“Black for his new station,” the woman said, clapping her hands once. “Green for his heritage. A deep forest, in moderation. Someone bring me a variety of eyepatches, and someone else burn that hat.” “What?” Mat exclaimed. Servants swarmed around him, picking at his clothing. “Wait, now. What is this?” “Your new regalia, Honored One,” the woman said. “I am Nata, and I will be your personal tailor.” “You aren’t burning my hat,” Mat said. “Try, and we’ll bloody well see if you can fly from four stories up. Do you understand me?” The woman hesitated. “Yes, Honored One. Do not burn his clothing.
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