Free Will Sparrow's Road by Karen Cushman Page A

threelegged chicken. Behold true wonders and marvels for only—”
    "The girl,” Tidball growled. "Tell them of the wild girl.”
    Fitz frowned but began to call, "For the satisfaction of the curious we offer here a girl of unusual qualities who discourses most eloquently—”
    "No! Tell them of her wildness, her fearsomeness, her monstrosity!”
    Fitz crossed his arms and said nothing.
    "You miserable minnow! You may be small, but your ingratitude is immense. Go from my sight.” He turned to Will. "You, boy, you do it.”
    Fitz backed up against the oddities booth and scowled as the boy tried to remember what he had done for the conjurer and how it might serve for the oddities. "Uhh,” he began, his voice cracking and creaking as it had begun to do of late. He cleared his throat and began again. "Here to me, here to me, see astounding spectacles and unusual chickens and a monster, a sea monster, and a strange creature who might, uhh...”
    Master Tidball groaned and muttered, "Useless, useless, useless,” wobbled to his feet, and limped off.
    "God's mercy, Hugh!” Will heard someone shout. "Look at that ugly boy.” The speaker, a young ruffian, was pointing at Fitz.
    "Nay, Alf,” said his companion, a spindly boy with a face speckled with scars, "'tis a dwarf, a black-hearted elf with mischief in his mind!” And both boys began to laugh.
    Will barked a laugh of his own—Fitz was a blackhearted elf indeed—and the boys turned to look at him. "This be a sight I ne'er thought to see,” Alf said, pointing at Will. "Another one! Two dwarfs, one uglier than the other!” Their laughter overtook them, and they stumbled about, pushing and shoving each other.
    Me, a dwarf!
Will stood as tall as he could, his face flaming. A rough, freckled hand came from behind him to rest gently on his shoulder. Samuel Knobby's voice said, "You, boys, do ye like riddles? For I have some fine new ones.”
    The boys stopped laughing and studied the gorbellied Samuel. "Hearken to me, Hugh,” said Alf, "I too have a riddle.” He gestured toward Samuel. "It is large and fleshy. Be it a man or a gourd?”
    "I believe 'tis a melon,” Hugh said, and, with a punch to Alf's arm, added, "Now, quiet. I wish to hear the riddles.”
    Samuel smiled, and Fitz moved closer. "Then tell me: If you bite me,” he said, "I bite back. What am I?”
    "A mad dog,” said Hugh, and Samuel shook his head.
    "A horse,” said Alf. Samuel shook his head again and slapped his leg in merriment.
    "A weasel?” Will guessed, his curiosity stronger than his anger.
    "Nay,” Samuel snorted through his laughter, "I know no one who would bite a weasel. 'Tis an onion,” he said. "Now, here is a riddle boys do like: What is it that rich men wrap up and keep in their pockets but beggars throw away?”
    The boys narrowed their eyes and chewed their lips in thought but had no guesses. Fitz was silent.
    "Think on it, boys. Make use of your heads.” No one answered. So, "'Tis the snot from their noses,” Samuel said. His listeners snickered and sneered, and Will wiped his nose on his sleeve.
    Duchess came then, snorting and grunting, from behind the oddities booth. "Ugly pig!” Alf cried, and "Stupid pig!” and Hugh repeated "Ugly stupid pig!” and threw a clod of mud at her.
    "Hold your tongues, churlish pups,” said Samuel Knobby. "Pigs be glorious creatures, smarter than people, more honest, more loyal, and a good deal more mannerly.”
    The boys laughed. "Nay, 'tis not true,” Alf said. "Pigs is stupid.”
    "'Tis true indeed. Why, I have riddles the Duchess can answer faster than you.”
    "Nay,” said Alf again.
    "Aye,” said Samuel. "Duchess, what is it that stands straight as a soldier and offers its head so we may eat?”
    Alf shrugged, Will frowned, Hugh scratched his head, and Fitz looked down at the ground, but none had an answer. Samuel poked the pig in her rear, whereupon she squeaked, "Whee.”
    "True, indeed,” said Samuel. "The answer