Rate’s arm was a bloody mess. Alxine had made an attempt to clean and dress it, but it was cut deep. Needed stitching. Tobias gave Rate a large cup of brandy, stuck a wooden spoon in the lad’s mouth and told him to bite down and sit still while he sewed it up. After three attempts he ordered Alxine to gag him and hold him firm. Rate went white, thrashed like a pig then vomited and fainted. Tobias sighed with relief and sewed him up neat as a well-made shirt. Should have just hit him on the head first off. He mended a tear in the lad’s jerkin as well while he had the needle and thread out. Nice soothing job, after ranting at them until his throat hurt for being such complete bloody idiots.
Alxine’s face was a mess too. Red and puffy looking, with the beginnings of a black eye. They were supposed to be going out to buy some of the gear they needed tomorrow morning. Nothing said ‘all fine and above board, nothing to see here’ like a group of men buying weapons whilst nursing fresh fighting wounds. Marith had nearly disembowelled one of their assailants, apparently, so obviously it wasn’t like that would have drawn much attention either. Bloody stinking gods and demons, as Emit might say. Good lads, his men. Good lads. Gods only knew what would have happened if he’d left them alone for the entire evening.
It was a sorry group that met him for breakfast the next morning. Tobias surveyed them wearily. Alyet laughed musically at Alxine’s face and asked him if he’d been uncomplimentary about her sister’s cooking. Rate struggled to eat left-handed and ended up spilling porridge on Emit’s boots. Emit swore at Rate and Rate swore back. Marith sat dead-eyed, not eating, rubbing his face in that incredibly irritating way he did when he thought nobody was looking at him. You’d have thought he had a skin disease, if he hadn’t had skin like new-spun silk.
‘Okay,’ Tobias said. ‘You lot fucked up totally yesterday. Let’s try to get through today without killing someone, shall we?’ Rate laughed, realized no one else was and went back to attempting to smear honey on a slice of bread. ‘The plan for today has been fucked up too. Rate can’t go anywhere for the next day at least, and Alxine has a face you wouldn’t trust to sell a fish knife to right now. So.’ He fixed Emit with a glare. ‘I’m sending Marith and Emit out for a few things. I have some things I need to do myself, so you’ll have to manage without me. Think the two of you can handle going shopping without incident?’
Emit grimaced, saw Tobias’s face and attempted to look cheerful. ‘’Spect we can manage, between us. Ever been in a shop before, Your Lordship My Lord?’
Marith flushed but said nothing.
‘You’ll need new clothes, first off,’ Tobias said with a sigh. The fight had finally marked the point of no return for Rate’s last remaining shirt and Marith’s jacket. They all looked tatty and worn anyway, they’d always planned to re-equip themselves once in the city, but it was still a part of their general stupidity that they’d managed to get themselves so thoroughly mucked up. Marith’s jacket had survived a bloody dragon, for gods’ sake. ‘Try to get something that doesn’t make us look too much like brothel boys. And good quality cloth.’ He sounded like an old fish-wife. He sounded like his mum.
Emit glared at him then looked down and spooned up his porridge in silence. All mouth, he was. Marith was … like Marith, only rather worse. There were faint scratch-marks round his eyes. Like something had been clawing at him. All that bloody face-rubbing, must be. Made Tobias’s own skin crawl to watch it. Maybe he should send the boy to a pox doctor …? But he looked healthy enough, just miserable as buggery with eyes like he’d been crying and a new status as someone who filleted people with a pocketknife. The gods themselves probably couldn’t understand that one.
Didn’t really like sending the two of them out alone, Mr Grumpy and Mr Increasingly Frigging Weird, but there were things they needed that really couldn’t wait. Clothes and whatnot. Things. And he could probably trust Marith. Yeah? The boy looked at him and smiled sadly, rubbed his eyes again, frowned.
‘Here.’ He handed Marith the purse and the map. ‘Bloody well look after it, and don’t get lost this time.’
Rate was looking at him too. Seemed to be about to say something. Tobias fixed him with a glare and Rate shrugged and went back to his breakfast. Marith opened the purse, looked carefully at the money inside and tucked it away in his belt. He nodded to Emit. ‘Shall we get off, then?’
‘Still need to finish my breakfast,’ said Emit, chewing so slowly the bread would probably go stale in his mouth.
They stopped at a tailor’s shop first, recommended by Alyet. Marith felt a weight lifted from him. He ran his hands over the fine cloth heaped on the counter. Silk the colour of pale roses. Heavy brocade winking with gold.
All for show, of course: the clothes actually for sale were cheaper and more practical. He bought two slim-fitting silk shirts and a pair of dark grey leggings. A deep blue jacket, entirely unnecessary given the city’s warm climate but elegant, with a grey fur trim at the collar. If he had to play a role, he’d do it properly, at least. If Skie was mocking him, he’d make what he could of it. Would have liked new boots, too, the mixture of dragon’s blood, rainwater and human entrails not having been particularly kind to his old ones, but Tobias’s purse wasn’t generous and there were other, more pressing things, he needed to buy. Emit bought a shirt and leggings, a jerkin. Similar clothes were parcelled up to be sent back to the Five Corners for the others. They might even just about fit.
‘How about we stop for a drink?’ Marith said casually as they left the shop. ‘We can spare a couple of coins, I should think, without Tobias noticing.’
Emit looked at him, then grinned. ‘Most sensible thing I’ve ever heard you say, boy. Almost makes up for the fancy coat. Bit early, but I wouldn’t say no.’
They strolled down the street and came to a small, expensivelooking tavern. It was only just opening, it still being well before midday, and they were the only customers. Emit selected a table at the back and Marith ordered the drinks. Emit had a cup of beer. Marith had something else. Emit raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. They sat in silence for a while.
‘What was all that fuss about black for?’ asked Emit. Idiot had asked if they had a shirt in black and the tailor had been shocked and embarrassed enough it looked like he could have done with a drink himself.
He really didn’t know? Although obviously he didn’t. Astonishingly stupid thing to ask, here. Marith said, ‘Sumptuary laws. Only the Emperor is permitted to wear black cloth. He is only permitted to wear black cloth, in fact. It marks him out against everyone else in the city, signals his status. In Chathe, only the ruling family may wear pearls. In Tarboran, it was peacock feathers.’
‘Sumptuary laws … How d’you know all this stuff?’