need to show these people our cultural heritage!”
Calli and Marian laughed together, and it felt really good to laugh with other women.
Marian gestured to her robe. “Can you see me in a cowboy hat and this?”
“Well, it can’t be any worse than that hat Bastien designed, which is all the rage.”
“And Jaquar wears the original all the time and looks like a dweeb. All too true.” Marian shook her head.
“It’s time you get tailored leathers, Marian. A cowboy hat and boots would complete the ensemble.”
Calli nudged Alexa with her elbow. “You ever had a cowboy hat, city-girl lawyer?”
Alexa scowled. “No, but only because I could never find one to fit me.”
She was awfully small. “You could have had one made to order.” Calli didn’t say she could have bought a girl’s size.
“Yeah, like I had the dough.” Alexa snorted, then jingled money—zhiv—in her pockets and beamed. “But I do now. I’m not leaving this place until I order a cowboy hat!” She frowned. “You have any idea how they make them or the design dimensions or what, Calli?”
“I’ve worn them all my life, had a few droop with rain, freeze with snow and generally get trampled under hooves. I think I can give the hatmaker a good idea of what we want.”
“Good, off to the leathers tailor,” Alexa said.
“Combat cuirtailleur,” Marian murmured. Catching Calli’s expression, she said, “The fighting-leathers tailor.” Her lips quirked. “Naturally Alexa patronizes only the best.”
“Oh,” Calli said. She walked with them three abreast on sidewalks along a spacious street, until they reached a large shop with wide windows. There she got measured for several sets of leathers and her blood chilled as she thought of fighting. Marian stood by and translated for her.
Calli pointed to a pile of “leather” squares on the counter. “What are these?”
Alexa glanced at them, went over and inspected the stack, flipped through and shoved each square at Calli. “Soul-sucker,” a thick gray lizard-like skin. “Slayer,” yellow with long yellow fur and strange round bare spots. “Render,” thick, tough skin with a black pelt the consistency of steel wool. “Snipper,” something like Calli suspected rhinoceros hide to be. “Dreeth,” a fine, thin but incredibly strong skin of fine snakelike scales “Dreeth?” Alexa looked up at the old, wizened tailor. “Where did you get dreeth? And how much do you have of it?”
He bowed deeply. “Your Shield, Bastien, brought it in. We have an understanding.”
“Serves me right for not paying attention,” Alexa muttered.
“I will have the Chevalier Exotique’s leathers ready by this evening.” He bowed again.
“Please send them to me at the Castle,” Alexa said, “and put them on my account.”
“I’ll pay you back!” Calli said when Marian translated.
Alexa shrugged, smiled and replied in English. “A gift. Many people will be giving you gifts to get in your good graces. Expect something from the Citymasters and the Singer, too. Let’s head to the Nom de Nom for lunch.”
“You’ll love it,” Marian said and Calli couldn’t tell whether that was being sarcastic or not.
10
They walked up to a shabby, narrow stone building with a sign that changed magically from black letters on a white background to white letters on a black background.
This was the place that held monster trophies. Calli didn’t think she was ready, but it would be better getting used to dead monsters hanging on walls than live ones attacking.
Alexa said, “Acclimatizing you, Calli. The Nom de Nom is one of the main hangouts for the Chevaliers, so you’ll probably be spending plenty of time here. The trophies are in the upper third of the room. You might want to look up after we’ve settled in a booth.” She hesitated. “This place isn’t as bad as the Assayer’s Office. If you need to, uh, get more of an idea what you’ll be facing, you can go there.” She opened the door to the scent of smoke and food and liquor. “And there’s a back room you should see.”
The moment Calli walked in, conversation stopped. The place wasn’t packed, but the bar on her right was full, with Chevaliers leaning or sitting on stools. Of the five booths, two were taken. Alexa scowled at the couple in the last booth against the wall and they got up and moved to one closer to the door. A waitress hurried over to wipe the table.
All the Chevaliers watched Calli with considering gazes. Well, they were getting an eyeful of the Exotique they might want to mate with. Calli wondered if she’d find more or fewer tokens on the Choosing table after this visit.
A woman at the bar flinched, slipped from her seat and left.
Feeling self-conscious and wanting to get this “trophy” ordeal over with, Calli glanced up. Time seemed to stop and fear bubbled up her throat.
The first thing she saw was the torso of a snarling beast with spines on its arms. She tried to swallow but couldn’t pull her gaze away from the fierce glass eyes, the open muzzle that showed sharp, deadly teeth. Its fur was yellow, as was the underside of its digited paws. Yellow skin, yellow fur. Slayer.
Marian picked up one of Calli’s hands and curved her fingers around a mug handle. Her spit had dried, so she took a gulp, and cold, yeasty ale slid down her throat. She tore her gaze away to Marian who was gesturing for her to slide into the bench opposite Alexa, who faced the room. Calli decided that having people stare into the back of her head—her blond head—would feel better than meeting a stream of brown-eyed stares. She managed to pick one foot up after the other to get to the table and slide in on what seemed to be a red leather bench. Leather made from cows or something—not monster hide.
“I ordered burgers for lunch,” Alexa said.
Marian took the outside seat and Calli closed her eyes a moment in thanks that these two women were so protective.
At least for now. They seemed to think that she’d go out and fight monsters like the slayer, or the larger beast next to it. This one snarled, too, its fangs as sharp as the slayers, its black furred head more massive. On either side of the head were huge paws with long, curved, sharply pointed claws that looked more like blades than anything else.
“Render,” Alexa said, and removed a little woven basket of tea leaves from her mug, placing it on a saucer.
Calli forced herself to savor the ale. It was perfect. Rich, mellow, just to her taste, already warming her stomach. She’d settled enough from shock to glance up at the next mounted trophy of a horror—another torso. Gray, lizard-like skin, bony head with no nose, two arms with two suckered tentacles in front and behind each arm, a soul-sucker.
When she turned her gaze back to the table, she saw the other women watching her with understanding in their eyes. “Is that it?” she croaked.
“There are dreeths,” Alexa said.
“Of
