The sun shone bright in Port Royal the next day, but few people ventured out doors. There was still talk about pirates wandering the streets. Norrington had yet to resolve to door to door searches, but that would all be in due time. Eora Standock was quite certain of that.
She hurried through the empty street until she found the place she was looking for. She rose to the first steps, wincing at the pain in her right knee. It had been seven years since she had the accident with a pistol. She had tripped, and with her hand falling squarely on the trigger, had let loose a lovely little piece of metal into her leg, just above the joint. The bullet was probably still there, since she had had no medical aid to speak of at the time. She cursed at that damned situation. She would probably never sail well again. But 'well' was a relative word.
She opened the door and stepping inside, noticed the tall figure off near the fire. When the door squeaked shut, he turned round and met her gaze. Startled at the familiarity of his face, she stared, confused. "Ah," he started. "Are you lost?"
Eora shook her head and wiped her expression from her face, "No, I'm here to buy." She looked around at the inventory.
"I'm sorry, miss," the blacksmith said. "But all the swords we have here are reserved. But if you place an order, I can have one made for you by the end of the week."
"I'm actually here to pick one up," she said, hoping her rushed information was accurate. "For Lieutenant Gillett."
The other looked around, puzzled. "His order isn't due until Thursday."
"Ah, yes," Eora tried to think of something. "…but since there's pirates about, he thought the balance of a new blade would help, if anything came up." That was pure speculation, but the blacksmith seemed to buy it.
He briskly crossed the room and took a lone sword from the corner. "Lucky then," he said, drawing it from its sheath. "I finished it this morning." He put the blade away, and carefully handed the beautiful piece of work to her. "But, he must have forgotten that he paid upon the order."
"Oh, I will inform him of that." She took it awkwardly. "Thank you sir."
"Good day ma'am."
When the door was again shut, and Eora was back in the deserted street, she examined her new sword. "Poor, lieutenant." She said out loud. "He really will miss this." Wrapping the leather straps around her own waist and tucking the sheathed blade underneath her ragged skirt, Eora hurried off, but not to quickly, towards the dock and thought nothing more of the familiar looking blacksmith.