12. Chapter 12 The Set #3
Dalla's expression shifted into the professional focus of a woman who knew her inventory.
"I have a stonethread set that would suit him.
Came in last month from a weaver in the capital who supplies the Aldermere dungeon guilds.
It's the best combat-grade healer equipment I've had in the shop in two years. "
"Stonethread?" I said.
"Woven with mineral fiber. Tougher than standard cloth, lighter than leather, holds enchantments cleanly.
Dungeon-grade material. Most serious parties run stonethread or ironweave for their casters.
" She looked me over, measuring with her eyes, the same focused calculation Mildred had used the first time I'd walked into her shop.
"You're about a forty-two chest. Long arms. I think it will fit fine. "
She disappeared into the back of the shop and came out carrying three pieces of clothing draped over her arm. She laid them on the counter one at a time.
The shirt came first. It was deep blue-gray, the color of storm clouds over the mountains.
The cloth ran heavy, with a subtle weave that caught the light in a way regular fabric didn't. The fit was close through the chest with reinforced panels at the shoulders and forearms. The collar rode high without being stiff, and the sleeves were cut to the wrist with a cuff that could fold back for healing.
"Stonethread shirt, healer's grade," Dalla said. "The enchantment on this piece recovers mana faster during active exertion. Your clinic coat regenerates mana while you're standing around. This one recovers it while you're moving, casting, and fighting. Different purpose, different design."
"So the harder I'm working, the faster I get mana back."
"Exactly. It was built for healers who are in the middle of the fight, not standing behind the line."
The trousers came next. They ran darker than the shirt, closer to charcoal, the same stonethread material but heavier in the weave.
Reinforced panels covered the thighs and the knees bent freely on articulated joints.
The waist was cut to sit above the hip and the legs were tapered to the ankle without being tight.
"Stonethread trousers, reinforced," Dalla said. "Stamina persistence. You'll tire slower. Dungeon runs put constant physical stress on the body. These reduce the accumulation. A healer who's fresh at depth five instead of exhausted is a healer whose party comes home."
Sif was running her fingers along the shirt's weave, testing the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. "This is capital-quality material. Where did you say the weaver was?"
"Aldermere. She supplies three of the top guilds. I get a small allocation twice a year."
"I know the guilds. This is good. Daniel, feel this."
I touched the shirt. The fabric was denser than anything I'd worn in Eldwold, heavier than Mildred's linen undertunic but not as heavy as her wool coat. It had a solidity to it, the material itself refusing to give.
Then Dalla unfolded the robe.
It matched the shirt's color exactly. The cut fell to mid-thigh, shorter than Mildred's knee-length clinic coat, with a heavier weave and a subtle pattern in the fabric that only showed when the light hit it right.
The sides were split for movement, the pockets deep, the hem and cuffs reinforced.
The collar stood an inch above the neckline, framing the throat without closing around it.
Two flat brass clasps held the chest closed, similar to the ones on my clinic coat but heavier, built to stay shut under stress.
"Healer's Robe of the Firm Hand," Dalla said.
She laid it flat on the counter and the fabric fell heavy, built to outlast anything you put it through.
"This is the signature piece. Increases healing throughput when you're under direct threat.
Your heals hit harder when the situation is dire.
Most combat healers would sell a kidney for this robe. "
"Firm Hand," I said. "My clinic coat is the Quiet Hand."
"Different philosophy, same profession. The Quiet Hand is for when you've got time and space. The Firm Hand is for when you don't. Your clinic coat says 'I'm here to help.' This robe says 'I'm here to help and I'm not leaving.'"
Sif picked up the robe and held it against my chest. She stepped back and looked at me with her head tilted, her blue eyes calculating. "Put it on. All three pieces. She should have a fitting room."
"Back corner," Dalla said. "Behind the armor rack."
Sif gathered the three pieces and pushed them into my arms. "Go. Change into everything. I want to see the full set."
I took the clothes behind the dividing curtain and stripped out of my Mildred kit. The Healer's Coat came off first, then the field undertunic and the trousers. I folded each piece and set them on the bench. I pulled the healer belt out of the loops of the trousers.
The stonethread shirt went on first. It settled against my skin with a weight that was reassuring instead of heavy.
The mineral fiber had a smoothness to it that regular cloth didn't. The high collar rested against my throat without choking.
The sleeves ended at the wrist and the reinforced panels at the shoulders moved with me when I raised my arms. I pulled the trousers on next.
They fit right and moved right and held like they'd been made for someone who needed to kneel in rubble and scramble over rocks and drop to the ground to put hands on a bleeding person.
The articulated knees bent without resistance.
The robe went on last. I shrugged into it and the weight of it settled across my shoulders like a hand.
The split sides cleared my hips and let my legs move freely.
The deep pockets hung against my thighs.
The brass clasps closed at my chest and the collar stood up, framing my jaw without crowding it.
A connection locked in, deeper than the physical, in the same place the belt hummed. The three pieces found each other and clicked together like tumblers in a mechanism. The sensation hit my chest, right where the gold started when I healed.
[Stonethread Shirt, Healer's grade. Worn.]
[Stonethread Trousers, reinforced. Worn.]