Chapter 3
Forest for the Trees
BIRDS SANG IN THE DISTANCE as Ticca moved carefully along the game trail. The traps needed to be checked every day to prevent any accidental miss causing unneeded grief. The next trap came into view; it had been tripped, yet was empty. Ticca paused, listening to the sounds of the forest for anything out of place. Her hearing identified many animals living and dying in the pattern of the woods. Sensing nothing out of place, she approached the trap cautiously.
Scrapes on the tree bark told the story. Laughing, her bell-like voice moved off through the forest. Most animals didn’t even bother to pause to listen. She moved in more confidently. A bear had helped itself to the bait meant to attract the large red squirrels she needed to harvest. Examining the marks on the tree told her it was a half-grown cub. Well now I have a saboteur. Not the first bear to learn it’s a tasty treat.
Enjoying the late afternoon warmth and filtered sun, she went about moving, fixing, and resetting the trap. From her large pouch she pulled a leaf-wrapped package containing the squirrel bait made of sweet nuts mixed with seeds and sweet resin. Putting the remaining bait away she jumped the twenty feet to the forest floor. Looking around a second time for bear’s signs, she fished in her pouch for the small vial of grizzly musk. Her hand didn’t find it so she was forced to pull the pouch around, holding it open with one hand while peering in and looking more vigorously. Finally she found it wedged at the bottom under her notebook. I don’t use this too often but is sure is handy to have. Opening the vial, she carefully applied a few dabs of the musk on the base of the traps’ new tree and rubbed it into the tree bark hard using the bearskin leather cloth she carried for this purpose. That should warn off my little friend from climbing.
Running through the trapping checklist in her head, she reassured herself she had done everything needed. Of course I need to note where I put it; not that I have ever lost a trap. She smiled to herself. Well, at least none that I remember. She sat down as she pulled out the notebook. The book was a beautiful traveling journal, bound in fine leather. It was lightly engraved with her sign on the front and back. The paper was of a strong fiber plant that made it impervious to moisture and which gave the trader’s ink a perfect surface to adhere to. Both the paper and ink were made by their respective families in town. She had made the leather cover and sewn the book together herself. She lovingly caressed it, remembering how making such a book had been used as training on strong stitching and leather preparation by her mother. Now, of course, she made them much better — this was her tenth such journal and the best she had made yet.
Sitting and dreaming of the past is not going to finish the day’s work. Opening the journal, she flipped through the pages, a combination of journal, accounting log, and map book. Identifying the page for this trap, she marked out the trap’s prior position and recorded a fresh entry. She was surprised to note that this was the third time she had to move this particular trap. I have a real stubborn bear cub hereabouts, or at least one with a serious taste for sweet nuts. Reading some of her entries for the last few cycles’ work, she smiled. At least this is the only one for this season, so far.
She went back to the original tree and climbed up to the old location. Pulling the sweet nut bait back out she left a small portion in the nook of the limb and tied a leaf over it to protect it from the rain. There. I hope that will stop him from hunting down the new location. With the small offering ready she said a small prayer to the Goddess Dalpha to thank her for the challenge, and ask that the bear not harm itself in the trap should it still find it. She jumped to the forest floor, jogged back to the game trail and followed it to the next location. If she moved fast enough she could complete the trap circuit today.
Her energy increased in anticipation of coming home after running the two-day trap circuit. The soft red pelts were tied into a tight bundle that bounced on her hips as she moved through the woods. The shadows were already very long as she approached the edge between the deep forest and the open lake glade near her home. Sitting by the lake in a suspiciously leisurely pose was the man her heart and soul agreed should be her life mate. She paused to observe him. Her heart was already racing, as it always did when she saw him. He was very tall, even sitting. His long, silky black hair flowed in the soft breeze. He wore the simple green leggings he preferred. He sat with his legs pulled under him so she couldn’t see if he was barefoot or not, although it was likely he was in those horrible old boots he loved so much. His figure was striking in the brown tunic with long tapered cuffs she had made for him for Midwinter’s Night.
He was gazing across the lake to the southeast. Always thinking and planning, as if he can alter the future to meet his desires. He hadn’t noticed her and was sitting such that she could pass only a few dozen feet to the left and come up directly behind him. Smiling deviously, she cautiously moved to a better location for a stealthy approach. Softly setting down the satchel of squirrel carcasses and her pouch in a spot just behind a tree, she edged out of the forest. Her devious smile and her forward motion froze as she registered that he wasn’t where he had been a moment before.
