Dragonskin Slippers (3 page)

I was right.

None of the boots or sandals, the brogues or even the crude moccasins I thought came from the southlands fitted my feet. They were too big or too small, the toe pinched or the heel did. They were too stiff, or too floppy, for proper walking.

And then I slipped into the blue pair.

They fitted as though they had been made for my feet. They were so light that I felt as if I were barefoot, yet the soles were thick enough that I could not feel the uneven stone floor beneath them. They were supple as I walked and didn’t slide or chafe my feet. I had a sudden urge to cut the skirt of my gown off at the knee so that everyone could admire my beautiful new shoes.

“By the Seven Volcanoes!” The brown dragon had returned, and steam was rising from his nostrils as he surveyed my footwear. “What are you doing?”

I was taken aback by his reaction. “You said I could have any pair of shoes that I wanted,” I said stubbornly. I had never owned anything as nice as these shoes, and longing for them made me bold. “And these are the only ones that fit me. I want these.”

“Any shoes but those!”

I frowned up at him. “No, it was to be any shoes I liked. You never said that there were some pairs I could not have!”

“What’s going on?” The voice of the blue-grey came wafting into the shoe cave. “Which shoes did she pick?”

“She picked the –” Theoradus began, roaring back over his winged shoulder to the cave entrance. “She picked the –” Then he looked back at me and snapped his fanged muzzle shut.

“You said any pair of shoes,” I reminded him. “Or I will stay here, and let my aunt rouse the entire town to come after you.” I folded my arms and put my chin in the air. “You gave your word just as I gave mine.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” the brown dragon said, its eyes narrowed to slits.

“They’re only shoes,” I pointed out. “They are very nice,” I hastened to add. “And they are certainly the finest slippers I have ever worn. They fit me perfectly.”

Theoradus studied me carefully for some minutes, while the sound of the blue-grey’s voice grew ever more petulant. The brown monster stared at the shoes, still visible because I was holding up my skirt so that I could admire them, too. He looked into my face, and smoke
continued to billow from his nostrils, making my eyes water.

“Just a pair of shoes, you say?” His voice was rougher than normal. “I did indeed give my word. And you will hold me to it?”

Mute and confused, all I could do was nod.

He heaved an enormous sigh, even more bone-rattling than the ones he had emitted when I’d first arrived, and then he turned away.

“Then – I may keep them?” I called after him.

“I gave my word,” came the heavy reply. “You wish to have those shoes, and I cannot refuse you.” There was the scraping of his claws on stone as he walked back through the sleeping chamber. “She has selected a pair of shoes,” I heard him tell the blue-grey dragon.

“Oh, come now!” The other dragon was obviously still highly amused by the situation. “Did she winkle out your favourite pair? You look as though your fire has gone out!”

“Come forward, girl,” Theoradus snapped. “And show Amacarin which shoes you have chosen.”

Still holding my skirts at my knees, I walked over to the edge of the pool and held first one foot and then the other over the water. The blue-grey dragon reflected there hissed and drew back in shock. His eyes flicked from my feet to Theoradus and back several times before he could speak.

“Those shoes?”
He was gasping for air. “Out of all the foolish human footgear you have collected over the years, she selected
those
? Why do you even have them?”

The great brown dragon bristled, literally, at having his hoard referred to as “foolish”, but he did not otherwise reply. I looked from one beast to the other. “What is so remarkable about these shoes?”

Amacarin, as the blue-grey was apparently named, hissed again. “Those shoes –”

“Those shoes were made by a master craftsman, many years ago,” Theoradus interrupted. “And no dragon parts lightly with something he treasures.”

“Especially something like –” Amacarin began.

“
Any
choice would have been difficult for me to see on your feet,” Theoradus broke in.

“Er,” I said. “Well, I’m … sorry … to have upset you.” I looked from one dragon to the other, but neither spoke for a long time.

Then Theoradus turned to me. “You have your shoes, girl, now go. And remember to keep your part of the bargain.”

“Yes … sir,” I squeaked, my attention being drawn from my new shoes to the fact that I was standing just a pace away from a large and upset dragon.

