Swiftly he dried himself off and put on his clothing, then went in search of one of the Guards who seemed able to get him the few things he had tentatively asked for.

“A coat for you, and harness up your Companion? Shouldna be a problem. I thought we give you a coat already—” The man looked at him quizzically. When Mags shook his head, he shrugged. “Well, that’s easy remedied. If there’s naught in stores—” He got up from the stool he had been sitting on to polish his boots, set his task aside, and steered Mags toward a part of the building where he’d not yet been. This, it turned out, was “stores,” which was where everything not in immediate use was tucked away. Unfortunately, there were no coats or cloaks in storage that were not so big they completely enveloped Mags and pooled on the floor.

Fortunately, there was a tailor.

In a remarkably short time, Mags was headed to the stable in a coat that was still too big for him, but which had had the sleeves and hem shortened by the simple expedient of cutting them off so he didn’t fall over them, and which was held in with a belt improvised from a bridle strap. The tailor was doing a “proper job” of shortening another coat while Mags “made do” with this one, which, so the tailor averred, “Wasn’t fit for anything but the ragbag.” Mags couldn’t see what he was talking about to be honest. There seemed nothing whatsoever wrong with the coat to him. But then, it was the first time he’d ever had a coat, and certainly no one else seemed to be wearing one with as many patches on it as this one. He didn’t see where they made a difference; certainly he was toasty warm in this thing.

He knew where the stable was already, for he had been to visit Dallen several times there. This time, when he pushed open the door tentatively, and stood blinking in the horse-and straw-scented gloom, he saw one of the Guards was already pulling tight the wide strap that held Dallen’s saddle on his back.

He stood back uncertainly. The Guard didn’t seem to know he was there. :Now what do I do?: he thought.

:You ask Tennit to help you onto my back.: Dallen cast an amused glance at him out of one blue eye, and the Guard turned.

“Heyla,” the man said in a friendly enough tone. “Got this lad all tacked up and ready for ye. Are ye gonna be needin’ a bit of help, then?”

Relieved that the man understood without Mags having to say anything, the boy nodded.