Mat didn't even know what he was doing here.

The bell rang as he entered the shop, fingering the hem of a dress and trying to look casual, a difficult task for a rather scruffy looking man in what seemed to be a very prosperous shop. He glanced at a price tag and bit his tongue to keep from whistling. And no wonder, if that was the kind of price they were charging. What some women would pay just to wear these things…they all looked the same to him, except for the neckline and the colors, if they were bright like those Ebou Daran dresses. Those had been nice – or would have been except for that most of them were carrying knives around. Women with knives made Mat a little nervous.

He turned to examine another dress, this one fluffy and white and with a sheer gauze overskirt. It was completely ridiculous, of course. He fingered the satiny fabric and wondered to himself once again what he was doing here.

The shopkeeper, a plumpish woman with laugh lines around her eyes and a merry smile, came bustling over. She reached nearly to his elbow, and Mat found himself resisting an urge to laugh. "Something you need, sir? Looking for a gift for a lady?"

"No," Mat started to say, but found his traitorous mouth saying "Yes," before he knew it. "A small lady – about yea high, dark skinned, very petite?"

The shopkeeper looked intrigued, but business came before gossip, apparently, because she turned and began looking through the rows of dresses with phenomenally professional speed. "Let me see, let me see…eye color, sir? Dark skin, you say…interesting…"

"Brown," he said immediately, the picture of her lovely face in his mind in a moment. "She has brown eyes."

The shopkeeper looked up, lips pursed. "And what sort of dress are you looking for? A fine riding dress? A dancing dress?"

Mat paused, here, and took a plunge. "A dancing dress," he said, firmly.

She clicked her tongue and moved on through the dresses, almost too fast for him to follow. He caught her finally, holding up a lovely silver-blue gown, strangely lacking in the frills the others had, that would, he could imagine, flow gracefully over Tuon's slender frame without holding or trapping her, and would glide across the floor with her when they danced. He took it, a slight smile on his face as he thought about that picture. What kind of dancer was she? He wondered. She had to be good, all her motion had such grace behind it…

The shopkeeper shook her head with a little sigh. "She must be a lovely lady to have captured your eye, Sir," she said, knowingly. Mat felt his mouth twitch.

"She is indeed," he murmured. "Lovely, and terribly confusing."

The shopkeeper laughed. "The pretty ones always are, sir. Will you be buying that, then?"

"What are you doing, Toy?"

Mat's head whipped around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. He stuffed the dress behind his back swiftly. "Tuon?"

She came gliding over imperiously, fortunately wearing her wig – though it seemed to detract from her beauty – and pulled his arms out from behind his back, revealing the dress. She examined it for a long moment, then a smile started on her face. "What is this, Toy?"

"A dress," he muttered sullenly. He could hear Selucia's muffled snort, bloody woman.

Tuon's smile became just a little patronizing. "I know that, Toy," she said, still sounding benevolently interested. "But what are you doing with it?"

"I thought it was pretty," he said, feeling oddly trapped and helpless. It was not a good feeling for a man who prided himself on his quick thinking.

"Well, it certainly wouldn't look well on you, Toy, just as a word of advice." Tuon looked away, her smile slightly smug – but only slightly. Selucia was still trying, and not very hard, to muffle her laughter.

"What a lovely shop," Tuon said to the general assembly. "And such beautiful dresses. I think I shall have to try one on."

Mat shrugged sullenly, looking at the dress and trying to figure out what was wrong with it. Probably nothing. "Go ahead."

She shot him a dirty look he pretended not to notice. "I don't need your permission, Toy." Then she pulled a dress off the rack and stalked haughtily to the dressing rooms, trailed by her faithful little dog. Mat imagined she almost growled at him.

He hung the dress back up and went to the front of the store, pulling his hat down over his eyes and leaning against the wall, mouth set in a stubborn line. The shopkeeper shot him a sympathetic look, but he pretended not to notice that either.

Then Tuon emerged, and he forgot nearly everything.

"How do I look?" She asked, twirling around.

It was the most horrendous monstrosity he'd ever seen. It was absolutely disgusting, a clash of hideous colors and nauseating patterns. Mat knew nothing about dresses, and he wanted to vomit looking at the thing, it was so garish, and ugly, and –

"You look beautiful," he choked out, proud of the even tones in his voice. "It is a very nice dress."

Tuon laughed, a little strangely, but Mat was so busy keeping his face neutral that he didn't really notice. "I think so too. Will you buy it for me, Toy?"

The thought of saying no never even crossed his mind. It was only after she had the dress off and he was holding the disgusting thing that he thought to look at the price tag. His eyes bulged as he set it on the counter.

The shopkeeper's eyebrows shot up. "The lady has expensive taste."

Mat grunted.

Wisely, the shopkeeper refrained from saying more on the subject, and Mat handed the bag holding the dress to Tuon and pocketed a purse much lighter than it had been.

He went to the door and waited, wondering what on earth he had gotten himself into.

Tuon leaned over the counter and whispered something to the woman, then glanced at him, then whispered something else. He felt a growl surface and suppressed it ruthlessly. If that was how she was going to play…

As she came over, he offered his arm, which she refused, and noted in a not too quiet voice, "You know, that dress is not very flattering. I thought the blue dress enhanced your figure much better."

Tuon's look could have melted steel. "Be quiet, Toy," she snapped, and marched out of the shop. He smiled a little and followed after her meekly. Halfway down the street, however, she stopped abruptly.

"Oh – I've forgotten something," she said, looking genuinely distressed. "I must go back and fetch it. Wait here, Selucia, Toy." She set off at a brisk walk back down the street.

It was several minutes before she came back out, with Selucia hissing vague warnings in his ear the whole time, but when she did she was humming and looked almost happy about something. Mat had to keep a smile off his face and offered to take her bag.

"No, that's all right," she said quickly – perhaps too quickly, he wondered?

"Did you find it?"

"It?" She gave him an alarmed look, then laughed suddenly. "Oh, I realized I hadn't forgotten it after all. I had it all along. Come, we should get back to the caravan before dark." She set off at a brisk walk, trailed closely by her watchdog. Mat hung back a little and allowed himself a grin when he was sure she would not see. He was certain that in the bag from the dress shop, buried beneath wrapping and tissue, he had caught a fleeting glimpse of silver-blue cloth.