“True. Doka take you to Chull now?” she asked.
“Chull’s the tailor, right?” Teer asked. He glanced at their quartet of horses and shrugged. “So long as they have somewhere to tie up the horses. I trust Star to stay where I put her, but these two are still learning to trust me.”
“Grump keep in line,” Doka replied. “But yes, Chull has posts.”
“Then lead on,” Teer agreed as he mounted up on Star. He had filled the feed bags for her and the two packhorses before entering the stable, but he checked hers anyway out of habit, and the horse whinnied and pressed her head into his hand for a moment.
“She trusts Teer,” Doka observed. “Smart girl.”
Teer felt his cheeks heat as he spotted Doka smiling softly at him.
“She can’t take care of me if I don’t take care of her,” he told the guide.
“And Star knows,” Doka agreed. “Other two learn. Come. Chull fix you new clothes.”
Chull’s shop was tucked onto a corner of two of Carlon’s busier streets, where several sets of three-story buildings with shops on the ground floor met—the stores sharing, Teer was glad to note, a long bar outside for hitching horses. He tied the three animals to the bar and quickly checked them over for signs of difficulty.
Doka waited patiently for him to finish his check and then led him into the building. It looked well built, with judicious use of stone and brick to reinforce the neatly cut planks that made up most of the walls. The stores all had windows, but the tailor’s shop had installed shutters over them.
They looked like they allowed light in, but they kept prying eyes out. Only the proprietor’s name painted on the door told him they’d come to the right place.
Doka, of course, didn’t hesitate for a moment. She pushed the door open and strode cheerfully into the store.
“Chull! Is Doka!”
Teer followed her somewhat less energetically, taking in the interior of the store as he did. Despite the shutters, the space was well lit. He spotted six crystal lamps positioned around the room, augmenting the natural light to shine on brilliantly colored fabrics organized in neat sheets hung on the wall.
Five person-like forms were positioned around the room, each wearing an outfit more formal than anything Teer had ever worn in his life. Several cutting tables were tucked at the corners, with everything positioned to create an open space in the middle of the small store, directly in front of a worktable with a cash register on it.
Chull was sitting at that table, grinning up at Doka. She was a Rolin woman with a shaven head and pale brown skin. As she rose to greet the Kotan guide, Teer realized that Chull was tiny. If she came up to the middle of his chest, he’d be surprised.
“Doka! It’s good to see you,” Chull said. “I only have about half your last order ready; I wasn’t expecting you for a few more tendays. What brings you to Carlon?”
“Doka take what ready,” the guide replied. “And look at new designs. Work bring Doka here.” She waved vaguely at Teer. “Meet Teer. He work with Doka on last job.”
“A pleasure,” Chull greeted Teer, bowing over her hands. “Step into the light, boy. Hrm.”
She walked around the table slowly and he saw that she was missing one of her legs just below the knee. Her pants had been tailored to expose the contraption she wore to replace it, and the false limb itself was gorgeous, built of gleaming hardwood and inlaid with silver and gold. It clearly slowed her down but otherwise seemed to work just fine.
Teer obeyed her instruction, stepping forward into the middle of the room, where all of the lights were shining on him.
“New designs are on the table as always, Doka,” Chull noted. “What does your friend need?”
“Teer just deliver first bounty,” Doka said. “Kard said tradition. Duster?”
The tailor laughed, a soft and golden sound that Teer instinctively found reassuring.
“Some would say, yes,” she agreed. She was circling Teer now. In another person, that might have been threatening, but something about the tiny Rolin woman told him he was safe. She sniffed at his clothes.
“Love. Hmph.”
“Love?” Teer asked.
“Your clothes,” she told him. “Material, basic. Pattern, basic. Sewer, competent. All solid, but basic. But made with love. You can always tell. Ranch mother?”
“My mother,” Teer replied carefully. “She married the ranch owner.”
Chull laughed again.
“Made with love twice over, I see,” she said. “And then worn for a turning, washed rarely, and cut by a blade.” She clucked her tongue. “So, tradition says one thing and you’ll leave with a coat.”
Teer barely even registered her starting to run a measuring tape over him until she lifted one of his arms from behind.
“I might have something in stock I can alter quickly,” she continued. “You work for Kard, huh?”
“You know him?” Teer asked.
“Of him,” Chull said. “Gray, then, for the coat. But the rest…”
“The rest?”
“Teer needs new clothes,” Doka said from where she was leafing through drawings. “Those failing and cut.”
“Bounty hunters and long-distance riders have much the same needs, really,” Chull told him. “Two or three sturdy sets of regular clothes and a coat that’s cool in summer but a blanket in winter. Easy enough, but all depends.”
“Depends on what?” Teer asked. He could afford the clothes, but he was feeling lost again. He was getting used to that feeling, but still!
“Clothes make the man and the man makes the clothes,” Chull told him. “I can dress you in black leather, treated to shed blood and blades alike. Sharp angles and concealed pockets, clothes to make women swoon and men cower. Clothes to say this is a hunter of men and warn all around you of your power.”
She must have felt
