366 Days a Captive

Clever Clothiers and Tough Conversations

Chapter Seven: Clever Clothiers and Tough Conversations

Jim stared at Siobhan, the castle's seamstress with a look that screamed his confusion and disbelief. His simple request for the far more than distressed medics uniform to be recreated, as it seemed far more likely that the original was only good for rags or at least a poorly thought out skirt, had been met with not only the production of an identical dress, but an entire wardrobe! And somehow they'd crafted something new out of the ratty old one.

Siobhan, amber eyes gleaming, smirked at the momentary look of sheer lostness that came over the castle's resident wordsmith. He stared at her as if she had done something terrible, and it was worth the hours she had spent working on the clothing to see the young man look his age for once.

As all older women do, Siobhan was wont to think of as anyone under her age as younglings who needed to either shape up or relax. Jim fell into the relax category, with his workaholic nature and overly serious attitude.)

"Mistress Siobhan, I," Jim paused plucking distractedly at a beautiful gown of deep maroon, trimmed in glistening yellow lace, "What is this?" He ran a finger over the intricate gold stitching on the bodice, the beads of amber and yellow tourmaline, scattered in a shimmering pattern that echoed the shifting of light through the claret leaves of the Syfen tree.

"Have you never seen a dancing dress before, boy?" Jim, too busy wondering what kind of impression this would make on the other inhabitants of the castle, how exactly his captive would take to being showered in gifts, not to mention the cost, didn't catch the sarcasm in Siobhan's voice.

"Of course, I've seen a dancing dress, I mean why did you..." His voice trailed off pointedly as he grasped a fistful of and emerald and ivory patterned skirt and shook it in her direction.

"Because I saw what you had the poor thing wearing at the ball yesterday, and because you can't keep a lovely little child captive with only one dress for an entire year. A woman needs at least a change of undergarments, does she not?"

Jim felt his face flush in guilt and embarrassment at that. He'd just assumed that May's friends had sent her extra clothing in their gifts. After all they were a practical sort. He hadn't thought that maybe she'd been wearing the same things for 14 days.

"Alright. Fine. But why so many..."

"Colors, dresses?" Siobhan's eyes crinkled. "Maybe an old woman such as myself likes doting on the doomed or maybe I like to show off the skills that got me this position. So many of our resident courtiers only want the current fashion, ignoring the beauty of a classic style." Her eyes held conflicting emotions, anger at the shallow minds of some of the castle's inhabitants and wistfulness for bygone days, times that would never return.

"As for the colors, I only caught a glimpse of her, but it was enough to know that green would be a lovely color on her, as would a dark blue. However, her people are known for their love of red and the gold trim will bring out the colors in her eyes." The admonishment went unspoken, that crafting a dress was just like crafting a speech. It required knowledge of the audience and the subject, demanding a perfect tailor fit to appear natural, to enhance what was already there and ensnare with what wasn't. That all arts were similar, siblings in the grand scheme.

That she a tailor to royalty was not so different than he, a speaker for kings.

"They will look wonderful on her, I am sure. How much do you require in payment?" Jim waited for the exorbitant figure, knowing that even though these gowns were far from overly extravagant (one could not upstage the royalty after all), they were beautiful and well crafted, masterpieces in their own right.