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  The Lilac Wood Perfume Oil

  It was always spring in her forest, because she lived there, and she wandered all day among the great beech trees, keeping watch over the animals that lived in the ground and under bushes, in nests and caves, earths and treetops. Generation after generation, wolves and rabbits alike, they hunted and loved and had children and died, and as the unicorn did none of these things, she never grew tired of watching them.

  Ageless trees, everblooming flowers, brilliant grass, a flicker of fireflies, and soft shadows.

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  Schmendrick Perfume Oil

  Wonder and love and great sorrow shook Schmendrick the Magician then, and came together inside him, and filled him, filled him until he felt himself brimming and flowing with something that was none of these. He did not believe it, but it came to him anyway, as it had touched him twice before and left him more barren than he had been. This time, there was too much of it for him to hold: it spilled through his skin, sprang from his fingers and toes, welled up equally in his eyes and his hair and the hollows of his shoulders. There was too much to hold, too much ever to use; and still he found himself weeping with the pain of his impossible greed. He thought, or said, or sang, I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full;.

  Unexplored potential: sweet, raw tobacco leaves, chamomile, clary sage, meadow sage, Mysore sandalwood, sultana raisins, and caramel.

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  Alviss Perfume Oil

  The peculiar-looking man was of average height, but of an odd shape: Shadow had heard of men who were barrel-chested before, but had no image to accompany the metaphor. This man was barrel-chested, and he had legs like, yes, like tree trunks, and hands like, exactly, ham hocks. He wore a black parka with a hood, several sweaters, thick dungarees, and, incongruously, in the winter and with those clothes, a pair of white tennis shoes, which were the same size and shape as shoeboxes. His fingers resembled sausages, with flat, squared-off fingertips.

  “That’s some hum you got,” said Shadow from the driver’s seat.

  “Sorry,” said the peculiar young man, in a deep, deep voice, embarrassed. He stopped humming.

  “No, I enjoyed it,” said Shadow. “Don’t stop.”

  The peculiar young man hesitated, then commenced to hum once more, his voice as deep and reverberant as before. This time there were words interspersed in the humming. “Down down down,” he sang, so deeply that the windows rattled. “Down down down, down down, down down.”

  Thick, tangled, and strong: ash and oak, elm and pine, reaching down, down, and deeper down into earth.

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  Roll the Old Chariot Perfume Oil

  Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
  Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
  Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
  An’ we’ll all hang on behind!

  So we’ll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
  An’ we’ll roll the golden chariot along!
  So we’ll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
  An’ we’ll all hang on behind!

  It is said that after Horatio Nelson’s death at the Battle of Trafalgar, his body was preserved in a cask of rum (or in some tales, brandy) in order to preserve it for transport back to England. When the cask arrived, though, it was empty of spirits, and a hole in the cask was found where the sailors had been sucking the booze out with a straw.

  Oak planks, iron, brandy, and spiced rum.

  The remains of Vice-Admiral Nelson have been omitted from this fragrance.

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