Page 51 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
Civilians yelled, kicking at the males, who shrieked as booted feet smashed the bottle, the shimmering liquid draininginto the sewage systems. In response, the beggars leered, blaming each other for spending their final scrap of coins on the potion. Kora’s lips pressed into a grim line. She wouldn’t be surprised if they participated in the upcoming trials to compensate.
Kora slipped through the iron door of the Silvermaid’s Emporium, and hung close to a darkened corner as she surveyed the store. It was one of the oldest buildings in the port town, achieving a grand three floors of varying trinkets, fabrics, and unique exotic jewellery from unknown lands—including spices that hailed from there, too. In addition to that was a secretive stash of weapons, available to those who were predisposed to appreciate the sharper things in life.
Shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with the goods, broken apart by large glass cabinets displaying beautiful, shining geodes, impressively cut from the dangerous sea stacks of Narrowfen Pass.
Thick, wooden beams curved upwards from the paint peeling walls into the low ceiling, supporting the aging structure that Kora was sure was four—maybe five—hundred years older than her age. The Emporium had been here long before these lands had been united.
“Are you going to dither all day, or come greet me, child?”
The enticing items for sale weren’t the only reason patrons frequented this store.
On the far side of the room, by a glass counter, stood Agatha Silvermaid. She was curvy, yet bony, with weathered and aging light-brown skin. Glimmering silver threads wove throughout her long, braided grey hair. Yet the striking thing about Agatha, were her all-white eyes.
“I may not be able to see, but I know you’re there, Kora Cadell.” Her voice was strong, and stern with a hoarseness Kora found comforting.
“Apologies, Agatha, I was ensuring we were alone.” Kora stalked over to Agatha, placing a gentle hand on her thin arm. “Sehwani,” she spoke in Devanian.
“Sehwani,” Agatha replied secretively. Her white irises glinted mischievously with the use of the tongue of the gods. It was the first phrase Agatha had taught Kora, meaning one could see into another and observe their true self beneath their skin.
Kora’s lips twitched in amusement. “I see you made those men a love potion.”
Agatha waved a wrinkled hand, age spots blooming on her skin. Her knuckles were so swollen that her fingers had curved inwards, unable to straighten ever again.
“Gah, don’t fret about that. I’ve ensured Lady Tornton’s daily tonic has the ability of protection.”
“Well, they broke the potion anyway.”
Agatha smiled as she expertly navigated her way around, locking the store before leading Kora to a hidden room at the back through a small, narrow door by the spiral wooden stairs.
“You fiending thing,” Kora chuckled as she sat down at a rounded table beside a slumbering fire.
It was a small, wooden box room, only big enough for a dark-stoned hearth, a small table with two chairs, that Agatha used for secret fortune readings, and a plush, red, velvet sofa, covered in knitted blankets. Drapes in dark hues of purple and red hung from the centre of the ceiling, cascading down before tying up in the four corners of the room.
“Business is business.” Agatha brewed two cups of herbal tea on the hearth and placed them on the table, sliding into the chair opposite Kora. “Taxes are increasing every year. I need the coins. I’m an old, blind hag, you know.”
Kora sat in silence, Agatha’s blind stare weighing on her. For a blind female, she was highly perceptive, perhaps the most perceptive person Kora knew. Her skin itched beneathher golden embossed clothes. She would never experience the difficulty of making ends meet. She had the luxury of living with Erick, and being named the heir of the Cadell Manor and fortune, as well as the only female captain in the entire empire.
“For a blind old hag, you seem to be frequented a lot by patrons seeking . . . tonics.”
“Gah,” Agatha waved her off. “They pretend they don’t understand what they’re buying. That it’s all just herbs and voodoo gibberish.”
“Isn’t it?”
Agatha’s eyes sharpened, the whites intensely absorbing the space around Kora. She waved her hand again, brushing off Kora’s remark. Agatha knew better than most what a person believed deep down, even when they wouldn’t fully admit it. She just . . .knewthings.
Kora’s eyes snagged on the misshapen bony hands connected to Agatha’s otherwise strong, yet aged body. Soon, they’d become so swollen, and too painful to move, and she wouldn’t be able to continue with the Emporium.
Her heart skittered at the thought of someone else running the store. It was one of her safe havens on land to explore who she was; to read and learn about her passions for ancient and mythological history. Maybe she could offer Agatha a room at the manor? Perhaps she’d grow fond of the courtyard, surrounded by nature and herbs to use for her potion swindling.
“You smell different,” Agatha quipped.
Kora startled at the comment. “Is that bad?” She sniffed her own pits, but was graced with sweet scents of jasmine and orange blossom.
Agatha let out a sigh. “Not your scent, you silly child. I can smell your posh soap from here.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your essenceis different.”
“My . . .essence?”
Rolling her eyes, Agatha continued. “Everyone has an essence—a vitality of who they are, deep in their core. It is our very being. Some say it is where our souls are born.” Agatha held out her knobbly palm on the table for Kora to place her hand on top. “Some people have special essences that house spectacular gifts—”
