Ticca strode confidently towards the stairs, her posture straight and casual. With Genne's loud announcement she knew more than half of the occupants were sizing her up as either competition or asset. Without looking she started up the stairs to find her new room and then to prove to everyone that she was a force to be reckoned with.
“Ta da right.”
Jumping at Genne’s voice so close, she turned. “Sneaking up on a Dagger isn’t exactly safe.”
He smiled as he gestured down the hall. “Dagg’rs pay ‘tention, or dey die.”
Ignoring the obvious jibe, she said, “I thought you were dealing with customers.”
“How’d ya fin’ yer room?”
The key was more complicated than she had seen before. There were two parallel rows of teeth, and the tip was hollow on the end. Also, it had no label on it to indicate a room. She glanced up at the hall of nearly identical doors that differed only in distance between them and color. The stone hall went a short distance from the stairs and then did a gentle forty-five degree turn to the right, where it continued for some distance before ending.
There were twelve doors in the hall — four on the left towards the rear, city-side of the tavern and eight on the right towards the front, wharf side. Each door looked solid, with a smooth surface, no handles, and each had an inlaid square brass plate in the center. Four parallel sliders moved horizontally, centered just above an engraving shaped like a keyhole for the key she held. The only exception was the door to her immediate left. That door didn’t have a brass plate. Instead, the whole door was a glossy iron-colored metal with five sliders and three engraved circles around the keyhole engraving. Confused, she looked at Genne who had stood there watching her with a proud little smile.
“You have a point.”
“’Tain’t all dat hard. Yer key is fer d’purple door.” He indicated the second door on the right. “D’sliders is a secon’ lock. I’ll hel’ you t’set it. Den only you an’ I will know it. I’ve a few keys t’each,” he continued, gesturing at the row of doors. “If’n ya rent due an’ ya don’ come ba’ n’six cycles, I call d’key, store everyting n’ secret place. If’n ya don’ come ba’ n’fifty years, it’s me family’s clear. If’n ya come ba’, ya owe six cycles’ rent plus a chera a cycle for safe store. Ya know how safe it is here, an’ mos’ Dagg’rs pay ‘tention for udder Dagg’rs. Still, we ain’t responsible if’n a thief gets inna ya room.” Looking her square on, he added, “An’ if’n ders a fight cuz o’you,” he pointed a finger square at her chest, “yer ta pay fer damage. Clear?”
The price I agreed to is for more than what I thought. It was for a small Dagger room. We already agreed, and nothing here will change it. It is an interesting arrangement. I wonder if anyone has come back within fifty years.
“Clear,” she said.
Running the new information through her mind, she looked at the doors again. She studied the door on her immediate left that appeared to be solid metal. If it was painted, it was the best job she had ever seen. But the locking mechanism wasn’t a brass plate, and something else was different.
Pointing with her chin, she asked, “Whose room is that?”
Genne didn’t even look. “Damega’s. He’s paid up clear for nodder few ‘undred years. An’ glad I am. I don’ wanna be d’one ta try an’ open it. Ta be honest, I dou’ we’ll ever try ta claim it. See, he is d’one who designed d’locks an’ some of our udder features.”
Her eyes focused on the door, stunned as if it was a mythical monster come to life. Taking the key from her limp hand, Genne stepped up to her door, moving the sliders to different spots. He waited a couple of seconds, and then a soft click came from the panel. An interior cover slid out of the way, showing that the engraving was a real keyhole, but with some kind of tight-fitting internal cover. Genne stuck the key in and turned it to the right. A couple of clicks came from the door, and he pushed it open. As he removed the key, another snap came from the lock as the sliders all returned to the far left, and the interior cover slid back into place, turning the keyhole back into an engraving on the panel.
Stepping in, he motioned for her to look at the back of the door. Edging into a much larger room than she expected, she turned her attention to it. There was a handle in the middle of the plate, which had another slider that moved vertically next to it.
“Ya c’n keep d’door open by mov’n dis up,” he said, indicating the vertical slider, which was all the way down. “Up, an’ anyone c’n come in. Down an’ it’s locked. Ya don’ need d’key ta get out.” He paused, and she nodded that she understood the basic workings. Genne pulled a different key from another pouch and moved the sliders again to open the keyhole. He stuck that key in and turned it hard to the left and held it there. “Move dese how ya wan’ dem t’open d’key’ole.”
She changed their positions and made sure to remember it. When she nodded to Genne, he turned his key back and withdrew it from the door. Again the sliders all returned to the far left, and the keyhole snapped shut. Closing the door, he handed over her key. “Le’s see ya open it.”