I let go of my skirts and hustled back to the shoe room to fetch my things, slipping my old sandals into the bundle just in case. I had toyed with the idea of leaving them behind, a little addition to the dragon of Carlieff’s collection, but decided they were far too crude and shabby. Besides, I might want to wear them for a while, to spare my new shoes.

“Thank you, sir,” I said sincerely as I made my way
out of the caves. “You have been most kind and understanding about this whole, er, business.”

“I have kept my part of the bargain,” Theoradus said. “Now you must keep yours.”

“Yes, indeed,” I replied, and hurried down the path towards Carlieff Town.

I was halfway down the path to the town when I ran into the lord’s son on his fine chestnut stallion. He was making good time for all that he was fully rigged out in armour and bristling with boar-hunting spears and a very long sword. I say that I ran into him because I had to hurry forward and get right in front of his horse in order to catch his attention. It must have been the narrow eye slits in the bucket-shaped helmet he wore.

“What are you doing roaming about these hills, girl?” He removed the helmet and glared down at me. “Don’t you know that there’s a fearsome dragon rampaging about and stealing away maidens?”

I curtsied neatly, as my mother had taught me. “Pardon me, young lord,” I said politely. “But there has been some mistake. I am Creelisel Carlbrun.”

He looked distracted, staring past me towards the hills where Theoradus’s cave lay. “What are you babbling on about?”

“I am Creelisel Carlbrun,” I repeated, louder. “
Creel?
The girl who was taken by the dragon?” I prompted when he still failed to recognise me.

“What?” A flash of disappointment crossed his face, along with one of relief. “You have fought your way free?” Then he drew himself up and began to speechify: “Do not fear that the noisome beast shall try to recapture you, fair maid! I shall defeat it once and for all!”

“Please don’t!” I raised both hands in alarm when he made as if to ride on by. I was a little irritated that he appeared more eager to fight the dragon now that he knew its supposed prey had got free on her own.

“What are you saying, girl? That I am craven?” He glared at me, his face flushed.

“Of course not, young lord,” I assured him hastily. “I merely wanted to save you the trouble of travelling all the way to the dragon’s cave, only to find it dead.”

“What?” He lowered his spear, dismayed.

“The dragon is dead, young lord,” I told him in a firm voice. “It was very, very old, and the effort of carrying me off quite undid it. By the time we arrived back at its cave, it was reeling with exhaustion. It collapsed and did not rise. It is quite dead, and carrion birds are already gathering.” I hoped that the rather thickheaded lordling would fail to note that there was not a bird in the sky.

“Well,” the young lord said, taken aback. “Well.” He squinted down at me and adjusted one of his spears. “I would deliver you safely into the bosom of your family once more,” he intoned, “but as my horse is heavily
laden with the accoutrements of war …” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows to see if I caught his meaning.

I did.

“I shouldn’t think of overburdening your fine steed, young lord,” I agreed, feeling much more cheerful now. It had been easier than I’d thought to keep my part of the bargain. “If you would do me one favour?”

“Anything for a fair maiden!” He thumped his steelclad chest with one gauntleted fist. He, too, was looking quite chipper. And why not? He wouldn’t have to fight a dragon or marry a plain, low-born girl with freckles.

“Please inform my family that I am well, and have decided to go to the King’s Seat to find work,” I said, speaking carefully to make sure that he understood me.

“I shall be pleased to do so,” he said.

I made another curtsy.

He wheeled his horse around, riding off without a second look at me. I waited until the dust had died down and then continued on the path until it forked. To the right it led back to Carlieff Town. To the left it joined the main road and wound its way south through any number of villages and towns until it ended where all roads in our land ended: the King’s Seat, the greatest city in all of Feravel.

Surely in the King’s Seat there would be a place for a freckled girl who wore blue slippers that had been given to her by a dragon.

I turned to the left and began to walk, my bundle securely tied to my back and my arms swinging free. I
whistled as I went, and broke into a little song as I stepped on to the King’s Road. This had been quite an exciting day for a farm lass. I had faced a dragon, bargained with him, and walked away free. I had deterred the young lord who had set out on his mighty steed to save me. I had a fine new pair of shoes and was on my way to the King’s Seat to find work. It was the stuff of fairy tales.

