A/N: Originally, this was supposed to be part of chapter five, but I found out it was better as a chapter of it's own. Barchellano is based on the city Barcelona in Spain(wonderful city). Espanjiil County is the same as Spain, but in Espanjiil, Barchellano is the capital. Got it?
I'm so very sorry for the *extremely* long delay in updating chapters. I was a bit shocked to discover that I hadn't updated it in almost a year…I'll try to be better from now on. This story won't be very much longer, anyway - only a few chapters left, I think. (That's the problem though - getting through those chapters to the last paragraph of the story, which I've known for some time… *sigh*)
Chapter six: Barchellano"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Jet asked when they came into town.
"No," Cheya admitted.
"Let's do that first, then. Or- can you wait for an hour? Then we could take measures for the costumes first."
"Okay," Cheya said. "How long will it take to make them?"
"Oh, they'll be finished before we have to be back," Jet said. He smiled at her surprised look. "I sent a message two days ago to the seamstress who's going to do the job – she does all the Dragons' costumes, she's an old acquaintance of mine – telling her that I needed a costume for an acrobat. She already has my measures."
"Oh." Somehow, Cheya found that 'old acquaintance' part a little distressing…*Stop it. It's probably nothing.*
They had turned off the main street (which was a no-horse zone), walking into a little alley. A sign over a door pictured a woman repairing a tunic. The door sign read: Madam Chen's tailor shop. They went through the door, a bell announcing them, and waited. Cheya looked around. The room had a desk with pictures of different kinds of garments; behind it stood a shelf full of packages with name labels on them – orders, Cheya guessed. The walls were decorated with some paintings in Great Eastern County-style, and to the opposite side of the room from the desk stood a little table, some chairs and a comfortable-looking sofa. A woman in her late twenties emerged from a room in the back. She took one look at Jet, and ran into his arms in a hug.
"Jet!" she said, and smiled.
"Hi, Ming," he smiled back. Cheya watched, trying to keep her face blank. The woman was…very beautiful. She was only a little lower than Cheya, with black hair cascading down her back and down to her waist in elegant curls. Her eyes, when she looked questioningly at Cheya, were golden brown. She had a generous figure, perfect, straight nose, lovely cheekbones, and her mouth…*Stop it. You're only making things worse.*
"Ming, this is Cheya," Jet said. "Cheya, this is my-" *lover. Mistress. Fiancée,* Cheya filled in. "-cousin, on my mother's side."
"Oh!" Cheya said in surprise. "Right. Hello, mrs. Chen." She offered her hand to Ming, who took it in a warm handshake.
"Oh, only 'miss' for another three months," she smiled. "And please – just call me Ming."
"Okay," Cheya said. "Call me Cheya." Ming nodded in return.
"So you've finally decided on a date?" Jet asked Ming.
"Yes," she smiled. To Cheya, she explained: "I'm going to marry one of the merchants who lives here in Barchellano."
"Congratulations," Cheya said.
"Thank you. So," Ming turned towards Jet again. "This is your new partner in crime?" She smiled again at Cheya. *My, my. She smiles a lot.*
"Yes," Jet smiled. "Let's go into the business room, shall we?" Ming nodded and led them into the backroom. This one was much cosier than the one in the front: it seemed more private, somehow. There were two comfy sofas and one big, comfy chair, and one more business-like chair at a desk. There was a lower table to the side of each sofa, with un-finished clothes on them. The walls were lined with shelves, which in turn were stacked with cloths in different colours and types; velvet, silk, cotton and so on, threads in different colours and types, pearls in different colours and types... There were some life-sized dolls to hang the clothes on while you were working, and in one corner stood a changing screen. To the left side of the screen stood a full-length mirror.
Ming went over to the desk, where some light blue trousers and a vest, also in light blue, lay. She handed Jet the clothes. "Here," she said. "Go and try them on." Jet went behind the screen, and Ming turned her attention to Cheya. "Strip," she said.
"What?" Cheya asked.
"Strip," Ming repeated. "I can't take any exact measures over all that uniform."
"Oh. Um…"
"You can keep your underwear," Ming said, smiling at Cheya's obvious awkwardness.
"I promise I won't look," Jet called from the screen.
"Okay…" Cheya took off her uniform. Ming started to take measures with a measuring tape.
"Spread your arms," she said. Cheya did, and Ming took measures of her chest.
"What colours were you thinking of having?" Cheya asked.
"Light blue, like the one Jet's having, and silver. No need to get too colourful," Ming said as she moved down to Cheya's hips.
"Oh. Am I going to pick something out – I mean a design – first, or are you going to just make one?"
"I have some designs I'm going to sew. Don't worry: The ones left over I can use for somebody else. You're not especially tall or low, so it will be okay."
"Okay. How long will it take? Jet said you would be done this evening, but…"
"That's about as long as it will take, yes," Ming said and smiled. "My colleagues – that being some friends of mine who want to earn a little money – will help me. They are quite effective. Well, I'm done now. You can take on your clothes again."