“My lady needs a bath after such a work-filled day. Allow me to assist.”
She screamed as strong hands grasped her hips from behind. Lifting her as if she was a leaf, he crossed the thirty feet to the edge of the lake in a couple of heartbeats at a dead run. She kicked and squirmed wildly, hoping to throw his balance off. Their speed did not abate on reaching the lake; instead, holding her high, he jumped, carrying both of them far out over the water. Midflight she managed to twist around and grab hold of him with both arms and legs. They held on to each other tightly, laughing together as the cold water welcomed them into its embrace.
- - -
Sputtering for air, Ticca sat up in bed. Her heart was pounding hard. Where am I? Shaking her head, she looked around the dimly-lit room. Sunlight was filtering in past the cracks in the shutters over the small window. The room smelled of dust and the faint hint of a musky perfume was teasing her nose. Sula’s perfume. I am in Llino. This is my room at the Blue Dolphin. What the heck was that dream all about? I’ve never experienced anything in it at all; nothing even close, except maybe the hunting and tracking.
She moved shakily, her new boots silently hitting the hard wood floor and giving her a more grounded feeling. She bent over, holding her head for a minute as the final cobwebs cleared from her mind. That forest was so real. But I have never been in it before. Those squirrels were huge. And who was that man who carried me into the lake? In the dream I knew him. Except I don’t think I have ever met anyone that looked like him before. Standing, she stretched and twisted, feeling great. Amazing what a good night’s sleep can do.
Then she remembered the crowns. Maybe the whole night was a dream. Looking quickly at the table she sighed. Well at least some of it was real. She reached for the new pouch, grateful it was still there and real. Opening it, she pulled out the four shiny gold coins and small glass vial. She sat back down on the bed and placed the vial on the small table, playing with the coins in the sun’s rays coming through the window. Four crowns in one night; I am going to make it here. I proved I’m a capable Dagger. Sula is no fool — that she paid me this means I proved myself to her. Smiling to herself, she stood, putting the coins back into the pouch.
Carefully and slowly she went through her ritual morning stretches as best as she could in the small space. Her body virtually flowed through the movements without any complaints. Wow I am feeling amazingly good considering the beating I took last night. When she stretched her arms behind her she gritted her teeth, expecting the sharp pain her poor shoulder should have given her. Instead she was able to complete the back stretches without anything more than the normal slight pains of muscles loosing up.
Confused, she took off her shirt and examined her arm where the night before the large bruise had been. Her skin was a healthy dark olive. Stunned she looked over every place she could get to where there had been damage the night before. After careful examination she couldn’t find a single blemish. All of the abuse from the night before had vanished as if it never happened. Even more interesting was that her skin was a fairer, more uniform color, as it had been when she was a few years younger before coming to the city.
I know I didn’t dream the fight, and I had dozens of bruises in the bath last night. Seriously, I should have been hurting for at least a few days. Putting her shirt back on, she sat down on her bed, thinking through everything that had happened. I have never healed this fast. She looked down at the boots and thought about it for a minute. Could these boots be magical? I’ve never heard of healing boots. Actually, healing boots would be very practical and not likely to be suspected or taken if captured.
Taking the boots off and opening the shutters she examined them very closely once more, this time with the help of sunlight. They were still of the unusual very fine leather lined with a dense reddish brown fur with the best stitching she had ever seen. Now I know where the red squirrels in my dream came from. Dreams are funny, oversized squirrels instead of a bunny or an ermine, this fur is like a denser rabbit fur. Laughing at her imagination she looked closely at the stitching. I know I have seen stitching like this before. But I can’t place it. Shrugging to herself and turning the boot over, she examined the sole’s construction. It was made from semi-hard leather that had been treated with something that made it glisten in the light and felt slightly tacky like tree sap, but not so tacky as to pick up dirt or dust. That is a neat trick. There were no raised heels, but the heels were stiffer with some internal support under the fur. She flexed the boots and found that the front of the boots were as flexible as her toes. I can climb with these. With the tacky sole treatment I bet I can climb even better with these on then off.
