The Girl Who Raced Fairyland All the Way Home (Fairyland 5)

“Well, it’s not your room, is it?” said Hawthorn. He sat back in a great, soft troll-sized armchair. “Oh, I don’t mean it like that! You can come by whenever you want! But you’re the Queen! I’m sure the house has got something better for you. Something really spectacular.”

Saturday put his hand on hers. “Let’s go find your room. We can repaint it—I’m sure Crunchcrab wallpapered in barnacles or something. Let’s go find it and spill food on the floor and break all the lamps and stay up all night together like we used to do in the rum cellar. Did you know Blunderbuss can shoot passionfruits and horseshoes out of her mouth? It’s fantastic!”

“Yes, let’s!” agreed Blunderbuss heartily. “And maybe on the way we can find a library for Ell to nosh on? Castles always have libraries, usually with Forbidden Tomes in them. It’s the law.”

And September felt quite as though she had skipped several chapters in her favorite novel and opened it up again only to find everyone much further along than she.

“Come in!” sang Hawthorn and Tamburlaine together. Scratch gave a jaunty little squeak with his needle.

The Scuttler cleared his throat and opened the door with a grand sweep of his claw.

“SPOKE!” hollered September, clambering down from the nest to greet him.

“Miss! Oh, it is lovely to see a familiar face, isn’t it? I hardly meet a soul from the old lunar days anymore. Came down from the Moon when the quakes cracked my shell a good one. Good thing scuttling is almost exactly like taxiing! Come when you’re called, show company around the place, know what’s needed before it gets to needing, take the occasional trip below stairs and forward in time—just like home! Ah, I should say something fancy, shouldn’t I? How’s about: Greetings to you upon this fair evening, Your Highness?”

September wrinkled her nose.

“Naw, you’re right, it don’t fit me any better than a pair of pants. Anyhap! I’ve come to deliver an invitation to you and deliver you to the invitees.” Spoke held up one black-and-white claw with an elegant calling card snared between the pincers. “Your Most Grand High Tip-Topping Such and Such, You Are Cordially Demanded to Attend the First Meeting of the Reconvened Once and Future Club at Nine in the P.M. This Very Night in the Rex Tyrannosaur’s Room Because His Is the Biggest. Bring Your Own Brandy and Ancient Resentments.”

“A club? Already?” Tam said.

“Can we come this time?” Ell pleaded. His great, orange, hopeful eyes loomed above them all like lanterns.

> “Invitation is for one, lads,” Spoke answered with chagrin. “And arguing with that lot is like arguing with the Code of Hammurabi.”

“I don’t know what that is but it sounds very boring,” snorted the scrap-yarn wombat.

“I’ll come back soon,” September said. “We’ll throw passionfruits at my bedroom walls, I promise.”

September followed the former Taxicrab out of those cluttered, cozy quarters and the circle of her dear ones, where, it seemed, she could not be allowed to stay for a moment. But a moment later, she ducked her head back round the edge of the door.

“What did you think would make me angry?” she asked Hawthorn and Tamburlaine.

“Oh,” he answered her. “We wanted to know … if it would upset you. If we entered the race on Thursday. Since you don’t want to rule Fairyland and we … well, we do.”

The Green Wind began to laugh. After a moment, the Leopard of Little Breezes joined in, and even her laughter had spots.

CHAPTER IV

THE ONCE AND FUTURE CLUB

In Which September Is Inducted into a Secret Society, Meets a Number of Nefarious Ne’er-do-wells, Interrogates a Dinosaur, and Comes to a Decision

Imagine a room where George Washington, Queen Victoria, Ivan the Terrible, Montezuma, Cleopatra, and Eleanor of Aquitaine were sharing brandy and cigars and making splendid jokes at one another’s expense, demanding that Emperor Qin let them all have a slice of his poppy seed cake, Charlemagne put a pot of coffee on, and Artemisia of Halicarnassus tell the one about that time she defeated the Greeks at sea. Now, imagine standing outside that room, knowing just who was in there and how fiercely and strangely they all would behave once the door opened and you had to squeeze in between Caesar and Queen Isabella and hope you knew which fork to use for poppy seed cake.

September could not decide how to knock. It had come upon her suddenly and frozen her to the spot. She had never thought much about knocking before. But, knowing what lay on the other side of that door, she could not decide whether one decisive knock was more monarchical, or a polite two raps, one after the other, or perhaps three casual whacks—how did she knock at home? How did normal people knock? What if they could hear in her knock that she was just a human girl, not even so much as the Spinster anymore, just a terribly quick and easy midnight snack for a Rex Tyrannosaur?

September read the sign hanging on the door a few more times while she considered the question. It had been written in red pen on the back of a takeaway menu from one of Pandemonium’s more elegant noodle houses. There seemed to have been some disagreement about the rules.

The Once and Future Club

Est. 1000 Years Ago 2000 Years Ago None of Your Business About Two Hours Ago

You Must Have Ruled with an Iron Golden Velvet SOME KIND OF FIST for at Least 5 Years 1 Year a Solid Week to Enter

No Casual Dress, Cussing, Dairy Products, or Commoners Allowed

The Watchful Dress shivered and wriggled and writhed, shaking itself out of a shift and into a lovely long tangerine-colored evening gown with a green sash. It had read the dress code instantly, and knew what was expected of it. The emerald smoking jacket felt it was already quite formal, thank you very much.