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back, his eyes alert for the next command. Bresheu hmmed once and said, “Possibly.” This coat stayed on long enough for me to realize that it fit as if it had been cut for me before Bresheu said over his shoulder, “Marc, the hip length frock, s’il vous plait! ” He stripped the jacket off my shoulders in a single fluid movement.
    A boy hustled from behind a rack, took the offered jacket from Bresheu, and replaced it with another, this one in a dark olive green. Before I even had a chance to see it, Bresheu had it slipped into place and a boy had buttoned the bottom three brass buttons. Bresheu tugged the shoulders gently and pulled down on the back before walking slowly around me in a full inspection. It molded to me and had an uncanny feeling of rightness.
    “How does that feel, Ishmael?” Bresheu finally asked me.
    “Incredible,” I told him. “But, how does it look?”
    Bresheu snapped his fingers again, and two girls wheeled a large mirror over. Looking into the glass, I did not see myself right away. Thinking that they must have it turned slightly, I shifted to get a better angle and saw the figure in the mirror mimic my movements. The dark olive-green coat sported a single row of small brass buttons offset down the right side and rich chocolaty-colored leather trimmed the collar and sleeves. The cut resembled a military academy tunic and fell to just below my hip, much longer than the waist length jackets I was used to wearing.
    “What do you think, Ishmael?” Bresheu said to me in the mirror. He smiled over my shoulder.
    “It’s beautiful,” I said and then sighed. “But is it me?”
    Bresheu gave a little shrug. “It could be. But I’m not sure the fit is perfect yet. Please reach straight ahead.”
    I did as he instructed and I could feel the material bind across my back.
    Bresheu tsked. “As I feared. You are a runner?” he asked.
    Confused at this I answered without thinking, “Yes. How did you know?”
    “Your chest is larger and that’s what causes this binding here.” I could feel his fingers trace across just under my shoulder blades. He sighed. “This is just one half size too small for you. It needs a bit of fitting to be perfect.” He glanced at the chrono and tsked again. “I could have it ready by tomorrow…” he suggested.
    I was still gazing at the me in the mirror. The coat seemed like it was the right one, but so much more dramatic than anything I had ever worn before. The flashy buttons and the leather trim seemed oddly theatrical. I blinked and noticed Brill had returned and was eyeing me critically. “What do you think?” I asked her. “Is it me?”
    She smiled. “It’s spectacular, certainly. But, is it you?” She shrugged. “You’re the only one who can answer that.”
    Then Bresheu’s words sunk in. “Tomorrow? No. I have duty tomorrow. And we leave for Dunsany Roads the day after,” I told him.
    “Pity,” he said with a downward twist to his lips. “The coat is spectacular on you, Ishmael, but it needs just that bit of tailoring to make it perfect. Could I tailor it and have it sent to the ship, perhaps?” he asked.
    “I don’t know,” I told him peering once more in the mirror. “This is a fantastic piece, but I wonder if it’s perhaps—I don’t know— too dramatic?” I sighed. “I don’t know that I have the presence to pull this off.”
    Bresheu smiled back at me from the mirror. He caught my eyes in the glass and leaned into my ear, “Ishmael, there is an old saying that the clothes make the man. Is this the man you wish to be?”
    I broke the gaze and examined myself once more before looking back in his eyes. “I don’t know, Bresheu. I need to think and we don’t have much time.”
    “You are a wise man, Ishmael,” he said and slipped the coat from my shoulders. A girl took it and disappeared. Bresheu slipped my own jacket back onto me and gave it his little tugs.
    “May I suggest that you think upon this during your voyage,