Soldier’s Boy was undazzled by any of it. “I came too far!” he muttered to himself, and then turned round. Behind us, on a gentle rise beyond the shale beach, was a market town such as I had never seen. I’d expected that the Trading Place would be some sort of crossroads or temporary encampment of several tribes of people. Instead, I looked on a gathering of folk that was easily the equal of the Dark Evening carnival in Old Thares. All sorts of structures—some tentlike, some built of stone, and others hastily constructed of driftwood—formed a long line that paralleled the beachfront. People in all manner of dress and undress wandered the market contentedly. Smoke rose from cooking fires, and despite the sound of the surf at my back, I heard sheep bleating, musical instruments playing, and above it all, the clattering of a thousand tongues. I stared, as astonished by this sight as I had been by the ocean. If this was the ebb of the trading time, what had it been at its fullness?
Beside Soldier’s Boy, Likari put his hands over the top of his head. He crouched down, squinting his eyes. “Too much sun, too much sun!” he wailed.
In the same moment, Soldier’s Boy became aware of an itching, burning sensation on his shoulders and the top of his head. Stooping, he seized Likari’s hand. Before the boy could even stand, he was dragged back what seemed like two steps. When next my eyes focused, we were standing in the shelter of an evergreen forest. Peering through the trees, I could see the Trading Place. A long gentle slope of open land led down to it. All around us were the remains of temporary shelters and old campfires. I knew without even thinking about it that this was the area where the Specks customarily camped when they came to trade. It was deserted. The ashes in the fire pits had been rained on. “There you are!” Olikea’s voice came from behind him. Soldier’s Boy turned around. Behind him was a temporary shelter of woven screens. Olikea emerged from the doorway, looking annoyed with him. Despite her grim expression, I felt his mouth go slack at the sight of her. Never had I seen her arrayed as she was now.
She had dressed herself against the chill wind. I had seen her naked a thousand times; why did covering her body suddenly make her so alluring? Why did it suddenly awaken my own awareness that I was all but naked? She wore what would have been a simple dress on a Gernian woman. It was blue and came down to her ankles. She had paired it with a red apron with white ruffles and embroidered cherries on it. The long sleeves of her dress were full, and the lace cuffs drooped around her hands. On her head, she wore a yellow bonnet elaborately decorated with lace, ribbons, and feathers. Her long hair spilled from under it and poured down her back and around her shoulders. A red silk scarf was loosely wrapped around her throat. As I stared at her, she took little black fingerless mitts from an embroidered green silk bag and drew them onto her hands. “I have been waiting here for you since last night.”
On a Gernian woman, the mixed bits of wardrobe would have been laughable. On this wild Speck woman, they seemed an elaborate costume worthy of a barbarian queen. Necklace upon necklace of glass and ceramic beads circled her neck. Her left arm was heavy with bracelets of beads and bangles of silver and copper from her wrist to her elbow. Her face was painted with cosmetics in an elaborate parody of a Gernian woman.