Red Magic - Jean Rabe [70]
"Do Red Wizards ever shop here?" Galvin asked as the man ushered him back down the aisle.
"Sometimes," the man replied, muttering softly about the stupidity of slaves.
"Any zulkirs?"
"Why does a slave care where Red Wizards shop?"
"Just interested," Galvin replied glumly.
Replacing the tunic Galvin had selected, the man ignored the druid and thumbed through a stack, pulling out an olive-green shirt. He handed it to Galvin and strolled deeper into the store.
"Need some leggings?"
Galvin nodded. The druid realized there were enough articles in this store to clothe an entire village.
"What color?"
The druid flushed. "Umm, green. Or brown. It really doesn't matter."
The bald man shook his head and pulled a tan pair of breeches from another stack. Holding them in front of the druid, he smiled, pleased he had guessed the size correctly.
"And a cloak. Green or gray, I suppose," Galvin added, remembering the green ones he had spotted when he came in. "I guess the color isn't important."
The proprietor shuffled to the racks and scanned the garments. Galvin watched the proprietor pull out a plain gray cloak the color of hearth ashes. Satisfied, the man returned to the counter and began scratching on a sheet of curled parchment, figuring out the cost.
Galvin shifted back and forth on his feet. "I should have another set," he decided. "Just in case."
"In case of what?" the proprietor quipped.
In case I'm stuck in Amruthar for awhile, Galvin thought. But he kept the thought to himself.
"All right," the man sighed, dropping the parchment with a flourish and escorting Galvin down another aisle of clothes.
The druid emerged from the shop wearing his second purchase, consisting of light brown pants with a voluminous-sleeved ivory shirt over the top and a cloak. The cloak was rather elaborate-green trimmed with a lighter green embroidery. Its suede collar was dyed green and pinned together by a simple iron clasp in the shape of an owl's head. Galvin actually liked the outfit, even though the two changes of clothes had cost him all of his coins. He suspected that the proprietor had charged him too much, but he knew better than to argue.
He waited outside the women's shop for several minutes, catching admiring glances from several Thayvian women who passed by and feeling increasingly ill at ease. One woman stopped to demand directions. She had a pleasant voice and obviously seemed to know where she was going, but Galvin avoided her attempt at conversation and began pacing nervously in front of the shop window. Eventually Brenna came out in a midnight blue dress trimmed with light blue lace that fit her tightly from neck to hips, then flared out to hang a few inches above the ground. Like Galvin, she carried a package under her arm. The druid eyed the bundle and guessed there were two or three dresses in it.
"Nice," she said, giving Galvin the once-over. "Good taste. Find out anything while you were in there?"
The druid shook his head.
"Well, I found out that Maligor has an army in the woods. A bunch of gnolls." Brenna seemed pleased with herself and noted Galvin's surprised expression. "Women gossip," she explained. "But the women in the shop didn't know what the army's for."
Smugly nodding across the street, the sorceress added, "Want a bath?" Just then the bald shopkeeper closed and locked the door of the men's store behind them and put up a "closed" sign. The shops were starting to shut down for the day, and that meant they would have to meet Wynter soon.
They scampered across the street, sidestepping the patrons emerging from the bathhouse cleaned and perfumed. The bathhouse windows were fogged, and the scent of soap greeted them as they hurried inside.
After Brenna vouched for the behavior of her slave, they were led into a large room. Steam drifted upward from a dozen large, waist-high wooden tubs, two of which