Keeping Your Eyes On The Road
short fiction
Waiting was getting boring, he felt like had been here a long time. Varr and the other kids of the village had started out in the afternoon playing tag, and then pretending to be knights and dragons, then mumblety peg (which the blacksmith’s wife broke up by confiscating her son’s pocket knife), and so they had moved on to hide-and-seek. Varr had always thought he was too good at this game. He was fast and he was small for his age and aside from maybe Ahmee the baker’s daughter he was easily the smartest of the youngsters his age. Now from his hiding spot in the woods however, instead of feeling like he had outsmarted the seekers, he was beginning to think he had just moved too far afield. It had been a while since he had even heard them near.
He had hidden in between a trio of stout trees on the western edge of the village because it would afford him a view of where the trade road met the tiny road into the deeper woods while he waited to (not) be found and to hear the call of “all free”.
Varr leaned out from behind the tree that obscured him on the eastern side and peered toward the village. He was still within sight of it, surely well within the vaguely defined limits of what his mother called “not running too far off” and yes he could even hear the sounds of the adults moving about and talking loudly on the main street. He also saw the beginnings of the tell-tail colored lanterns being lit for the Spring Festival. This concerned him. Was it getting that close to evening? Was he wasting this rare festival day squatting in the woods? He looked back towards the trade road, still slightly suspicious that the seeker was sneaking up on him. It had not after all afforded him much interest while he hid, he had only seen old Mister Kesgar leading his donkey into town loaded with a massive bundle of kindling for tonight’s bonfire followed by a wagon full of nuns from the nearby cloister singing as they slowly trundled by. From the more narrow road into the woods he had seen nothing at all.
As he thought about the woodland path his eyes reflexively looked toward it. Yep, still nothing. No. No, wait. Yes. There was something, or rather someone. The boy frowned. “I should get back” he mumbled to himself, but now his eyes were locked on the figure moving up the winding woodland path towards the trade road. It was a humble looking little man wearing well kept travelers clothes and a leather apron. On his back he had a curious looking peddler’s chest made of wood so darkly polished that the dim light trickling through the treetops made it seem to have an unearthly glow. He wore dark goggles that had what looked like a complicated array of fold down magnifying lenses. He was much closer than Varr thought he should be, he should have seen the peddler coming. He was just there on the path, like he was blinked into existence.
He thought about bolting back to the village, clearly the game was over and he hadn’t heard the call. The man came further up the path. His mother was probably getting concerned or more likely a little angry at him. The man was closer still. Instead he ducked down and watched the little man. Strangers were always pretty interesting, strangers bringing goods from far-off places even more-so. Now the little man was as close to his hiding spot as the woodland path came, a dozen yards or so. He decided it would be fine to spy a little, he was well hidden. No sooner than he had this thought though had the little man stopped on the path and looked directly towards the hiding spot. Varr choked on his own breath.
“Hello there young man!” the peddler called towards the hiding spot. How had he seen him? Varr, not wanting to be rude slowly emerged, keeping his distance.
“H-hello, sir.” said Varr “If you’re looking for Pineknott Village it's right up the road.” The peddler smiled seeing him. He had prominent and slightly crooked teeth but it wasn’t an unpleasant smile. His hand went up to the dark goggles he wore and quickly flicked down one of the lenses over his right eye side. He made a thoughtful sound.
“Pineknott Village you say? Good to know.” He flicked the lens back into place and began to scan the nearby landscape, stepping off the path and a little closer to Varr. “I hadn’t planned on stopping but I may dip in for a drink before I travel on. Ah, here we go” he walked in a small circle sweeping the ground with his foot creating a bare patch of flat earth. He unshouldered his peddler’s chest and quickly began to unfold it in a well practiced way. “Before I head that way however…”
“Um, well” said Varr, getting a little closer to see what the peddler had to sell. He only had two copper bits but maybe the peddler had some exotic candy or something inexpensive he could impress his friends with. “We have a festival this evening. You might wanna-”
“I’m sure I might.” said the peddler finishing his set-up with a small flourish “But first, might I interest you in purchasing some high quality eyes?”
“What did you say?” Varr thought he had misheard the peddler at first but then he caught sight of the unfolded peddlers box. It was opened out like a display case having several clever little shelves and cubbies and in each and every one of them was a number of small liquid filled jars, and in each jar was floating a pair of eyes. On the top was a flip-up engraved brass plate with the word “Optomonger” etched in stylised lettering. Varr’s stomach lurched and fear suddenly froze him in place.