It took a couple of attempts to get the hang of the lock, but she eventually passed some level of competence, because Genne grunted. “Ya’ll do.” He gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Ya moved up a notch taday, lady. Dagg’rs are m’family’s tradition an’ trust. I thin’ yer ready. Ders an ancient Dagg’r say’n from afor dey came here.” He indicated Damega’s door with his head. “‘Heroes get remembered, legends live forever.’ It’s yer turn ta add ta da Dagg’r legend.” He looked her in the eye, and then nodded as if she had made the mark. “Drop d’udder key off when yer don mov’n.” He turned and went down the stairs without another word.
Well, I wanted to be a Dagger, and I am. Honor, courage, and commitment will win, just like you said, Uncle. She heard her uncle’s voice. ‘Nobody ever drowned in sweat girl, so dig in and work hard.’ With a nervous glance at the metal door across the hall from hers, she stepped into the room and closed the door.
I just rented the room across the hall from Damega’s, in the biggest trade city of the realm. Uncle, you wouldn’t believe this in a million years. Lady, forgive me, I don’t believe it myself.
She checked to be sure the door was locked and stepped over to the large bed, which was in a small alcove, with an armoire on the right. Turning, she felt giddy, taking in the magnificent room she could call her own. It was larger than she’d expected, with a dining or planning table filling the recess to the left of the doorway. She stepped over to the street side window and brushed her hand along the empty bookcase next to it. She plopped into one of the four overstuffed chairs in front of the bookcase and enjoyed the feeling of her own space.
There was a door behind the entry. Ticca stood up and opened it. She was shocked that she had a private toilet with a clothing storage room big enough for dozens of outfits, with room to spare.
Wow! I have running water in my room, and I don’t have to use the communal toilet. I’m not even going to try to explain this to Uncle. If he comes, he’ll be shocked silent.
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Wandering over to the window, she gazed out onto the street in front of the tavern. Merchants and workmen moved back and forth along the wharf road. Large carts were being pushed or pulled in every direction imaginable. She noted that the window could be opened inward and had outer shutters. The view was amazing, and the glass was almost flawless. Something about it made her look closer, and she found that the frame was made of metal, and the glass was an unbelievable inch thick. The security of the window was made even stronger by a set of inner shutters made of iron, which could be closed and bolted shut.
Turning around, she took in her new room from the window.
Now, I know why the rate was higher than I expected. This is more than I ever imagined. To think this place has been here for hundreds of years.... I wonder who has used this room, and if I ever heard of them in a bard’s tale. She laughed. I wonder what the bards will do with a name like Ticca.
She shook her head. I have things to do, and I need to get back down there to find work to keep this place.
She found a place for most of the stuff in her pack. Then she took off her belt and pulled the mysterious pouch off of it. Laying her belt out on the bed, she took the pouch over to the table and sat down in one of the stuffed chairs.
Oh, Lady, these are comfortable.
She leaned back and enjoyed the feeling. Then she noticed a low stone table, just the right height for a drink…or her feet. She put her feet up on it, finding it solidly in place. Holding the pouch with both hands, she examined it again, more closely.
It seemed a simple, medium-sized pouch.
You know, this is just the right size for a small travel book. And the package the Knife handed over in the Night Market would have fit in this perfectly if nothing else was in it.
Opening the pouch, she discovered that it still had the coin purse and other items, which she pulled out. There was a flint pack, some string looped so it could be pulled out easily, a small red wax candle, a high-quality mirror in a silk sleeve, three circular stones that looked like fat coins, but which stuck together, and a second purse of brown silk that held five gems. Taking the cloth coin purse, she emptied it and counted thirty-two crosses, six cheras, nine bells, sixteen pence, and five rings.
The gems have to be worth at least fifteen, maybe twenty crowns. Lady, that wasn’t just any simple Knife! He had thieves’ tools, was carrying as much as a noble would, and was wearing magical boots.
She turned the empty pouch over. It was well-made, but there was nothing extravagant about it.
Where did that vial and my shiny four crowns go? This is the stuff I saw in it when I took it from him.
That thought gave her pause.
This means that no one got into my room, but somehow, the items vanished and reappeared. She noticed that the clasp’s inscription was circular. It had an inner and outer ring that split what was already a nice geometric pattern. She ran her fingers across the clasp and noted that it was smooth. The geometric pattern had five distinct outer areas, and in each of them, there was an invisible deformity in the surface. Her fingertips could feel slight indentions in each of the five areas, and each section had a unique feel to it.
It must have something to do with these patterns.
Feeling the center section, it shifted under the pressure of her finger. Sitting up, she looked closer. It was almost imperceptible, but the center of the pattern could rock back and forth, and it locked into position, requiring specific pressure at the top or bottom to shift it into the other position. Looking into the pouch with the center section pressed on the top or bottom changed nothing.
