Dragonbond

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

Koragi's stomach churned as she paced in the nursery. She was alone. Miss Adger had taken the children out into the city with Gerian and a few others. The music had begun outside, and the promise of sweets and entertainment had banished the sleep from the youngsters’ eyes. Ravian had stormed off hours ago with a stunned Gilly and Jori. Koragi could only imagine the scathing remarks she earned from the woman tonight. But she cared little about Ravian right now. Her thoughts had room for nothing else but the ball, where she would be surrounded by dozens of city men and women, glamorous city fashion, and exquisite food. She would even meet the ducal family! All those eyes would be on her, scrutinizing, measuring, judging…

She was glad she had missed dinner, for she would have emptied her stomach by now.

The markets had disappeared from her mind. Now past midnight, brilliant light from the lanterns outside filtered in through open shutters. She made a mental list of everything she would need to do. She had never been to the Inner District, and would need to find someone comfortable with accompanying her as far as the Ministry building, where she would meet the royal family and receive further instructions about what was expected of her. She would need to find a hair stylist, or at least some very good shampoo so she did not arrive looking like a wretch in a pretty dress.

In a pretty dress…

Oh, no.

Koragi gasped and pivoted on her heel. The others had already seen to the setup of their stalls and she had forgotten to tell them that she had stored her personal dress with the rest of the goods! She raced out of the room, clutching her skirt, and flew out of the inn as fast as her tired legs would carry her. The streets were less crowded now, but hundreds of people still moved about the market, sampling treats and browsing wares. Musicians stood on every corner, surrounded by dancers and children who looked exhausted from the merriment but who refused to depart for proper sleep.

The voices and laughter around Koragi drowned out the pounding of her boots on the fine marble cobblestones. She still managed to bump into others occasionally in her rush to get to the corner set aside for Cordak’s merchants. When she finally arrived, she came to an abrupt halt when she found that all her displays were arranged perfectly in a semicircle around a crate next to which she would stand and ply her trade in the morning. The second display mannequin still wore the gown she had crafted for herself and she felt relief wash over her.

Ravian was there with Gilly and Jori, along with the three militia guards. When Koragi paused in front of her dress and looked it over, a sinking feeling came to her stomach. The silk sash was gone. Placing her fingers gingerly on the simple bodice, she drew in a calming breath and turned her head. Ravian addressed her with a scoff.

“Is that what you’re wearing to the ball?”

Koragi bit her lip. A painful prickle climbed through her sinuses as tears threatened her eyes. Her fingers trembled, and heat engulfed her body with a level of anger she did not know. But she held back the cutting words that came to her tongue. Ravian would derive far too much pleasure from getting a rise out of her. With the tumult of emotions that had assaulted Koragi ever since the Minister of Foreign Affairs had spoken her name in the Commons Hall, it was a wonder to her that she had not already collapsed and wept. She refused to do so now.

“You would be better off selling that rubbish and using the pence to find something suitable,” Ravian went on. She then gave Koragi the most malicious smirk she had ever seen. “Ah, but you could not sell it, either, could you?”

Koragi continued to fight her tears, but she did not have to defend herself. The militia men did not silence Ravian’s accursed tongue, though they did appear to weigh the social risks of chastising the girl. To Koragi’s surprise, it was Gilly who turned to Ravian and spoke first.

“Leave her alone, Rav,” she insisted. “We all know how badly you wanted to go, but that’s no reason to ruin it for her. You should be happy for her. The ball is the greatest fun any of us look forward to. And you heard Gerian. That any of us were drawn is a rare thing in itself!”

Ravian looked like a trout as she stared at Gilly, mouth opening and closing in search of the right response. Her skin had paled, but anger slowly worked its way into her hazel eyes. Her cheeks reddened and her hands balled into fists. Koragi glanced around frantically, trying to determine the best way to interrupt Ravian’s impending outburst. Gilly had stood up for her. She didn’t deserve to be verbally abused because of it. There was no one of authority present, though. This childish girl was going to make them all look like the uncivilized country children that the city folk surely considered them.

Ravian had just begun her tirade, sharp insults tearing into poor Gilly, who simply stood there and bore the assault with a raised chin and a quivering pout, when a much louder voice barked over hers. Ravian stumbled over her own words, going pale once more as they all turned and saw that Tebanis had returned with the fourth member of the militia. The cloaked swordsman strode forward purposefully, his eyes resting hard on Ravian. The commotion seemed to earn them the attention of shoppers who happily skirted their stalls, whispering to each other.

“What is the meaning of this?” Tebanis demanded. Ravian quaked beneath his glare, but Tebanis went on before she could answer. “I do not want to hear any more of this, Miss Garen. You are a grown woman who should be setting an example for your young peers. Cease your infantile behavior this instant, lest you sully your father’s good name.”

