DISCLAIMER: I do not claim these characters or these locations. They are copyrighted by Tamora Pierce and Scholastic Books.
DISCLAIMER II: If you are a die-hard fan, you may find these portrayals slightly (or more that slightly) skewed. You've been warned.
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The Anklet
Lady Sandrilene fa Toren skipped into the Breakfast Room, the tiny bells on her new anklet ringing merrily.
"Good morning" her uncle, the duke of Emelan, began, but stopped with a frown. "What is that chiming?" He inquired. "I do not observe any jewelry on your person, my dear."
Sandry smiled and lifted her skirts a few inches to display her foot and ankle. The duke averted his eyes. "Sandrilene." He gasped, scandalized, "do not expose yourself in public!"
Sandry rolled her eyes. "Look at my ankle, Uncle," she requested.
"It is indecent," the duke said firmly, still looking away from her. "Drop your skirts immediately."
His niece sighed. She knelt down and unfastened the anklet. "Here," she offered, holding it out to him, "this is what was making the sound."
The duke examined the object carefully. "This has the appearance of a bracelet," he announced at last, "yet you were not so adorned when you entered, Sandrilene."
"It's not a bracelet," Sandry explained. "It's an anklet."
"A what?" There was a tone in Duke Vedris's voice that implied he knew he would not like the explanation that he was about to hear.
"An anklet," Sandry repeated. "You wear them around your ankle, like a bracelet around your wrist."
"On the contrary, my dear," the duke corrected icily, "it is you who indulge in this lewd fashion."
"It's not lewd," she protested indignantly.
"Do not argue with me, Sandrilene."
"But you're being unreasonable, Uncle," she complained.
"Is it unreasonable to ask that my niece maintain a modicum of decency?" He demanded.
"Lots of perfectly respectable people wear anklets," Sandry said.
"Indeed?" The sarcasm in the duke's voice was almost unbearable. "Who might these perfectly respectable people' be?"
"Yazmin Hebet, for one," she answered pertly.
The duke opened his mouth as if about to speak, then closed it. A moment passed. "Mistress Hebet," he began again, "while a good and honest woman, is a dancer, Sandrilene."
"So?"
"Her estate is not one entirely reputable" Duke Vedris informed her sharply.
"Lark," Sandry tried. "I'm sure that she wore them when she was a tumbler. You can't say that that she, a dedicate, isn't respectable."
"Ah," the duke said, raising a finger, "you say that Lark wore an anklet. You utilize the past tense, indicating that such is no longer the case. Tell me, Sandrilene," he catechized, "does Lark adorn herself still in such a manner?" Sandry was silent. Vedris continued. "I understand your silence to indicate a negative. Sandrilene, you are neither dancer nor acrobat. It is most unseemly that you adorn yourself after their fashion."
"Why?" Sandry asked. "They're performers, who make an honest living. It's not as if they're prostitutes."
The duke winced. "A girl your age should not know of such things," he muttered under his breath. His niece rolled her eyes. "Do not treat my concern for you with contempt, Sandrilene," she was warned.
"Yes, Uncle." The duke chose to ignore the slight sarcasm in her voice. "They aren't a burden on anyone," Sandry continued. "They earn their own way just the way anyone would. What do you have against them?"
"I bear them no enmity," the duke explained, "but I do not think it meet that a young noblewoman should emulate their dress and manner."
"Why not?"
"I will not brook disobedience in this, Sandrilene." The duke admonished. His face was beginning to redden.
"Why not?" Sandry repeated.
"Because I will not have my niece running about with the appearance of a dancing girl from Karang!" The duke roared, pounding the arm of his chair with his fist.
"But that's the whole point of it, Uncle!" Sandry yelled back.
"The WHAT?"
"You don't understand, Uncle," Sandry explained, "it's the point of the fashion. We're showing that we're independent and free with ourselves, like dancers." As soon as she said the last, she immediately regretted it. "I didn't mean-" she began.
"Free with yourselves?" His deep voice boomed with anger. "Have you been compromising your virtue, Sandrilene?"
"No, that's not what I meant," Sandry protested.
"What did you mean?" The duke was calmer, but the dangerous note in his voice seemed to indicate that this was not necessarily a good thing.
"I meant that when I, and everyone else, dresses the way we do now, that we are showing that we don't need to hide behind old-fashioned gowns and styles in order to be who we are." Sandry said carefully.
"And thatthing?" He gestured at the anklet.
"It's just, it's just" Sandry was a loss for words. "It's just another piece of jewelry," she informed him. "It doesn't mean anything."
"It means nothing but that you are associating yourself with a class of women with which you ought to keep a distance." The duke corrected.
"I still don't see why you care so much about me not being around them," Sandry complained.
"I do not forbid you from consorting with them," he clarified. "Indeed, it is wise that one be acquainted with all manners of people. But you must retain your rank and must not make yourself alike to one of them. Do you understand?"
"I understand your point," Sandry said slowly. "I understand what you're saying."
"I see that you prevaricate, Sandrilene." The duke chastised. "It is a practice which I detest. Answer me undeceivingly: do you understand and obey me?"
"No."
"No?" The duke stared at her in disbelief. "Can I make my will clearer to you?"
"Your will is very clear," Sandry replied, "but I'm still wearing my anklet." She bent down and refastened it, as if to make her stand more definite.
"You will follow your licentious fashion in rank insubordination to my express directive?" He asked.
"It's not licentious," was her only response
"Most certainly it is," the duke told his niece. "You flaunt parts of your body that should remain hidden." Sandry raised her eyebrows expressively. "Now heed me, Sandrilene," he commanded. "You will no longer indulge in this harlotry. Give me thatthing."
"What thing?" Sandry asked innocently.
The duke turned his awful frown onto his niece.
"Oh all right," Sandry acquiesced, trying to appear nonchalant. She unfastened her anklet again and handed it over.
Vedris dropped ornament on the ground stepped on it. Then he turned, and strode out of the room.
Sandry picked up her anklet. The heel of the duke's boot at flattened the bells into little disks. The chain was a little bent as well, but it was otherwise undamaged. She re-tied it around her ankle, only blinking back a few tears. She walked back to her room, followed by the sound of not ringing bells, but the clinking of coins.