She gasped, and nearly fell out of the window. Small hands gripped her skirt and hauled her back into the room. Her feet on the floor again, she whirled to glare at the invader: Sandry. “Don't you knock?” she demanded, straightening her spectacles.
“I did knock,” replied the other girl. “And I called. You just didn't hear me.”
Tris shook out her dress with trembling hands. “What do you want?”
Sandry hesitated, taking in the other girl's scowl. In for a copper, in for a gold, she thought. “This winter, I... went a little crazy. With embroidery, and needlepoint. I have these hangings, more than I'll ever need... I thought you might like one.” She retrieved a plump, neat roll of cloth from the bed, where she had dropped it, and held it out.
Tris looked at it, then glared. “Is something wrong with you?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Just because we all have to live here together doesn't mean you can forget your rank! Look at you, hobnobbing with a Trader, and now me. You can't do that! I'm merchant blood, understand? It's in my last name - Chan-d-ler.” Tris spoke the word very slowly, as if Sandry were not quite bright. “You're probably an ei or a fa something.”
“That doesn't make any difference.” Sandry said, her mouth set in a mulish line.
“Only a noble would say something so idiotic.”
“Here I'm the same as you!”
Tris's laugh was as harsh as a crow's. “You wear slippers at four silver astrels the pair, cotton broadcloth at six silver creses the yard, and - and silk chiffon that's a gold astrel the yard, and tell me you're the same?” She tugged hard at her own ugly dress. “There is definitely something wrong with you. Go away.”
“I was trying to be nice.” Sandry placed the hanging on the desk. “If you don't want it, then give it to someone else - I don't care.” Chin high, she walked out.
Tris slammed the door and glared at it. She couldn't see a latch that would stop anyone else from barging in. A nice thing with a thief in the house, she thought. Not that I have anything worth stealing.
The roll of cloth sat on her desk, a temptation on cream-colored linen.
She thinks I'm stupid enough to believe her, thought Tris. She thinks people never pretended to be my friend before!
Curious, she spread the hanging out. It showed a six-spoked wheel, with a different, brightly colored bird at the end of each spoke. Flat, the hanging was good-sized, two feet by one foot. It was easy to see how the sticks at the center of the roll would fit to make a frame, and how the cloth would attach to it. For a long moment Tris stared at it, thinking about how beautiful it was. Did she say she did this work? the girl wondered. That can't be right - probably it was servants, only she claims what they did for her own. Nobles do things like that.
Gently she traced an embroidered toucan's over-large, gaudy beak. She loved birds - they coasted so beautifully on the wind, or mastered the air with darting turns. Looking around, she found a blank space on the wall that needed to be filled. The hanging could go there, where she could see it from the bed.
If she wants it back, I can tell her she gave it, and I'm keeping it, Tris thought fiercely. That will teach - what had Honored Moonstream called her? - Lady Sandrilene.
Daja, carrying her staff, followed Sandry downstairs. No one else was in the main room by that time. “I take it you heard,” Sandry remarked with a crooked smile. Plumping herself on the bottom riser, she put her chin on her hands. “Not all nine-fingered girls have hatchets,” she said in Tradertalk. “Some of us just tried to have a conversation with a snapping turtle.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stormandwind) wrote2019-09-29 12:57 am
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
lastvoyages
"There is definitely something wrong with you. Go away."
She gasped, and nearly fell out of the window. Small hands gripped her skirt and hauled her back into the room. Her feet on the floor again, she whirled to glare at the invader: Sandry. “Don't you knock?” she demanded, straightening her spectacles.
“I did knock,” replied the other girl. “And I called. You just didn't hear me.”
Tris shook out her dress with trembling hands. “What do you want?”
Sandry hesitated, taking in the other girl's scowl. In for a copper, in for a gold, she thought. “This winter, I... went a little crazy. With embroidery, and needlepoint. I have these hangings, more than I'll ever need... I thought you might like one.” She retrieved a plump, neat roll of cloth from the bed, where she had dropped it, and held it out.
Tris looked at it, then glared. “Is something wrong with you?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Just because we all have to live here together doesn't mean you can forget your rank! Look at you, hobnobbing with a Trader, and now me. You can't do that! I'm merchant blood, understand? It's in my last name - Chan-d-ler.” Tris spoke the word very slowly, as if Sandry were not quite bright. “You're probably an ei or a fa something.”
“That doesn't make any difference.” Sandry said, her mouth set in a mulish line.
“Only a noble would say something so idiotic.”
“Here I'm the same as you!”
Tris's laugh was as harsh as a crow's. “You wear slippers at four silver astrels the pair, cotton broadcloth at six silver creses the yard, and - and silk chiffon that's a gold astrel the yard, and tell me you're the same?” She tugged hard at her own ugly dress. “There is definitely something wrong with you. Go away.”
“I was trying to be nice.” Sandry placed the hanging on the desk. “If you don't want it, then give it to someone else - I don't care.” Chin high, she walked out.
Tris slammed the door and glared at it. She couldn't see a latch that would stop anyone else from barging in. A nice thing with a thief in the house, she thought. Not that I have anything worth stealing.
The roll of cloth sat on her desk, a temptation on cream-colored linen.
She thinks I'm stupid enough to believe her, thought Tris. She thinks people never pretended to be my friend before!
Curious, she spread the hanging out. It showed a six-spoked wheel, with a different, brightly colored bird at the end of each spoke. Flat, the hanging was good-sized, two feet by one foot. It was easy to see how the sticks at the center of the roll would fit to make a frame, and how the cloth would attach to it. For a long moment Tris stared at it, thinking about how beautiful it was. Did she say she did this work? the girl wondered. That can't be right - probably it was servants, only she claims what they did for her own. Nobles do things like that.
Gently she traced an embroidered toucan's over-large, gaudy beak. She loved birds - they coasted so beautifully on the wind, or mastered the air with darting turns. Looking around, she found a blank space on the wall that needed to be filled. The hanging could go there, where she could see it from the bed.
If she wants it back, I can tell her she gave it, and I'm keeping it, Tris thought fiercely. That will teach - what had Honored Moonstream called her? - Lady Sandrilene.
Daja, carrying her staff, followed Sandry downstairs. No one else was in the main room by that time. “I take it you heard,” Sandry remarked with a crooked smile. Plumping herself on the bottom riser, she put her chin on her hands. “Not all nine-fingered girls have hatchets,” she said in Tradertalk. “Some of us just tried to have a conversation with a snapping turtle.”