gawked in surprise for a moment at Khisanth's naked
body, but he came to his senses when he heard his kitchen help whistling appreciatively
behind him. ”Slice them stew potatoes and mind yer own businesses,“ he growled. Quickly he
helped Aggis hustle Khisanth up a narrow set of stairs just off the kitchen. The innkeeper
waved them into an unheated room, lit only by the light streaming in from the hallway. The
sloping, thatched roof of the building formed two walls. Rough whitewash covered the other
two. The room held a trunk, a narrow rope bed, and a cane-backed chair. Dry rushes on the
floor crunched softly beneath the women's feet. Snow was piled against the outside of the
windowpane in the back wall. Another, similar room could be seen across the hall through
the open doorway. Aggis and the innkeeper spoke in whispers for a few moments. Finally the
old woman nodded, and the man left, stealing one last, red-faced, admiring peek at
Khisanth before lumbering down the staircase. After using her teeth to pull the fingerless
woolen gloves from her hands, Aggis turned to the chest and began sorting through the
clothing. ”Bert says to apologize, but he's only got men's clothes. He doesn't get too
many ladies passing through, leaving frilly dresses behind.“ She pulled out a dark purple
drawstring tunic and handed it to Khisanth. ”Here, this will do for now.“ Jamming her
hands on her hips, Aggis stood back and peered at Khisanth. ”You've got the blackest hair
I've ever seen, as black and smooth as polished onyx.“ When Khisanth didn't reply, Aggis
tried another tack. ”Whaf s your name, child?“ Khisanth was about to respond honestly, but
something inside warned her to protect her dragon name. ”You've guessed it,“ she said.
”Onyx. For my hair.“ ”Isn't that pretty?“ Aggis handed her leggings, pantaloons, and
thick-heeled, cuffed boots. Khisanth looked in puzzlement at the collection of clothing,
unsure of where she should don any of it. Fortunately, Aggis attributed her confusion to
the garment's being men's clothing. ”You must be used to dresses. Here, Onyx,“ she said,
standing on her tiptoes to hold the tunic above the girl. ”Slip this over your head. My
goodness, you're a tall girl. You remind me of a black oak tree, with that dark hair and
milk-in-coffee skin of yours," she muttered. Seeing Khisanth's dark hands fumbling next
with the pantaloons, Aggis took the russet-colored leathers from her and turned them
around so the girl could slip them on.
“Of course, you know how pants go onyour fingers must be stiff from the cold. Tuck in the
tunic like this.” She stuffed the hem of the purple top into the waistband and stood back
to examine her charge. The waist was loose, but the legs fit the young woman's muscular
frame like a second skin. “You'll have to cinch in the top with some rope.”
After Onyx slipped her feet into the boots, Aggis held up one last, fringed garment.
Backing into it, Onyx slipped her arms into the sleeves. “This buckskin jacket'll keep out
the cold,” Aggis pronounced. “Ththank you, Aggis,” the young woman stumbled over the
unfamiliar words. Aggis shook her head, and her careworn face broadened into a smile. “It
was nothing.” Glancing to the small glass window, where frost was quickly climbing, she
saw that the snowfall had stopped. “We must be good luck for each other. You're safe and
dry now, and I won't have to travel in a snowstorm.” Aggis stepped to the window and
closed the shutters against the weather.
“That should warm it up in here a little,” she declared, tugging her gloves back on.
Turning, she clasped Onyx's icy hands and frowned. “You must have cold blood.” Onyx
sniggered inwardly at the truth of it. “You'll warm up soon enough. I wish I could stay,
but I must get home, or my man will give me an earful!”