(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

The tailor, a short, heavy-set, middle-aged man was wearing clothes that
seemed to be spun of glittering gold. In his hands he held a bolt of cloth
strung taught across a wooden frame; embroidering some pattern into the
fabric.
"Greetings..."
The man didn't seem to acknowledge my presence. He continued to work at
his embroidery, muttering under his breath... as he sewed, shimmering
motes of light sparkled and dropped from the tip of the needle.
"Good sir; did you hear me?"
"Greetings, Master Goncalves," Grace said, accenting her approach with a
light flutter of her wings.
Goncalves immediately turned from his work, blinking, and bowed politely
to Fall-from-Grace, a gesture she then returned. "Greetings, Lady Grace.
How is it that I can help you today? That order is almost complete..."
"There is no need for haste in my request, Master Goncalves; your skill
demands time, and no doubt what comes from your hands will be pleasing. I
am not here regarding that matter, however. This man here..."
Fall-from-Grace bowed to me. "...wished to speak with you for a moment..."
"Of course!" Goncalves turned from her. "And so, sir... what was it you were
here to see me about?"
"I had questions..."
"Hmm? I hope 'tis about garments and the like. I shan't answer anything not
concerning myself or the store, you know."
I pointed to the bolt of cloth he held, "What were those lights while you
were embroidering?"
"That? Nothing, sir, but a bit of the Art, which I at times weave into fabric
when the fancy strikes me. Those items which I lavish enchantments upon
are my most special creations, and are rarely sold."
"What sort of magical clothes do you have available?"
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