The mad sorcerer attempted to enter a modest store, already occupied by a pair of drably attired shoppers, but—remembering how easily he’d paid off the chancellor—I tugged at his arm, leading him across the street to a more elegant establishment. Merulo shouted a dark cloud of oaths as a carriage nearly trampled us and I yanked him hard out of the way, directing him around traffic to our destination.
“Stop. Pulling. Me,” Merulo said in my ear, the clip of his words implying an ‘or else.’
I kept a firm hold on his arm. “Stop standing in front of unicorns.”
A shop assistant opened the door for us, releasing a billow of perfume-drenched air. Our eyes hardly needed to adjust as the expansive windows let in a fall of natural light. Soft, sweet fabrics hung about the shop like fruits to be plucked. In the center stood a carved mannequin, eerily reminiscent of the sorcerer’s constructs, clothed in a waterfall of rippling peach satin with sleeves puffed like wasp hives. I let the longing show on my face.
“Welcome, sir, madam. How can I be of assistance?” A plump woman in a dress that fit her like the rind of a lemon stood waiting with a smile.
“Mysister,” said the sorcerer, “needs attire in which shecan kneel on the ground for hours brushing dust and mold. Something that does not foul easily. And I don’t want to spend much money.”
I let out a small noise of pain.
The seamstress sucked her teeth, passing me a look of sympathy. “We do have items at the lower end of the price range, and fabrics that are easier to wash. Mind, a beauty like you could make a burlap sack look like a queen’s gown.”
“Oh, do you think so?” I clasped a hand to my chest, trying not to let the sorcerer’s sigh ruin the moment. “Thank you so much.”
The first outfit she brought me to try—which I maneuvered my way into behind a changing curtain with some puzzling and problem-solving—fit well: a modest corset that gave my breasts the support they so desperately needed, over a tied bodice and a soft linen dress that gathered at my waist then flared to my feet.
The illusion left the corpse clothes as I peeled them off my body; with a touch of panic, I realized I had nothing to change back into. “We’ll take this one,” I said, sweeping back the curtain theatrically. The woman cooed, complimenting my figure, before drawing closer to discreetly correct my assemblage. She adjusted the lacing, pulling it tighter than I had dared, then plucked at my sleeves, straightening them.
“Do you, er, also have shoes?” I asked. “And stockings?”
She beamed and fetched a measuring device to fit to my outstretched foot, then bustled off to retrieve her wares. While her back was turned, I gave a saucy spin for the sorcerer. “You’re the one buying. What do you think?”
“I think someone’s enjoying himself far too much,” hegrumbled. Then: “The cleavage is a bit much. You’ll be cleaning in this, remember.”
The seamstress overheard. “It’s modern,” she protested, returning with the requested goods. “With a body like hers, why keep her covered like a grandmother?”
I retreated behind the curtain to pull up the stockings. The shoes fit a bit snugly, but I liked the added inch of height; it helped return my eye-level to what it once was.
Pushing through the curtain again, I did a little clicking dance in the shoes, to the clapping delight of my new best friend the seamstress. “I’ll be wearing these out,” I said, and her painted lips pulled wide in a smile.
The price for it all seemed reasonable to me, though the sorcerer blanched and shot me a harsh look upon its revelation.
I left the perfumed establishment in high spirits, clicking my heeled shoes and playing with the linen of my skirt. Even the sorcerer, who carried my old corpse clothing draped over an arm, seemed a touch less full of rage than usual. Perhaps he was affected by the unchoked afternoon sun. He must be soaking it in like a starved plant, I thought, eyeing his exposed skin for any hint of an emerging burn.
“How shall we spend the day?” I moved to take his arm again, but the sorcerer dodged me. “I’m of the appetite for scones and a little hydration.”
“Youwill be going back to the castle.Iwill be completing the errands typical for a town trip with the assistance of William. Don’t protest, you draw far too much attention, and I would like to return here safely in the future.”
William materialized from the crowded street, an unremarkable man aside from his inflexible gait and the curiouslack of focus in his eyes. I reached out to brush his arm as he came to a halt. Instead of a sleeve, my fingers touched wood.
“Don’t fiddle with him,” the sorcerer scolded. He handed over the corpse clothing, which William received stiffly.
“I’m not! And anyway, if you won’t let me help with chores, can’t I wander around a bit? It’s so wasteful to do multiple transport spells, and I’ll be on my best behaviour.” I twirled my skirt hopefully.
The sorcerer sniffed. “Your enemies include all of humanity, at least one elf, and possibly the bird kingdom, depending on how you spent your days as a vulture. And you want towander around.”
“I’ll be perfectly safe by myself. I’m in disguise, in peak physical condition, and, I mean don’t let this put you off,” I lowered my voice conspiratorially, “but I happen to be something of a master manipulator.”
The sorcerer gaped at me, then shook his head. Without further argument, and in synchronization with William, he strode off. “Be back in this location by sundown,” he called over his shoulder.
My happiness faded as I realized the sorcerer had left me without any spending money. He’d abandoned me amid bakers and vendors, the scent of sugar and salt thick in the air, without any means of enjoying their wares. Was this deliberate torture? How was I supposed to grab myself a little treat?
The answer soon presented itself: feminine wiles. Among knights, it was common to use town leave for flirting with the locals, brandishing coin to procure squeals of admiration (among other things). I’d never taken part, preferring to spend my coin on myself, but maybe now I could engage from theother side. It couldn’t be too hard to charm a knight into buying me some pretzels, and a splash of ale to wash it all down.
All that remained was to find a victim.
