Serru looked up at a street sign. “The shop for centaurs should be one block further and to the right around the corner.”

  “And for cervids.”

  “Yes. Cervids are much more common around here, of course, we’re on the border between Forest and Shallows, but fundamental needs and proportions are simir. Obviously they’ll have multiple styles, and if nothing suits you, they’re sure to have suggestions. Different tailors will create different results.”

  “And they’ll fit. Even though I’m a lot bigger than a cervid.”

  Serru shrugged. “If something was made by a tailor still learning, it’s possible that something made for a cervid would fail, since centaurs are not cervids. Anything made by a professional will fit anyone—within reason. Leggings will not fit a centaur no matter how much skill is involved nor will they acquire a way to accommodate a felid or saurid tail. A centaur’s long coat would be an awkward fit on a human and I can’t think how a harness would work. Felid footwear will not fit anyone else and the other way around. But a shirt is a shirt. How else could it work?”

  “At home, clothes are made in one specific size and if that size doesn’t work on your body, it just doesn’t.”

  “Then how do you find anything you like that you can wear? Is everything custom-made?”

  “Most things are produced by machines, thousands at a time, in a few different sizes. Grace and my sister tell me that it’s really terrible trying to figure out sizes for women’s clothes in particur since what one company calls ‘medium’ another one will call ‘small’ and a third one might call it ‘rge,’ although it’s not great for men’s sizes either. And we have to keep buying more because clothes wear out and if they get damaged or stained they don’t repair themselves.”

  “I cannot imagine the wailing if Terenei found a perfect item to complete a combination but he couldn’t wear it because it was the wrong size. Or several of my siblings and cousins, for that matter, and how very frustrating for my friend Zanshe when creating a costume. It sounds wasteful and complicated and often annoying.”

  “It’s all of those things, but most of us don’t really have any other choices.”

  “You work with what you have. What we have right here,” she inclined her head towards the shop she’d just paused in front of, “is a range of options.”

  The shopkeeper here, behind a sign with a shirt and a vague four-footed silhouette, was a cervid, unsurprisingly, but he was completely unfazed by my centaur presence as he greeted us and invited us to let him know if he could help. He, meanwhile, went back to what appeared to be sewing fringe by hand along a strap of some kind.

  No bottoms, obviously, although there were tops that probably reached knee-length at the front and sides and sometimes fred out and had some resembnce to a dress or robe. Unique to this shop, instead, there were racks and shelves of harness-like things that had fringes and shiny bits and tassels and embroidery and any number of other kinds of decorative touches, which as near as I could tell sometimes draped loose over a deer or horse back and sometimes had straps that fastened it underneath or around the waist or both.

  Near them were personal bags—but these ones were double-sided with a wide strap between, like saddlebags. Some had extra straps or rings that could presumably be used to make sure they didn’t slip. That actually made some sense for convenience, and would be better than my current bag when on four feet, but would be a problem for me when not in my centaur form.

  Serru said that in Coppersands, there were a couple of shops that specialized in nothing except bags in all the multitude of styles preferred by various species and callings and other needs. That seemed perfectly reasonable, actually.

  Aryennos found a short-sleeved tunic for me of an absolutely stunning deep red. The soft fabric flowed loose from the shoulders, not fitted at all but draping softly, and gradually widening towards the bottom, which fell lower at the front than the back. The edges were all embroidered with green and amber vines.

  A sleeveless one, in vivid sky blue, fit somewhat more closely, and had a lightweight matching coat that was partly the same fabric, partly ivory leather-that-wasn’t-leather; the coat was cut to drape comfortably at the back and to either side instead of bunching up on my horse parts, and the sleeves were open all the way up the outside, from the wrist band up to the shoulder.

  Serru set two more of those soft supportive bras on the counter as well. One was fancy enough, the sky-blue base embroidered with an abstract pattern in white and yellow and the bottom edge fringed, that possibly it would be acceptable if it was visible, not just hidden.

  “There are options that will work better than a folded bnket,” she said to me quietly, drawing me back towards the harnesses and such. “It is distinctly likely that you will find yourself carrying people or objects and I know you’re finding that uncomfortable at moments.” She tapped on a set of stacked horizontal bars.

  The things on it looked less eborate and more practical, although they were still colourful and decorated. As near as I could tell, there was a kidney-shaped pad of quilted fabric that would rest right where the friction tended to be worst, probably big enough that someone could sit on it. Rings at the front plus more at the back suggested that it could also be used as protection against a load of other kinds. There were several straps on most, only some of which looked functional.

