"Mother," Ren whispered, his dark eyes tightening with quiet confusion as he searched her weathered face. "Why are you actually letting me go down there? You know better than anyone how dangerous those south-avenue alleys are after dusk. Five minutes ago, you were ready to break the pestle over her head just for asking."
Old Lady Lin let out a slow, heavy sigh, the fierce, barking bluster she used in front of Heena melting away into cold, hardened calculation.
"Don't worry," she murmured, reaching deep into the hidden inner pocket of her apron. She pulled out a tiny, wax-stopped ceramic vial and a tightly folded square of oiled paper, pressing both firmly into Ren's palm. "Here. Keep these tucked inside your right cuff, where your fingers can reach them without looking."
Ren looked down at the two items in his hand, his brow furrowing as he recognized the distinct weight of the vial and the sharp, acrid tang faintly bleeding through the oiled paper. "This is...?"
