A chimneysweep out late at night sees the darndest thing: a carriage racing away from the palace as it turns into a pumpkin. Even stranger, a crystalline slipper falls from the fleeing vehicle, one that fits the chimneysweep perfectly. And then, word spreads through the city that the prince is looking for the lovely lady who wore a glass slipper to his ball. -- Deathshead419
Just like trusting government systems based on waterlogged women handing out swords, one should not chose eligible mates based on their shoe size. So many things can go very wrong with the sort of thing that only happens in children's stories. That, and Faerie goodmothers have a warped sense of humour.
What do I know about anything? I'm just a Sweep.
My usual circle of allies is other sweeps and the occasional footpad taking the Rogue's Highway away or towards trouble. You'd be surprised how polite the thieves of the city are. They always do their best to avoid stumbling over others plying their trade. Their reflexes are quicker than mine, and I'm small enough for most of them to just jump over.
Smallfolk do really well in the chimney-sweeping business.
I was just finished with a job and enjoying the view at the top of the world when it happened. Some kerfuffle at the palace ended with a carriage with four in hand barrelling away from it. I was up high enough to see most of it. Well. Most of the weird bit.
The carriage shrank around its occupant and burst into a thousand pieces of pumkin. The lady inside was in rags. The horses turned into rats and the coachman became a tired old nag. This did nothing to stop the woman, who hopped up on the horse and rode off on it bareback.
Leaving behind something sparkling in the gutter.
The prince and half his honour guard came thundering along the same street, and turned the wrong way in pursuit.
I slid down a drainpipe to see what the heck was glittering down there. It was a shoe made of glass. The kind of impractical thing the nobles would wear because they could show off by wearing it. The kind of thing that would be almost crippling to wear all the time.
How a woman in rags got her hands on that sort of thing had to mean that she was in legal trouble. Hells, I was in legal trouble for picking it up. Good thing the palace forces were distracted and I was able to get back to my little place. With a hot expensive item that I had no idea what to do with the bloody thing.
It was crystal. Trying to break it would likely end up being lethal or worse. Everyone knew that Nobles cursed the belongings they thought were important, and those curses inevitably attacked thieves. So I hid it and prayed for guidance,
Two weeks later, I found out the Prince had the other one and was looking for the maiden who fit the shoe. He had a plan to marry her, according to the criers and the posters put up everywhere.
Sure. Right. He had plans to lop off her head, belike.
At the risk to my own health and safety, I tried on the spare. It fit like a glove. And it failed to summon a curse or a host of angry noble's guards.
The Prince wanted maidens who fit the shoe. I was a maiden who fit the shoe. There had to be at least a half-dozen others. Including that woman in rags who ran home with pumpkin seeds between her toes.
I went to the palace the unconventional way. Watching the proceedings like a thief might, in the rafters, in the shadows. Making sure nothing bad happened to the maidens who fit.
They were safe. His highness was not only looking to help the lady, but was also regrettably face-blind. So I found her in the queue, in a slightly better dress, and looking very worried. I put the thing into her hand. "You dropped this on the way out," I whispered. "It's going to help."
Now all they need to worry about is that pesky firstborn child thing.
[Photo by Bruno Kelzer on Unsplash]
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