Of course, in fairy tales, the young heroine did not get too hot and feel sweat running down the back of her neck and into her bodice. Nor did she get hungry, and wonder what her family was eating for their midday repast. I did have some bread and cheese in my bundle, so I stopped to eat a little. As I sorted out the small packet of food, a knotted skein of finespun scarlet yarn tumbled out and I barely managed to catch it before it touched the dusty road.

As I ate a small portion of the bread and cheese and drank a few warm sips from my leather water bottle, I contemplated the red threads. Most of my bundle was yarn or embroidery floss that I had spun myself, along with a packet of needles and my belt loom. I had a long, boring walk ahead of me, very little food and water, and no money. I would need something to trade for food and lodging when I reached the next town.

I repacked my food and water and tied my bundle back on, keeping out the red yarn, a skein of blue, and the belt loom. I threaded the ends of the yarn through the loom, tied them to my belt, and began to walk again.

It was called a belt loom because it was only wide enough to weave a belt or sash and because you tied it to your belt to create tension. I had made so many of these woven sashes (every woman and girl in Carlieff Town had at least a dozen for worship-days and feast-days, myself and my impoverished cousins included) that I could probably make one in my sleep. Or while I walked.

And walk I did, my eyes on the lengthening sash in front of me, and every so often, on the toes of my blue slippers, which peeped out from my skirts as I strode. The sun was hot, especially for spring, but the road was well maintained and my new slippers very comfortable.

All the same, by the time the sun had started to sink into the western hills, I was exhausted. I lifted my eyes from the sash, which had grown long enough that I had to tuck several loops of it back through my belt to keep it from dragging on the ground, and began to search ahead for some lodging.

By the time I found a farm that would take me in, I was ready to drop. The piece of dried venison and crust of brown bread they gave me tasted like a feast, and the pile of hay that I slept in was as soft as new-spun wool. In the morning, I didn’t even mind when the farmer roused me at dawn and told me to be off. That is, until I started to walk again. My legs were sore, my mouth was dry, and I kept finding bits of hay in my hair and clothing. The only bit of comfort I had was that my new slippers hadn’t raised any blisters – in fact, my feet didn’t hurt at all – and they had yet to show any wear.

“No wonder Theoradus didn’t want to part with them,” I said aloud as I began another sash. “They really are the work of a master!”

Whistling through dry lips, I walked on.

For three weeks I had been walking, endlessly walking, and I had managed to weave four sashes so far. I traded the sashes where I could, and when I had none to trade I gathered eggs or darned socks or mucked out stalls. If I was lucky, I was given stale bread and dry cheese and the occasional boiled egg and sent off to the hayloft to sleep. In the morning I was roused at dawn, given a rusk and a drink of water, and sent on my way.

While a carter or two did take pity on me and give me a ride every few days, it seemed that most of them, like the householders, were wary of a young lass travelling by herself. They believed my story of being an orphan; I had no doubt of that. But they also suspected that I was a runaway apprentice or a maidservant who had stolen her mistress’s necklace.

Two days’ walk from the King’s Seat I ran into real trouble. Infinitely worse trouble than having to walk all day or sleep in a draughty hayloft while pigs snored loudly on the barn floor beneath me. The King’s Road curved west here, actually heading away from the King’s Seat, so that it skirted the edges of the Rath Forest before it doubled back to reach the gates of the city. Very few people braved the more direct route through the forest, which was rumoured to be full of wolves, imps who
guided travellers to their doom just for fun, and even dragons. It was said that tinkers and bandits lived in the fringes as well, but the King’s Road was well trafficked, and I had not concerned myself with them until that day.

A group of young men, hardly older than I, came out of the trees as I walked along the edge of the forest. There were eight of them, and they were filthy, with straggly beards, which I took to be a personal choice rather than an indication of desperation. They wore a motley assortment of clothes that were in dire need of laundering, but nonetheless seemed to be of good quality, which made me swallow hard. The easiest explanation that came to my mind was that they had taken these clothes from a wide variety of travellers – some of them women, I realised, as I got a closer look at the brocade vest sported by one lanky bandit.