wonderful character to play with, with that perfect mix of idiot and skill to keep him exciting (and alive).

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