Dragonskin Slippers by Jessica Day George Page B

to go into business on our own before we’re too old to care.”
    “You could attend the Merchants’ Ball,” Alle put in shyly, and then scurried into the backroom with an armload of cloth.
    “Is it true that even an apprentice can go to the Merchants’ Ball?” I picked up the spool of scarlet ribbon and another of grey, and Marta filled her arms with balls of embroidery yarn. My mother had told me that she had once thought of attending, before she married.
    “The Merchants’ Ball is a fool’s dream,” Larkin said as I stepped into the back room. “I hope you have not been filling her head with such ideas, Marta,” she said in a severe voice.
    “Not me. Alle brought it up,” Marta said with a toss of her head. “It’s not like any of us would have a chance there. But who are you to decide what we can and can’t dream about?”
    I dropped the spools on the table with a clatter. “Will Derda attend?”
    “Oh, no! Why would she?” Marta shook her head. “The Merchants’ Ball is where people like you and me go to try and court a wealthy investor. Derda doesn’t need an investor, and she would never gamble her money away on some unknown artisan. Anyone can attend, to try their luck.” Marta wrinkled her nose. “The only catch is: you have to look presentable and have some really wonderful samples to prove yourself with. So what would I do? Go in this awful pink shopgirl’s gown and show them some decorated ribbons?”
    “We should be grateful to Derda for giving us this fine shop to work in and a good place to live,” Larkin scolded.
    I was starting to rethink my first impressions of these girls. Marta, though perhaps a bit of a flirt, seemed genuinely kind, while Larkin was striking me more and more as a wet dishrag, as Hagen would have put it.
    “Grateful!” Marta rolled her eyes. “We do all the work, we invent the new fashions, and she takes all the credit and the money! If I had a fine enough gown, I’d be at the Merchants’ Ball begging for a wealthy patron!” Her eyes roved over the shelves of brightly coloured fabric. “There are times when I think aboutstealing some silk and making myself a ballgown,” she confided to me.
    “Derda and I both know the contents of this shop forward and back, miss,” Larkin warned. “If enough silk went missing to make you a gown, we’d know before you had time to baste the seams!”
    “Then why couldn’t you find the scarlet ribbons?” she retorted. Marta stuck out her tongue and went back to the front of the store. As she went, I thought I heard her mutter something about a “two-faced little snake”.
    “What was it about your slippers?” Larkin gave me a mild look. “I could hear some of the conversation. The princess sounded quite taken with them.”
    “If by ‘taken’ you mean that she tried to force me to give them to her, then yes,” I said with a snort.
    “Why?”
    I hesitated. I disliked calling attention to my shoes because of their odd origin.
    “They’re lovely,” Alle said, coming around one of the rows of shelves, her chore finished. “Beautiful blue slippers, they are. A very strange style.” She ducked her head at me in a shy gesture. “If they were mine, I would cut my skirts a little shorter, to show them off.”
    “She’ll be cutting her skirts the same length as the rest of you,” Derda said, smashing through the swinging doors. “I’m closing the shop. It’s nearly time, and I doubt that we’re fit to serve another customer.
    “So!” She put her hands on her hips and looked meup and down. “Take a bolt of the lightweight pink wool and start working on your dress. I don’t want to see you in the front of the shop again until you have it finished.” And with that she smashed back out.
    “Gah,” I said.
    “You have no idea,” Alle muttered under her breath. Then, seeing Larkin’s dark look, she trotted out.

Numb Fingers, Itchy Feet
    I had always loved sewing. Really, it didn’t matter what kind: