The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente & Ana Juan

Author:Catherynne M. Valente & Ana Juan [Valente, Catherynne M. & Juan, Ana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Amazon Top Books of 2011.Young Adult
ISBN: 9781429923132
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends
Published: 2011-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

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 of prophecy, and they all make a bet--”

“And the wolf says: ain’t what’s strong, but what’s patient.” Calpurnia tossed a palm frond into the fire. Penny tossed a clump of grass.

“No, he says: give me that egg or I’ll eat your mother,” huffed A-Through-L.

“Regional folkloric differences,” Calpurnia shrugged.

The highwheel pilot opened her jacket and pulled out several long strips of dark meat. She passed them around, along with a fancy oakwood flask. Penny gnawed her jerky contentedly.

“What…is it?” asked September dubiously.

“What do you think? Dried tire. I share and share alike with fellow velocipeders. Only fair; it’s a hard life. Don’t turn up your nose at it! It’s as good as any other meat. A little gamey, sure, but they’re wild. Not all fattened up like mutton. Go on, eat. And drink--that’s good axle grease in there. Just as nice as yak blood.”

Ell chomped his and swallowed it right quick. September chewed slowly. This could hardly qualify as food at all, let alone Fairy food. But it wasn’t awful, not nearly. And not rubbery in the least. It was as though someone had found an extremely skinny, tough old turkey and burnt it thoroughly in the oven. The flask smelled rich and salty, and when she drank she came near to spitting it out--or throwing it up--for it was indeed the closest thing to raw blood she had ever tasted. But she felt strength in her afterward, sinewy and springy and warm. Saturday ventured a little tire and a sip of grease, but could not stomach it. He nursed a bit of stone he had dug up from the earth instead. Penny stuck out her tongue in disgust.

“That’s not nice, love,” admonished Calpurnia. “Changelings, you know? No manners at all.”

“Is she? Really?”

Penny picked at her golden shoes. All changelings must wear identifying footwear, September remembered, as though from a hundred years ago. “Didn’t like the ‘chestra,” Penny mumbled. “Can’t play nothin’.”

“She’s right. I went to a recital and the poor thing was playing her grummellphone upside-down. Fortunate-like, I keep my pockets full of oilcan-candy in case I’m in need of bait. I offered her a handful and she jumped right into my arms. Took to the velos much better--practically born to it, you might say!”

“But a changeling,” said September, “that’s when a Fairy takes a baby and leaves a Fairy in the crib.

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