The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making - Catherynne M. Valente [47]
September screamed for him, and the honking horns seemed to laugh in wild victory--at least one child they could trample underfoot! But Ell came thumping up behind them, his powerful legs knocking weaker, younger velocipedes aside. He caught Saturday by the hair as he fell and tossed the Marid up as though he weighed not a thing, bumping him at the last with the tip of his nose so that September could catch his elbow and haul him onto the speckled seat beside her.
He clung to her, shaking a little. September could not make herself let go of the long brass handlebars. Her grip tightened until she could hardly feel her hands, but she bent her head and rubbed her cheek against Saturday’s forehead, the way Ell had done with her when she was frightened. He seemed to calm a little. Yet still, the noise and dust was awful, all around them. Ell ran alongside, whooping and lolling and laughing as little velocipedes took him for a bull and tried to roll up to ride on his shoulders.
“Excellent save, chickie-dear!” came a hollering voice over the pounding bicycle herd. September looked around--and saw on a nearby highwheel a handsome woman with lovely dark brown skin and wild curly hair. She wore something like a leather bomber’s jacket, with a fleecy collar and a hat with big, flopping earflaps. She had on big goggles to keep the dust out of her eyes, and thick boots with dozens of buckles over the kind of funny riding pants September had only seen in movies, the kind that bow out on the sides and make one look like one has squirreled away watermelons in one’s pockets. Behind her were two delightful things: a little girl dressed just the same, and a pair of iridescent coppery-black wings bound up in a thin chain.
The woman deftly steered her velocipede in and out of the volery to come up alongside them.
“Calpurnia Farthing!” she hollered again over the din, “And that one’s my ward, Penny!” The little girl waved cheerfully. She was much younger than September, perhaps only four or five. Her blue-black hair stuck out in tangled pigtails, and she wore a necklace of several bicycle chains which left her neck quite greasy. She wore mary-janes like September’s old shoes, but the girl’s were golden-- dirty and muddy, but golden all the same.
“H…hello!” answered September, barely holding on.
“You’ll get used to it! Gets to be pretty natural, after awhile, the banging and bedlam! That’s quite a cow you’ve lashed there, she’s an alpha and no joking! I’d have tried for one of the milking calves my first time.”
“Beggars can’t be--”
“Oh, yes, I’m just congratulating, you know! She’s a beaut!”
“Erm, right now, you understand, Miss Farthing, it’s hard to carry on a conversation…”
“Oh, well, it would be, if you’re not accustomed!” Calpurnia Farthing held out her hand. Penny spat a wad of beech-sap gum into it. Calpurnia reached down and wedged the gunk into a broken spoke. Her highwheel screeched, possibly in relief, possibly in indignation at her particular brand of field medicine. “Well,” she yelled, “they do stop to drink at night! They’ve a powerful thirst, you know. Takes hours to slurp their fill!”
“Till then?” said September politely.
“Ayup!” And Calpurnia veered off wildly, with Penny laughing all the way.
The campfire crackled and sparked, sending up smoke into a starry sky. September had never seen so many stars, and Nebraska was never poor in stars. There were so many unfamiliar constellations, spangled with milky galaxies and the occasional wispy comet.
“That’s the Lamp,” whispered Saturday, poking the fire with a long stick. He seemed to be most comfortable whispering. “Up there, with the loopy bit of stars in a circle--that’s the handle.”
“Is not,” humphed Ell. “That’s the Wolf’s Egg.”
“Wolves don’t lay eggs,” said Saturday, staring into the fire.
September looked up in surprise--Saturday had never contradicted anyone yet.
“Well, there’s a story. I read it when I was a lizard. There’s a wolf, a banshee, and a bird