Death Comes To All (Book 1) (25 page)

"I'll
be with you in a moment," she said airily as they walked into
her store. Clothing of every style and color hung from racks all
along the walls and on circular stands throughout the shop.

His
mother had always tailored his clothing, as well as his father's, her
own, and occasionally even made clothes for neighbors who asked her
for them. They wouldn't have ever been able to afford to have their
clothes made for them.

Where
should I start?
he wondered idly while he waited.

He
couldn't tell which clothing rack held articles made for men and
which for women. There didn’t seem to be any sort of order to
the room at all. He stood in the doorway until the woman finished
carefully folding several light colored dresses that an older
gentleman was buying.

"I'm
sure your wife will love these dresses," he heard her assure the
man as she ushered him out. "If she needs any adjustments done
be sure to come back and I'll take care of them personally." She
turned to Roland and Malik as the man left. "Yes gentlemen, how
can I help you today? Perhaps a lovely dress for your wives, or a new
tunic for yourselves?"

"My
friend here is looking for a few sets of clothes for himself,"
Malik answered cheerfully. "We'll be going on a long trip, and
won't be near a tailor for some time. Perhaps a half dozen or so sets
for regular wear, and a set or two for formal occasions. Earth-tones
or black would be best I think. We'll be spending most of that time
outdoors, so blending in is generally best if we want to avoid
predatory animals or for when we are hunting ourselves. Do you have
anything that would fit him in stock? It has to be something that
will stand up to wear and tear."

"A
man who knows what he wants. I like that in a man, especially when
that man is a customer. I think I have a few things that would fit
him for daily wear, though I can only think of one good suit that
might fit him. I don't get many customers of his build, so my stock
in that size is limited. I think you're friend will like it. Most of
the suit is black, with a dark blue trim. I'll get it for you."

The
woman went straight to a rack with dozens of garments hanging from
it.

How
is she able to keep rack of where things are,
he
wondered in awe.

All the racks looked the same to Drom. There wasn't any
signs or pictures to mark off where things were kept.

She
must know where every piece of cloth in her store is by heart!
He
thought in wonder.

His
thoughts couldn’t have been far from the truth
, for in
only a few seconds she pulled a garment from the rack and brought it
over to them.

"There's
a small changing room over there where you can try it on," the
woman informed them, gesturing toward the back of the building.
"There's a small mirror inside so that you can see yourself."
She eyed Ocean's Hand critically. "I’m afraid you'll have
to leave your sword out here. You won't have enough room to take it
off inside."

He
did as she asked, handing the massive blade over to Malik. Even using
both arms to hold the blade it was still heavy to the smaller man,
who leaned it up against his side, the pummel on the ground. Roland
disappeared behind the curtain that covered the small doorway. The
room was tiny, barely large enough for him to carefully to take off
the travel-worn clothes he had worn during their journey here.

He
had never owned much clothing. He had never had need of more than a
two or three pairs of breeches and a few extra tunics. Now it seemed
that Malik planned on him having several different sets to choose
from.

It’s
no wonder, considering how often the man changes his identity,
Roland thought.

He
pulled the fine silk tunic over his head, and looked at himself in
the shiny steel mirror. The new suit was a shining, solid black, with
a deep, rich blue along the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves.

Well,
I do look good in it,
he decided, moving the mirror several times
and twisting this way and that so that he could see all of his
reflection.

Or
good for me at least.

He
wondered what the cost of the clothing might have been, hoping he had
enough left. He had spent another three gold pieces at the leather
shop, and two copper pieces at the bakery. That left him with plenty
of money, but certainly this rich cloth had to be expensive. Finally
satisfied that everything was in place he stepped back out into the
main shop.

"You
look wonderful," the shopkeeper stated gleefully.

She
would probably have said the same thing if it looked horrendous, as
long as she could get a sale,
he
suspected
. Of course, what else could she say when she’s
confronted by a mug like mine?

"It
doesn't appear to need any adjustments at all,” she continued,
oblivious to his thoughts. “I think that silk suits you quite
well."

"Is
it very expensive?" Roland asked tentatively. “I need to
get quite a few things today."

"Yes
it is," she replied sincerely. "I’m sure you'll find
that it's worth every copper. It's strong and durable, as well as
being fashionable. I took the liberty of getting together the other
clothes your friend had mentioned. They are a cheaper material and
won't look as good, but they are pretty durable as well. At your
friend's suggestion I went more for functionality than style, and
only picked out earth-tones. They will all fit you well, I'm sure."

"How
much money are we talking about?"

"Well,
what you're wearing alone will cost you fifteen silver pieces,"
the Fawnling said. Her eyes looked away for a moment, as if she was
looking inside her own head as she figured out the tally with the
other clothing she had picked out for him. "With everything
altogether, which is what you are wearing now and the six sets of
clothing I pulled out for you, the total would come to one gold and
three silver pieces. Since you are buying so much at once I can give
you a bit of a discount I suppose. I couldn't possibly take less than
one gold piece for everything. Do you think that would be within your
budget?"

Roland
nodded. In truth he had expected the price to be much higher, closer
to five or six gold pieces just for the fine tunic he wore alone. Of
course, he certainly wasn't going to tell
her
that. He still
needed to purchase supplies, he knew, and he wasn't sure when he
would get paid again. It would be best if he put some of his money
away in case he needed it sometime later.

