Green Eyes

I find myself in the market the day before I'm supposed to sail from the harbour. The constant flurry of people make me feel a little less alone - which is hard to do.

I've met many contacts here, the market notorious for crime and illegal dealings. The stalls can sell anything from rare diamonds to supposed future readings, rabbit meat to magic potions.

The market also trades in the business of secrets - everyone from children to old hags come to sell stories, trade gossip, whisper legends. Mostly blasphemous, as they usually are in the North. Legends that used to be sacred are now laughed at - and the belief that the Goddesses have left us is much more common.

I'm heavily armed as usual, knives and swords at the ready, my long hood and cape covering most of it. Not enough weapons to warrant a second glance, but if a common thief were to look closely - they would walk away.

Something catches my eye, and I approach an older woman's stand.

She's in her mid-sixties, greyish hair, bright green eyes, a kind smile. Dressed casually, with a weapon or two disguised sloppily strapped to her pants.

"Hello Miss. Looking for anything in particular today?" The old woman gives me a once-over, noticing my weapons, my clothes, my cape. She notes my hair, my eyes.

And the seller decides who - and what - I am.

Her stand is mostly paintings, some woodwork. But there's something in the back - on her far wall that brought me over here.

"Not particularly. I just noticed those-" I gestured to the items, "and I wondered what they are."

The woman nods, running her hands down her apron. "Yes, I get many questions about those."

She shuffles back towards them, turning her back to me so that I can see a cane she uses to help her walk. "I was gifted those by my late husband. He was a fisherman near the Southern Continent. He passed two years ago."

"I'm sorry. May the Goddesses rest his soul." More a formality than anything else - there are no Goddesses to help him now.

"Thank you." She smiles at me, as if no one had ever said that to her before. "He needed something to protect himself against the Laers, you see." The seller touched her heart.

"You don't mean to say-" He was killed by a Laer?

"No!" Her eyes widen, showing off the spectacular green. "No. He used them for peace of mind."

She walks back and grabs them, turning them in her hands. A set of twin knives, long and curved edges, like the waves of the sea at night. Jet black.

"These are made of onyx trees. Very rare. But the Laer are allergic to them - and it can kill them."

I try not to snort. Almost nothing could kill the Laer. They are immortal, gifted with supernatural healing, heightened senses and strength.

The seller saw the skepticism pass through my face. I didn't make a move to hide it.

"No lies! My husband killed a Laer with one - stabbed it right through the heart." The woman places a hand over her chest for emphasis.

I raise an eyebrow. No one had ever faced a Laer and lived to tell the tale. Sure, some had claimed to kiss them or have children with them, but never fight them. Let alone battle one and survive.

"Onyx trees?"

"On the Southern Continent. They call them Onychas trees in the Laer Tongue. Made from the Goddess of Death herself." She shakes her head and curses the Goddesses for mercy.

I bite back a laugh. The Goddesses didn't grant mercy - but I wasn't going to tell her that.

I hold out a hand. "May I?"

She nods, and hands me a blade.

Goddess of Death indeed. The blade seems to suck the light from the room. It feels wrong to hold, as if it was made from something unnatural. Like mixing oil and water.

The edges curve wickedly, and the actual blade is just longer than my thigh. The saleswoman watches me carefully, as if I might steal it.

It feels different than any blade I have ever felt, the metal glinting and perfectly unmarred. I dragged a hand along it in wonder.

"How much?"

The woman snaps her eyes to me. "You...want it?"

I nod once.

"A hundred." She raised an eyebrow, those green eyes sparkling.

"Fifty."

"Seventy five."

"Deal." We shake on it, and I hand her the currency.

She packages the blades for me carefully. "Trip to the Southern Continent?"

"Something like that." I smile tightly. One of the first rules I learned - Ren's missions were not disclosed to anyone but the one who was on it. And if I was caught, I didn't know his name.

"A word of advice?" She hands me the bundle of knives, and I could swear I see relief pass through her eyes.

I shrug.

"If you see a Laer, run. Don't think twice. Just run, and hope they can't smell you."

I look for the chill to run up my spine - I wait for the terror to set in. It doesn't.

The woman turned, resuming her work. And I leave, her warning echoing in my ears.

Run. I'm not sure if I would.