The fact I am alive is all the magic I need for now. Magical or not, these are the finest boots I have ever seen. Putting the boots back on her feet, she stood and gathered her belongings. She slipped her belt through the solid loops on the new pouch. It took a few minutes of playing with the throwing knife sheaths’ arrangement on her belt before it felt comfortable and she was satisfied with the impression it would make. Putting the belt on over her shirt, she wiggled to be sure it settled comfortably onto her hips. She slipped the knives into the sheaths, trying not to look. This needs to be automatic and look smooth. She took the knives back out again without looking. Practicing drawing and sheathing each knife in turn, in groups, and at random took a little while. Eventually she was sure she could make it look good when needed. Forget the cross-belts; this is a good set-up, now it’s time to see if I can make these work for me.
She put all her weapons around the room and stood in the center. Slipping sideways, she stretched her foot out; angling her boot toe under one throwing knife edge, she kicked it into the air. She turned around, caught it with her off hand, and sheathed it in one motion. Bending backward she scooped another knife from the table and one from the chair with both hands. The knives were sheathed before she had finished turning to step over the new short sword. Sweeping down, she picked up the short sword and then used it to flip the final throwing knife in the air and towards her from the far corner of the room. She sheathed the sword as she caught the knife. Sheathing the throwing knife she spun, grabbed the dagger from where it laid on the floor and brandished it in a single motion ending in a defensive crouch with another throwing knife in her other hand. Stepping forward, she spun and sheathed the dagger and throwing knife together as she straightened. Not bad, not bad at all. She started smiling at what she imagined that had looked like. With so many knives I might get mistaken for a Blade. ‘Course with my cloak hiding some, this will do very nicely.
Feeling great, she grabbed her pack and dropped it on the bed. Not much was actually left out. Still it took a minute to pack everything else efficiently into the pack. Giving the room one last check, she checked that the new belt pouch was properly latched closed, and tied her pack closed as well. She slipped her shoulder pouch over her head and let herself enjoy the anticipation. Today is going to be so much fun. I have wanted to do this for cycles.
With a very wide smile, Ticca locked the door, dropped the key into her new pouch, and then went down the three stories to the common room. Naturally the room was already busy. Genne was talking with two merchants, and three girls were moving around the room cleaning tables as well as serving new breakfasts with hot arit or jeel. Looking around the room, she saw that there were as yet no Daggers present. In fact there were only a handful of local workmen present; most workmen who breakfasted here had likely already been and left for the docks due to the early tide today. The few merchants present were all locals. The tradesmen had likely already headed to set up their goods in the trade square.
Ticca turned and walked the short distance to the very specific table she’d dreamed of sitting at for cycles. The table was one of the many open tables used by known Daggers. It was also one of the eight that could be permanently designated to a Dagger or Dagger fire-team. It was not a large table, just big enough for maybe two Daggers and a client or two to share. It had the advantage of being near the bar and the stairs, yet still commanded an excellent view of the left main room. It was also close enough to hear clearly the left room’s performing bard which was important to keep up on the best tales, news, gossip, and of course enjoy the entertainment. It was also far enough from the bard’s platform to allow conversing with clients. Most importantly, the table backed to a shallow nook so she could sit with her back to a wall so no one could come up from behind. It pays being an early riser. I beat Hairy and Frumpy again. But today I am going to move up a notch. Licking her suddenly dry mouth, she took some deep breaths to try and slow her heart, which started racing as she approached the table. Glancing around out of the corner of her eyes, she boldly sat down at the small table.
Even though no one looked as she sat down, she was sure a few took note. Genne didn’t even stop his conversation and she’d half-expected him to protest. Genne hasn’t kicked me away from here, so he at least is willing to let me sit here. She let her pack fall into the shallow contour of the wall, which meant it was out of sight from the most of the room. She watched the room and shifted to get more comfortable; her shirt was sticking to her back a little. Damn, I was more nervous than I expected, she thought as she covertly pulled her shirt away from her back. Leaning back against the wall, she felt her smile grow now that she had successfully taken a more prominent Dagger table. A couple of notches higher on the Dagger scale, now I need to earn it. It only took a few seconds before one of the serving girls came over and put down her breakfast in front of her.
“Which would you like this morning, your hot arit or the milk we got in? It’s real fresh.”
