12. Chapter 12 The Set #4
[Healer's Robe of the Firm Hand. Worn.]
[Stonethread Healer's Set complete. Set effect: casting efficiency under threat.]
That last notification hung in my mind's eye for a few seconds: casting efficiency under threat. My heals would cost less mana when I was in combat. The belt made them hit harder and the set made them cheaper. I could push further into a bad fight than I'd ever been able to before.
I stepped out from behind the curtain.
Sif was leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. When I came around the armor rack, she straightened and her arms dropped and for one full second she didn't say anything. The silence lasted long enough that Dalla looked up from her ledger.
"Oh," Sif said. "Oh, Daniel."
"Is that a good ‘oh?’"
"That is an extremely good ‘oh.’" She walked toward me, her eyes moving from the collar to the hem and back, a full tactical assessment. "Turn around. Let me see the back."
I turned. Sif made a low sound in her throat that had nothing professional about it.
"The girls are going to lose their minds when they see you in this. Bjorna is going to stop in the doorway. Nott is going to pretend she isn't looking and then look anyway. Liv is going to climb you like a tree."
"Liv doesn't climb me like a tree."
"She's going to start." Sif came back around to face me and put one hand on the robe's collar, adjusting it a fraction.
Her fingers were quick and precise and she left them there a beat longer than she needed to.
"You look incredible. You look like an actual adventurer.
A dangerous one. The kind that walks into a dungeon and everything in there gets nervous. "
"I'm a healer. Nothing gets nervous when I walk in."
"Trust me, something is going to get nervous. You have no idea what you look like right now." She was smiling, not the show-smile, and her blue eyes held mine. "You look handsome, Daniel. Genuinely, stupidly handsome. I'm going to take credit for this for the rest of time."
My face was hot again. "Thank you, Sif."
"Don't thank me. Let me look at you." She circled me one more time. "Dalla, how much for the full set?"
Dalla named a number. It was significant but not impossible, and less than I'd expected for capital-quality dungeon gear.
I pulled my coin pouch from my Ring of Holding. The twelve gold from last night's split sat inside along with some smaller coin I'd accumulated. I counted out the total and it left me lighter but not broke.
"That covers it," I said. "I don't need you to spot me."
"I'm almost disappointed," Sif said. "I wanted to hold it over your head."
"You'll find something else to hold over my head. You always do."
Dalla swept the coin off the counter. "Your old clothes are in the fitting room. Want me to buy them? I've got an enchanted washer that'll clean dungeon residue right off."
"I'm going to keep them," I said. "They're my clinic gear.
I'll put them in my ring." I went back behind the curtain and loaded the coat and the undertunic into my Ring of Holding.
They disappeared into the ring. I pulled the boots back on and walked back out in the stonethread set with the healer belt underneath.
Dalla nodded. "Smart. Two kits for two purposes. Most serious adventurers run separate sets."
"He's learning," Sif said.
"I learned from the best." I looked at Sif. "Four gorgeous women who won't let me do anything wrong."
Sif's grin came back, all teeth and genuine. "Four gorgeous women and a very firm robe. You're in good hands."
Dalla extended her hand again and I shook it. "Come back if anything needs adjusting. Stonethread breaks in over the first few wears but it shouldn't need tailoring. And tell your patients the healer got an upgrade."
"I will. Thank you, Dalla. And your friend’s daughter, if her wrist gives her any more trouble, bring her by. No charge."
"I'll hold you to that." She smiled and went back behind her counter.
Sif and I walked to the door. She reached it first and pushed it open, and the morning sunlight hit the stonethread and the deep blue-gray went bright for a second before settling.
The avenue stretched in both directions, Larg's smithy visible up the road, people moving in the easy rhythm of a Halver's Reach morning.
I stepped out onto the cobblestones. The robe moved with me, the split sides clearing my stride, the collar sitting against my jaw. The belt hummed underneath. My boots were still the Mildred boots, dark brown and broken in, the one piece of the old kit I was still wearing. The rest was new.
Sif walked beside me, compact and sure-footed, her loose silver hair catching the sun. She looked up at me and her grin softened for half a second before she caught it and put the sharpness back.
"Not bad for a morning's work," she said.
"Thanks for your help. It means a lot."
Sif barked a laugh and punched my arm. "Don’t get all mushy on me. Remember… you are a spanker and you finger hot bunny girls’ asses."
I rubbed my arm and acted like it hurt. “I’m both of those things.”