"Here,
change into these for right now," Malik told him, handing him
the bundle that held the leather tunic and breeches he had purchased
in the previous shop. "Once we leave here we'll head back to the
inn to drop off your new clothes. There's one other stop we should
make along the way."

"What
should I do with my old clothes?" Roland asked.

"You
could always burn them," Malik suggested jokingly. "I’m
just kidding you. I would just stow them away in your bag for now.
Just don't store them with the new clothes you just bought. The
things you were wearing need to be cleaned a bit better than you did
the other day, and we don't want to ruin any of the things you just
bought before you get the chance to wear them."

Roland
went into the dressing room and changed into the leather suit as
Malik suggested. As outlandish as the thick, shiny leather was, he
wondered why his companion wanted him to wear it. He knew better than
to ask. Malik would not tell him anything more than he wanted to at
any given moment. He had not tried on the suit of leather yet. He had
just eyed the size, expecting it to be a little bigger than his
regular clothes, as he figured that the thick leather had less give
to it.

He
had certainly been right about how much give it had, and it was just
a little tighter than he had hoped it would be. The new leather
seemed stiff to Roland, who had only ever worn cloth on his body. He
assumed that the rigid leather would soften given enough time, just
as a new travel bag would. Had he worn armor before he would have
found the leather quite comfortable.

He
finished putting it on with only minor difficulty and looked at
himself in the mirror. The reflection that stared back at him through
the polished steel was someone he almost didn't recognize.

Not
even the new suit I was just wearing changed my looks this much this
much!

He
had lost quite a bit of weight during his month-long trek across the
peninsula. Like all sorvinians he had always been muscular, but now
the thick layer of fat he had once carried had turned to hard,
chiseled muscle as well. His slightly thinner frame however was only
a small change compared to the rest.

He
had seen his reflection in the lakes and ponds along the way, but the
rippling image in the water was not as clear as the polished metal he
looked into now. He had gotten somewhat used to the difference in his
face during their time traveling, but always before he had been
wearing either the Thane uniform or his own clothing. He looked
different, but he was always at least able to see himself hidden
within. Even with the fancy silk cloth that he had been wearing only
a moment before he could still see himself in it.

Now
his human-looking face, together with the outfit he was now wearing,
he could no longer recognize anything of the sorvinian farm boy he
had once been. The reflection staring back at him was someone who
appeared both powerful and frightening. He imagined how Ocean's Hand
would look on his back with everything else, and shivered
involuntarily.

No
wonder Malik suggested the outlandish clothing,
he
thought with a slight chuckle. No one was likely to question if he
was really the guard he pretended to be while he was wearing it.

"Impressive,"
Malik commented as he walked out, handing him Ocean's Hand. Roland
strapped the weapon onto his back as it had been before. Now that he
knew how it fit on his back it was much easier to put on than it had
been the first time he had put it on, only a little while earlier.

He
shouldered his new pack, now filled with the clothing he had bought
from the fawnling woman, and followed Malik back out into the
marketplace. Roland was so preoccupied with the stares he was getting
on the way back to the inn that he completely forgot that Malik had
mentioned that he had to make one other stop. His companion suddenly
turned into a shop with a sign that read Gordan's Alchemy and
Apothecary.

The
shop was not at all what Roland had expected an apothecary to look
like. Not in the slightest. He would have thought that it would have
simply been a room full of herbs and such, similar to what they had
picked in the forest a few days before, but the room before him was
completely different.

There
were herbs, to be sure. In fact there was an entire counter of them
along one wall, with six or seven rows that stood one above another
like a stairway. Each level of the shelving boasted multiple jars,
each carefully marked with the herb that it carried. Roland couldn't
read any of the labels in the dim light, but he knew that the
alchemist would have been able to. Those, however, were only a small
part of the shop's wares. Nearly every open space available in the
room was filled with some unknown powder or liquid.

Bottles
and beakers of different sizes and shapes sat along one wall. Roland
wasn't certain if they were for sale or simply for use by the small
man who sat behind a tiny pine desk, carefully mixing several
chemicals that crowded around him.

The
diminutive man held up one hand when they walked in, gesturing for
them to wait until he was finished with whatever he was working on.
Once his chemicals were mixed he said something under his breath, and
the mixture in the glass bottle in front of him glowed faintly from
the use of some magical art. Roland had only seen magic performed on
a few rare occasions in his life, but he didn't recognize the type of
magic that this man was using.

"Sorry
about that," the man said in a nasally voice. "The
properties of the bloodroot diminish quickly if I don't cast the
preservation spell right away. What can I help you gentlemen with
today?"

"My
friend and bodyguard here just recently met a new woman he would like
to impress," Malik stated, getting right to the point. "However,
he discovered that the girl prefers less hair on her men than what he
has. I thought perhaps you might have something that could remove
unwanted hair safely and easily."

And
here I was starting to think that the jokes from last night were done
and over with,
Roland groaned inwardly.

"Of
course. Nothing to worry about young man. I get this sort of request
more often than you might think," the small man replied sagely.
Roland realized suddenly that the man was not a human at all like he
had thought, but was in fact a brindle, a small, gnome-like race
known for their short lifespans and poor eyesight. They were one of
the few non-humans that could use magic, though only in small
amounts. The brindles were exceptional diggers, and generally lived
underground where their weak vision made little difference.