Why cut the pattern in half with a circle?
She realized that if she rotated the outer portion of the clasp, each of the five outer areas, where the circle cut them, would still interconnect, making a different, but complete pattern. The pattern would be complete, but slightly different, in any one of five points if the outer portion was rotated.
Maybe it is meant to rotate.
She tried to turn the clasp without success.
Dang, I thought I had it.
She sat back, staring at it, and then an idea came.
A rotating lock?
She pressed the bottom half of the center section. It rocked into place. Grabbing the outer ring, she found it resisted moving at first, but then moved easily. She turned it one-fifth of a turn. It snapped into position, leaving the geometric pattern complete, but somewhat altered. If she hadn’t been studying it, it would seem unchanged. She opened the pouch and looked inside. The pouch was no longer empty. It held five vials with liquids in a wooden holder that had three empty slots, an assortment of cloths, and a set of quills tied with string.
Lords and Ladies, this is amazing!
She tried to turn the outer ring, but it wouldn’t move. Closing the pouch, she tried again, and it moved as easily as the first time. Opening the pouch revealed it was full of papers. She pulled them out and found none of them made any sense.
I know I am not great at reading, but I don’t recognize anything here.
She spread the papers out on the large table. She could tell there were four separate authors by the handwriting. Beyond that, there was not much she could read. The only item she could read was a set of five rough maps drawn in an elegant hand. Two of the maps had reference points she recognized. One was of an area a long way west in the neighboring kingdom, and another map was of the part of the great forest to the north.
She stacked the papers and set them aside on the table, and then closed and turned the latch. It was still empty. Not sure if anything had happened, she repeated the process. She opened it and sighed with relief. There were her four shiny crowns, the vial of poison, and the key to the upper floor room.
This is going to make carrying everything I need a lot easier.
Taking out the vial of poison, she scooped some of the coins back into the purse and put the purse and keys into the pouch. Turning the clasp to the next point, she put everything back in, except for the poison and notes. Then she turned the clasp to the next point and added the vial of poison to the other vials in one of the empty slots.
No reason to leave them behind.
Turning the clasp to the next position, she put all the papers back inside. Finally, she turned it back to the position with the coin purse and the keys.
With a large smile, she slipped the pouch back onto her belt and put the belt back on. Confirming the pouch was still holding her coins and keys, she pressed the center of the clasp on the top. With it locked into position, the outer ring would not turn.
I was rotating that outer part by accident. Lady, thanks to you for this good fortune.
She felt the indentions in the uppermost section.
These indentions are to tell which section is open without looking. I need to get three identical coin purses and maybe a pair of identical journals. I can keep different, reasonable amounts of coins in each purse, but have one special one with the large value coins. With two journals, I can have one that has bad notes and hard-to-read maps of no value. I could pair it with one coin purse with a few rings and pence in it and leave that where the pouch is locked normally. If I get captured or robbed, they’ll get what they may have seen me with, but it will be worthless. I can shift this to the more valuable purses or journal when I need to. With this, I need give nothing away, even if captured.
She thought back to the Knife.
I hope not every Knife is so well equipped.
With that thought bouncing around in her head, a shiver passed through her.
I really got lucky, killing him the way I did. Now the world has one less Knife in it.
Feeling less remorse over her first kill, she stood and went to the door. Stepping out of her room, she made sure the door closed behind her. Glancing at the metal door opposite, she thought, I really have bumped up to a new level. First, I’ll do some shopping, and then it will be time to earn some more coin and prove I really belong here. She walked down the stairs and entered the main room. There were more Daggers present, and a few acknowledged her directly. She returned the same courteous acknowledgements, which drew the attention of some other Daggers. Hairy and Frumpy were gone. Hope they do well on their first fighting Dagger exercise. She placed the upper room key on the counter near Genne, who nodded to her, took the key, and continued his conversation.
“...can tell ‘em jus’ what I said. I ‘aven’t seen Vestul ‘n two days, an’ his stuff is still up der, an’ I’m clear ta nex’ cycle.”
The man Genne was talking to was not taking the news well. In fact, he looked rather sick. “But he missed the meeting. Are you sure he didn’t come back?”
Genne’s look hardened, and the shorter man caved in on himself. “Right, right, I got it. He went up for the night and left in the morning, didn’t return, and isn’t in his room.” He pushed away from the bar and went out the door, mumbling, “Oh, Lords, he isn’t going to be happy. He really isn’t going to be happy.”
Missing customer. That can’t be too unusual. I need to find some coin purses. With that thought, she stepped out onto the busy main road and turned left to head for the market.