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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 wom-an's reaction to her size.
Shal had been painfully aware, when she first stood next to Tarl, of how tall
she had be-come, 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 wom-en'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 ar-mor. "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 a
mission to Sokol Keep. I should've suspected he'd never come back. He was too
adventurous for his own good...." Her voice trailed off, and Shal sensed that
the woman must have cared for the man.
"Are are you sure you want me to have these?" asked Shal.
"Sure I'm sure," she said softly. "Besides, customers your size are few and
far between." The woman saw Shal bite her lip and quickly blurted, "No offense
intended, miss. I'll need to alter this some before you wear it. I mean,
you're tall and all, but you've got a trim waistline, and there'll be ...
other adjustments to make. Isn't that right, young man?" she said, turning to
Tarl.
Tarl hadn't taken his eyes off Shal since she had re-moved the blanket. Now
his face burned red, and he
grinned sheepishly. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sure you'll need to make some
adjustments."
"Fine lotta help you are!" scolded the woman, and she shooed Tarl out into the
street, with an admonishment not to come back until she pulled the curtains
open again.
The leather tunic and leggings were the softest things Shal had ever felt
against her skin. She brushed one sleeve admiringly, and the seamstress cooed
proudly, "Genuine chimera leather. It don't come cheap, but it'll last you a
lifetime if you treat it right. Now, you stand still, and I'll mark the places
that need altering.
I'll be able to send you home with these tonight, if you've got eight silvers
and a couple of hours."
"I guess I have both and not much choice, regardless." Shal watched the woman
as she whisked about her. She was as slender as a praying mantis, and not a
muscle marred her silky skin. Just hours ago, my figure was like that, Shal
thought. Now I'm nothing but a giant, some kind of freak. I even tower over
Tarl, and he must be over six feet tall....
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"So, is that cleric your beau?" asked the seamstress nonchalantly,
interrupting Shal's thoughts.
"No. Uh ... he's a friend ... an acquaintance, really."
"His eyes weren't sayin' acquaintance, miss, if you don't mind my sayin' so."
"We just met. He ... he healed me. I'd injured my hands, and my clothes were
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