"I'm hungry," said Yssandra, for at least the fiftieth time along the road.
Simon shuffled in the borrowed shoes that were just a little too small for his feet. He scowled in frustration, tired of pulling out the knapsack to confirm for her that it was, in fact, empty, and it had been for several hours now. "Saying that isn't going to make food magically appear, you know," he grumbled at her.
Yssandra tucked a lock of golden-brown hair behind her ear. "I know," she said. "I just didn't know what else to do about it."
Simon stopped and turned to face the tall woman. "If you want to get food, we can stop in the next town and see what they have to offer that we can afford," he shook the small purse full of coin from James that he'd slipped into his pocket. "But in order to do that, you have to put the clothes on."
Yssandra frowned and stomped her leather-wrapped foot, crossing her arms. Her eyes had taken on most of the vibrant purple color that her tail used to be, and they gleamed as she glared down at the scruffy-faced Simon. "I don't see why we can't just buy clothes! I still think it's wrong that you took them--what if the family needed them?"
"They don't!" Simon felt like he was back in Overcliff, arguing with Prince Nathan about what a rural farming family could and couldn't afford. "You saw how many shirts and skirts there were on that rack! We only took one dress for you, some pants and a shirt for me, and shoes, since if you recall you're wearing mine!" He pointed to her feet, clad in little more than scraps of leather anymore. She'd worn the soles right off of them already. "Those people are not even going to miss them, and it helps you to blend in more with human society." As if she didn't stand out already, at that height! he thought after he'd said it.
Yssandra let out a long breath, flaring her nostrils as if she still had gills she could pop to vent her annoyance. "Fine! Wait here for me, I'm going to go behind that bush and put on this dress." She snatched the bundle of cloth he offered and marched off into the bracken.
While he waited, Simon glanced up and down the road. He was impressed that Nykkola could have derailed the entire caravan such that no one seemed to be pursuing them, as far as the eye could see. He had gotten over showing nervousness at every wagon they heard, and very adept at refusing offers of a ride. The more they could keep to themselves, he decided, the less chance there was of accidentally crossing paths with Twyner and his crew.
The bushes rustled, and Simon heard Yssandra announce, "All right, I'm ready to go now."
He turned to look up at her.
He turned to look up at her.
She had woven her hair back using twigs and stems to brace the plait. The dress was definitely much smaller on her body by several inches, with the sleeves ending just past her elbows, and the skirts waving well above her ankles. She wore it with her shoulders sticking out of the top, opting to fasten it only halfway--it was a style Simon was used to seeing for rich ballgowns, and very obviously against the way the dress was designed to be worn, but somehow it suited her.
She watched him staring at her, and she ducked her head, her fair cheeks flushing bright-red. "Is it all right?" She asked. "Have I put it on correctly?"
Simon nodded. "That looks about as right as you can make it." He shifted the knapsack on his shoulder. "Shall we keep walking?"
Yssandra glanced over her shoulder back the way they had come. "Why do we have to keep running? You don't think Ringmaster Twyner is still looking for us, do you?"
Simon scratched behind his ear and thought about the way Twyner had been talking about Yssandra, compared to the esteemed position she held in the carnival when he'd first joined them. "On the one hand, he was looking for a way to get rid of you," he mused.
Yssandra gasped, stumbling back a little as the news caused a physical shock. "Get rid of me? What, you mean like sell me off, or kill me?"
Simon shrugged. "Who knows what he would have done if Nykkola hadn't helped us escape. But now that we have, I imagine he'd be glad to be rid of us." He shifted the knapsack on his shoulder and oriented his body west. They were still too far inland to see the Channel. "On the other hand," he continued, "the longer we stay in Crossway, the more chance he has of finding us, being so much faster with his wagons than we are on foot."
Yssandra had to shorten her long strides to keep pace with him. "Leave Crossway?" she cried. "You mean, I might see Undersea again?"
"If you want to," Simon replied, glancing at her legs. "That is, if we can find some way of reversing the change that happened to you."
<><><><><><><><>
No comments:
Post a Comment