Pool of Radiance - James M. Ward [28]
As Tarl stood appraising Shal, she was doing likewise. The young cleric's white hair did not match his youthful face. His steel-gray eyes were wise, and yet innocent at the same time. She had no real reason to trust him. She knew only what he had told her-that he was a warrior cleric of Tyr-but she had felt a strange bond from the minute he took her hands in his and healed her. She recalled, too, that Ranthor had always spoken highly of Tyrian clerics. He'd referred to them as "just" and "men you can trust at your back," words he didn't use lightly.
"Uh, Tarl," Shal began awkwardly. "Do you know this town? Is there some place I could go to purchase some new leathers?"
"Of course… forgive me." He looked tentatively at the horse. "Can we both ride that animal? I mean, I assume you do, but will he let me ride, too?"
"What do you say, Cerulean?" asked Shal, reaching for the saddle.
If I have my say, I'd say either one of you is quite heavy enough.
Shal hadn't really expected an answer, and as before, the horse's mental communication took her by surprise. She was by no means used to the idea of the familiar sending messages directly to her brain.
"So what do you want me to do-ride while he walks?" she answered in annoyance.
Tarl looked at her quizzically. "What did you say?"
"Nothing. I was just answe-uh, talking to the horse." She might have to explain about Cerulean to him sometime, she thought, but not now. She let Tarl cinch the saddle and help her up into it, then reached down and gave him a hand.
Oof! Double oats tonight, Mistress, especially after you made me do all that running for nothing.
Shal attempted a mental Shut up, but she could only guess that Cerulean had "heard" her when he snorted and bolted into a trot before he had even gotten off the docks and onto shore.
"Whoa, Cerulean! We'll hold it to a walk for now," Shal directed.
The horse obliged, but Shal couldn't help but wonder if he was intentionally adding an extra jar to his previously smooth gait.
Tarl had only been in the city of Phlan for two days himself, but the brothers from the temple had been free with advice about the merchants in town, and he had done some exploring himself as he tried to learn more about the beasts and undead creatures living outside the walls of Civilized Phlan.
He directed Shal to a seamstress, a pleasant woman who had mended Tarl's robes for him just the day before. When Shal let the blanket drop from her shoulders, the seamstress had to fight to keep from gawking. She couldn't recall another woman she'd ever done a fitting for with a physique like Shal's, and she certainly couldn't remember anyone with such ridiculously fitted clothes. "Wha-what can I do for ya?" she finally spluttered.
Shal winced as she saw what she took to be the woman's reaction to her size. Shal had been painfully aware, when she first stood next to Tarl, of how tall she had become, but his stares had seemed to be warm, even vaguely admiring. This woman was looking at her as if she were a freak. Shal almost wanted to break down and cry again, but she fought to keep her voice firm. "I need some clothes for the night-anything will do-and I'd like to pick up a full set of tailored leathers just as soon as you can have them ready."
The woman looked at the rack of clothing behind her and shook her head slowly. There wasn't a stitch of women's clothing in her shop that would fit the woman standing in front of her. But then she had a sudden thought and went quickly to the back room. In a few moments she returned with a full set of leathers and leather armor. "I can't fit you up very pretty, miss, but I do have this." she said, holding out the outfit at arm's length. "It was made for a man-a good-sized man. He was going to pay me for it when he finished