Cheya blinked. It had taken less than a minute. Suddenly Jet's voice sounded from behind the screen:
"How the hell did I gain so much weight?! "
"What is it?" Ming asked. "Can we have a look?"
"Absolutely not! These pants are…TIGHT!"
Cheya's eyes widened. "Come on," she coaxed. "Get out and show us. They are supposed to be that way." In an undertone to Ming she added: "Right?" Ming nodded, her eyes twinkling with laughter.
Jet came out from behind the screen. "But… look at them! Or, better still, don't look!"
There was a moment of silence as Cheya took in the fact that Jet's trousers where, indeed, tight, and he took in the fact that she had forgotten to take her uniform on again. Then she became aware of it, too, and hastily grabbed her clothes to cover herself. She glared at him. He took the hint and hastily went behind the screen again.
"I guess he'll have to have the loose ones," Ming sighed. "Although it was fun to see his reaction." She grabbed another pair of light blue trousers and handed them over the screen. After another minute Jet emerged again. Cheya had to admit he looked good in loose trousers too. They were tied at the waist and ankles with strings – another Great Eastern County style. The vest was quite simple: reaching down just below his ribs, and open in the front. *What a six-pack…*
"I don't think I'll have the vest," Jet said. "It…seems out of place."
Ming and Cheya nodded agreement. Jet took it off:
"Perfect!" Ming and Cheya said simultaneously. How very sexy he looked in that outfit… *Where did that come from?*
"You're keeping up your shape, I see," Ming said, a teasing smile on her face. "The girls must love it."
"Have to," Jet said. "Keep in shape, I mean." He reddened slightly.
"Yes, of course." Ming's tone wasn't exactly agreeing, but Jet chose to ignore it. "You'll have that one, then?"
"Yes," he said. "Can you keep it here while we go and eat?"
"Of course," she smiled. "You'll pop in in the evening?" Ming led them to the door.
"Yeah," Jet said. "We'll see you later, then."
"Have fun!" Ming called after them. Cheya waved in reply.
*
As they strolled down the main street, Cheya noted many people going in and out from a big building. "What's that?" she asked Jet, nodding towards it.
"Our lunch-provider," he answered, and steered her inside.
Cheya gasped. It was a big market…a very big market. The big building was packed with market stalls, which in turn were stacked with fruit, vegetables, sweets, fish, bread, meat…the fruit stalls had pepper the size of her head, apples the size of dishes, watermelons the size of pumpkins… Jet smiled at her childish pleasure at just going around and looking, but after a while, when she was studying a live, giant fish swimming around in a container, he leaned over her shoulder and murmured:
"Maybe we should go get some food now, hmmm?"
Cheya blushed a little at his closeness, and said: "Yeah, sure."
"Unless, of course, you want that-" he pointed at the fish, "-for lunch?"
She started on an apology, only to see him grinning at her. "Why, Jet," she said innocently, "what a marvellous idea! How much do you think it costs?"
Jet stared at her, his grin slipping. "Um, you're not actually thinking-"
"Oh, but you would have to slay it," Cheya continued thoughtfully. "I really don't think I would want to stink like fish guts all day." Now he looked at her in horror. She smiled innocently. "You would store the guts, wouldn't you? I've been told they do marvels to your skin." She let that one hang there for a long moment. Then she couldn't help it; her smile slipped over into an outright grin. "Oh, Jet, you're so naive! I'm only kidding!" Jet relaxed again with a sigh of relief. "Now, let's go find a bakery store. I'm ravenous." She towed him after her around the market until they found a stall where they sold bread, then bought a white loaf.
"Sure you don't want anything else?" Jet asked. "Rolls, sandwiches, anything?"
"No, I'm fine," Cheya said. "Unless your lordship want anything more… lordly?"
"No, my lordship will do fine with this-" he broke of a bit of the loaf and bit into it, "-amahingly gooh bread, fank you," he finished, his mouth full of bread.
"Okay."
Barchellano was an endless source of interesting sites and monuments, different cultures and street musicians. It seemed like on every corner they turned, a musician – or musicians – would be sitting, playing for money. The music became a pleasant part of the background, as Jet and Cheya strolled around.
In the mid-afternoon they stopped at a tavern. The weather was nice, so they sat outside, eating the famous Espanjiish tapas and drinking fresh-pressed orange juice.
"Hey, look at them!" Jet nodded towards a plaza where some street gymnasts were performing.
"They're pretty good," Cheya noted. The gymnasts were doing some impressive flips and turns and the like, much to their audience's delight.
"Think you can do the same?" Jet asked.
Cheya watched the street performers with narrow, calculating eyes. "Give me ten days." Jet nodded and gave her a half-toast with his orange juice glass, his lips quirking slightly up.
"Ah, there you are." Ming greeted them with her hearty smile as they again entered the door to her shop. "Just in time for a cup of tea. I finished the costumes about an hour ago, and just put the kettle on. Care for any?"