Ticca smiled at her for the courtesy of the total lack of acknowledgement of the significance of her chosen location. “Actually this morning I’ll take both.” The serving girl stood for a second to see if she was going to be asked for the price of the milk. When it was obvious Ticca was not going ask she looked a little curious, but nodded and moved off towards the kitchens. Ah that got you a little curious. She let her smile turn to a smirk.
As Ticca was taking her third bite, the serving girl came back with her milk and hot arit. Setting down the drinks, the girl moved off to take care of other customers. The expected familiar pair of young men came in the door and headed straight for her table. But, seeing it occupied, they stopped for a second and then turned, taking a different table. Ticca watched as they said something to the serving girl that made her shrug as she gave them their breakfast. Asking if I am an ignorant merchant’s daughter or something I bet. I know who you are and I know who you tend to work for, but you haven’t been paying much attention to anyone other than the big league Daggers, have you. After the girl brought back some hot arit for the two Daggers they drank deeply and then the hairy one put a highly polished dagger into the dagger holder in the center of their table. It had a wide winged hand guard, and a simple circular pommel; its hilt was wrapped with a blacked iron cord. Interesting, that is new. You two have only been doing simple patrol and guard stuff. Trying to move up to bigger jobs is risky. Especially since neither of you really look like the heavy fighting types.
A soft thud announced Genne’s arrival at the table. She looked at him as he leaned back in the chair. He had taken the other Dagger chair which kept most of his back to the wall with only the kitchen door a serious approach threat. Always got your back covered, don’t you. She smiled as winningly as she could, causing him to frown and cross his arms.
His tone was a little tired, like a scolding father, “Ya knows d’rules.”
Taking another bite of the breakfast, she kept smiling and chewed for a moment before answering, just to try and draw him in a little more. “Mm, been meaning to chat with you about them, I think some things need to change.”
Genne’s face actually scrunched to that as if the mere thought of a change to the Blue Dolphin’s rules caused him physical pain. Hairy was nudging his companion and indicating her direction in anticipation of the show. Genne’s voice changed to lower than normal, still calm and somehow very scary as he answered, “D’rules aint chang’n, m’lass.”
Bait, loop, and trap all in one shot. Keeping her winning smile she unlocked the pouch at her belt and reached in for the crowns. Except instead of feeling the four coins she expected, there was a couple of small cloth bags and other items she couldn’t identify by touch. She heard her trainer’s voice in the back of her head saying, ‘Never let them see you flinch.’ Looking back at Genne she saw she must have reacted somehow for him to pick up on as he began to frown even deeper. Now Hairy and Frumpy were smiling themselves, seeing Genne’s obvious growing annoyance.
She tried not to sweat or look confused. One of the small bags was obviously a coin purse, and felt heavy with coins. Oh Lady, what has happened to me? Please be enough. She brought the coin purse out and opened it. Trying to act casually as if nothing was wrong she looked down and her heart skipped a beat or two. Shining back were more than fifty crosses, as well as some cheras, bells, pence, rings, and even three crowns. One slightly worn crown was sitting boldly on top like it was the king of the bag, which it was. Lady, thank you.
In the back of her head her trainer’s voice continued on. ‘Always go for the greatest impact.’ Reaching into the purse and grabbing a crown and twenty crosses, she continued. “I meant,” with deliberate motions putting the coins on the table, crosses first, punctuating her words, “changing our arrangement and my room.”
Genne’s eyes took in the purse and she was sure he could somehow sense the precise value of its contents. He then leaned forward and just as deliberately took the crown. He examined it, tasting first and then checking the heft against his years of experience handling such coins. “Well, d’night was good for you.” Looking down, she saw that all the coins had vanished. “Der is a few Dagg’r rooms open.”
“Yes, well I want a small one, preferably not too close to the stairs or baths.”
“I’v jus d’one.” Patting his pouch, which his hands had not gone close to prior, “Dis will give ya three cycles if’n ya don’wan food, two if’n ya wants all meals with’n hyly, arit, an yer milk.”
