"General," Margot articulated, unconsciously pulling her cloak closer around her neck, "I certainly appreciate your concern, but, please. None of this is necessary."
"It most CERTAINLY is," Hagbut protested, his glance flashing angrily to Brim. "OR," he continued, smiling sardonically, "should I report to the Intelligence Council that Your Highness is showing definite favoritism toward the Fleet?"
"How could you even say such a thing, General?" she protested. Brim could see that her hands were now balled into fists behind her back. Hagbut had scored a telling point.
"I jest, of course," Hagbut guffawed, clearly sniffing victory.
"Of course," Margot said sullenly.
"Well-l-l!" Hagbut crowed, moving quickly now. "That settles that, doesn't it?"
Panic flashed across Margot's eyes. She touched her throat for a moment, then took a deep gulp of air-like a diver facing a long descent. "I capitulate, General," she sighed presently. "Perhaps it is time we sat down together. Wilf, I believe there was something you planned to purchase on our way to the Embassy. Perhaps you ought to get that out of the way before you join us at the table?"
Brim frowned. "A purchase, Princess?" he asked.
Margot fixed him with an urgent expression in her eyes. "Yes," she said. "Remember?
Size fourteen over point three thirty-nine."
Size?... Understanding suddenly dawned! "Er... yes," be stumbled. "Yes, the special purchase! What was the... ah, Duchess's... ah, size again. Princess?"
"Fourteen over point three thirty-nine," Margot repeated with a look of undiluted relief on her face.
"Thank you," Brim said, bowing with great deference. "I shall see to the matter immediately. General, a matter of great importance to the Effer'ian embassy."
Hagbut nodded-as usual, he hadn't been paying attention. "Well, don't be too long, m'boy," he advised, pulling Brim close to his face. "Oh, I know that you Carescrians don't frequent establishments like this one," he whispered in a fatherly tone. "Very high class and all that." His breath smelled as if he seldom brushed his teeth. "But don't let that drive you off. Simply follow me in your actions, and you will be quite acceptable. Quince!" he ordered, dismissing Brim like a street beggar. "Quick step ahead and secure a larger table for us, man. The name of HAGBUT is well known there!" With that, he deftly grasped Margot's elbow and marched her along the street like a prisoner.
Brim stood for a moment on the teeming sidewalk transfixed, Now what? He was prepared to handle any starship in the galaxy-or fight a hundred Leaguers single-handed-but this was a different kind of problem entirely! He started in the opposite direction, shaking his head in consternation. Displays of women's clothing were everywhere, in positively bewildering arrays of colors and styles! How did they choose anything to wear?
From time out of mind, he'd worn nothing but uniforms-and there were too many versions of them for his liking. He chuckled to himself. Thank the Universe for uniforms....
Uniforms!
Of course. He could certainly handle the purchase of a woman's uniform-especially since he knew the correct size formula! And it stood to reason that at least a few of the many dress shops would offer Fleet garb.... This time, he started off with a bit of assurance in his stride....
After considerable walking and searching, however, it became clear that his newfound confidence was lamentably misplaced. Nowhere in the at least eleven billion display windows he had stuthed so far was there anything that looked even remotely like a Fleet uniform.
And there was precious little time to search any farther. He could imagine Margot's attempts to explain why she wanted to dine in her cape!
Close to something mat felt a lot like panic, he stumbled reluctantly toward a large store whose windows displayed manikins that appeared to be about Margot's size and shape.
However, except for a beautiful meem-colored gown she'd once worn to a ball, he'd only seen her in-and out of-her uniforms. He had absolutely no idea what she might choose for herself.
Inside, the sales floor was moderately crowded-all women-and every one of them was conspicuously ignoring his very male presence. Even Leaguers looked friendlier! Feeling his face burn with embarrassment, be picked his way to the sales console through a maze of little counters filled with silky-looking undergarments.
"Yes-s-s?" a woman said, glaring over her glasses. She was at least a head taller than Brim, with mean little eyes, mousy gray hair, and protruding teeth. She looked like a professional virgin.
"Ah," he stammered, "I need... um... a woman's outfit...."
"For yourself?" the woman asked.
Brim ground his teeth. Whoever said that war was hell never tried shopping for women's garments! Swallowing a great lump in his throat, he pointed to a dress on a nearby manikin.
"One of t-those." he stammered desperately. It was a tight-fitting bluish something that would at least go well with Margot's boots. And it also seemed as if it might be the proper shade for a blonde to wear, even though it certainly showed a lot of manikin. He shrugged to himself. If nothing else, it was clearly fashionable-he'd seen a lot of similar outfits on the street outside the store.
"That one?" the woman asked, her eyebrows raised in a surprised expression.
"That one," Brim said, trying to act as if he were even the slightest bit confident of his decision. He could feel sweat beading out on his forehead.
"Hmmph!" the woman muttered under her breath. "Well, it certainty takes all kinds."
By now, it seemed as if everyone in the store had stopped her shopping and was either looking at him in absolute repudiation or talking about him with a scowl on her face. Trying to stretch a collar that had somehow grown too tight, he gave the saleswoman Margot's size formula and his HoloID card. Then he stood by uncomfortably trying not to notice the lacy garments he usually glimpsed only in bedrooms.
The clerk required at least six standard months to complete his transaction, then another year or so to retrieve and wrap a blue outfit of the proper size. Finally-with a huge red box under his arm-he beat a hasty retreat back to the street, soaked with perspiration and embarrassed beyond belief. In comparison, Defiant's launching had been a breeze!
Brim arrived puffing in the elegant rococo foyer of the Golden Cockerel after a much longer hike than he'd expected. Dance music wafted softly from the dining room while an abbreviated, crimson-uniformed major-domo bowed so deeply that the great feathered turban he wore nearly fell from his head.
"The Hagbut party," Brim said.
"Ah, yes-you must be their missing lieutenant," the little man purred. "General Hagbut awaits you in the dining room."
"First," Brim said, handing the man his package-with a sizable credit note on top-"Princess Effer'wyck will turn up here looking for this shortly after I am seated. Be sure that you deliver it into her hands privately. Is that understood?"
The major-domo pocketed the note as if it had never existed. "I shall personally see to it, Lieutenant," he said quietly, placing the package beneath a counter. Then be led Brim grandly through the foyer.
In the crowded, noisy dining room, Hagbut's table was located close to the tiny dance floor, Margot was seated rigidly upright at the General's right-and looking more than just a little distracted. At her fingertips, a barely sampled trio of meem, salad, and soup gave mute testimony to her discomfort-and lack of appetite. Brim could almost feel her look of relief when he took his seat and discreetly nodded toward me foyer. She excused herself within moments and disappeared through the arch.
"Harrumpf," Hagbut growled, rending a great chunk from his dinner roll. "The Princess claims she has a chill or something. Just like a woman. I suppose she isn't feeling well, is she?..."