Free Nightshade City by Hilary Wagner Page A

been sent by Billycan to help spruce you up for the Grand Speech! Now, please, dear, let me in. I have my duties to attend to. I’m sorry to call at this hour, but as you know, the Ministry waits for no one when there is work to be done!”
    Clover knew she could not refuse a member of the High Ministry, and Mother Gallo seemed pleasant enough. She opened the door, quickly jumping out of Mother Gallo’s way as the plump Mistress of the Robes swooped in like a drunken pigeon, pushing an overloaded wheelbarrow, which she clumsily banged into the wall, rattling its contents. It was filled with ornaments and trinkets, a tangled mess of ribbons, piles of fabric, glass bottles filled with colored liquids, and a long, skinny mirror, which teetered precariously over the edge of thebarrow. She plopped the rickety cart down and pulled out the mirror, leaning it against the wall. Rummaging feverishly through her supplies and mumbling to herself throughout the process, she eventually fished out a frayed measuring tape from somewhere near the bottom.
    Mother Gallo had a welcoming disposition that suited her ample proportions. Her fur was a soft ash gray, and there was a bold flicker in her eyes. Around her full waist, she wore a sash of royal blue, stuck with pins, scissors, and other tools of her trade.
    “All right, then, dear, let’s have a look at you, shall we?” Firmly grabbing Clover by her shoulders, she positioned her in front of the looking glass. She looked Clover up and down in the reflection, finally focusing on her face. “Well, my, my, you are a pretty little thing. No wonder why Killdeer is so taken with you. What a wonderful canvas I have to work with. You are as lovely as a budding flower, my dear. Now, let’s see if we can put you into full bloom.” She began measuring Clover from head to toe.
    As Mother Gallo measured, Clover thought she’d try to find out what the High Mistress knew. “If you don’t mind me asking, High Mistress, do you know why the High Minister would like me to stand with him during the Grand Speech?”
    “First things first,” said the seamstress. “Please don’t bother to call me High Mistress. I think the title snooty and ridiculous.” She twirled the tape measure around Clover’s waist. “Frankly, I prefer Mother Gallo. I have little ones of my own, not to mention no less than thirty-three godchildren spread throughout the Combs. I think I’ve earned that title much better than Mistress of the Robes, don’t you? For goodness’ sake, I merely have a knack for sewing and color, nothing more, nothing less.” She continued to measure Clover, wrapping the tape around her shoulders.
    “Now for your question, my dear, why would the High Ministerwant you to stand next to him during his Grand Speech?” Mother Gallo twisted and turned around Clover, assessing every inch of her. “Well, I think that answer should be obvious to everyone—everyone but you, it seems. Why, you’re stunning, my dear, plain and simple. You don’t seem the type to put on airs, and from what I hear from talk around the Ministry, you’re sharp-minded to boot. The real question should be why the Minister wouldn’t want you to stand next to him?” She patted Clover on the back reassuringly and flashed a quick smile at her in the mirror.
    Mother Gallo, surprisingly agile for her size, hopped over to the barrow and took out a wide ribbon the color of raspberries. She layered it around Clover’s waist and pulled one end up over her shoulder to form a lovely satin sash. Grabbing a needle and thread, Mother Gallo swiftly sewed portions of the ribbon together, hiding her handiwork with a perfectly sized bow and draping the two ends of the ribbon down the center of Clover’s slender back.
    Mother Gallo looked at Clover contentedly, quite pleased with the result. “Well, now, that’s just lovely, I would say; near perfect, I think. What do you think, my dear?”
    Clover regarded herself in the mirror.