The Girl Who Raced Fairyland All the Way Home (16 page)

Greenwich Mean Time nodded approvingly. “Quite right! But the Great Grand Library came to a truce with the bears long ago, and now the bears of Meridian only devour our enemies—the untidy, the tardy, and the careless! At one word from me they will swarm over you, gobbling up your continuity, carving up your history, scrambling up the letters of you until you forget how to spell your own soul! I've got a cave full of them in the Satire Cellar and they're
very
hungry.”

“We'll be careful,” said Saturday, and bent to
The History of Fairyland: A How-To Guide
. “Could we see the H section, please?” he asked the Reference Desk politely. The pages flew. “Hags, Various. Hats, Notable. Hallowmere, Halloween—look, September! You're in here!” September leaned over to see a beautiful illustration of her shadow in the deepest of black inks, dancing on the fields of Fairyland-Below. She blushed, feeling both proud and caught in the act of dabbling with history, which surely carried
some
penalty, somewhere along the way. “Happenstance, Harrowing, Hart, White. Hart, Black. Hart, Red. Hart, Motley. There are a lot of harts in here. I thought they were extinct. Ah. Heart.”

September didn't know what she'd hoped to find. A full-color illustration, along with a map, a train schedule, and a packed lunch? Maybe a note congratulating them for being so clever as to look it up in the Library rather than skipping all over deserts and fens prying up rocks to peer under. But the ancient book offered none of these. The entry was short. It had no pictures. Saturday read it out loud:

“Once upon a time, there was a young and beautiful world called Fairyland. Fairyland lived all alone and liked it that way, for it meant she got to go to stay out dancing with the galaxies as long as she liked, eat any travelers she wanted to without cleaning up after herself, and leave the magic on night and day and no one could tell her otherwise. But though Fairyland lived alone, she had many friends: the Sun and the Moon and the Stars, the many Winds, the Four Directions and their cousins the Seasons, Time and the Sea and Fate and Death and Chaos and Physicks and Luck. Each and every one of these loved to get dressed up in their finest costumes and come round for visits. The Sun would sit on the sofa devouring seed cake. Chaos would drink up all the milk while East and West and North and South played cards. The Moon would dance with the Sea and whisper in her ear, and the Winds would dance with Physicks and Death and Fate would argue until their arguing started to look like dancing, too. Time would always try to behave himself, but Luck always got him to laugh. In this way, Fairyland lived happily for eons upon eons, and all she ever worried about was whether or not she had made enough biscuits for all.

“But one evening, Fate brought a guest to meet Fairyland—another world, like herself, but not very like herself at all. The new world was a good guest, and brought presents: a beautiful basket with Change inside. All night long, Fairyland talked to her new friend, asked if his cup needed filling, impressed him with her wild ways and her rough manners and her clever schemes. They danced together on a carpet of snow. Everyone watched, and everyone worried for Fairyland, for this new world was surely a bit of a rake, or else Fate would not have made friends with him. But they felt silly the next morning. For a long while yet, all went along as it always had. Fairyland lived more freely and lushly and joyfully than ever. The new world visited her often, always with gifts, and whenever Fairyland saw her suitor, she smiled and the whole of heaven and earth burst into flame and flower.

“After an epoch or two, however, the new world began to visit less often. When he did come, he was sullen and sorrowful. Finally, Fairyland asked what could be the matter. And he answered:

“‘Must you keep your gravity so untidy? It's all rumpled and uneven. Every day I see folk flying about who should walk on the ground! Anyone could shoot up into the air or dive down through the earth at any time, and there's no rhyme or reason to it!'

“‘I
like
my untidiness and rumpledness and unevenness!' replied Fairyland, and would not discuss it further. After another era had passed, the new world sighed and said:

“‘Must you allow Physicks to run rampant the way you do? It's a ruffian, I tell you, a delinquent! It does what it pleases and obeys no sensible law!'

“Fairyland drew herself up proudly. ‘Physicks is my friend, and I love to watch him play. If he vandalizes a thermodynamic or two, what's the harm? They're prettier when he's done with them, anyhow.'

“The new world shook his head and tried to eat his seed cake, but he had lost all his appetite. At last, after a long age in which many things happened, including dinosaurs, Atlantis, and several uninvited comets, the new world tried to coax Fairyland round to his way of thinking once more.

“‘Oh, what is it now?' said Fairyland crossly.

“‘It's your biology, I'm afraid. I can't bear to see it lying about in lumps and tatters! You've got people with the bodies of horses or dragonfly wings. You've got folk who can grow to great heights and shrink down to nothing anytime they need to reach something from the top shelf. You've got talking rocks and underwater horses and lions with eagle wings. It's unseemly! Please, you must make it listen to reason.'

“Fairyland grew so angry that six new volcanoes twisted up out of her northern reaches.

“‘You are a rake and a rascal and a boring old dunce. How can a world as young as you have such a fusty mind? You cannot order my darling gravity, my beloved biology, or my dear dashing Physicks to do as you say. Have it your own way in your own home, and let me have it my own way in mine. I shall never listen to you on these matters. Go away and never come back!'

“And so the new world slunk away and tried to forget about Fairyland. But he couldn't. He spent most of his time collecting pictures that reminded him of her and telling stories of their adventures to any folklorist who would listen. Nor could Fairyland, proud as she was, forget her old friend. She missed his funny, stick-in-the-mud ways and the way he danced when the harvest came in and all seemed golden and good. As the ages turned ancient between them, Fairyland began to sneak out at night to spy upon that other world. Occasionally, she would steal a rose from his garden or a nail from his door or even, every now and again, a sunny-faced child who wandered too far from the gate. And in their sleep, each world would sometimes turn over and reach for the other's hand, interlacing their fingers like two sets of forever-turning gears. But when they woke, their hands were always empty once more.

