"Well now, that depends entirely on you, and your bank account. You've had the poor luck to catch me at the arse end of a tour - if you'd turned up when I first crossed the mountains this year, I could have kept you here for days - but I may still have a few smaller pieces, to suit...refined tastes, that haven't been spoken for."
Sasha scratched his chin. He shaved a lot more regularly on the Connlaothian side of the mountains. Cut his hair more, too. Connlaothians were, as a rule, somewhat more likely to trust a big, clean cut man who could have been a blacksmith than they were to trust a big hairy creature with the tundra accent still clipping the end of some words.
"You did say you wanted something pretty..." he peered absentmindedly into a pocket stitched onto the side of the tent. There were lots of those, inside and out, to hold the little things that would only get lost any other way. This one held stone. He pulled out a small carving; light blue stone, almost icy blue, polished smooth (sharkskin could be amazing that way!) and oiled until it shone.
It matched her eyes. She'd have to have never seen herself if she couldn't pick that up.
"You live a risky life, miss. You'd know as well as any that being a Mordecai has its dangers, yes? Sometimes."
The carving was barely longer than the first two bones of a woman's index finger. barely wider than two fingers laid side by side. It was an odd shape, curled into a fish hook, but carved all over with details. Some kind of great creature, turned in profile, with a fish's tail, a man's body - the muscles of his forearms and chest were clearly marked, it had taken ages to carve so finely! - and the wicked curve of a beak on an eagle's feathered head. It had a loop at the top of the hook, for a piece of string or leather.
"This is called a manaia. It's supposed to protect the wearer from all evil and all harm, no matter if it comes from the earth, sea or sky. I've seen them worked with magic included, but that tends to be done as a particular request by the parents of a sick child or someone else who's especially vulnerable. In any case, I don't think I understand magic well enough to sell those ones."
He chuckled. "I'm not stupid enough to sell you a spelled necklace, so this one is only a good luck charm, like a rabbit's foot."
He reached into another pocket for a length of plaited leather, and cut off the amount he needed with his hunting knife. On her...hmmm...maybe to the hollow of her throat? No longer, it'd get tangled.
"Working it into a fish hook is deliberate. People in the north rely on the sea to survive a lot of the time - it brings most of our food, whale and seal blubber keeps the lamps burning for warmth, we use whale bones to support most of our big building projects, we trade seal fur and fish. For us, the fish hook is a symbol of prosperity, general good fortune...all that nice stuff. Men and women both wear it," he pulled the collar of his shirt aside for a moment, to be sure she could see the bone hook, carved with scales and feathers and skin, gleaming white against the skin on his throat, "but for women in particular it has another meaning, as a symbol of determination and strength."
He moved behind her, broadcasting every move as clearly as he could.
"There's a copper mirror in that pocket there if you want to see how it looks...may I?"
