"Where are we?" Kendi asked.
"Shopping district in Treetown," Ara replied. "Like I said, the city grew around the monastery and a lot of the people work for the Children or have family that do."
Kendi looked around. The buildings looked much like the monastery, except the they had larger front windows with various products on display. They were obviously stores, but completely unlike the cold, sterile malls back in Sydney-malls that he had last visited over nine hundred years ago, he remembered with a strange pang. The people who had worked and shopped there were long since dust.
Ara chose the closest shop, a two-story place called "Millicent’s," and held the door open for them. "First stop," she announced, "fashion!"
Kendi paused in the doorway. "How do we pay for this?"
"Like I said back on the ship, the Children will pick up your living expenses, including clothes," Ara said. "You’ll eventually have to pay it back, but we don’t charge interest like the corporations do. Irfan herself made that rule, and I think it’s a good one. The monetary unit on Bellerophon is the freemark, like a lot of places. For comparison, five freemarks will get you a meal at a fast-cook restaurant. For ten freemarks, you can get a meal at a decent place, and for thirty, you get linen tablecloths and waiters with towels draped over their arms."
The interior of the store smelled like fresh leather and new cloth. It was a large place, with two sets of spiral staircases that wound upward to a balcony that ringed the main floor. Clothing of all kind hung in attractive displays and on the high walls themselves. Kendi looked around in awe. He hadn’t bought anything in his three years as a slave on Giselle Blanc’s farm, and before that his family had been too poor to shop in a place like this. The abundance of choice was overwhelming. The others stood near him, equally dumbfounded and uncertain.
"Go." Ara made shooing motions with her arms. "Bother the sales clerks. Try things on. Get!"
"Come on, Willa," Dorna said. "Let’s see what we can find you. The boys are on their own." She towed an unprotesting Willa away.
Jeren caught sight of something and broke into a grin. "Whoa! I’m there!" He grabbed Kite’s sleeve and headed toward a display of black leather.
"I guess that just leaves the two of us," Ara said to Kendi with a smile. "Let me look at you." She held him at arm’s length. "Hmmmmm. You’re in luck. I think brown’s your color, and it’s all the rage this year."
Kendi laughed. "All the well-dressed monks are wearing it?"
"You know it. Come on."
They spent a pleasant two hours picking out various articles of clothing, including socks and underwear. The sense of choice and freedom was overpowering. He could, in theory, have anything in the store, and no one seemed inclined to tell him to hurry up. It felt strange to have the clerk bring things to him and put away what he didn’t want. Kendi loved it.
Ara, meanwhile, informed Kendi that although they were now in high summer and the weather was warm, Bellerophon was overall cooler and rainier than July IV and Australia, which necessitated buying sweaters, thick trousers, rain gear, and heavy shirts. They were more expensive than the shorts and thin t-shirts that had made up the majority of his wardrobe back in Sydney, and the unexpected high prices dampened some of Kendi’s enthusiasm. Despite Ara’s urgings-"High quality will last longer and look better, too"-Kendi did his best to be careful. His one extravagance was a pair of fine suede boots. They were soft as butter and came up almost to his knees.
"This is the matching jacket," said the sales clerk, putting it around Kendi’s shoulders.
Kendi shrugged into it and looked into the mirror. He caught his breath. The jacket looked wonderful. It molded itself to his body as if it had been tailored for him. The suede was soft and the color was a bit lighter than his skin, creating a pleasing contrast. It smelled of new leather.
"That looks perfect," Ara breathed behind him. "Kendi, that’s you. Really."
"Already waterproofed for you," the clerk said. "And it has a lifetime guarantee. If you outgrow it, come back and we’ll make alterations. Same for the boots."
Kendi turned this way and that, admiring the way the jacket moved with him. Ara was right-it was him. He had never owned anything like it, and he wanted it like he had wanted nothing else. "How much?" he asked.
"Eight hundred freemarks," the clerk told him, and Kendi blanched.
"Too much," he said, reluctantly removing it. "I’ve already spent more than I should have on the boots."
"Oh, get it anyway," Ara said. "You deserve it."
"Enabling the shoppers again, Mother?" said Dorna, who came up at that moment. "I swear you’d offer champagne to a recovering drunk."
"Irfan said nothing about extravagance being evil," Ara sniffed.
"No, but the Real People did-do," Kendi put in.
"The Real People?" Ara repeated, puzzled.
He handed the jacket to the clerk, who accepted it without comment. "My …tribe. Balance and moderation in all things. I can justify the boots-I need good ones-but not the jacket."
"You’ve been a slave for three years, Kendi," Ara said quietly. "You should indulge yourself a little. And you’ll be able to pay it back. Your Silence is strong, and you’ll be a Brother pretty quick."
Kendi looked at the jacket in the clerk’s hand one more time. He could still feel its suppleness, smell the sweet leather scent. Then he firmly shook his head, though he couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. "I can’t. It’s too much. The boots are indulgence enough."
"Your decision, then," Ara shrugged. "Let’s check on the others."
Willa, Kite, and Jeren had all piled up an impressive quantity of clothing. Despite his earlier comments, Jeren hadn’t stocked his entire wardrobe with black leather, though his taste in clothing ran toward daring and brash. Kite had chosen a real mishmash of styles, and Willa had selected a large number of mousy brown robes and dresses all in the same conservative cut.
"It’s all she’d buy," Dorna said in mock despair. "We’ll have to work on her." And Willa flushed again.
"Bill and deliver these, Mother?" asked the clerk.
"Yes, please," Ara said, and gave him the address. "Thanks for your help."
Kendi gave the suede jacket one last wistful glance as they left the store, then sighed and promised himself he’d come back and get it-or one like it-as soon as he had paid to the monastery whatever debts he incurred.
Outside, Ara declared it was time for lunch-her treat. She ushered them to an outdoor cafe where they took up a table in the shade by the railing. They had just finished ordering when a rumbling vibration shook the floor and rattled the dishes on the table.
"What the hell?" Jeren said.
Dorna looked over the railing and pointed down. "There. Take a look."
Kendi, Kite, and Jeren peered over the rail. Several other restaurant patrons joined them. Willa hung back. Far below, well over a dozen heavy, blimpy shapes with long necks and whip-like tails moved with surprising agility. The distance and perspective made it hard for Kendi to figure out how big they were. Their heavy feet tromped the ground, making even the giant trees shake.
"They’re each the size of a small house, right?" Dorna said when Kendi asked. "Lots bigger than a Micky spike. They’re slow and stupid and they’ll accidentally step on anything that gets in their way, so don’t get too close, yeah?"
"I wonder what it’d be like to ride one," Kendi said.
Ara patted her chest in mock horror. "That kind of risk I can live without, thank you," she said. "I have enough adventure in my life without adding a dinosaur rodeo."
The group came back to the table. "ZbeingChildciting?" Kite asked.
Ara didn’t answer. Once again, her gaze was fixed in the distance.