Read Online The Rope Dancer by Roberta Gellis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roberta Gellis
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conceal herself and what she was doing, if necessary. Then she took one knife from its sheath and used it to open the seams of each leg of the braies so she could reach through and grasp her weapons. Having drawn the braies over her legs, standing to tie them around her waist, she tried out the arrangement. It was clumsy; she would have to remember to give herself more time, especially since she would also have to reach under the tunic, she thought. But she did not think she would need to use the knives against Telor or Deri, and she hoped that they would protect her from others.
Carys had been standing on one foot because her ankle was still painful, but it was only slightly black and blue and not at all swollen. She hopped quickly to the table where the remains of Telor’s breakfast lay. Progress on one foot was no trouble, for her balance was perfect, but hopping was noisy, and she glanced over her shoulder to be sure no one was in sight before she broke healthy hunks from the cheese and the loaf of bread. Although she did not believe that Telor would begrudge her a meal, hard experience had made her cautious, and she bit quickly into both in several places before she sank down onto the bench to eat her meal more slowly. She was sure that Telor would not want anything bitten by someone else, and the alewife would certainly not take back the food because it could not be offered for sale.
Her full belly and the hopeful prospect of a kind protector so lightened Carys’s heart that she could not help laughing aloud when she got up from the bench and looked down at herself. The shirt would have come down to her knees if it were not held up by the crotch of the braies; the braies had to be doubled up along her leg almost back to her thighs; and the tunic looked like a gown on her. Telor’s clothes, she thought, fingering the garments gently; he was very tall. Deri’s would have been much too broad, though the length would have better suited the purpose of making her look like a boy.
Still she was lighthearted and smiling as she untied the blanket from the posts and then carefully folded it and the one she had slept under and placed both on the table. That done, she looked around and saw the tub of water. She glanced hastily down at her hands. They looked clean to her, but only Telor knew what he thought would be clean enough and Carys had no intention of another dose of those ashes until after she was healed. The burning in her cuts and scrapes was only just dying away. Get rid of the bath, she decided. So when Telor came back, Carys was dipping the ash-laden water out of the tub and into the bucket.
“You need not do that,” he said, but his expression was approving.
Relieved of the anxiety that Telor was going to demand she get back into the bath, Carys smiled. “I can do no more,” she replied, rising. “The bucket is as full as can be carried without slopping over, but the alewife was kind and I am glad to help. Should I roll the blankets? I was not sure how they were to be carried.”
Telor hesitated before answering, so surprised by Carys’s speech and voice, which he had not really noticed before, that his full attention fixed on her. He was sharply aware that there was nothing coarse or shrill about her. Her speech was refined, he thought, like his sisters’, and her voice far more beautiful.
In fact, Carys was altogether much more attractive than he had expected, although now that she was clean, she reminded him more than ever of a pretty, dainty fox. Her hair, almost dry, was the same light, rich red-brown as fox fur, and her large eyes were also a warm light brown with long, thick lashes of almost the same color; the eyes seemed to tilt upward slightly at their outer edges as a fox’s did too—or perhaps it was only that the brows slanted. He had seen the shape of the face correctly: wide temples, high cheekbones, and a small pointed chin, but the lips were full and soft with a smiling look to them.
Carys had been standing on one foot because her ankle was still painful, but it was only slightly black and blue and not at all swollen. She hopped quickly to the table where the remains of Telor’s breakfast lay. Progress on one foot was no trouble, for her balance was perfect, but hopping was noisy, and she glanced over her shoulder to be sure no one was in sight before she broke healthy hunks from the cheese and the loaf of bread. Although she did not believe that Telor would begrudge her a meal, hard experience had made her cautious, and she bit quickly into both in several places before she sank down onto the bench to eat her meal more slowly. She was sure that Telor would not want anything bitten by someone else, and the alewife would certainly not take back the food because it could not be offered for sale.
Her full belly and the hopeful prospect of a kind protector so lightened Carys’s heart that she could not help laughing aloud when she got up from the bench and looked down at herself. The shirt would have come down to her knees if it were not held up by the crotch of the braies; the braies had to be doubled up along her leg almost back to her thighs; and the tunic looked like a gown on her. Telor’s clothes, she thought, fingering the garments gently; he was very tall. Deri’s would have been much too broad, though the length would have better suited the purpose of making her look like a boy.
Still she was lighthearted and smiling as she untied the blanket from the posts and then carefully folded it and the one she had slept under and placed both on the table. That done, she looked around and saw the tub of water. She glanced hastily down at her hands. They looked clean to her, but only Telor knew what he thought would be clean enough and Carys had no intention of another dose of those ashes until after she was healed. The burning in her cuts and scrapes was only just dying away. Get rid of the bath, she decided. So when Telor came back, Carys was dipping the ash-laden water out of the tub and into the bucket.
“You need not do that,” he said, but his expression was approving.
Relieved of the anxiety that Telor was going to demand she get back into the bath, Carys smiled. “I can do no more,” she replied, rising. “The bucket is as full as can be carried without slopping over, but the alewife was kind and I am glad to help. Should I roll the blankets? I was not sure how they were to be carried.”
Telor hesitated before answering, so surprised by Carys’s speech and voice, which he had not really noticed before, that his full attention fixed on her. He was sharply aware that there was nothing coarse or shrill about her. Her speech was refined, he thought, like his sisters’, and her voice far more beautiful.
In fact, Carys was altogether much more attractive than he had expected, although now that she was clean, she reminded him more than ever of a pretty, dainty fox. Her hair, almost dry, was the same light, rich red-brown as fox fur, and her large eyes were also a warm light brown with long, thick lashes of almost the same color; the eyes seemed to tilt upward slightly at their outer edges as a fox’s did too—or perhaps it was only that the brows slanted. He had seen the shape of the face correctly: wide temples, high cheekbones, and a small pointed chin, but the lips were full and soft with a smiling look to them.
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