Much Ado About Bluebottles

Part Two

"Plants!" LiLi scoffed for the twentieth time. "He's selling plants, here!" She nibbled on her bit of roast fungus and clucked furiously.

            "They're cut off from the nodes, LiLi," Tr'lia said with more calm than she felt. "They're probably harmless. Otherwise, they wouldn't have let him bring them in." She took a bite of her own 'shroom. "These are good."

            They'd bought the fungi from the booth next door after laying out all their crafts. The smell of mushrooms roasting had been too much for either girl to resist. Now both sat clutching the rickety perch over their stall, watching with awe as the number of booths spread across the plain continued to grow. 

            "We'll never have time to see it all," Tr'lia commented.

            "We will if we sell out fast." LiLi still insisted that they’d make sales early. It would be nice, to sell enough that they could enjoy the festival in style, but Tr'lia couldn’t see it happening today.

            "They're just looking today." She motioned to yet another group of passing shadows. "They want to see everything before they buy."

            LiLi clucked to herself, resenting Tr'lia's logic. She turned her head toward the distant camps and managed to remain silent for about thirty seconds.

            "Look!" she shouted, hopping up and nearly tumbling Tr'lia from the perch.  "They're practicing for the games!" In the distance, the formations could be seen flying their maneuvers against the orange-pink sky. They swooped and dove as one, nearly touching, then scattering into some other pattern.

            "They'll save the really fancy stuff for the contests." 

            "I know that." LiLi didn't turn away from the horizon and the shapes flying there.

            Tr'lia checked below them again, eying the lines of feathered bags and sashes critically. The rows were straight, and the feathers shone beautifully in the sun. Still, she couldn't resist the impulse to hop down into the booth, to tidy up the lines just a touch.

            She was smoothing out the feathers on her favorite bag--made from cast-offs she'd traded from the healer's wife--when LiLi settled in a puff beside her.

            "Don't look now," LiLi whispered.

            "Where? What?"

            "Don't look over there." LiLi had her head lowered. She nodded across the market aisle, toward the pet booth. "They're watching you."

            "Who?" Tr'lia looked despite the warning.

            "I said don't look!"

            Two young cocks leaned against the counter where the rows of cages sat. They were slim and tall and wore vests of woven grasses over their arching breasts. Both had feathers of slick black with white stripes along their wing edges, but the taller of the two had a brilliant green head topped with a slim, pointed crest. It curled backwards over his shoulders. They both stared in Tr'lia's direction.

            "Who are they?" Tr'lia dropped her gaze and played at inspecting the bag again.

            "They're milkers!" LiLi clicked her beak disapprovingly. "Look at their vests."

            "You said don't look." But Tr'lia could see LiLi sneaking peeks in the men's direction and couldn't resist another look.

            Plant milkers. The thought caused her scaled knees to tremble. You had to be crazy or suicidal to be a milker. She cast another quick glance in their direction. They were young; maybe they just wanted to look like milkers. She imagined it would seem daring to brave the forests. And the milkers did supply the flocks with chemicals for the healers' medicines. She shook her head. They were too young--too young to wrangle plants.