  “That might be a good idea,” I admitted.

  She nodded. “The white one? It would match your hair and tail and feet, and go with any of your clothes.”

  “That’s definitely the one that would look best,” Aryennos said. “The dark blue one would be a nice contrast too, but I like the white one better.”

  That one was not the simplest, it had short rainbow fringes and all the hardware was gold-toned with metal studs at pces along the visible straps, but I had to concede that they were right.

  Without asking, Serru added the saddlebags that very obviously matched the harness, the same white and gold and fringes. I considered arguing, but gave up.

  So that was added to the pile on the counter too.

  Serru insisted on one more thing. My bad-weather coat would fit in human or felid forms, but not well in my centaur form, so she urged me to choose one here. These ones were hooded and long and had an overpped front with two rows of buttons, like the other one, but the back extended greatly outwards and covered my horsey part too, all the way down to my knees. Colours were limited, and we went with one that was a kind of dark olive with yellow edging and a couple of diagonal white-and-yellow stripes radiating backwards from the waist.

  “I think we’re done now,” I told the shopkeeper, who chuckled and put away what he was working on.

  “Good choice on the harness. The crafter who makes those for us does a wonderful job at making them look good while still making sure that there’s nothing that can get in the way for regur everyday use. Several of our regur customers literally just leave them on all the time. The rings work great for keeping a bag secure, too. There’s a lmid musician who travels through often, and her cat rides along with her everywhere she goes, the padding keeps them both comfortable. I imagine, for a healer, it’s hard to predict what might come up.”

  “Oh, definitely,” I said. For a moment I was confused about how he knew, then I remembered the design around the edges of my tunic and the heart on my armband. Maybe it would be a social faux pas to use those designs if you weren’t. “Including carrying people who’ve been hurt.”

  He nodded. “This isn’t strong enough to keep someone unconscious in pce, but it would still help, I’m sure. If you’re going to be in the area, he does custom work. He won’t rush it, though.”

  “We’re travelling,” Serru said. “But we might see whether he could drop it at the post office when it’s finished. Even if we don’t get to that on this trip, if we come back this way with more time, that sounds like a wonderful idea. Who is he, and where?”

  After adding up the total for clothes and harness and coat, he gave Serru directions; she listened while counting out coins, and nodded.

  “I know that street. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Have a great time in Coppersands and good luck with your travels.”

  Serru shooed Aryennos and I out of the shop. “One st stop. Turn left.”

  The felid shopkeeper greeted us cheerfully. They weren’t wearing a ring-bracelet on either hand, only a single loose flowing garment that reached to knee-length and gathered only moderately at the waist, all in a deep purple with a yellow design along the edges I couldn’t quite make out. It looked wonderful against their striking colourpoint markings of a dark chocote on face and ears and extremities with a paler body, all on short dense fur.

  They weren’t actually behind the counter—I could only call that a bean bag chair of ample size with several cushions on it, and it had been pced by the front window so sunshine fell across it. The shopkeeper closed a book and set it on the table close at hand, next to a bright blue metal box about the size of the one I’d seen Serru hand Terenei, and I could hear music coming from several directions. I sort of wanted to just stop and listen to the music but I’d be here forever, I was sure.

  Scattered on the table were a dozen or so thick rings with a shiny metal finish in a rainbow of different colours; the way a few of them rested against each other made me wonder whether they were magnetic and whether they were there specifically as fidget toys for the shopkeeper or customers or both.

  The shopkeeper wandered unhurriedly over to the counter and kept busy fussing with things. Those things included a gssy cylinder of water that had coloured blobs floating in it, and the shopkeeper tilted it over periodically, stimuting the blobs to move around much more actively.

  The clothes for felids all took tails into account, often with an overpped slit crotch akin to my indigo-and-rose clothes from the Quincunx. There were a lot of shorts compared to full-length pants, and the tter were always either loose-fitting or open up the outside; skirts of all lengths were common too, and often slit in various ways. Tops were frequently minimal, halters or cropped shirts with short or no sleeves. It made sense, on reflection. Too much clothing over fur would almost certainly be uncomfortable.

  There was a selection of personal bags on one set of shelves, generally smallish ones that were built into a belt or clearly meant to be threaded onto one.

  I couldn’t fathom why I might want to be in my felid form in a region that was going to be generally wet, but Serru made me choose a backup outfit, though she said the coat we’d already bought for human-me would fit and technically so would the human clothes though they might not be comfortable.

