Shadow Road: Book 1 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy

42. Rikkafilla

11th of Nema, Continued

The gopher ground to a halt at the front gate of the Women's Dormitory, the idle engine puttering as Persha set the brake and released the tailgate. Around me, the girls who worked at the school rose from the bench seats and shuffled to the end of the cargo bin, lining up to descend the ladder.

Jinny grinned at me, then got to her feet. "C'mon. We have an hour, and I think I can find something less... robust and northern... for you to wear," she said.

I unhooked my aching fingernails from the seat beneath me and pushed my numb bones upright, hobbling after her as she climbed down to the street. Then I followed her through the main gates of the Dormitory.

The whole place was buzzing with activity. Girls and women of all ages were getting ready for the party, and again, I felt as if I had just stepped into a day at Kingsbridge Academy. There were stays and lightweight petticoats everywhere, talk and laughter and perfume in the air, flowers and ribbons and jewelry swapping hands.

Jinny's room was on the second floor, only a few doors down from mine. As soon as she came up the stairs, a girl popped out of an open doorway, her hair spilling down over her shoulders in a waterfall of gold. She trailed after us as Jinny unlocked her room, then flounced inside like she lived there.

"Did you see the new groundskeeper?"

"Indaria, this is Umelle," Jinny provided, putting her hat and bag on a faded armchair by the window.

Umelle didn't even look at me. "Hello. So did you see him?"

"Yes. He had to fix the window in my classroom. He seems like a decent, hard-working –"

Umelle let out a giddy squeal. "Did you see the size of his arms? Two of me! And his shoulders! And that backside..."

"Oh, don't get your dander fluffed, he's already taken," another girl said, coming to lean on the door jamb. This one was built tall and strong like most Ronyran women, with dark, wavy, close-cropped hair, and coppery skin. She was also wearing a grease-stained pair of men's denim covers over a man's work shirt with the sleeves cut clean off. She tilted her head, studying me, her almond-shaped amber eyes narrowing. "So. Who's the new rikkafilla?"

My jaw dropped. "I beg your -"

"This is Indaria," Jinny said again, opening her closet and pulling out a summer skirt in a pretty shade of light blue. She gave me an apologetic glance. "Around here being a rikkafilla just means you aren't a Shacklefoot... You really shouldn't call the new girls that, Grenna. You know what it actually means."

"Ah," I said, "What's a ­–"

"Shacklefoot?" Grenna grinned and came all the way in to flop onto Jinny's bed. "That's what we call the people what was bound slaves a'fore they got here. They all walk funny a'first 'cause they never knew a time when they could move one foot more than half-a stride from the other. Have to figure out they don't have to raise both hands at the same time to eat..." Grenna pantomimed eating with both hands. Then she held out her bare arms, palm up, showing a set of thick scars at her wrists, very similar to Ydara's. "Took me only two weeks to figure it out. Some it takes months. Ydara says I should wear them with pride, now. Like a badge of honor."

I didn't doubt that at all.

Jinny sized me up and brought a gathered cotton skirt out of her closet. "I'm a little taller than you, but this cinches in fairly well. Maybe if we use a bodice instead of a belt, we can raise it."

Umelle perked up. "Oooh! She needs clothes? I'll be right back!" she called, hurrying out.

"Aw, well, now you're done for," Grenna laughed, getting up. "Can I borrow that neck ribbon with the roses?"

"The red or the peach?"

I sat down on the bed, watching as Jinny brought out her ribbon ring and let Grenna pick one with an attached silk rose. Umelle arrived a few minutes later under a mound of colorful clothing, and in short order I found myself dressed in a rather youthful skirt of gauzy ruffles dotted with yellow flowers, a wide black belt, and a dainty white lace sleeveless blouse, with faux pearls at my ears and a black ribbon around my neck. I looked a bit like a doll, but Umelle was so excited, so I smiled when she asked if I liked it.

While Umelle put my hair up, several other girls stopped by to talk and swap things. Some of them had been on the gopher, some were friends of someone who was already there. A few were interested in the groundskeeper, and a few were more interested in the men from the Stryka. All of them laughed and gossiped, their bond evident, their manner easy. It would have been a scene straight out of Kingsbridge before the spring galla – if Mistress Floratina had allowed us to slouch or sit on the floor.

And still, that weird, hollowed-out feeling lurked in my middle, as if I had just gone over the top of a hill too fast in a horseless, and my stomach had yet to catch up with the rest of me.

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Rikkafilla: Tradeslang insult for a rich woman who has no cares beyond spending money on herself at the expense of a man - basically, it's the equivalent of calling someone a spoiled gold-digger.