They spent most of the day obtaining clothes more suitable for a visit to the theater. That meant Harbend leading Arthur to different tailors, leaving him with the instructions to say nothing and move whatever body parts the tailor wanted moved, while running away on errands of his own.
When Arthur was left to the all too personal manhandling by the fifth tailor in quick succession his temper began to turn ugly, and he forced Harbend, when he finally returned, to explain what was going on.
"They are tailors. Unlike you outworlders we do not have warehouses where prospective customers can wander in and choose some clothes never fitting properly anyway."
"I understand that," Arthur responded testily and tried to pretend he didn't feel the hands taking measures of his legs. "But why do you have to drag me around half the city like this?"
Harbend stared back in surprise. "I told you magic is banned in Keen."
Arthur didn't understand. "So?" The hands neared his crotch and he barely avoided a twitch.
"Gods! You want me to bring you to the theater this evening. As a trader you of anyone ought to be familiar with the logistical phenomena of production time."
Understanding finally dawned on Arthur. "And they each make one piece?"
Harbend declined to answer the question.