The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making - Catherynne M. Valente [90]
“Oh, Saturday…”
The Marid lay on the floor of a cell, his hands bound behind his back, his mouth gagged. Terrible bruises bloomed purple and black where the lion had bitten him. His eyes were sunken and sallow.
“Wake up, Saturday…”
He groaned in his sleep. A savage crack appeared in the tower wall behind him, squeaking and shrieking as if about to burst.
“Saturday!” September cried. She took her wrench by the hilt--it grew huge again in her hand. She swung it with all her might against the moss-slimed glass door of Saturday’s cell. It shattered--the shards tinkled to the floor. September pried the manacles open with the hooked hand of her wrench and pulled the gag away. She held him for a moment, stroking his hair. Slowly, his eyes opened.
“September!” he croaked.
“Can you walk! We have to go, the Gaol is breaking!”
“It will be alright, the dragon will build it up again…”
“What? We’re up so high, we’ll be killed!”
“Well, she’s not really a dragon, but…”
“Saturday! Pay attention! Where is Ell?”
The Marid gestured weakly toward the next cell. Iago glanced inside.
“He’s really rather poorly, that one. I don’t think you’ll get him out.”
September lay Saturday gently down and went to Ell’s cell. The Wyverary lay curled up on the floor, huge, crimson, and fast asleep. Ugly green gashes ripped through his scales, still oozing blood. Dried turquoise tears stained his dear face.
“Oh, Ell! No, no, don’t be dead, please!”
“Why not?” said Iago. “That’s what happens to friends, eventually. It’s practically what they’re for.”
September brought the wrench crashing down on Ell’s door, but the beast did not move. Outside the glass walls, September saw the towers’ tips begin to break off and tumble toward the raging sea.
“Iago, I’ll never move him!”
“Probably not.”
“Help me!”
“I can fly. That's all. I’m not omnipotent.”
The ceiling exploded in a shower of glass. Blood welled up along September’s arms. Rain poured in.
“Please!” she screamed.
“Someone here is, though,” the great cat said. “Omnipotent. Or nearly so.”
September stared numbly for a moment and then scrambled away from Ell.
“Saturday!” she cried. “Saturday, wake up!”
“Hm? Sort of a fish, but not really…” the Marid murmured.
“You have to wrestle me!” September laughed wildly as she said it, half out of her mind with terror.
“What? The dragon hates wrestling… and I…I couldn’t wrestle a mouse…”
“Good! Then it won’t be so hard for me to beat you.”
Saturday quailed.
“Don’t you see? I can wish us all away and safe! Only you have to wrestle me. You told me how to do this. A Marid can grant any wish, so long as he's beaten in a wrestling match.”
Saturday’s face colored and blanched as he slowly understood her. He rose up, shakily. The crack behind him grew, grinding, shrieking.
“I can’t hold back,” he warned.
“I know,” September said, and darted at him, meaning to tackle him by the knees, to take him by surprise.
Saturday stepped nimbly away. She lunged at him again and he caught her, thrown back against the glass wall, which shattered noisily, dropping them both into the night air. They landed with a shower of glass like snow several stories below. Saturday broke September’s fall, but suddenly, in her arms, his grip tightened. His eyes flashed feral in the stormlight. The wish had woken in him, the Marid blood, sea-bright and stormy. It would not let his wounded body lose, even now, even when he needed to lose most.
Saturday hit September's chest with both fists. She held on--but just barely. Saturday snarled, his lips curling back. His face was unrecognizable. He tore away from her and scrambled up onto a glass staircase. September ran after him, knocking him down from behind. She shut her eyes as she struck out at him--she didn’t want see herself hurt him. Her fists connected with the blue muscles of his back and he howled in pain, turning on her and pulling her hair savagely. September screamed and whipped back around to claw him with her fingernails. They separated, panting, bloody, two feuding jackals. Saturday