Notes: Ooooh, is that a meet-cute I see coming? Is it? IS IT?

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards, Chapter Three, Part Two

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Chapter Three, Part Two

 The Height of Fashion

The market was still a bit on the sleepy side, which Hiramappreciated. It meant fewer people around to stare at him and his very obviousmistake when it came to his choice of clothing. After a third person literallywalked into a stall or cart because they were staring at him, he turned toMistress Tate and said, “There must be a clothier here who has some ready-made garments.”

“Oh, come now,” she replied, smiling cheekily as she leaneda bit on his arm. “I think their reception of you is quite charming. Why notrevel in the attention while you’ve got it?”

Because I don’t need any more attention, it defeats thepurpose. “I prefer to keep a lower profile when possible.”

“And yet you’re a newcomer to town, with a business to grow,”she reminded him. “If I were you, I’d take all the attention I could get rightnow. You’ll be old news soon enough.”

“Still…”

She shook her head. “No ready-made garments, I’m afraid, butwe could stop at the tailor’s first if you’d like.”

“Where is it?”

“The other side of the square.”

Hiram sighed. It didn’t make sense to dart over there whenthe other craftspeople he needed were over here. “Later. Let’s talk to thecarpenter first.”

“Of course.” She led him over to a stall, one of the biggesthe could see, and better made than most. It was sturdy wood, yet the walls werecleverly installed in sections so that it could be broken apart and stored easily.

A young dwarf was sitting behind the front table, which wascovered in tiny wooden figurines, whittling another while she waited forcustom. The moment Hiram and Mistress Tate stopped, she looked up and smiledbroadly enough to show her neat white teeth through her curling blonde beard. “Welcome,Mistress!”

“Good morning, Karla.” She gestured to Hiram. “My friendMaster Emblic is new to town and in need of furnishings for his home.”

“Ah, lovely!” The dwarf popped to her feet, setting thecarving down. She stood almost as tall as Hiram’s breastbone, a very grandheight among her people. “We have everything you could need, sir, and if we don’thave it my master and I shall make it. What is your price range like? Do youprefer oak or walnut? What are your thoughts about pine? We’ve got a lovelyshipment of pine in that’s on the soft side, but very—”

Hiram held up a hand. “Give me a moment to catch up, please,lass,” he said gently. “Let’s start with a discussion of what I actually need.”

Karla blushed. “Of course. I apologize, I tend to get a bitcarried away when it comes to my craft.”

“Then it’s the right one for you,” Hiram saidappreciatively. “It’s good to be passionate about what you do. That’s the roadto true happiness in life.”

Karla beamed at him. “What is it that you do, sir?”

I conquer kings and prop up emperors. “I’m anherbalist,” he said after a moment. “Although it’s been some time since I had aproper storefront. I plan to have my own stall here in the market eventually,so—”

“Oh, you’ll need shelving then,” the dwarf lass saidbriskly. “A traveling cupboard for displays here at the market, and of courselarger and sturdier shelves for your home. A nice, wide table to use here thatcan be easily set up and broken down again—we specialize in modularfurnishings, Master Emblic, so I’m certain we can make something that will suityou perfectly.”

He was sure she could, but… “Show me what you mean by amodular table.”

Karla’s eyes sparkled as she pulled what looked like a stackof boards out from behind her sitting area. “This one is a three by three,” shesaid as she unfolded the top board. “Watch.” Attached to the two central pieceswere four legs, all folded down and held in place with hinges. She lifted the legsup, then swung a metal peg down from the top to slot in place and hold the leg extended.A few more twists and turns and the two halves of the tabletop slotted neatlytogether as well, pegs resting solidly in their countersunk holes.

“They’re sturdy and versatile,” Karla continued. “Andguaranteed against wear for five years, Master. If something falls apart orbecomes too loose to use, we’ll fix it free of charge.”

“A lovely table,” Hiram agreed. Actually… He needed a diningtable, but with only himself there to eat, it made no sense to buy two when onecould suffice for the market and for his personal needs. “I quite likethis one, in fact. Do you have a matching chair?”

“Two, sir!” She pulled out a pair of high-backed chairs thathad ingenious folding arms and seats. “The golden oak is my favorite wood towork with,” Karla confessed, then added in a low voice, “Don’t tell my masterthat, he thinks I like olive the best, but sometimes you just want to craftwith something that isn’t fussy, you know? And the stain on this is designed tobring out the natural gold of the wood, which is of course the loveliest color.”

