Free The Girl Who Raced Fairyland All the Way Home by Catherynne M. Valente Page A

Tanaquill, seeming to take notice of September for the first time. “Go right ahead. Teach little September all about the Caged Wood.” The Prime Minister of Fairyland glided across the drawing room to September’s side. Her lime-juice gown trailed invitingly behind her; her violet hair floated round her head in a delicate bob. She draped one long arm around September’s shoulders. “My friend here put each and every Fairy into an iron cage and hung us up on the boughs of a babbling baobab forest. She left us there for a hundred years with only the kindness of crows to feed us—and crows are vicious little cretins, you know.”
    â€œOy!” squawked Hushnow, the Ancient and Demented Raven Lord. “I’m right here!”
    â€œFairies were rather shy and curious creatures before she got ahold of us,” Madame Tanaquill continued, ignoring Hushnow entirely. “A hundred years of listening to babbling baobabs and begging crumbs from crows will drive even a doctor mad.”
    â€œNow, that’s a lie,” snorted Pinecrack, the Moose-Khan. “How do you fit such a big lie in your mouth, Tansy? She put you in cages because you and yours couldn’t stop stealing the wings off a dragonfly’s back and the horns off a goat and the tusks off an elephant! Let me tell you, kid, tusks looked a thousand kinds of stupid glued to frogs.”
    â€œHow dare you,” Tanaquill hissed. “How dare you call me a frog? You’re nothing but a ruined horse.”
    And the Prime Minister of Fairyland flicked her fingers at Pinecrack. A sizzle of ultraviolet bubbles snapped, popped—and the Moose-Khan’s antlers turned to ash, falling from his head and into his bathtub of wine in a fine gray spray. Thrum roared in reptile rage.
    â€œLovely. Lovely behavior. Ever been bitten by a moose? I know how you like new experiences.” Pinecrack turned on her, his eyes gone molten blue with hatred and rage.
    â€œPut them back or you’ll have my cutlass for a spine,” snarled Cutty Soames, who had crept up on her, even in a pair of marvelous high-heeled boots covered in shells and jewels. September had seen him moving on Tanaquill, but had kept her mouth shut.
    â€œCome now,” sighed Curdleblood, tamping a long black pipe. “This is unworthy. One does not behave this way in a gentlemen’s club. We agreed to refrain from magic and other weapons while the club is in session. I know some of us are very cranky, having only recently come back from the dead, but reanimation is no excuse. Tanaquill, put his antlers back. September, good evening. I’m pleased you accepted our invitation. Welcome to the Society of Tyrants.”
    â€œI’m not a tyrant,” protested September.
    Madame Tanaquill smirked. “Only because you don’t know how yet.” She flicked her fingers again and two bony nubs appeared at Pinecrack’s temples, growing quickly into new antlers. It did not look like a comfortable process.
    â€œI’m not a tyrant because I don’t want to be a tyrant.”
    â€œWho wants to be a tyrant?” asked the Headmistress, sipping a glass of champagne. “I certainly didn’t. Did you, Hushnow? You, Cutty? No? And yet—Hushnow stole the sun and held it hostage. Cutty Soames stole the three most precious things from every house in Fairyland. Yes, the Headmistress put all the Fairies in cages—but Pinecrack outlawed magic except for those in the Cervidae family—that’s anybody who’s part deer, love. Hushnow forced all of Fairyland to grow wings whether they liked it or not, Thrum ordered anyone herbivorous to present themselves at the palace every morning for convenient devouring. And I expect you know about Madame Tanaquill already. Even our quiet friend Mr. Q. Humdrum there cast a terrible spell so that everyone could only repeat the day he came to power over and over, so that nothing would ever