training blades,” said her friend. “Do you like them?”
She turned the twin blades over in her fingers. They were a foot and a half long, perfectly balanced, but clearly blunted for training purposes. She struck a martial pose. “Prepare to die, thou beautiful … er, scoundrel.”
Arosia laughed merrily. “I am not unarmed, Pip.”
“You aren’t? But …” Pip’s voice trailed off.
“Look for my blades. I dare you.”
The servants emptied several barrels of water into the small tub. Steam rose into the frosty morning air. They lifted a screen into place. A screen! Pip chuckled to herself. These big people were too funny. They just weren’t comfortable in their own skins.
She shook her head. “You’re unarmed.”
“Even in the jungle, not all is as it seems,” said Arosia, putting her hands up to her hair. “Didn’t somebody just teach me that? Watch the ribbons.”
Arosia had twisted her hair around two crossed wooden pins. Pretty turquoise ribbons formed several bows behind her head, and trailed halfway down her back. They came away in her hands. Her hair tumbled free. Pip realised that the pins were in fact, wooden handles for the ribbons. The way they hung, five feet long, they had to be heavier than they looked.
“Razor ribbons,” said Arosia, whirling them about her head. “A weapon my Dad invented. They’re reinforced with a flexible metal thread. The actual blades are the last third of the ribbon.” Pip reached out. “Careful. They’re as sharp as Immadian forked daggers. Well, close.”
She touched the ribbon gingerly. Arosia was right. Any more blade, and the tying process would slice off one’s hair. She said, “Pretty deadly.”
Arosia chuckled. “Good joke. I’ll teach you how to use them, if you’d like.”
“Really? I’d love that.”
“ After your bath,” said Shullia, clucking her tongue like a mother hen. “My Telisia might be wrong about many things, but she was right about the contents of your hair. When last did you wash this bird’s nest?”
“Not since she came to the zoo,” said Arosia.
Pip grumbled under her breath as she climbed over the tub’s rim. But she sighed as she sank into warm water for the first time in her life. Delicious. No wonder the scrolls had described baths with enthusiasm.
Pensively, Pip asked, “So, do you truly think I’m a person, Shullia?”
“Heavens above and Islands below, girl,” Shullia scowled. “You’re not some project we spend our pity on.”
Arosia smiled at her mother, and then at Pip. “Pipsqueak, my Dad finished his research … oh, last year, I think it was. Why do you think we keep coming to see you?”
“So you can watch me beat up your brother?”
But Pip knew that was not the real answer. She looked from mother to daughter, searching with her heart, indeed, with her entire being.
Shullia nodded at Arosia, who hesitated a long time before saying, “We–our family, that is–tried to buy you from the zoo, Pip. But the zoo owner said you were too big an attraction. He wouldn’t take any price.”
“Pygmies are not people, under Sylakian law,” Shullia added.
“The law is wrong, mother.”
“Ay, petal, that it is,” said Shullia. “My Balthion wants to change the law. He hopes his research into Ancient Southern languages and Pygmy culture will change hearts and minds. But I fear it’ll take a very long time, Pip. Perhaps longer than your lifetime or mine.”
Pip sank down in the water. “I’m … I don’t know what to say. I’m grateful.”
“I’m sorry we failed you, Pip,” said Arosia.
“You haven’t. You’re my friends. That’s enough for me.”
Three washes of her hair later, and a great deal of talk about the ways of women and big people and Pygmies, Pip examined herself in a polished crysglass mirror. Her curly dark ringlets, oiled and brushed out after much tugging and muttering on Arosia’s part, gleamed like the darkness of a stormy night. Her eyes were as
She turned the twin blades over in her fingers. They were a foot and a half long, perfectly balanced, but clearly blunted for training purposes. She struck a martial pose. “Prepare to die, thou beautiful … er, scoundrel.”
Arosia laughed merrily. “I am not unarmed, Pip.”
“You aren’t? But …” Pip’s voice trailed off.
“Look for my blades. I dare you.”
The servants emptied several barrels of water into the small tub. Steam rose into the frosty morning air. They lifted a screen into place. A screen! Pip chuckled to herself. These big people were too funny. They just weren’t comfortable in their own skins.
She shook her head. “You’re unarmed.”
“Even in the jungle, not all is as it seems,” said Arosia, putting her hands up to her hair. “Didn’t somebody just teach me that? Watch the ribbons.”
Arosia had twisted her hair around two crossed wooden pins. Pretty turquoise ribbons formed several bows behind her head, and trailed halfway down her back. They came away in her hands. Her hair tumbled free. Pip realised that the pins were in fact, wooden handles for the ribbons. The way they hung, five feet long, they had to be heavier than they looked.
“Razor ribbons,” said Arosia, whirling them about her head. “A weapon my Dad invented. They’re reinforced with a flexible metal thread. The actual blades are the last third of the ribbon.” Pip reached out. “Careful. They’re as sharp as Immadian forked daggers. Well, close.”
She touched the ribbon gingerly. Arosia was right. Any more blade, and the tying process would slice off one’s hair. She said, “Pretty deadly.”
Arosia chuckled. “Good joke. I’ll teach you how to use them, if you’d like.”
“Really? I’d love that.”
“ After your bath,” said Shullia, clucking her tongue like a mother hen. “My Telisia might be wrong about many things, but she was right about the contents of your hair. When last did you wash this bird’s nest?”
“Not since she came to the zoo,” said Arosia.
Pip grumbled under her breath as she climbed over the tub’s rim. But she sighed as she sank into warm water for the first time in her life. Delicious. No wonder the scrolls had described baths with enthusiasm.
Pensively, Pip asked, “So, do you truly think I’m a person, Shullia?”
“Heavens above and Islands below, girl,” Shullia scowled. “You’re not some project we spend our pity on.”
Arosia smiled at her mother, and then at Pip. “Pipsqueak, my Dad finished his research … oh, last year, I think it was. Why do you think we keep coming to see you?”
“So you can watch me beat up your brother?”
But Pip knew that was not the real answer. She looked from mother to daughter, searching with her heart, indeed, with her entire being.
Shullia nodded at Arosia, who hesitated a long time before saying, “We–our family, that is–tried to buy you from the zoo, Pip. But the zoo owner said you were too big an attraction. He wouldn’t take any price.”
“Pygmies are not people, under Sylakian law,” Shullia added.
“The law is wrong, mother.”
“Ay, petal, that it is,” said Shullia. “My Balthion wants to change the law. He hopes his research into Ancient Southern languages and Pygmy culture will change hearts and minds. But I fear it’ll take a very long time, Pip. Perhaps longer than your lifetime or mine.”
Pip sank down in the water. “I’m … I don’t know what to say. I’m grateful.”
“I’m sorry we failed you, Pip,” said Arosia.
“You haven’t. You’re my friends. That’s enough for me.”
Three washes of her hair later, and a great deal of talk about the ways of women and big people and Pygmies, Pip examined herself in a polished crysglass mirror. Her curly dark ringlets, oiled and brushed out after much tugging and muttering on Arosia’s part, gleamed like the darkness of a stormy night. Her eyes were as
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