“You! You, Syr! Come! I have the very thing you are looking for!”
Orpek stopped, eyeing the darkened shop opening in the knot of roots without turning around. Above it a sign hung, reading something in the common script he’d never quite learned how to read. The stores to either side had already closed their doors for the evening but this one remained open.
“Who calls?” he said.
The shaded figure chuckled, rumbling phlegmatically. “Ah, you should know Uthbra,” he said. A tallow candle behind him flickered, glinting off of chains around a wide neck. “All coming here should know Uthbra and his wares. You are looking for something, yes? A special something, or you would not still be looking this far in the market…”
Orpek watched the figure carefully. “A knife,” he said, attempting to dismiss his reservations. “A carving knife. As a spare.”
“Ahh…” said the figure, nodding. “A knife, to carve? To shape? I have the very thing you seek, forged far away and brought here by a noble woman of my own trade. Being getting things to the people who need them, and at a reasonable price too.”
Orpek nodded. “For sure,” he said, not sure what else to say. “I would like to see this knife.”
The figure moved backwards with surprising grace, jewellery tinkling gracefully. “Please, enter, good Syr,” he said. “You must at least see the craftsmanship, yes- so many have come through here and only seen a knife, but you- oh!” he chuckled as Orpek ducked into the shop, finding it comfortably illuminated once his eyes adjusted to the low light. Inside was a veritable grotto of wares, most ornaments of metal and wood, but fine (if well-worn) capes and cloaks and textiles and hangings trailed down from the walls, swinging in the faint breeze. It smelt of aged wood and musty fabrics under the gentle tang of incense.
Uthbra was, as it turned out, a toad, and he stood about chest-height with Orpek, his mottled skin wrapped in a woollen jumper under a leather jacket ornamented with polished reptile scales in a grid, the shards glinting in the candlelight. Polished chains and bracelets hung off him wherever there was space to hang such a thing, and Orpek noted that though they were finely wrought to a one their materials were simple. Copper. Wood. Amber. Soapstone. His smile was wide and serious but despite his obvious intent to sell Orpek something the gleam in his eyes was genuine.
Before Orpek could react Uthbra was shaking his hand enthusiastically, and then had him by the shoulder. He found himself directed to a display case full of hanging utensils of artfully shapen brass and copper and dark-laquered, time-worn wood. Uthbra opened it with theatrical care, grinning widely to Orpek as he took a strangely shaped knife off a hook.
It was small, barely longer than his finger, and the oddly shaped blade was the shining dark of black bronze. It curved like a spoon. Orpek frowned.
“It is a finely made thing,” he said, slowly, “But… what is it for?”
“This is a carving knife,” said Uthbra, voice hushed. “It is for carving spoons and bowls and the tiniest of cups.” He broke away from his reverence, grinning to Orpek. “And for merely a quarter-weight of bronze, it is yours.”
Orpek nodded, considering. He didn’t really need a small knife for carving spoons better- a plain knife would do just as well- but it was a pretty thing. At Uthbra’s wordless urging he took it. The handle fit snugly into his hand and he found himself smiling.
A quarter-weight of bronze really wasn’t too bad.
Orpek considered it carefully.
He couldn’t carve spoons with the bronze in his pack, nor his simple bronze workknife.
That was as good a reason as any.
“I would like to buy this,” he said, somewhat awkwardly, as he unshouldered his pack and felt through it for his coinpouch.
Uthbra nodded, seeming to sense his discomfort. “A good choice,” he replied. “Though I would say that, given that I am selling it, no?” He chuckled softly. “Thank you for your business, Syr…”
“Orpek.”
“Syr Orpek.” Uthbra nodded. “It was my pleasure.”
“Thank you for…” Orpek hesitated.
What would he thank Uthbra for? Selling him a thing? That was what he was here to do, wasn’t it? For being friendly? That was to sell him the thing, and anyway how would he do that? Orpek felt his brows knitting and decided to make a decision before he got too worried to answer.
“Thank you for showing me this knife,” said Orpek with all the confidence he could muster. “I will recommend your shop to all.”
“Oh, not to all!” Uthbra laughed. “My shop can only fit so many!”
Orpek left the market burrow the next morning. Halfway to the next stop on his journey sat under a tree by a brook with a good knot of beech and made a bowl, surrounded by the smell of running water and fresh moss. It was rather wonkier than he had carved them with his old knife but he didn’t mind.