Free Dragon Princess by S. Andrew Swann Page A

it back at me. I almost dropped the knife catching it. “Unless that’s all copper,” he said, “You can afford better than this.” He tossed the breeches on the scrap pile. He walked over to his workbench and pushed the ogre skin aside and pulled out a length of rope with hash marks evenly spaced along its length. “It’s been a long time since I was able to cater to a woman.” He turned around, pulling his rope taut. “Now spread your arms.”
     • • • 
    I spent the better part of half an hour being exhaustively measured by the old leatherworker. While his closeness and the placement of his hands made me extremely uncomfortable, I had to admit his attentions—while not precisely innocent—were not quite the violation I had been worried about. He spoke nonstop, telling me of the years when he was the premier supplier for the women not just in Doylen, but for all of Lendowyn.
    For a time I wondered at the thought that there were that many female adventurers in Lendowyn. Except for the occasional warrior princess, I hadn’t ever heard of much demand for armoring the fairer sex. Then he said that a few items from his “special collection” would fit me without much alteration, and I understood.
    My definition of adventure had just been too limited.
    The outfit the old man produced was designed for a different form of combat than I’d been thinking of.
    “Ah,” I said.
    “Gorgeous, is it not?”
    “Uh—yes—the workmanship is excellent. But I was hoping for a little more protection.”
    He frowned a moment, then rolled his eyes. “Of course, you’re going to wear this
outside
, aren’t you?” He shook his head and disappeared deeper into his shop to rummage back in his “special collection.”
    In the end he came up with something that offered protection to more than my breasts and crotch, and boots whose heels were a sane height for hiking. I left the premises in an outfit that fit a little
too
well. I was a bullwhip shy of becoming a dominatrix, but at least I made an old man happy and got a good deal on the ensemble.
     • • • 
    The downside of replacing Diego’s armor was the fact that now no one could ignore my current body, including myself. Every downward glance showed me the princess’s curves emphasized in well-tooled black leather. Even if I avoided glancing at my own—no, at the
princess’s
—body, I could still
feel
it, every step I took.
    But at least the old man’s outfit finally allowed me to make the princess somewhat intimidating. As I worked my way through the underside of Doylen, I got more than my share of propositions, but I was able to deter the more aggressive ones by drawing my knife and offering free discipline from Mistress Blackthorne.
    Even so, I bought a full cloak at the first opportunity, allowing the princess’s assets to blend into the crowds a little better.
    Unfortunately, the rest of my day, and the rest of Diego’s money, were much less productive. I slid through a number of pubs, inns, and marketplaces ranging from the disreputable to the dangerous, attempting to find any information the rumor mill could give me about a dashing rogue called Frank Blackthorne, a shady wizard named Elhared the Unwise, and anything regarding dragons. I didn’t mention princesses or the Lendowyn court. I was spending half my time dissuading unwanted advances, and questions about the woman whose body I wore seemed to be asking for trouble.
    It always started out promising, with some version of the “dragon taking princess hostage” story. Then I’d get colorful anecdotes of Elhared’s checkered past that I really wish I had known before the old bastard had hired me. Even Frank Blackthorne had gained some measure of infamy for his exploits in embarrassing the royal court of Grünwald.
    And, each time, that’s where the well went dry. No one seemed to have heard anything more about dragon, thief, or wizard. As I bought rounds for some of my more talkative