Quinlan left Sarthal through its southern gate the following morning, with Celia walking beside Serika and Marielle's new blue robe fluttering ahead of them.
The mage had arrived at Celia's house wearing it. She'd been wearing it when the neighbour wished them a safe journey, when the guards checked their contract, and when a passing woman complimented the embroidery.
That last encounter had delayed their departure considerably.
"A lovely piece, isn't it?" Marielle lifted her sleeve as they passed beyond the gate's shadow. "The temperature adjusts beneath my travelling clothes too. I barely felt the morning chill."
Kaelira glanced at Quinlan.
He could see the smith fighting a smile. She'd put a great deal of care into those tiny runes, and having someone appreciate the work was clearly pleasing her, even when that someone was a dumb cunt.
"I'm glad you like it," he said.
"I do. You should tell its maker that they have excellent taste."
"I'll be sure to pass it on."