"No, thank you," Cheya declined politely.
"The usual," Jet said.
"Why don't you try the costumes on as I make the tea ready?" Ming led them into the backroom and gave Cheya a set of clothes. "Make yourself comfortable," she said to Jet, and went into the kitchen to fix the tea. Jet sat down in one of the comfy chairs with a content sigh. Soon Ming arrived with the tea: lemon spiced for Jet and Great Eastern County herbs for herself.
"Are you ready?" she called to Cheya.
"Yeah…" Cheya emerged from behind the screen and turned around in front of Ming. "Um, Ming… are you sure I'm supposed to wear it like this?"
Ming smiled what Jet had come to recognise as her 'I've done a perfect job' smile. "Yes. Absolutely sure."
"Okay…" Cheya turned to look in the full-length mirror. Jet studied her costume from the back.
Cheya's top was light blue, and tied in the back with a thin light blue string, the loose ends brushing down her back for about a foot, leaving her back practically bare. Her skirt was a bit short – not that he minded – going in a circular ark from her mid-thigh on the right side up to the spot just below her hip-bone on the left side. The result was that there only was two inches of cloth around her waist on the far left side. The skirt was light blue. All around the edge thin threads (also light blue) hang down with half an inch's succession. The threads were two inches long and had a silver bead threaded on each one. The short skirt displayed her long, delicate, perfect legs…
"What do you think, Chey'?" Ming asked. Cheya turned. Jet almost choked on his tea. The top consisted of two triangular pieces of cloth, held together by a silver ring at the bottom of her cleavage – Jet was momentarily distracted by her cleavage – and with a similar string as the one around her back going around her neck. Both the strings hung together with the oblong triangles. The top wasn't exactly revealing, but it was certainly hinting.
"Don't stare," Ming murmured in his ear. "It's impolite."
"But- but I didn't stare!" Jet protested out of the corner of his mouth. *Did I?*
*Don't ask questions when you already now the answer.*
*Shut up.*
"Isn't it…a bit small?" Cheya asked.
"Oh, is it?" Ming raised an eyebrow. "I think it fits you quite well. Right, Jet?"
Jet woke up from his trance. "Yes, yes, you look great in it."
"But I'm half naked!"
"No, you're not," Ming said. "I made sure to cover the parts that counts."
Both Cheya and Jet blushed. *When did she get so… seemstress-ish?* Jet thought. He couldn't call it motherly: a mother would have screamed and dressed Cheya up as a nun.
Ming sighed. "Okay, let's test it. Cheya, could you jump up and down a little?" Cheya dubiously did. Bounce-bounce went her top. Jet tried hard not to stare. "At least it isn't too loose," Ming said. "Turn a somersault." Cheya did. The skirt kept in place. "It will do," Ming said. "That is, if you feel okay with it."
Cheya turned around again, and studied herself in the mirror. "Well…"
"I have another set," Ming offered.
"Oh?"
Ming held up a light blue, three inches wide, three feet long bit of cloth.
"What's that?" Cheya asked.
"The top," Ming said calmly. Cheya's eyes widened. "You're supposed to tie it in the back. This," Ming held up an even tinier strip of cloth, "is the lower part."
Cheya stared at the thong. "You're kidding," she said.
"No."
"Nobody would wear that in public."
"Actually, I made one just a month ago. Although that was a wedding present…"
Cheya grimaced. "I'll take this." She indicated the clothes she was wearing.
"I thought you would," Ming smiled.
As she led them to the door again, she murmured to Jet: "Give them a worse alternative, and there you are; they wear whatever you want them to wear. Works every time."
Jet smiled. "You'll call Richards and get the money later, right?"
"Of course," she said. "But I think I'll wait till all of you have been here so the bill's longer, just to scare the old bugger." She winked at Jet; he grinned in return.
"He always was convinced we had to be your biggest customer." Richards, the Dragons' accountant had gone straight to the Captain the first year they'd had a contract with the Espanjiil landlord, outraged about all the money they had used in costumes. He had only calmed down when the Captain gave him the list over the pay they got; Lord Patrisió was generous with the gold when it came to protecting his own skin, and felt that extra sponsorship for costumes wouldn't be out of order.
"So," Jet said as they again walked towards the holt where the Dragons were camping, their costumes under their arms. "Are you satisfied with what we got?"
"Yeah," Cheya said. "The skirt and the top were rather pretty."
"That was what we tried to tell you," Jet said. His smile blunted the words.
"Although," Cheya said with a side-ways look at him, a smile playing across her lips, "I liked those tights you tried, too."
"Oh?" Jet raised an eyebrow at her. "I must admit I liked the mental image of you using that other costume instead. But I guess seeing you in underwear will have to do."
Cheya gaped at him. "You, you…" she spluttered.
"Pervert?" he suggested, his lips quirking slightly upwards.
"Right."
He paused a little. "Please don't tell Thord you saw me in tights, okay?"
"Only if you don't tell him you saw me in underwear."
"Deal."