Dragonskin Slippers

by Jessica Day George

  The other dragon guffawed, stirring the water of the pool from underneath. “What in the name of the Seven Volcanoes do you want a pair of shoes for?”

  “I beg your pardon?” I stared from one dragon to the other. “Shoes? A pair of – No … I wanted … a goblet or some such.”

  “A goblet?” The brown dragon looked mystified. “I don’t collect dinnerware.”

  The other snorted, rippling the surface of the pool. “She’s heard the stories,” he explained. “She thinks we all lounge about on piles of gold.”

  “You don’t?” My voice was a squeak.

  “Of course not,” Theoradus said. “Well, I’m sure there are some who do. It takes all kinds. I myself fancy shoes.” His golden eyes half-closed. “There’s just something so fascinating about the way they’re made, and the way the styles change over the years …”

  The blue-grey dragon in the pool was laughing quietly, a sound that made my eyes water. “Go on, then! Let her take a pair of shoes if she likes, and be off!”

  I looked down at my rough sandals. I thought again about going back. I thought about my aunt and the bed I shared with my cousins, who pinched me when they wanted more blankets.

  “One pair of shoes,” I bargained with the brown dragon of Carlieff, feeling my heart hammering in my chest at my boldness. “And I’ll never trouble you again.”

  There was a long, terrible silence.

  “Oh, why not?” He sighed. “Come this way.”

  He led me past the pool where the image of the other dragon still laughed, and through the entrance to the inner chamber of his lair. Here, too, I was disappointed as this proved to be just another large cavern, but with a huge oval depression in the floor to one side that I suspected might be the dragon’s bed. Beyond the bed was yet another rough opening and this one was curtained by a large and somewhat mouldy tapestry.

  The dragon pulled the tapestry aside with a gesture that was almost reverent, and motioned with his foreclaw for me to precede him into the inner cave. I took a deep breath, still secretly hoping for a pile of gold, and stepped forward.

  Shoes. Shoes as far as the eye could see. This third cavern was the largest yet, and every square foot of it was covered in wooden racks holding shoes. Women’s shoes, men’s shoes, children’s shoes. There were boots and dancing slippers and sandals. Shoes made of cloth and leather and wood. There were fanciful pointed slippers with bells on the upturned toes and men’s work boots with thick soles.

  I marvelled at fur-lined boots embroidered with red silk and clusters of small shells. The dragon watched carefully as I caressed a pair of high-heeled dancing slippers so encrusted with emeralds that I doubted the wearer would be able to walk in them, let alone dance. I could not imagine what sort of person would wear such shoes, and I stopped to imagine briefly where the woman had lived, and when.

  “Make your choice,” the dragon said as I reached out a hand to a tiny pair that were apparently carved of crystal. The dragon’s voice sounded nervous, and I wondered if he was afraid that my rough peasant’s hands would damage the delicate footwear.

  I withdrew my hand and moved on, searching for shoes that looked to be my size. Something sensible, I thought, boots perhaps, or at the least, sturdy brogues.

  Nevertheless I paused before a delicate pair of green satin slippers embroidered with gold. My mother would have loved them, I thought with a pang. I remembered how she had sighed over some of the fancy embroidery that she had done for the wealthy women of the town. It had always saddened me that she was forced to wear such plain gowns, when all the while she was toiling over beautiful and intricate garments for women who did not even look her in the eyes when they paid her.

  “No, Creel,” I told myself firmly, moving on. “You have to be sensible.”

  Sensible. I was not going back to Carlieff Town. I had to make my own way in the world, and if I was going to take a pair of shoes, they would need to reflect that.

  I began looking at sturdy shoes with thick soles. They should fit well and be comfortable, or there was no point in having them at all. Fortunately, in the six hundred or so years that the brown dragon had been collecting shoes, he had amassed quite an array in all shapes and sizes, and I soon had a large selection to try on.

  He still seemed tense about me touching his hoard, but I was careful to treat each pair gently, no matter how plain or fancy. I set them down on the far side of the room and crouched down to see which ones fitted.

  The embroidered slippers made me think of my vague plan, and as I tried on pair after pair of shoes, I worked it over. My mother had taught me to embroider, and to knot and weave sashes and lace. She herself had been an assistant dressmaker in the King’s Seat, before a visit to some cousins had resulted in her meeting and marrying my father. She had never let me do anything for an actual customer, explaining that they had paid her to do the work and she had an obligation to do it. She had trained me using scraps of fabric and tag ends of thread, and I could admit without any false modesty that I was good. Very good, in fact. After I surpassed even my mother’s skill, she had often lamented that my talent would be wasted in Carlieff, with no money to send me to a larger city where I might find a place at a fancy shop.

  I had thought that with a piece of the brown dragon’s hoard I could pay my way to a city and buy the materials I would need for a sampler set to show potential employers. If I was as accomplished as Mother had said, then I hoped to earn enough to one day open my own shop. But without silver to buy what I needed, I would have to try another way. Perhaps if I went to the King’s Seat, where I was totally unknown, and claimed that bandits had robbed me of nearly everything during the journey, the scanty bits of cloth and yarn I had with me would be enough to find me a job.

  I had been so caught up in my plans that it took me a moment to realise that I had gone through all the shoes I had originally selected and none of them fitted. I heaved a sigh and put them all back, then began searching for more. Perhaps some sturdy boots meant for a boy, or a better pair of sandals would have to do.

  There was a sound from the outer cavern, and the dragon left off his anxious scrutiny of me. I gathered from the rumbling that his friend was impatient to hear what was happening.

  At the far end of the last row of shelves I found a strange pair of shoes. Well, not really all that strange – they were sitting beside two somethings made of black and white feathers, which could not possibly fit human feet – but they caught my attention nonetheless. They were a rich azure blue, and made from very soft, thick leather. They had no laces, but slipped over the foot to reach a little way up the front and back of the ankle. The heels were low, the soles were made of some stiffer dark gold leather, and the interiors were lined with white silk.

  They were much too fancy for my needs, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from them all the same. They looked to be just my size, and terribly comfortable. Besides, I reasoned, they were obviously new and of good quality. And if I wanted to pass myself off as a master artisan I would need to dress better.

  And that meant wearing nice shoes.

  I picked them up and went back to the centre of the room, where I had been gathering another group of shoes to try on. I left the blue slippers for last, but I already knew in my gut that they would be the only pair that fitted.

  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 t
he 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.

  Shards of Glass, Coloured Brightly

  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.