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.And she did need new clothes, no matter what.When she pushed open the door, she saw that Tonno had a customer.He was going over atall stack of books with a man in the long robes of a University Scholar, probably one of theteachers there.She hung back near the door of the shop until she caught his eye, thenwaited patiently until the Scholar was engrossed in a book and raised her eyebrows inentreaty.He excused himself for a moment; once she whispered what she needed, he tookLady Rose and her lute from her to stow safely behind the counter until lesson time, thengave her directions to Patch Street, where many of the old clothes sellers either had shopsor barrows.She excused herself quickly and quietly-a little disappointed that he wouldn't beable to come with her.She had the feeling that he'd be able to get her bargains she hadn't achance for, alone.It was a good thing that she'd started out with a couple of hours to spend before her firstlesson.Patch Street was not that far away, but the number of vendors squeezed into a two-block area was nothing less than astonishing.The street itself was thick with buyers andsellers, all shouting their wares or arguing price at the tops of their lungs.The cacophonydeafened her, and she began to feel a little short of breath from the press of people themoment she entered the affray.The sun beat down between the buildings on all of themimpartially, and she was soon limp with heat as well as pummeled by noise and prodded byelbows.She now was grateful she had left Lady Rose with Tonno; there was scarcely room on thisstreet to squeeze by.She tried to keep her mind on what she needed-good, servicableclothing, not too worn-but there were thousands of distractions.The woman in her yearnedfor some of the bright silks and velvets, worn and obviously second-hand as most of themwere, and the showman for some of the gaudier costumes, like the ones the Gypsies hadworn-huge multicolored skirts, bright scarlet sashes, embroidered vests and bodices-She disciplined herself firmly.Under-things first.One pair of breeches; something strongand soft.Two new shirts, as lightweight as I can get them.One vest.Nothing bright, nothingto cry out for attention.I'm supposed to be inconspicuous.And nothing too feminine.The under-things she found in a barrow tended by a little old woman who might have beenParro's wizened twin.She suspected that the garments came from some of the houses ofpleasure, too; although the lace had been removed from them, they were under-things meantto be seen-or rather, they had been, before they'd been torn.Aside from the tears, theylooked hardly used at all.She picked up a pair of underdrawers; they were very lightweight, but they were also soft-notsilk, but something comfortable and easy on the skin.Quite a change from the harsh linenand wool things she was used to wearing.The tears would be simple enough to mend,though they would be very obvious.Then again, Rune wasn't likely to be in a position where anyone was going to notice hermended underwear.The original owners though-it probably wasn't good for business for awhore to be seen in under-things with mends and patches.It was odd, though; the tears were all in places like shoulder-seams, or along thesides-where the seams themselves had held but the fabric hadn't.As if the garments hadbeen torn from their wearers.Maybe they had been.Either a-purpose or by chance.Perhaps the life of a whore wasn't all that easy.Her next acquisition must be a pair of shirts, and it was a little hard to find what she waslooking for here.Most shirts in these stalls and barrows were either ready to be turned intorags, or had plainly been divested of expensive embroidery.The places where bands ofornamentation had been picked off on the sleeves and collars were distressingly obvious,especially for someone whose hands and arms were going to be the most visible parts ofher.Although Rune wasn't the most expert seamstress in the world, it looked to her as if thefine weave of the fabrics would never close up around the seam-line.It would always be veryclear that the shirt was second-hand, and that wouldn't do for Amber's.As she turned overgarment after garment, she wondered if she was going to be able to find anything worthbuying [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.And she did need new clothes, no matter what.When she pushed open the door, she saw that Tonno had a customer.He was going over atall stack of books with a man in the long robes of a University Scholar, probably one of theteachers there.She hung back near the door of the shop until she caught his eye, thenwaited patiently until the Scholar was engrossed in a book and raised her eyebrows inentreaty.He excused himself for a moment; once she whispered what she needed, he tookLady Rose and her lute from her to stow safely behind the counter until lesson time, thengave her directions to Patch Street, where many of the old clothes sellers either had shopsor barrows.She excused herself quickly and quietly-a little disappointed that he wouldn't beable to come with her.She had the feeling that he'd be able to get her bargains she hadn't achance for, alone.It was a good thing that she'd started out with a couple of hours to spend before her firstlesson.Patch Street was not that far away, but the number of vendors squeezed into a two-block area was nothing less than astonishing.The street itself was thick with buyers andsellers, all shouting their wares or arguing price at the tops of their lungs.The cacophonydeafened her, and she began to feel a little short of breath from the press of people themoment she entered the affray.The sun beat down between the buildings on all of themimpartially, and she was soon limp with heat as well as pummeled by noise and prodded byelbows.She now was grateful she had left Lady Rose with Tonno; there was scarcely room on thisstreet to squeeze by.She tried to keep her mind on what she needed-good, servicableclothing, not too worn-but there were thousands of distractions.The woman in her yearnedfor some of the bright silks and velvets, worn and obviously second-hand as most of themwere, and the showman for some of the gaudier costumes, like the ones the Gypsies hadworn-huge multicolored skirts, bright scarlet sashes, embroidered vests and bodices-She disciplined herself firmly.Under-things first.One pair of breeches; something strongand soft.Two new shirts, as lightweight as I can get them.One vest.Nothing bright, nothingto cry out for attention.I'm supposed to be inconspicuous.And nothing too feminine.The under-things she found in a barrow tended by a little old woman who might have beenParro's wizened twin.She suspected that the garments came from some of the houses ofpleasure, too; although the lace had been removed from them, they were under-things meantto be seen-or rather, they had been, before they'd been torn.Aside from the tears, theylooked hardly used at all.She picked up a pair of underdrawers; they were very lightweight, but they were also soft-notsilk, but something comfortable and easy on the skin.Quite a change from the harsh linenand wool things she was used to wearing.The tears would be simple enough to mend,though they would be very obvious.Then again, Rune wasn't likely to be in a position where anyone was going to notice hermended underwear.The original owners though-it probably wasn't good for business for awhore to be seen in under-things with mends and patches.It was odd, though; the tears were all in places like shoulder-seams, or along thesides-where the seams themselves had held but the fabric hadn't.As if the garments hadbeen torn from their wearers.Maybe they had been.Either a-purpose or by chance.Perhaps the life of a whore wasn't all that easy.Her next acquisition must be a pair of shirts, and it was a little hard to find what she waslooking for here.Most shirts in these stalls and barrows were either ready to be turned intorags, or had plainly been divested of expensive embroidery.The places where bands ofornamentation had been picked off on the sleeves and collars were distressingly obvious,especially for someone whose hands and arms were going to be the most visible parts ofher.Although Rune wasn't the most expert seamstress in the world, it looked to her as if thefine weave of the fabrics would never close up around the seam-line.It would always be veryclear that the shirt was second-hand, and that wouldn't do for Amber's.As she turned overgarment after garment, she wondered if she was going to be able to find anything worthbuying [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]