Free Rhythm of the Imperium by Jody Lynn Nye

“Do you want to look at the readings? Some people don’t want to know. They just want stuff to fit.”
    “Teesh!” Icari chided him. “We do not sell ‘stuff.’”
    Teesh was scarcely abashed.
    “Right, right. Well, what do you lack, gentlepeoples? I guess you must be gentlepeoples, with lots of money, because he ,” the Wichu aimed a hairy thumb over his shoulder, “doesn’t usually come out to talk to customers himself.”
    “You may so assume,” I said. There was no use in denying it. I struck a pose, chin up, back straight. “I am Lord Thomas Kinago, cousin to the Emperor Shojan XII. This is Madame Deirdre, a galaxy-famous dancer and choreographer. Neither of us are lacking in funds to indulge. And this lady is Lieutenant Anstruther, whom you will find it difficult to impress.” Anstruther looked a bit discomfited. I suppose I shouldn’t have teased her, but it was irresistible. She wound up more easily than my little sister.
    Teesh beamed, showing sharp yellow-white teeth. “This’ll be fun, then. Come on, let me show you the top-of-the-range stuff … er, our finest garments and accessories.”
    Whereas in a Taino boutique, I might be surrounded either by holographic images of myself wearing the clothing on show or animatronic dummies wearing the costumes to show their fit and flair, such was not the manner in the House of Icari. Teesh hauled us before a triptych mirror, an actual silvered-glass contraption, and held up one hanger’s worth at a time under my chin. Pinpoint lights, around the edges of the mirror and shining down from the ceiling, shed flattering illumination on my person. It was delightfully old-fashioned, and I enjoyed it.
    “Midnight blue’s not your color, my lord,” he said, whisking away a long, silky body suit and replacing it with a puffy, ochre costume with bell-like sleeves. “You need a bit of life in your hues. The madam here, she could wear that with style. I’ll show you a gown in a minute, my lady, that’ll bring out your shape and hair color really nice. It’s got rollers in the skirts that hike them up and down as you choose. Or you could just thumb through the racks. No extra charge for looking.”
    To my very slight disappointment, the oval racks were motorized. Madame Deirdre felt delicately at the fabric of first one, then another of the choices displayed thereon. I peered at myself in the peeling reflection. Teesh noticed my disappointment and replaced the costume for another one.
    Truth be told, I had enough clothing for both the outward and the return journey. I did not want to think too far ahead in my wardrobe, considering how swiftly trends came and went among the fashionable cognoscenti. I should be horrified to return to Taino with last week’s designs as yet unworn. The one thing I did lack was a costume to perform in front of the Zang. In spite of Parsons’s objections, I needed to plan.
    I began to observe Teesh’s offerings with fresh eyes. Skill there was in abundance; that was not in doubt. The outfits were cleverly made, but any one of them could have been duplicated, and even improved upon by the skills of Hugh, my tailor—then I recalled with a start that I had just lent his services to cousin Nole. Apart from having the computerized tailoring program—not an AI, and therefore devoid of personality—on board the Jaunter put something together for me, this seemed my best alternative. At least I would find originality and soul in these creations.
    “Do you know anything about Zang, Teesh?” I asked.
    “Big gray fellahs,” Teesh replied. “Stone bodies. They don’t wear clothes, or what passes for clothes looks just like the rest of them.”
    “Have they ever shopped here?”
    Teesh rocked back on his pink heels and thought deeply.
    “Well, they’ve passed through now and again. Dunno that they ever stopped to look at anything. They don’t exactly have eyes, more black pits into which everything seems to fall, is the best way I