Chapter 2:

Coins clinked into the hat Esmeralda had set in front of herself in her beggar disguise, and she looked up in spite of Djali's head in the way. This was the captain who had defended her from the guards…

Did he know it was her? No, he couldn't know that… It was best to get out of sight as soon as possible, so Esmeralda dropped out of the disguise, and let Djali trot along behind her while she wrapped the coins in the cape she'd worn and made it into a bundle to carry under her arm.

She spared a coin for other beggars she passed along the way, but her stomach was stirring at the thought of the food she could afford with all this money. Soon she reached the bakery, and the baker peered at her in surprise, and even a little suspicion. She couldn't fault him for that, so she just held up two of her coins. She had to remember to keep as much as she could for as long as possible.

"What can I get for this much?" she asked him.

One of the baker's brows rose and he quickly snatched the coins out of her hand before she had the chance to rip him off. Fair enough… right?

For her money she got a semi-burnt loaf of meslin, the common bread mixed of wheat and rye, and even a few acorns.

"Now go about your business before my other customers notice you're here," he urged.

Djali could sense the tension between her mistress and the baker, so she lowered her horns at the baker in a warning.

"No, Djali, we're not going to get in another fight, today," Esmeralda snapped her fingers and led the goat out of the bakery with her prize.

Even discount bread was better than no bread, and it meant she hadn't needed to waste any more of her money than absolutely necessary.

On her way back to the Court of Miracles, she caught sight of the scaffolding and platforms which were being set up in the square. Some vendors had already set up places and were serving festival food to early arrivals.

She was almost out of time to practice! She moved a little more quickly through the city to the Court of Miracles, and took the side path reserved for those who knew their way, rather than through the river of sewage and the corpse-laden hall.

There was Clopin Troillefou, the self-proclaimed King of the Gypsies, and her semi-adoptive-pseudo-father. The rules of that self-proclaimed title were never quite as well-defined.

"There you are!" he cried. "Where have you been? I sent three people out there with you, and they returned without you!" he pointed to where the musicians and the scout she'd been dancing with earlier that day were trapped in Clopin's makeshift stocks, complete with some of his worn-out jester hats.

"That's not fair to them," Esmeralda sighed, and divided up the rest of the money between the four of them. "I stayed behind so I could distract the soldiers without getting us all thrown into the Palace of Justice."

Clopin frowned and rolled his eyes. "And to think that was fun for a little while," he snorted.

"Don't worry, we'll have plenty more fun when we've got the show going, and you, o 'King of the Gypsies' will have more fun than anyone else, now won't you?"

Clopin rolled his eyes at the affected title and smirked. "Are you sure you want to wear that dress, Cherie? I've told you over and over—"

"It's the Feast of Fools," Esmeralda reiterated. "That means that luck is flipped around, so red is a good luck color… besides, when else will I get to wear that dress?"

"After you're married," Clopin muttered, though with how territorial he was over his foster-daughter that was hardly likely to happen any time soon, and he knew it.

"Well, until then, I'll be taking advantage of the topsy turvy day to wear the pretty dress. Now! My routine: I want to go over it one more time."

Clopin rolled his eyes. "You've already got it down to perfection, what more do you need?"

"I want to make sure the timing is absolutely down," she said, and pointed accusingly at him. "You haven't let me practice the timing as much as I've wanted!"

Clopin gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. "I am a busy man!" he protested. "Come! I will practice one last time with you, but then we shall all have to get to the actual festival!"

They assembled in their spots, with Clopin standing on the trap door he occasionally utilized for hanging spies. Esmeralda was below it, with two other performers, each poised for their roles in switching Clopin and Esmeralda's places on the stage.

As they would when they were at the Festival, one of them held Esmeralda on his shoulders, waiting as Clopin recited her introduction, pausing on the final note of her name as she reached up and slowly opened the trap door just before he dropped a smoke bomb and dropped down in a spray of pink powder.

The man who was supporting Esmeralda threw her upward through the trap door and closed it behind her, and as the smoke cleared, she struck her pose.

There was no music to accompany her, but nonetheless she began to dance through the routine she had painstakingly prepared, with all the best moves she'd ever been taught rolled in.

She envisioned what would happen when she acknowledged Frollo sitting in one end of the stage. It was all but obligatory to acknowledge him, since even on a day like this they had to acknowledge that he was the one person who refused to put aside his authority to play along.

If only she could stand up to him, when everyone was watching, and then perhaps someone would realize he was not all-powerful…

Well… it was the Feast of Fools, after all.

Nothing could possibly go wrong.