The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making - Catherynne M. Valente [44]
“And you broke my cage,” added Saturday. “You didn't have to.” His voice was strange and slushing, as if a crashing wave had stood up and asked after tea. “The Marquess likes it best when you don’t want to do as she says, but you have to do it anyway. That’s like…a big bowl of soft cream and jam to her.”
“Besides, what’s the difference really, between fetching a Spoon for the witch and fetching a sword for the Marquess? Not much, I’d say.”
September thought about it. “I suppose it’s because I offered to get Goodbye’s Spoon for her. I wanted to do it. To make her happy, and to do something grand, so that, maybe, I could be a little grand, too. But the Marquess demanded that I do it, and then she said she’d kill you if I didn’t, and me if I didn’t do it fast enough. That’s not the same thing at all.”
“It’s service, though, either way,” said Saturday softly.
“It’s slavery, when you can’t say no,” said September, quite sure she was right.
“It’s still very far away,” insisted the Wyverary. “And we haven’t any more time than we did a moment ago, indeed, a fair bit less.”
“Why do you keep speaking as if you are coming, Ell? You’re here, in Pandemonium! You ought to go to your Grandfather, and be happy, and learned, and careful of your fiery breath!”
“Don’t be silly, September. I am coming. How could I face my Grandfather if he knew I had let a small one go off into dangerous places alone?”
“Not alone,” whispered Saturday.
“How much more lovely would it be to enter the Library with laurels, having accomplished a great deed involving a sword? My Grandfather must have hundreds of books praising the deeds of such knights. And we shall all be knights, all three of us! And not punished at all!”
September looked dubiously at him. She neatly tucked her long dark hair behind her ears.
“Please, small friend. Now that I’m here, so close I can smell the glue of his bindings, I am not sure, I am afraid he will not love me. I should feel much better if I had a dashing story to tell him. I should feel much better if I knew you were safe, and not crowning the topiaries in the Marquess’s garden. I should feel much better if no one could call me a coward. I don’t want to be a coward. It is not a nice thing to be.”
September reached up and the Wyverary dropped his long, curved snout into her hands. She kissed it gently.
“I shall be ever so much more glad if you are with me, Ell.”
Saturday looked away from them, to give them privacy. You could not ask for a more polite Marid, even then, when he was so feral he could only remember to breathe every third breath. Polite, and eager to be helpful.
“You’re right, of course, the velocipedes are running,” he said meekly, as though someone else had suggested it. He was still too shy to suggest anything without wrapping it up tight, to keep it safe.
“What a funny, old-fashioned word!” said September, placing her hand on the hilt of the Spoon stuck into her belt. She felt stronger just holding onto it.
“I’m sure you know it means bicycle,” Saturday shifted from one foot to another. September had not thought to find someone more unsure of the world than she. “I didn’t mean to say you didn’t know.”
“Oh!” cried Ell. “Bicycle! Yes, well, now we’re in my section of the alphabet! It’s high summer, September! That means the running of the bicycles, and that means Lickety-Split Transportation!”
September looked uncertainly