located, took them down the Ranza path of rounded archways and buildings. Aaros stopped in front of a shop where the circular window featured a bare, faceless mannequin. A human-shaped form of wire with its head hanging off the side, creating a nightmarish silhouette.
A little bell rang over their heads upon entering. A chill settled in Kallia’s bones. The muted scent of fabrics, with a subtle undercurrent of flowery incense filled her nose. Dresses hung everywhere, some alone, others along racks of similar shades from light to dark. Soft pinks and dusty mint greens, champagne golds and creamy grays. No reds or blacks or anything particularly bold. All pure Glorian. Kallia bit back her disappointment when she heard a noise rustling from the back.
“I should probably handle this.” Aaros moved subtly in front of her, rubbing his hands for warmth. “Mistress Ira is a bit of an acquired taste, but she likes me.”
The noise turned into soft steps, accompanied by a steady rapping beat against the floor. From behind the racks of gowns emerged a figure effectively hidden just by her height. The older woman stooped over her polished brown cane, her squinted eyes peering through spectacles the size of saucers. First at Kallia, before darkening on Aaros. “Get out, boy, or I’ll make you.”
Kallia snickered, but Aaros was not the least bit deterred. “Ira, come on. I thought we had come to an understanding.”
He approached her with his arms open for an embrace, and the woman scowled even more. “You put those hands away. Who knows what they’ll make off with this time.”
“I promise not to steal another thing. Ever again.”
“You said that last time. When you stole some slip of a thing to please some lady friend, and then a skirt for the sister of that gentleman you were mooning over.” She craned her head for another look at Kallia. “Ah, and you bring another. Your heart never stops finding victims, thief.”
“That’s not what this is,” Kallia clarified, as Aaros bleated, “I’m not a thief!”
“No matter.” Mistress Ira swatted an uncaring hand in the air. “Lovers, accomplices, whatever you two may be, you’re not getting past me. I’ve got an endless supply of needles and pins hidden in this cane. Don’t think I won’t use them.”
“Ira, no need for violence.” Aaros stared warily at the cane. “Listen, I’m a changed man! I’m off the streets, and I’ve even got a job.”
The woman barked out a laugh. “Sure. And who’s the poor soul responsible for that?”
“That would be me.” Kallia stepped forward, snatching the garment bag from Aaros’s arm. “And we’re in a bit of a hurry. I’ve got a dress with a small tear and some taking in that’s needed before tonight, if possible—”
“I can do it,” Ira muttered, tightening her shawl around her. “As long as you pay.”
Erasmus had promised that the magicians who made the next round would receive a stipend after tonight’s performance, but that didn’t do her any good here. Noting the woman’s shiver, Kallia’s brow lifted curiously. “I think we can work something out.”
“Right this way, then,” Ira called over her shoulder without thinking twice, already hobbling away to the back. “And watch the thief, will you? His fingers might start wandering.”
“You’re breaking my heart, woman,” Aaros lamented. “What’ll it take to clear my name?”
“Just don’t touch anything, and I won’t stick you with a needle.”
They walked between racks of full-skirted dresses before passing through a curtain into the dressing rooms. Kallia secured one to change in, moving as efficiently as she had with her costume changes at Hellfire House, before marching out in her performance gown. Aaros hooted and clapped as if the show had started, while Ira stared unblinkingly. “You won’t survive this place in that sort of dress.” She withdrew a needle from the top of her cane. “Where are you going?”
“There’s a magicians competition, tonight at the Alastor Place. Surely you know of it.” A small, excited flutter went through her. “You should come.”
“I’ll check my schedule.” Ira’s disinterest could not have been louder. “Figures you’re here for that nonsense. You’re one of the magicians performing, I take it?”
“Oh, I … yes. Yes, I am.” It was the first time someone had correctly assumed she wasn’t the assistant, and the recognition left her a bit breathless. “How did you know?”
“People talk, especially in this town.” She circled Kallia with an eye on the dress’s tear, before inserting a marking pin. “And from magician to magician, I sensed you the