*herari = blacksmith
"Whichever way eventually gets me there."
Jo glanced towards the east - she knew her four points, it was roads and signs that confused her - with a mock contemplative face which was then focused on the man rather than the direction she should be going.
Well, he certainly looked like the hands-on type - durable, rolled-up sleeves - a sort of image she would image the smiths on her mother's side of the family to be. But without the light-colored beard and the equally light-colored eyes.
Greeks didn't look like this, did they? Maybe this was an assistant.
"You wouldn't know the herari that made this would you?"
A hand was produced from the fold of her arm with the delicate evil-eye charm dangling from her finger.