Of course. Karla might be a carpenter, but every dwarfhad a special connection to precious metals no matter their occupation. It wasan immense part of their cultural history, and treasured by diaspora dwarveswho’d been driven out of their mountain homelands by dragons and serpentkingenerations ago.

Hiram ran his palm over the top of the table, admiring thesmoothness of the finish. “How much for the set?” he asked.

“Five gold slips and two silver bits, but,” Karlasaid quickly as if expecting Hiram to balk, “if there’s more you need, I’lltalk to my master about getting you a discount. Spend ten gold and delivery isfree!”

“Very enterprising of you,” Hiram said. He glanced atMistress Tate, who shrugged.

“Furnishing a house isn’t cheap, but having a comfortablehome is priceless.”

“Wisely said,” Karla interjected.

Hiram chuckled. “All right, let’s talk about shelving then.”

It took another half an hour to finish his order, but by theend of it Hiram had bartered for the table, two chairs, a mobile cabinet and simplebooth, shelving for his home (installation included), a cabinet for thekitchen, and a large chest divided into sections to use for his incomingclothes. Karla called her master, an elderly human with a bent back and gnarledhands, over from their shop to seal the deal, and Hiram was heartened to seethe pride in the man’s eyes as Karla handed over twenty-one gold slips to him.

“Many thanks for the custom, milord,” the old man said.

“Oh, not milord,” Hiram corrected. “Just Master Emblic,please. And your assistant’s descriptions were quite compelling, I’m certain I’llbe satisfied with the results.”

“Take a carving with you,” Karla added. “Free of charge, asa thank you and a welcome to Lollop.”

“Given the size of your order, you should take two,” hermaster added.

Hiram bent over and looked at the carvings. They were mostlyof animals, highly realistic and quite lovely, but there were a few which weremore abstract. He ended up pocketing a cat that reminded him of Esmerelda and,after a moment’s consideration, a hanging ornament in the shape of a snowflake…orperhaps a star…or an ember of fire. It didn’t matter, he liked the look of it.

As they left the pair behind, Mistress Tate said, “Well, you’vemade their day, Master Emblic. And quite likely their week, as well.”

He glanced at her. “You weren’t wrong when you spoke of theprice of making a house a home,” he said after a moment. “And I’ve no doubtthat if they were trying to cheat me terribly, you’d have stepped in.”

“I would have,” she agreed. “But there are very few peoplein Lollop who’d try such a thing. Everyone here knows what the price should be,and word gets around when someone gets greedy. Still, even at a fair price,that was a windfall for them.”

“And there’ll be several other windfalls before we’re donehere, woe to my money pouch,” Hiram said. “Now, where might we find the potter?”

Over the course of the next few hours, Hiram made severalmore craftspeople very happy. He ordered an extensive set of dishes from thepotter, as well as jars for his goods, then got new pots, pans, and gardening suppliesfrom the smithy. He bought pantry staples, fresh vegetables, a salted side ofbeef that would keep nicely, and half a dozen eggs. He also talked to a vendorabout chickens once his henhouse was repaired, as well as getting a deal onseveral older roosters. Hiram was sure that Esmerelda could use a treat.

He also couldn’t resist buying a lovely bouquet of gorgeousflowers from one vendor, then spent the rest of the morning giving them away toeveryone who greeted him with a smile or kind word. By noon he had a full bag,a week of deliveries ahead of him, no flowers, and the chatter of dozens ofpeople following him around. He was also deplorably hot, and stopped in theshade to take off his cloak.

“Shall we finish at the tailor’s, then?” Mistress Tate askedamiably. She’d been good company all morning, making introductions and pavingthe way for him.

“Point me at them,” Hiram said, “and I’ll go while you getus a table at the Yew. I daresay I owe you an excellent lunch for allthis assistance.”

She shook her head. “This morning is more entertainment thanI’ve had in quite a while. I knew you were charming, but I didn’t expect it towork on everyone.”

“Oh, it doesn’t.” Hiram had the scars to prove just how hischarm could fail.

Mistress Tate arched an eyebrow at him. “You got Mercury, a trollwho gives new meaning to the phrase ‘stone-hearted,’ to give you a discount on therepairs to your barn and coop because you put a daisy crown on his son’s head.”

“Troll babies are the cutest of all babies and I stand bythat,” Hiram said. “And he looked precious in it.”

“I agree. Regardless, I insist on treating this time,” she replied.“The tailor’s shop is over on the corner there. It belongs to Master Spindlestep.”