Doing some unexpected counting in her head she considered it. She knew it would likely be reasonable for the Dolphin because Genne never inflated or cheated. Knowing it wasn’t a bad deal made her pause. That is higher than I expected. I know the Dolphin is one of the best Inns in the city and also one of the most costly to stay at. At twelve — no, thirteen — crosses a cycle for the room and another seven for food I know I’ll be eating full hot meals as I please. But if I get some good work soon I’ll be able to maintain that rate. If I up my fee from a chera a day to a cross a day or six crosses for a week I would be just under the rate of some of the best in this room. I certainly have enough here to give me plenty of time to prove I can. Looking at Genne, she saw he had a slight smile in his eyes. He’s scheming and I’m obviously on course. I need to be sure the stable fees are in this too. “Twenty-one crosses a cycle with stable, meals, hyly, arit, and milk for me and clients; but, as I don’t drink much I also want baths and,” sending up a small prayer to the Lady, “this table.”
Genne’s brows moved up and down a little as he obviously thought it through. His eyes told her he wasn’t as surprised as she expected. You’ve been watching me closer than I thought. You knew I was going to ask for this table. Ticca had to remind herself to breathe as he thought it over. Genne was reputed to be one of the hardest men to cheat or negotiate with. Standing up, he held out his left arm. “Done.”
It took a moment for her to recover from the shock of the quick agreement. She had expected to be bartering down to the threads of the bed cloth. Standing, she grasped his left forearm with her left hand. “Agreed.” Across the room the two other Daggers had stopped mid-bite and stared.
Genne’s large hand closed on her left forearm and he grabbed her left elbow with his right hand and held her there for a moment. Before he released her he whispered, “Ya done good lady. Try t’stay alive, I likes ya.” Releasing her, he started to turn to go.
“Genne, one more thing.” As he turned back to her she pulled another four crosses and two crowns out. “Make it four full cycles.”
Smiling, he took the coins, nodded, and headed back to the bar.
Ticca knew the room was watching now for sure. Smiling, she did the maneuver she had dreamed of doing at the Blue Dolphin since she was a child listening to the stories the bards told. Years of practice had made the choreographed sequence seem gracefully nonchalant. As she turned and sat she put the coin purse back into the pouch and drew her dagger. It spun around her hand before drop silently into the table’s holder where it stood boldly for all to see. It was a slightly longer than normal dagger polished to a mirrored surface, with a small brass cross guard etched with two packs of hounds running away from the blade, a fine bone hilt, and a diamond-shaped pommel. She smirked at the two shocked Daggers, who sat with their mouths hanging open, staring. She admired how nice the dagger looked standing straight up from the center of the table. That’s right boys, this girl is an experienced hunting Dagger and dangerous. In the back of her head she heard her Uncle’s voice when he was questioned about a Dagger story he was telling: ‘It ain’t braggng if you can do it. And let me tell you, Daggers can.’
Trying to not to pay too much attention to the room, she finished her meal. A few merchants openly inspected her dagger from a respectable distance, making a note in a journal or notepad before they left. She acknowledged them with a nod or smile. Some veteran Daggers came into the room for morning meals. She didn’t catch a single one of them inspecting her like the new arrival she was and a few even nonchalantly acknowledged her with a nod, wave, or morning greeting. Overall it was quiet and a little anticlimactic.
When she finished her meal Ellar appeared by the table as the serving girl carried off the empty platter. Placing a square paper-wrapped package and an odd-looking key close to her hand, he said, “M’lady, for you.”
Looking at the key, she thought about her next actions. I need to figure out what in the Lady’s name is going on with this purse. Might as well inspect the room Genne thinks is right for me. Standing, she reached out for her dagger and in a fluid swirl pulled it from the holder, looped it over her hand, and let it drop lightly in its sheath. Packing up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, she grabbed the key and moved toward the stairs.
Hairy and Frumpy stood up as she moved off and grabbed their dagger. Before she realized what they intended Genne’s voice rang out clear and loud in the otherwise quiet room. “Oi, ya c’n plant yer selves back down lads. Dat table is Ticca’s from now on.” Hairy and Frumpy almost fell over backwards complying. Thankfully no one laughed too loudly. I didn’t mean to embarrass them. Last thing I need is enemies right now. She noticed a number of Daggers, merchants, and workman now looked her over fully and openly. Well that should spread the word better than anything I could do. Bet I get something to do pretty soon. Keeping her posture straight and casual she started up the stairs.
“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, “I thought you were dealing with customers.”
“How’d ya fine yer room?”
She looked at the key; it 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 sign on it at all to indicate a room. She looked 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 then did a gentle forty-five degree turn to the right, where it continued for some distance before ending. There were twelve doors in this 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 completely 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.”
