by TJ Muir
They ate the rest of the currants as they walked across the central city towards the river. The north bridge crossed the harbor where the river bent - and not the river itself. There was a bridge that crossed the river, but it was a little further north where the Pember river narrowed. The north bridge was the main entry to the city on that side. On the far side of the bridge, the city was less dense. They passed the Beddo p’hatra, which was more of an unruly garden than any of the paved squares on the south. There were a handful of Beddo camps with bright coloured wagons and banners fluttering in the breeze.
Beyond that, the road forked, and there was a small mini-city there. Just as Eben had said, they found the confectioner's shop. The boys each got a bag of the candied currants, and Kirrin also got a small bag of orange slices dipped in the same way as the currants. For his mom, and the inn, he said, telling the shopkeeper how much they had enjoyed the currants. When the shopkeeper heard that, he insisted on putting together a small collection of samples for Kirrin to take back. And he tied it up very neat and snug. Kirrin suspected that it was to make sure the boys didn't nip into them.
Afterwards, they wandered back towards the bridge, stopping to watch the Beddo dancing. Kirrin had seen the Beddo dance and perform several times before, but it seemed different now, when they were only dancing for themselves. It didn't take long for them to lose interest, and they wandered back towards the bridge and stopped there to watch the boats. They could hear some of the sailors on the ships shouting commands, and the sound of music and singing also wafted on the breeze.
Kirrin told Eben about his time at the So'hars, and about his latest challenge with the box. Eben listened without interrupting, eyes fixed on Kirrin the entire time he spoke. Kirrin described the keys to him, watching Eben's eyes grow round as he spoke.
“I bet they're magic. Or cursed,” he said, shivering slightly as he spoke.
“Dunno. But they didn't open the box. So now I'm stuck again.”
“What you need is a locksmith.” Eben declared.
“A locksmith? What's that?
Eben just rolled his eyes and snorted. “A guy who makes locks. Idiot.”
Kirrin felt foolish, hearing that. He had never thought about who made locks, or keys. And he had never heard anyone talk about locksmiths before.
“Where do I find a locksmith?” he asked.
Eben shrugged. “Dunno. The Beddo 'sposed to be good with things like that. And there might be one in the city somewhere. We could find out?” Eben said, his voice making it sound like a half-question, half-offer.
“Oh no,” Kirrin said, looking up at the sun, which was near to setting. “I've got to get back. I have to help with dinner chores, for the inn.”
“Let's race back,” Eben said, and Kirrin laughed as he broke into a run.
Kirrin remembered to wash up before he went into the kitchens, and immediately went to his room to change his clothes before he went to help his mother. He raced through everything he needed to do, until it came to the pot-scrubbing. Those always took a bit. At least his mother never burnt anything, so that made it easier.
The next morning he got up bright and early, and raced through all his chores before anyone was up. He heard his mother stirring in the kitchen as he packed his box and the keys into his pack, and slipped down the upstairs hall to the veranda, where he could sneak off without being seen.
He had a pouch of coins, money hard earned. He had no idea what it might cost to hire a locksmith. The streets were sleepy, and only the baker and fish-monger were already up and open. Kirrin spent three of his brass pennies for a sausage roll and sweet bread, fresh out of the oven. He asked the baker if he knew of any locksmiths in the city, but the man shook his head.
“Have had that lock there for five generations,” the man had proclaimed. Kirrin thanked the man, and headed out.
Several of his attempts were met with similar responses, or vague uncertainty as to where one might be located. By the time the Nibbin had made its first pass across the sky, Kirrin had asked two dozen people, with no success. So he headed across the bridge, to the Beddo camp. They didn't seem that scary or dangerous the day before. No one seemed to have much regard for the wandering clans. But it seemed that whenever anything was broken, or needed mending - that was where they went.
But when he got to the edge of the Beddo camps he had no idea how to go about finding someone, so he dawdled by the road for a while. He wasn't sure if the square, park, or land - whatever it actually was - was reserved for the Beddo. He worried he might get in trouble for trespassing. But as he watched the main lane leading into the uncultivated wooded gardens, he noticed people generally wandered around with ease. So he took a deep breath and headed in. Deeper into the park, he could hear sounds coming from all around. The sounds of breakfast mingled with the sounds of children laughing and running. He also heard some music, as someone plucked at some kind of stringed instrument. He followed the lane for a while, it seemed to loop through the many acres of woods and meadows. Eventually it looped to the back-side, where Beddo barges were tied up along the side of a canal.
He didn't see much sign of life by the water, so he headed back towards the wagon camps. A young girl about his own age ran out of the bushes, colliding with him, knocking them both to the ground. Kirrin flinched. Old muscle memory taking over. But he heard laughter instead of threats. “I be right sorry, there, laddie,” And she was off of him, and standing upright before he could blink the dust out of his eyes. She reached a hand down to help him to his feet. “And you be looking a right lost.”
Kirrin dusted himself off, patting his pack, to make sure the box was safe. “A little lost, kind of, yes,” he admitted, feeling awkward.
“What be ye looking for then?” she asked, smiling brightly.
“I need someone who can help me to open a lock or to make a key.”
The girl looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Someone told me to try here. Do you know anyone?”
“It's na' whether I know of someone boyo, I'm trying to think who is around.”
Kirrin wondered if he looked as perplexed as he felt.
“We're traveler's, ya thick!” she said, laughing.
“Ooh,” he said, smiling back at her.
“I think Thavan's just come in t'other day and has a camp just beyond.” She grabbed him by the arm, and headed off down the small trail she had just bounded out of. “Oh, and you're right handsome when you're bright red,” she added over her shoulder, making him blush even further.
