was. The fellow might note what he said and might remember it after leaving.
For now, the Algarvian just stood there, swaying gently. “Unkerlant,” he said again, his voice a mournful bleat. “What did I do to deserve being sent to Unkerlant?”
“I couldn’t say, sir,” Traku replied. “I’ll have your cloak ready day after tomorrow. Thick wool, light-colored. A very good day to you.”
He was, Talsu realized, trying to get the officer out of the shop. Rather to Talsu’s surprise, the Algarvian took the hint, too. He lurched back out onto the street, slamming the door behind him. When he was gone, Talsu stared at the coins he’d set on the counter. “Gold, Father,” he murmured.
“Aye, and enough to buy him half a dozen cloaks,” Traku answered. “Well, I’ll give him a good one. I could face it with fur--powers above, I could cursed near face it with ermine--but he didn’t ask for that, so he’ll have to do without.”
“You ought to give him something shoddy,” Talsu said. “Who cares if the whoreson freezes? He’ll do it a long way from here.”
“Maybe I ought to, but I won’t,” his father said. “My pride won’t let me. I’ll dicker hard on price, but not on the quality of the goods once I have a price, and besides, the lousy bugger may write to his friends back here, or he may even come back here himself one day. The Algarvians are still moving ahead, or that’s what the news sheets say, anyhow.”
“They say whatever the Algarvians want them to say,” Talsu pointed out. “They say Mainardo’s the best king Jelgava ever had, and everybody loves him.”
“Oh. That.” Traku shrugged. “Everybody knows that’s a lie, so what’s the use of getting upset about it? Most of the time, though, you can find out when they’re stretching things if you ask around a little. I haven’t heard anybody say the Algarvians aren’t still advancing. Have you?”
“No, not when you put it so,” Talsu admitted. “I wish I had.”
“That’s a different story.” Traku paused in thought. “Now, have I got the material he’ll need in stock, or am I going to have to scour Skrunda for it?” He went through what he did have, then called to Talsu: “Here, come feel this bolt of beige stuff. Do you think it would do?”
Talsu rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. “I think you could wear it instead of chainmail, matter of fact. You’d feel like you were carrying another man on your back with a cloak made from it.”
“He asked for heavy,” Traku said. “He can’t very well complain if it turns out even heavier than he looked for.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a stout pair of pinking shears. “Get me his measurements, will you, son? I want to make sure I have the length just right.”
When the Algarvian captain came into the shop to pick up the cloak, he was sober. He still looked no happier at the prospect of going off to fight in Unkerlant. From everything Talsu had heard about the weather in the huge western kingdom, he couldn’t blame the redhead for that.
Traku draped the cloak over the Algarvian’s shoulders, as fussy to get it right as if he’d made it for King Donalitu. “I put a lot of handwork into it, sir,” he said. “Not as much room to use magic in a cloak as there would be in, say, one of your kilts.”
Staggering a little under the weight of the garment, the redhead said, “Plain enough that you didn’t stint on the cloth.” Before the tailor could answer, the officer gave a shrug--an effort-filled shrug, with the cloak still heavy on his shoulders. “Fair enough. I will probably need all of this in Unkerlant.”
“I hope it is what you had in mind,” Traku said.
“Oh, aye, very much so.” The Algarvian shrugged again. “Even if it weren’t, I’d be stuck with it, because my ley-line caravan leaves before sunup tomorrow morning.” He took off the cloak and folded it with the sure hands of a man who knew how to care for clothing. “My thanks. I won’t be the only one, nor even the only one from Skrunda, heading down the ley lines, you know.”
“We hadn’t thought about it,” Traku said, including Talsu in his answer. To show he intended to be included, Talsu nodded.
“I am sorry for you,” the Algarvian said. “This gives your counts and dukes more power. From what I have seen of them, you would be better off if they had all fled with your coward of a king. You would be better off if we had decided to blaze all of them, too, but we didn’t.”
Talsu said, “They will still be taking orders from you.”