  I checked with my friends that there were no particur associations, gendered or otherwise, with anything avaible; assured that there were not and that anything I chose would be acceptable, I wandered—carefully—over to a rack that held... what should I be calling them? Skirts? Kilts? Since ‘kilts’ for male use tended towards boring properly-manly colours in durable masculine fabrics and had a very specific pleated knee-length look, while these were in every possible colour and shape and fabric and length, ‘kilt’ really didn’t seem like the right word. ‘Skirt’ it was, then.

  And I was looking at those purely because they’d be comfortable with a tail. Right? Right, of course that was it.

  Of course that was not it.

  A geometric design caught my eye. It was all in green and blue, a deep strong shade of each and then three pleasant and distinct intermediate steps between them. It was probably around knee-length or a little more, and it widened dramatically from the waistband outwards. Hanging with it was a sleeveless top that was solidly the same green up the front and back but had panels on either side of that geometric design; the asymmetrical open front’s buttons were a gradient from blue at the top to green at the bottom, matching the other colours.

  I held them up thoughtfully.

  “That would look good,” Aryennos said.

  “I agree,” said the shopkeeper. “Would you like me to try it for you so you can see how it looks on a felid?”

  “That might help,” Aryennos said.

  The shopkeeper nodded and strolled around the counter to join us. With no hesitation, they pulled off the loose dress-like garment they were wearing, draped it over a nearby rack, and took the green skirt from me.

  That was, it turned out, a male felid.

  I tried to keep my mind on what we were doing and not on the complete ck of what I’d call modesty.

  He pulled the skirt up over his hips and fastened the ties at the waist, swishing his dark-tipped tail around to demonstrate the complete freedom of movement. It was a little longer than I expected, just below knee-length, but still wouldn’t be a hazard to trip on or anything. He shrugged into the shirt and fastened it up the front. The opening snted from the lower left up towards the right shoulder, and didn’t fit closely around the neck; it ended just below his sor plexus, which seemed to be normal for felid styles.

  “I like that,” Serru said.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “What colour’s your friend?” the shopkeeper asked, turning in a slow circle so we could see all sides.

  “Tabby with white extremities,” Aryennos said.

  “This will definitely work. Stripes don’t look good on tabbies, it all just gets kind of busy and messy, but this kind of tiled pattern is fine. I wouldn’t recommend it for an orange tabby, and if this was a more yellowish green it would look terrible on a regur tabby, but this is a vivid enough green to be good contrast with no cshing. And the different shades in the pattern can complement white really nicely.”

  “Sold,” Serru said.

  “Great. I hope your friend likes it.” With the same calm, he stripped off the top and skirt and put his own clothes back on, then took the top and skirt to the counter. “Anything else?”

  “Do you suppose we can find a bag that would work with that and possibly also with other colours? Blue and pink, in particur?”

  He didn’t bat a slit-pupilled eye. “If not, I can tell you where you can. Blue, pink, and green, hm?”

  We found a bag that was white with a pink design, one with two rings so it could fit on a belt, and then a belt that was white with green and blue and bck, and decided that would go with both.

  “I think that will do,” Serru decided.

  She paid, and we left.

  “Centaurs don’t need footwear,” Serru said. “And felids don’t outside of special circumstances when some extra protection becomes sensible. Are you sure you don’t want higher waterproof boots to wear in human form? For that matter, is there anything else you can think of that you might want? Coppersands is a good pce for shopping, with more options than many pces.”

  “Lots of water doesn’t count as special circumstances for felids?”

  “They’d rather just not be in lots of water,” Aryennos chuckled. “If they are, then wet feet is not the thing they’re most concerned about.”

  “Got it. No, I’m fine. I’m used to my boots and I know I can walk all day in them without sore feet, and I like having lots of pockets in my cargo pants even if I suppose I don’t technically need them when I’ve got my bag.”

  Serru nodded. “Whatever you’re the most comfortable with, then. Please remember, you can store bags in other bags but only if they’re empty when you do that. Unpleasant things happen if you put a bag that has things in it into another. It would be lovely if that worked, it would make keeping things sorted and organized easier. Maybe someday someone will figure that out. Until then...”

  “Be careful. Got it.”

  “All right. You now have at least one alternative set of clothes for each form, and if we’re caught by rain in the Shallows you can stay dry, and I think that harness will get a lot of use. We have everything else that I intended to get today. Let’s head for the inn. If necessary, I can pierce your ears in your felid and centaur forms, and I did save two of your less-successful Quickheals just in case. We can have a good dinner, possibly a hot bath, and just enjoy the time to rest.”