The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland In a Ship of Her Own Making Read Online Free

so much that we can't fool you twice with Fairy gold. It's a real science. Used to be done with ointment. It’s in the rulebook.”
    “Are you going to put something very foul in my eyes, then?”
    “I told you, kid. Gnomes are modern now. I have personally picketed the Hallowmash Pharmacy. There’s other ways of opening your thick head. Like Rupert. He’s great with thick heads. Most people, I show them Rupert, they see anything I tell them to. Now, papers , please.”
    The Green Wind looked sidelong at September and then at his feet. September could swear he was blushing, blushing green through his beard. “You know very well, Betsy,” he whispered, “that the Ravished need no papers. It’s in the manual, page 764, paragraph 6.” The Green Wind coughed politely. “The Persephone clause.”
    Betsy gave him a long look that plainly said: so that’s what’s afoot, you old bag of air? She blew her sweet, thick smoke up into his face and grunted.
    September knew she could not have been the only one.
    “Don’t answer for you, though, tall thing. All right, she can go, but you stay.” Betsy chewed her cigarette. “And the cat, too. I’m not violating the Greenlist for the likes of you.”
    The Green Wind stroked September’s hair with his long fingers.
    “Time for us to part, my acorn-love. I’m sure my visa will come through soon…maybe if you put in a good word for me with the embassy. In the meantime, remember the rules, don’t go swimming for an hour after eating, and never tell anyone your true name.”
    “My true name?”
    “I came for you, September. Just you. I wish you the best that can be hoped for, and no worse than can be expected.”
    He leaned in close and kissed her cheek, courtly, gentle, dry as desert wind. The Leopard licked her hand passionately.
    “Close your eyes,” he whispered.
    September did, and felt a warm, sunny wind on her face, full of the smells of green things: mint and grass and rosemary and fresh water, frogs and leaves and hay. It blew her dark hair back, and when she opened her eyes, the Green Wind and the Leopard of Little Breezes had gone. In her ear floated his last airy sigh: check your pockets, my chimney-child .
    Betsy waved her hands in the air as if to disperse an unpleasant perfume. “He’s such a lot of bother. You’re better off--theatrical folk are nothing but a bundle of monologues and anxiety headaches.”
    The Gnome pulled a little green leather book and a polished ruby-handled stamp from behind the podium. She opened the book and began stamping with a vicious delight.
    “Temporary Visa, Type: Pomegranate. Housing Allotment: None. Alien Registry, Category: Human, Ravished, Non-Changeling. Size: Medium. Age: Eleven. Privileges: None, or, As Many As You Can Catch. Anything to declare?”
    September shook her head. Betsy rolled her red-rimmed eyes.
    “Customs Declaration: One shoe: Black. One dress: Orange. One smoking jacket: Not Yours.” The Gnome peered down from her podium. “One kiss: Extremely Green,” she finished emphatically, stamping the book hard and handing it down to September. “Off you go now, don’t hold up the line!”
    Betsy Basilstalk grasped September by her lapels and hauled her off her feet, past the podium, towards a rooty, moldy, wormy hole in the back wall of the closet between worlds. At the last moment she stopped, spat out a Fairy curse like a wad of tobacco, and pulled a little black box out of her pocket. She slid a red rod out of it and the lid snapped open. It was filled with a vaguely golden jelly.
    “Pan’s hangover, kid,” Betsy cursed again. “Old habits die hard.” She dug her greasy finger into the stuff and flung it at September’s eyes. It dripped down her face like yolk.
    The gnome looked profoundly embarrassed. “Well,” she mumbled, looking at her toes, “What if Rupert fell down on the job and you got there and all you could see was sticks and grasshoppers and a lot of long, empty desert? It’s a