“Taint 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’ you owe six cycles’ rent plus a chera a cycle for safe store. Ya know how safe it tis here an’ mos Dagg’rs pay tention for udder Dagg’rs. Still we ain’t responsible if’n a thief gets inna your 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 more than what I thought it was for a small Dagger room. We already agreed and nothing here will change it really; it is an interesting arrangement. I wonder if anyone has come back within fifty years. Looking straight back at him, she said, “Clear.” Looking at the stone walls and running the new information through, she looked at the doors again. She glanced at the door on her immediate left that looked like 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 a little 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 locked 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, then a soft click came from the panel and an interior cover slid out of the way, showing that the engraving was a real keyhole but with some kind of very 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 slide 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,” indicating the vertical slider, which was currently all the way down. “Up an any’one c’n come in. Down an’ its locked. Ya don need d’key ta get out.” He paused, looking at her. She nodded that she understood the basic workings. Genne pulled a different key from another pouch, moved the sliders again to open the keyhole. This time he stuck the different key in and turned it hard to the left and held it there. “Move these 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 closed. Closing the door, he handed over her key. “Les’ 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 ta day, 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. “’Heros get remembered, legends live forever.’ It’s yer turn ta add ta da Dagg’r legend.” He stood looking her in the eye for a minute, then nodded as if she had made the mark. “Dro’ 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. In the back of her mind 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 that 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 looking at the magnificent room she could call her own. It was larger than she’d expected, with a dining or planning table filling the recess that jutted out 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 door. Curiously, Ticca stood up and opened it. She stood, shocked for a moment that she even had a private toilet with a clothes 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.
Wandering over to the window, she looked out on 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, 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 again 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, if I ever heard of them in a bard’s tale. Smiling widely, 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 get work to keep this place. She quickly 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 low table and sat down in one of the stuffed chairs. Oh Lady, these are comfortable. She leaned back and enjoyed the comfortable feeling. Then she noticed a low stone table, just the right height for a drink… or her feet. So she put her feet up on it, finding it solidly in place. Holding the pouch with both hands, she started looking at it again, more closely this time.
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 now pulled out. There was a flint pack, some string looped so that so it could be pulled out easily, a small red wax candle, a small high-quality mirror in a silk sleeve, three circular stones that looked like fat coins but which stuck together quite strongly, 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 wearing a pair of magic boots.
Looking at the now-empty pouch, she turned it over and 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 stopped her for a moment. This means that no one got into my room but somehow the items vanished and reappeared. Looking at the clasp again she noticed that its inscription was circular. In fact it had an inner and outer ring that split what was already a very nice geometric pattern. Feeling the clasp she noted that it was very smooth, that the geometric pattern had five distinct outer areas, and that in each of these 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 I can feel.
Feeling along the center section shifted it slightly 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 slightly 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 looked closer and 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 slightly different but complete pattern. Meaning 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. Grabbing the clasp she tried to turn it without success.
Dang, I thought I had it. She sat back, looking at it; 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 slightly at first and then moved very easily. She turned it one fifth of a turn. It actually snapped into position, leaving the geometric pattern complete but slightly altered. In fact if she hadn’t been studying it for these minutes it would seem unchanged. She opened the pouch and looked inside. The pouch was no longer empty; it now 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. Lady, this is amazing!
She tried to turn the outer ring again but it wouldn’t move. Closing the pouch, she tried again and it moved as easily as the first time. Opening the pouch again 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 else 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, then closed and turned the latch again. It was still empty. Not sure if anything had happened, she repeated the process. This time she opened it and sighed with relief — there where her four shiny crowns, the vial of poison, and the key to the upper floor room. This is really 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. Looking at the notes, she though, 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 rocked into position the outer ring would not turn. I was just 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 but reasonable amounts of coins in each purse but have one special one with the large value coins. With two identical journals I can have one which has very bad notes, hard to read maps of no value and pair it with one coin purse with a few rings and pence in it and leave that where the pouch is locked to normally. If I get captured or robbed they’ll get what they may have seen me with but it will be worthless. I can easily 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 on 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 a little 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 a little shopping, 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 even 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 ‘avn’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 obviously not taking the news well; in fact he looked a little sick. “But, he missed the meeting. Are you sure he didn’t come back?”
Genne’s look hardened, and the slightly 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 Lord 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 now-busy main road and turned left to head for the market.