Spindlestep… “An elf?” It was a bit surprising tofind an elven craftsman in a town this small. They usually preferred to plytheir trade in grander places.

“Indeed. Try not to judge him too quickly,” she added as sheturned toward the tavern. “He’s brilliant at his work.”

Judge him for what? Hiram headed for the tailor’sshop, one of the smallest in the street beside the market. Two little girlswearing tulips he’d twisted into bracelets gave him shy smiles as he went by,and Hiram theatrically tipped his hat to them before he opened the door.

A crystal bell jingled overhead, announcing his arrival, butno one immediately stepped out to meet him. The inside of the shop was dim,with no candles or lanterns to illuminate the front room. There was a window,but it was mostly covered over with various fabrics. In the center of the roomwere two mannequins, one with more masculine proportions and another with morefeminine proportions. A closer look showed them to be rather marvelous,adjustable not only side to side, but up and down to accommodate everyone fromgnome to troll.

“The mannequins aren’t for sale.”

Hiram startled at the sudden sound of a thready voice. Helooked up to see a tall, rather waifish elf step into the room. He moved sosteadily that it took longer than Hiram liked to make out the milky whitenessof the elf’s eyes.

He was blind.

A blind tailor. Well. Hiram had seen odder things. “Iwas simply intrigued by the construction,” he said, straightening up. “Goodafternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon.” The elf stopped a few feet in front ofhim. “You must be the new arrival to Lollop.”

“I fear that my reputation precedes me.”

The elf smiled faintly. “Several people have described youas ‘fancy.’”

Hiram sighed. “Too fancy for my own good, I fear. My cityfashions seem out of place here, so I’m hoping to get some clothes that willbetter suit my new situation and my work. I’m an herbalist.”

“You don’t smell like an herbalist.”

Hiram just stopped himself from asking what he didsmell like. “I’ve yet to ready my garden for my trade, Master Spindlestep. I’dlike to do it in clothing suitable to the task.”

The elf nodded, then raised his hands. “Do you mind if Itake your measurements?”

No tape measure…but then, elves had their own ways of doingthings, even when they were sighted. “Not at all.”

“Good. Arms out, if you please.” Hiram extended his arms andspent the next few minutes being patted down from every angle, sometimesintimately but never pruriently. The elf had chuckled at the feel of leatherand lingered over the embroidery on Hiram’s sleeve. When he straightened upagain, he said, “Galenish fashion hasn’t changed much over the last few decades,I note.”

Hiram stared at him for a long moment, perturbed that he wasso easily made. If Master Spindlestep spoke to the wrong person…

Stop dithering. No one here cares where you came from. “Indeed,”he said a few seconds too late.

“You wear it well. Do you want to leave all aspects of itbehind?”

“I want to look like I belong here,” Hiram said firmly.

The tailor nodded. “And so you shall, but there’s space forindividualism even in a place as small as this. A few touches to elevate yourpersonal style would be quite fitting for a new craftsman.”

It wasn’t worth fighting about. “As you like, sir.”

“Very well, then. How many outfits will you need?”

They hashed out the details, Hiram paid, and two deliverydates were set—one very soon with enough garments to get him through a fewdays, and another for the rest at a more distant time. After exchanging a firmhandshake, Hiram turned to go—

And practically walked into the arms of a man coming throughthe door at speed, distress in his voice as he said, “Narion, tell me you canpatch this, I can’t believe I didn’t push it far enough away last—” His voicecame to a stuttering halt as he realized he and the tailor weren’t alone. Thegarment in his hands slipped to the floor with the faint hiss of silk on silk. “Oh…I…”

“Allow me,” Hiram said, bending over and picking up the garmentgently. It was a well-made cloak, layered and shaped to fit close to the bodyand in a fabric of such dark blue it was almost black. It was also rentcompletely through in several places, as though it had been dragged over a pairof shears. He held it out with an affable smile. “There you are.”

“I…yes.” The man—not a young man, but far from old, likelyin his early thirties—snatched it from his hands quickly, but otherwise seemedfrozen. Hiram found himself rather captivated by the blue of his eyes, palearound the edges that darkened to a midnight blue almost as dark as the cloakby the pupil. “Ah…excuse me.” He skirted around Hiram and into the rear of theshop without a backward glance.

Hiram considered asking Master Spindlestep about the man,but the tailor wore such a forbidding expression that he thought better of it. “Goodday, then,” he said instead, and left with a head full of curiosity and fingersstill feeling the cool, smooth fabric of the cloak.