"Ah!" Sinric makes a little warm, surprised little sound and fingers a simple enameled pendant.

The shopkeeper eyes Childermass, "Your lady has good taste. That was owned by a priestess of the old ways. A horse of Legba, the god of crossroads."

Sinric's eyes laugh, even as he keeps his face a mask of girlish glee. He meets Childermass' eyes and shakes his head minutely. It's all a pitch but the pendant is pretty and matches his costume.