"Ah, ah, yes, good master," he said in a thin, nervous voice, bowing several times. "Would the lady like to wear them now, or should I wrap it up?"
"She'll wear them," he said. "Do you have any shirts like this one?"
"Not linen, good master, but I do have some saiya fiber shirts."
"Go get one," he said. "A dark-colored one."
"They didn't know you speak Arakite," Jula mentioned to him. "What am I going to do with my tail?"
He walked over to her and grabbed her tail by the base. She squeaked a bit when he pulled it out of the way, then pulled the fabric up and over its base. He noted the position of the bulge, then slit the fabric of the trousers with a single claw. "Thread it through there," he told her.
"Give a girl some warning next time," she said primly to him. "If it were anyone else pawing me down there, he would have gotten slapped." She expertly threaded the tip of her tail into the slit he made, pulling it through and smoothing the fur, then she pulled them up over her hips and buttoned them. She swished her tail a few times. "Nice," she said. "It's not pinching."
"I see you have full control of your extra parts," he noted.
"It took some time. Especially the ears. They never wanted to go where I wanted them to go." She turned around for his benefit. "It still feels weird having these things clinging to my legs. When did you learn Arakite? You speak it like a native."
"Back in Aldreth," he told her.
"These aren't going to wear the fur off my knees, are they?"
"They haven't worn it off mine," he replied.
"You're wearing leather. This is fabric."
"Jesmind likes canvas pants, and she still has all her fur. That's the best answer I can give you."
"Canvas? That much itch."
"But it's tough," he said. "Those pants won't last you very long, but they'll do until a tanner can measure you for some good leather trousers."
"They seem pretty rugged to me."
"It's cloth. The claws on your feet will shred them inside three rides. You need something tougher if you want it to last."
The small clothier returned with a shirt the color of dark sand. He held it up grandly for Tarrin to see. "Is this acceptable, good master?" he asked nervously.
"Try it on," he told Jula, taking it from the small man, then tossing it to her.
Jula turned her back to them and pulled off her robe, then shrugged into the shirt. It was a bit loose in the shoulders, tight in the bust, and it gave her lots of room in the stomach. "Not quite," she said, turning around. "This is a man's shirt. I'm not quite that flat-chested."
"The lady wants something more accommodating to her assets," Tarrin told the clothier blandly.
"I'll find something, good master," he said with several rapid bows, then he scurried away.
"I feel like a boy," Jula complained.
"There's too much in that shirt for you to be a boy," he told her bluntly.
Jula flushed slightly. "You know what I mean. I've never worn pants in my life."
"You're not here to look pretty for the men, Jula," he reminded her. "You're not a human lady anymore. You're a Were-cat female, and this is what Were-cat females wear. By this time tomorrow, you'll understand why."
"You keep saying that. Why?"
"Do this," he said, squatting down and putting his paws on the ground between his knees, right beside his feet.
"That looks silly. You look like a frog."
"It wasn't a request," he said flintily.
Sighing, she mimicked his pose, squatting down and putting her paws down between her feet. "This wouldn't be easy in a dress," she admitted.
"And that's why you're not wearing one," he told her, standing back up. "Tonight, you're coming with me, and I don't stroll along the street. Two hours on the rooftops, and you'll be kissing my feet for getting you into a pair of pants rather than a skirt."
"I didn't get much into physical activity after I recovered from our little meeting," she said as she stood back up. "I had my Sorcery. It was handy being stronger than three men, but I didn't use it all that much."
"Part of what we are is what we can do," he told her. "You'll find that out tonight."
The clothier returned with three shirts, all of them a light sandy color. "This is all I have for a woman, good master," he said apologetically. "Only slave women wear such things, and I don't usually cater to them."
"It'll do, shopkeeper," he said. "Try these on," he told Jula.
Jula took the shirts and turned her back to the two males, and tried on the shirts. The first was too small, but the second fit her very well. "This is the one," she stated, turning around for them. "It's loose everywhere it needs to be loose."
"We'll take it," Tarrin told the man. "That's all we need."
"Very well, good master," the small man said with a nervous laugh. "The price will be twenty silver kangs."
"Fine," he said, handing the man a handful of gold coins. "Take what you need and give me change. I'm sure you know better than to try to cheat me, human," he said grimly.
The man's eyes widened. "I'd never do such a thing, good master," he said quickly, bowing about ten times in five seconds. He picked through the coins and took out two gold ones, then pushed the rest back to Tarrin. "I'll bring you your change."
"Keep it," Tarrin said with a wave of his paw.
"Would you require anything else for your lady, good master?" he asked with a bright smile. "A brush for her hair?"
Tarrin glanced at the man. "Actually, that's a good idea," he said. "She does look a little frizzy."
"I have a nice horsehair brush, backed with ivory and carved with a very nice design of a unicorn on its back. It's a very nice piece. Because of your generosity, I offer it to you at the bargain price of two gold shangs."
"Bring it," he told the man tersely.
"I have to fetch it from the storeroom," he said with another bow. "I'll be right back."
"What's he after now?" Jula asked curiously. "He has more clothes that fit me?"
"Something almost as good," Tarrin said.
He returned a moment later, holding the brush. It was indeed a very nice piece of crafted art. The ivory was very old, yellowing, and carved in the back of the brush was a relief of a unicorn standing by a stream. The brush's horsehair was much newer than the ivory back. It had been rebristled. The brush's handle was quite large, large enough for Jula to manipulate it very easily. "Is this acceptable, good master?" he asked, holding it out.
"Very nice," Tarrin admitted, taking it from him and looking it over.
"A brush? Tarrin, that's very thoughtful," Jula said sincerely. "My hair is a mess. If I felt it was safe, I'd kiss you."
"If you don't feel good about yourself, then you won't be as prepared as you can be to face your instincts," he told her calmly.
"Then let me put on a dress."
"Not when it will interfere with my other lessons," he said. "Just trust me about the dress, Jula."
"Alright, but only because you're giving me that brush," she said with a slightly teasing smile.
Tarrin paid the man for the brush, and handed it to Jula. "It's lovely," she said with a smile, running a padded fingertip over the carved back of it. "Thank you, Tarrin. You almost make me think you care."
Tarrin snorted. "Let's go," he said.
They walked for nearly an hour in complete silence. Jula pulled the brush through the snags in her hair mechanically as they walked, smoothing it and restoring it to the beauty that he remembered when she was human. People stared at them as they went by, even a few bands of the city's watch, but nobody challenged them, or so much as spoke to them. Tarrin spent that time alternating between watching the people, watching for any kind of sneak attack, and observing Jula. She seemed completely at ease now. There was no sense of her through the bond; she wasn't experiencing any one emotion strongly enough for it to seep through. The fear and anxiety she'd felt before their talk had evaporated, and he hoped that it meant that her fears had been eased somewhat. She invoked conflicting emotions in him, both anger and pain at the memory of what she did, and his paternal duty to protect her and prepare her for adulthood. The long talk had had an effect on him as well.