Koragi stared. Tebanis had never scolded anyone so forcefully before. Gilly’s face had become a picture of adoration and Jori gazed at Tebanis with no small measure of disbelief. Koragi’s heart raced, just as unable to look away from the man as they were. He glowered at Ravian until he was certain she comprehended, and then turned his eyes to Gilly. He smiled at her and the young girl simply melted.

“Now, what was this about?” he asked her gently.

Gilly pressed her hands together in front of her chest, her voice a higher pitch in her giddiness. “Sir Tebanis, Koragi’s name was drawn for the ball! Isn’t that marvelous?”

Tebanis stared at Gilly for a time before he turned his eyes to the young seamstress. Heat flushed over Koragi’s face, but she could not look away from those dark eyes. Something uneasy pinched at her stomach. Tebanis did not look at all pleased by the news. In fact, a thin frown settled on his lips and he rested his hand on his belt next to his thin-sword. Koragi’s discomfort deepened.

Tebanis turned his eyes back to Gilly and smiled again. “Yes, that is wonderful news. I imagine you all must be very excited for her.” He sent a pointed look to Ravian. The woman cowered behind Jori and offered no reply.

Tebanis remained at the market with the others, explaining that the fourth militia guard had indeed suffered a broken wrist. Koragi took her time removing her dress from the display. Tebanis looked her way several times, casting her mind into dizzying speculation. While it was flattering that such a man watched her so, she could not help the apprehension that took root in her chest. It seemed that there was more to her name being drawn than he had spoken. Why did it upset him? He was tense, his eyes dark and troubled. Such a look was foreign, and she wondered if he was simply paranoid, caught in the remnants of a more dangerous past that he did not share with the villagers. Perhaps he had once lived in a place where even the good happenings ended in disaster. Was he worried about her safety? She had already decided that she would not travel alone, so perhaps that would ease his fears.

When she found her clean cowhide boots, she took her leave of the group and hurried back to The Happy Lantern. Miss Adger had already returned with the children when Koragi slipped into the room. The woman gave Koragi a kind smile and bade her to keep quiet, for all the children had fallen asleep together on the same bed. Miss Adger sat at a desk where a single candle burned, lighting the pages of a book held in her hands. Koragi did not disturb her and moved across the room to hang her dress in the wardrobe. She then changed into nightclothes and climbed into the second bed, where she fell asleep instantly in her exhaustion.

She woke again before dawn when the children stirred and noisily announced the new day. The second day of the Fertility Festival consisted of commerce and food. The aroma of fresh bakery goods from across the street already filled the room and made Koragi’s stomach growl hungrily. After dressing in a simple yellow dress and apron, she brushed her hair and tied it back as she had the day before, and then joined Miss Adger and the children for breakfast. They targeted the bakery across the street for the morning meal.

Koragi broke away from them to relieve the overnight group at the market stalls. Giving the cheerful customers her most brilliant smile, Koragi slipped into her role as a merchant. Many of her morning customers still reeked of wine and spirits, but by midday, after she returned from fetching lunch, the patrons were more coherent. She spent most of the day making small alterations to her clothing goods on the spot and selling samples of fabric and wool. Many citizens of the city requested her business information and she happily supplied them with the location of her mother’s shop in Cordak. Often, she was then congratulated for being selected to attend the Festival Ball, but that typically elicited an awkward laugh. Just how big was the news that an outsider would be attending?

She depleted her stock by mid-afternoon. After packing up her displays and storing them with the wagons, she returned to the inn and took the opportunity to use one of the private baths while the building was mostly empty. She changed into a dull brown frock and sought out the only person she thought could help prepare her for the ball: Gerian Mere. She found him lounging outside the inn, a pipe caught between his teeth as he looked up at the cloudless sky. He wore a grey tunic with short sleeves. A straw hat lay crooked atop his head. Leaning back against a table, he seemed relaxed. When Koragi sat next to him and folded her hands in her lap, he lowered his pipe from his lips and studied her face. Her hair was still damp, pulled into a tight, messy bun. A few tendrils fell about her face.

“You shouldn’t be so nervous,” he said at last. “They can sense that.”

“Sense it?” She looked at him.

“The city folk. In their high society, they can smell a country boy or girl like us before we enter the room. Just don’t give them that opening.”

Koragi frowned. She and Gerian came from a simpler life, where it mattered little who had more money or who could paint her face to closer resemble awkward standards of beauty. The citizenry had paraded the fads of the city in front of them all day. From multicolored suit coats to lace-smothered gowns with wire-bound skirts to keep them perfectly round, they all looked far too peculiar for Koragi’s tastes. Her uneasy excitement remained, though. This was an experience unlike any other. She expected to come away with countless stories and she hoped that they would only be stories about bizarre gowns and dress tunics.

“I’ll take you as far as the Ministry building,” Gerian continued. “Beyond that, no one really expects anything of you. The Duke’s son’ll greet and welcome you and all that.” He waved his hand. “But it’s all for properness. The only part that really matters is the ballroom. It’s gonna knock your breath right outta you.”