THE CHAIN-MAIL HAD BEEN turned into a high-necked tunic with full-length sleeves that finished with a loop that fitted snug around my middle fingers, and for my legs fitted pants. I had a minor concern though. 'Ormbel, how exactly do I get these off?'

Focused on holding pieces of the crimson leather against my upper arm, Ormbel looked at me, his hazel eyes wide and vacant. Then he processed my question.

'There's a seam down the back. The mail is charmed to open when you ...