He took the garments from the pair, motioned them to leave us, and, still laughing, threw one around me.

Its texture was soft, but decidedly metallic--like some blue metal spun to the fineness of a spider's thread.

The garment buckled tightly at the throat, was girdled at the waist, and, below this cincture, fell to the floor, its folds being held together by a half-dozen looped cords; from the shoulders a hood resembling a monk's cowl.
Rador cast this over my head; it completely covered my face, but was of so transparent a texture that I could see, though somewhat mistily, through it.

Finally he handed us both a pair of long gloves of the same material and high stockings, the feet of which were gloved--five-toed.
And again his laughter rang out at our manifest surprise.
"The priestess of the Shining One does not altogether trust the Shining One's Voice," he said at last.

"And these are to guard against any sudden--errors.