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Perhaps the woman flattered every couple that came her way. Heba didn’t care. In this moment, with Shai, she believed every word.
There was an array of finely-woven and dyed linen, sashes threaded with gold and pretty, inexpensive, but intricately-designed jewelry that sparkled under the torchlight. Necklaces, bracelets, anklets and rings. Arm bands, headbands, and well-crafted earrings.
She picked up a silver ring carved and welded in the shape of the ouroboros. It was beautifully made. The artisan was talented indeed.
“You have a fine eye,” the old woman noted, seeing Heba’s interest.
“That was made by my son after his wife died many years past. He buried her with it to remind them both that life and death are a never-ending cycle. That death leads to the afterlife where she can be reborn, and where he may join her when his time comes. There in the Field of Reeds, they will be together and live forever in perfect harmony.”
“It is a sad yet uplifting story,” Heba murmured.
“But wait, you said he buried her with the ring?”
“It seems other villagers found that his gesture resonated with their own grief as well,” the woman explained, “so they requested rings of their own to be made for loved ones. And so, through misfortune, he gained a new income to support their children. For before this, he was merely an iron worker. Now, he makes fine jewelry, as you see displayed.”
“He made all of these?” Heba eyed the impressive collection appreciatively.
“Aye,” the old woman replied. “He is a talented metal smith.”
Heba kept the smaller ouroboros ring in her hand and reached for a larger one. She turned to Shai and urged him to try it on.
He started to put it on his middle finger before she took over.
“No,” she instructed, “you must put it on the fourth finger of the left hand, like so.”
The old woman smiled a knowing smile while Shai did as Heba bid, though his expression showed confusion.
“Young man, your lady wants you to wear it on the finger that contains the vein of love. It leads directly to the heart,” the seller explained.
Heba blushed furiously, wishing the old woman hadn’t been so forthcoming. She hoped Shai wouldn’t think she was too presumptuous.
It was just that… she wanted to be closer to his heart. Matching rings didn’t get her there, but it was a visible way to stake her claim.
His eyes were once again unreadable as he pushed the ring onto his fourth finger. It fit perfectly, as if it was made just for him.
She slipped the smaller ring on her own fourth finger of her left hand. It fit too. A perfect pair.
“I’ll take these,” she said a bit breathlessly, inordinately pleased.
She reached inside her coin pouch to pay the woman, but the seller stopped her by putting a gnarled old hand on top of hers.
“Consider them a gift. My son would want it so. Such a beautiful couple in love deserve to wear his forever rings.”
“But—” Heba began to protest, though she didn’t know what for.
Was it the too-generous gift of the rings, or was it that she and Shai weren’t truly in love?
What did it mean to be in love? How did she know if she was? If he was?
“If you want to give me coin, come take a look at the other jewels. I’ll happily take your gold then,” the seller said.
Heba dismissed her momentary confusion and perused the other wares.
She selected two pairs of earrings and a pretty turquoise anklet. Then, she came across a small box of studded silver bars she’d never seen before. They seemed too large for ear piercings.
“What are these?” she asked. “How would I wear them?”
“Oh, my child, they are not for you,” the old woman answered with a twinkle in her eyes.