The eyes looked like people's eyes; blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes. Then he noticed stranger things; compound insect eyes, serpentine eyes, rectangle-pupiled goat eyes, glittering doll eyes, glossy monochromatic orbs, and faceted gemstone eyes. Some of them even glowed with their own strange inner lights. ‘I’ve stumbled upon a madman like the older folk always warned me about’ he thought, shivering with fear as he stared at the jars and even more horrifyingly as the jars stared back.
“Now don’t be alarmed,” said the peddler in a pleasant tone. “I’m not trying to hurt you, my boy. I just think you would be a good candidate for my particular service.” As he was speaking Varr saw him flicking different lenses down in front of his goggles, switching them up with unnerving speed. Some seemed to flash colored light. “Yes indeed, a very good candidate.” The boy took a deep breath. This couldn’t be what it looks like. He wasn’t about to have his eyes torn out by a crazed wanderer.
“Are those fake eyes? Did you make them?” asked Varr. The peddler gave a small frown.
“Fake? Oh absolutely not. All 100% biologically compatible and artisanally generated in the finest dweomer-looms, that’s my quality guarantee.” The peddler’s friendly smile resumed “you seem to be a savvy buyer for someone so young, did another seller come through this area?” Varr didn’t have any idea what the peddler was talking about so he tried another tack.
“Are you some kind of wizard then? My father says there are wizards that live on Green Mountain. Are you one of them?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that.” the peddler said with a laugh “No not a wizard as such. I’m just a humble travelling craftsman.” Varr was feeling a little more calm now that he was investigating the situation. The peddler was clearly some kind of wandering huckster trying to hawk cheap illusions or magic gimmicks. He had heard stories from the old folks of town warning about peddlers like this wandering the world making trouble. People selling magic beans, enchanted dancing boots, and nail soup to unsuspecting fools. But this fellow didn’t seem all that sinister, maybe his two copper bits could be leveraged into something to scare or impress his friends after all. He stepped closer to the peddler coming close enough to where he could take a good look at the display.
“So what do they do?” asked Varr
“Do?” Now the peddler sounded a little confused.
“Like, why would I need these eyes? I already got eyes that work just fine.”
“Ahhhhh.” the peddler said happily “I see. You must believe these are merely cosmetic. No, my boy, my eyes allow you to see more and see better!” He deftly pulled several jars from his case and held one up so Varr could see more closely. They were yellow-gold with cat-like slits “These useful orbs let you see perfectly in the dark, in full color!” He swapped jars displaying lavender colored eyes with strange runes instead of pupils “These allow you to read any written language no matter how obscure or dead.” Another jar, Almost normal with ice blue irises “These will reveal the true value of anything or anyone you can see, become an ace merchant overnight!”
He continued to display eyes and explain what they did “ Eyes that see far off things up close and close things closer! Eyes that see magical auras! Eyes that can see through illusions and lies! Eyes that see poisons and diagnose diseases! Eyes that see the forest for the trees! Eyes that understand the workings of machines! Eyes that strike fear into the hearts of enemies! Eyes that see emotions! Eyes that see inner beauty! Eyes that see what’s lost or hidden! Eyes that-”
“How much do they cost?” Asked Varr. He had gone from apprehension to fascination
“No more than you can afford, I assure you.” said the peddler mildly.
“I got two copper bits.” Varr said sheepishly.
“Well then I’d advise you to spend them at the festival.” the peddler said bemused. “I don’t require your local currency, my child, I merely require an exchange.”
“I don’t have anything valuable, mister.” he said, dejected.
“Well value is of course always in the eye of the beholder.” said the peddler “I only require the old eyes in exchange for the new.” Varr was suddenly terrified all over again. He was eleven years old, what was he doing standing out in the woods entertaining this madman.
“You want to-”
“To pluck out your eyes and replace them with a pair of my own magically constructed ones, yes.” The peddler pulled off one of his gloves and revealed that instead of the normal arrangement of four fingers and a thumb, the hand underneath had nine slender metal digits delicately unfolding and flexing. Each multi-jointed finger was topped with a different gleaming tool, pincer, or blade. At this sight Varr’s nerve completely fled him and he bolted along after it towards the village, not even bothering to waste the breath to scream. “Pity.” said the Optomonger. He turned back toward the woods to a different grouping of trees. “How about you, young lady?” Ahmee the baker’s daughter emerged from her hiding spot and walked down to the peddler’s display. She scanned the jars reading the small labels that were pasted on each. She pointed at one.
“Do these come in violet?” she asked. The peddler flicked several lenses down and up over his goggles, inspecting her. He smiled his crooked smile.
“For you my dear, of course.” Ahmee smiled back, she was never going to lose another game of hide and seek again.
👀 love it 👍