“Fairyland lives happily, but she has never lived quite alone again. This is the sorrow of the human world and the Fairy world, who cannot get along, but cannot part.”

Saturday finished and stood back.

“What does all that mean?” asked Blunderbuss.

“It means Fairyland's Heart is broken,” came a cool, crisp, disapproving voice.

September spun round to see the Headmistress standing behind them.

 

CHAPTER IX

I P
UNISH
, Y
OU
P
UNISH
, H
E
OR
S
HE
P
UNISHES

In Which September Learns a Spot of Latin, Fights Her First Duel, and Is Banned from the Library for Life

“What are you doing here?” Ell demanded sharply. “No one could have gotten here faster than me!”

The Headmistress rolled her eyes. “You are not the only member of the Catalogue in good standing.” She had lost her enchanted school bell at the firing of the starting catapult, of course. But she seemed entirely disgusted with her replacement—a cloud of colored bubbles in the shape of a large and friendly butterfly. It kept trying to wrap its pastel wings around her and nuzzle her ear.

“Ugh! Get away from me, you overgrown cupcake!” the Headmistress snarled. She tried to beat the wings back but the butterfly just snuggled in again to hold her. “It's utterly useless. It belongs to the Happiest Princess—have you met her? She's got hot cocoa for blood and whipped cream for a soul. She's just full of joy and wonder and merriment and she ruled with an army of sherbet ponies and buttercream giants. Oh, but everyone loves her! I tried to bring a little
discipline
and
order
to this bucket of lunatics. I had them up at a decent hour and working toward reasonable personal goals. I got them to eat sensible meals and go to bed early! I gave out detention slips only when
absolutely
necessary and all anyone wants is to go back to Macaroon Mondays and infinite slumber parties! I think she calls this thing Treacle. If I didn't need it to finish the race I'd have set it on fire.”

Treacle patted her head with one bubbly wing.

“I am a serious person!” the Headmistress wailed. “I do serious things! This is intolerable!”

Ajax Oddson's voice filled the Mystery Kitchen. A few thrillers trembled from inside the cabinets.

“Do my little eyes spy a pair of Cantankerous Contenders occupying the same square? You know what that means!” A thunderclap echoed through the Great Grand Library and a number of purple fireworks went off high above them, spelling out the words:

The Wonderful World of Duels

The Reference Desk frantically stamped out any stray bits of violet flame before they could singe a single book. When the sparks faded, a handsome oval frame hung in the air, the sort you might expect to hold a very fine mirror or a portrait of someone whose name no one remembers anymore. This frame did not hold a portrait or a mirror, but rather, Hushnow, the Ancient and Demented Raven Lord. Or at least a doppelgänger of him, sent with love by a nice lady in Mummery named Quintuple Pod. Hushnow squawked loud and long. He appeared to be struggling mightily with his new mount, which September recognized as Penny Farthing's velocipede.

“Curse all bicycles and little girls!” screeched the bird-king. “I ate the sun! I'll do it again if I get peckish, just you watch!”

“Hush now, Hushnow,” chuckled Blunderbuss, nosing at the cover of
Detective Mushroom and the Case of the Peculiar Pooka
to see if it seemed tasty. Greenwich Mean Time gave her a look so dark even the Ancient and Demented Raven Lord clammed up. The scrap-yarn wombat let Detective Mushroom lie. “You're meant to referee, you daft parrot!” she yelled. “On you go!”

“Oh! Er. Yes. A duel. That's a fancy word for wedding, is it? All right, all right, don't get your feathers mussed.” He cleared his throat. “We have gathered here together to join together the Headmistress and Queen September in holy matrimony…”

“No!” cried everyone all together.

“We're meant to fight each other,” September said, and not without a spark of fear singeing her voice. “Though I really would rather not. I've never had a duel before, unless you count Martha May at school back home, and I didn't come out well in that.”

“Right!” cawed Hushnow. “No one cares! As Officious Officiant, it is my duty to choose your weapons so that neither of you can stick it to the other by picking Complaining or Pulling a Gormless Face or whatever human girls excel at. And I choose—”

“No!” roared Greenwich Mean Time. “No dueling in the Library! Don't you dare! Books are flammable, drownable, rippable, stabbable, and explodable! And very easily shocked! The whole Mathematicks section faints dead away at the sight of blood.”

But the Ancient and Demented Raven Lord quite ignored the spluttering time ball. “I choose … Latin Conjugations! Turn back to back and walk off ten paces!” Hushnow shook his feathers and eagerly puffed up his chest.

“But that's not fair at all!” protested September. “I don't know any Latin!”

The Headmistress smiled coolly and turned round, showing the back of her gray bustled gown. “But I do, my dear. After all, Latin is a dead language, and I have been dead for ever so long. We've learned to get along terrifically over the centuries. And if I can come back to life, why can't the Roman tongue? I think it's a perfectly fair choice. Hushnow is such a level-headed fellow.”

“He's fixed it so you'll win,” Saturday glowered.

“If you say so,” said the Headmistress, who, after all, cared only for the rules that tipped their hats her way.

“Paces!” squawked Hushnow. His screeching echoed up to the high ceilings of the Mystery Kitchen. “Turn around, you daft monkey! I can't dawdle all day. I'm having a spot of manticore trouble at the moment and this idiot bike is no help at all!” A growl sounded faintly in the distance. Wherever Hushnow was, he was not alone.

September turned around. The Headmistress stood only a little taller than she. Their shoulders touched briefly, and then the Ancient and Demented Raven Lord began counting to ten. “One for sorrow, two for joy! Three for the bites I gave the Changeling boy!”