Delban picked up a piece of stout cord with knots tied in it at regular intervals. He took a great many measurements with the cord, meticulously recording them on a piece of flat board. "All right," he said finally. "That ought to do it. Go ahead and get dressed again."

Ce'Nedra scrambled back into her dress. "How long will it take?" she asked.

"Two or three weeks."

"Impossible. I need it next week."

"Two weeks," he repeated stubbornly.

"Ten days," she countered.

For the first time since she had entered his workshop, the blunt man smiled. "She's used to getting her own way, isn't she?" he observed to Durnik.

"She's a princess," Durnik informed him. "She usually gets what she wants in the end."

"All right, my scrawny little princess." Delban laughed. "Ten days."

Ce'Nedra beamed at him. "I knew you'd see it my way."

Precisely ten days later, the princess, with Durnik once again in tow, returned to Delban's workshop. The mail shirt the craftsman had fashioned was so light that it could almost have been described as delicate. The helmet, hammered from thin steel, was surmounted with a white plume and was encircled with a gold crown. The greaves, which were to protect the fronts of Ce'Nedra's legs, fit to perfection. There was even an embossed shield rimmed with brass and a light sword with an ornate hilt and scabbard.

Ce'Nedra, however, was staring disapprovingly at the breastplate Delban had made for her. It would quite obviously fit-too well. "Didn't you forget something?" she asked him.

He picked the breastplate up in his big hands and examined it. "It's all there," he told her. "Front, back, all the straps to hook them together. What else did you want?"

"Isn't it a trifle - understated?" Ce'Nedra suggested delicately.

"It's made to fit," he replied. "The understatement isn't my fault."

"I want it a little more-" She made a sort of curving gesture with her hands.

"What for?"

"Never mind what for. Just do it."

"What do you plan to put in it?"

"That's my business. Just do it the way I told you to."

He tossed a heavy hammer down on his anvil. "Do it yourself," he told her bluntly.

"Durnik," Ce'Nedra appealed to the smith.

"Oh, no, princess," Durnik refused. "I don't touch another man's tools. That just isn't done."

"Please, Delban," she wheedled.

"It's foolishness," he told her, his face set.

"It's important," she coaxed. "If I wear it like that, I'll look like a little boy. When people see me, they have to know that I'm a woman. It's terribly, terribly important. Couldn't you - well just a little bit?" She cupped her hands slightly.

Delban gave Durnik a disgusted look. "You had to bring her to my workshop, didn't you?"

"Everybody said you were the best," Durnik replied mildly.

"Just a little bit, Delban?" Ce'Nedra urged.