They found Thavan and his wagon fairly close to where the girl said it would be.
“Thavan, this boyo here is alookin for a lock opener.”
“What for?” The burly looking man asked, putting down his pipe. Dark eyes stared at Kirrin intently.
Kirrin stood there for a moment, lost for words.
“Well speak up boyo.”
“I have a box. A gift to me. But it doesn't have a key, so I can't open it.”
“Let's see here,” Thavan prodded, moving over to a table and bench that opened off the side of his wagon.
“That's one might fancy box,” Thavan said when Kirrin set it down.
“Yes, sir.”
“And it's yours?”
Kirrin nodded.
“But no key?”
Kirrin could hear the suspicion in his voice.
“No key, sir.”
“And you swearing it h'ant been stole? I'm na' like to help you break into something stolen.”
Kirrin's eyes went wide. It had never occurred to him that someone might think he had stolen the box. His mouth opened, but he just stopped, words frozen in his mouth.
The man looked at him doubtfully. “It's a gift to you. You swear. Given to you. But without a key.”
Kirrin nodded sagely, knowing now how preposterous it sounded.
“Kenna,” Thavan called over to a girl about Kirrin's age, “go fetch Gran.” Then he turned back to Kirrin. “We'll soon see
if there's truth to your tale.”
Kirrin sat there, watching worriedly, while Thavan went back to edging the blade he had been working on. What if the man didn't believe him? He had a sword right there. And he looked like he knew how to use it.
Before long, a woman appeared, younger than Kirrin would have thought she should be. Most of the grandmothers he had ever seen were old and wrinkly. Gran was anything but. She wore a close fitting shirt that revealed her shape, and Kirrin blushed when he realized he was staring at her chest.
She laughed, swaying her hips slightly back and forth. Kirrin's mouth dropped open and he froze, shocked and embarrassed with no idea how to respond.
“Stop teasin the cub,” Thavan said to her.
“What do you need so urgent, that Kenna pulled me away from my potions?”
“Lad here claims he has this box, without a key. Claims it's his. Swears it.”
“Swears, does he?” Gran asked, looking sharply at Kirrin.
Kirrin swallowed hard, and nodded. He looked back at Thavan.
“She's a truth-sayer, she is,” he said, answering the question Kirrin hadn't asked.
“A what?”
“A truth-sayer,” he repeated. “She'll know if you're lyin, better than any Mum can do.”
Kirrin almost snorted, but stopped himself. He knew how well his mother could tell his lies. She always knew. But his mum knew him better than anyone. Thavan was saying a total stranger could tell if he was lying better than his own mum could.
He shrugged, doubting the truth of it, but also worrying what might happen if she randomly decided he was lying.
“You don't believe?” Gran asked. “Go on. Tell me something about yourself.”
“My name is Kirrin,” he said.
She nodded. “True. How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
Another nod. “Where are you from?”
“The city. Tatak Rhe.”
A pause. “Half true,” she said.
Kirrin blinked. Worried and confused. “Half true?”
Gran nodded again. “Where were you born?”
Kirrin paused. He really didn't know. He had assumed he was born here, in the city. “Here, I suppose. In the city.”
“He believes it, but it isn't the entire truth,” Gran said. “Now, about the box? It's yours, you say?”
Kirrin was still pondering his birth and what he didn't know about himself. “Huh? What? Yes. The box is mine, or was given to me. A gift, or a challenge.”
Gran nodded. “A cloud of mystery there, but that is truth. And best not interfering. The gods be involved in this one.”
Kirrin didn't know exactly what she meant by that last bit, but knew it didn't sound good. Did she mean Kirrin shouldn't be doing this, or that it would be bad for Thavan to help Kirrin? Or both?
“Know that if you follow this path, your life will be very different than you might imagine, and far from ordinary.”
At this point in his life, not being ordinary sounded like the greatest thing in the world.
Thavan looked at Gran, and then at Kirrin.“Do you want me to show you? Teach you about locks? I will na' open it for you. Will na' touch the box. So my hand is not caught in a web spun by the gods. But I will teach you what you might need to know, to open it yourself- with practice.”
Gods? Weaving? Webs? Truth-sayers? Kirrin's head was spinning at this point, trying to accommodate concepts that had never existed in his world before. He didn't even have questions formed to try to sort through what he was hearing. He hadn't been raised with any religion or gods, and had assumed they were all just local myths, meant to scare little children into obeying.
But these people seemed to take it very seriously- and not the way the priests in the city did. And the woman knew when he was lying. That fact gave the pair of them more credibility than he would have given them otherwise. He chewed on his lip, thinking. On a deep level, he didn't know exactly what decision he was making - only that it was an important one.
After a few minutes, he nodded. “Agreed.”
Gran almost looked sad, but smiled and wished him well, before she returned to her potions - or whatever it was she might have been doing.
Thavan spent the entire day showing Kirrin how the inside of locks worked. He took apart a simple lock, showing him tumblers and pins and how keys turned locks to open and close.
“Can a key that almost fits be changed to open a lock?” Kirrin asked.
“Sometimes, maybe. But it might be easier to show you how to use pins.
“Pins?”
Thavan nodded. “Pins and a tension arm.”
Kirrin had no idea what he was talking about, but nodded anyway.
“Okay, most common locks, and probably the lock on that fancy box of yours, use pins, like this, in a cylinder that turns, like. When the cylinder turns, it releases the clasp that holds the lock closed. Inside the cylinder, there are pins, different lengths and such. Look at your keys and see how the teeth are always different? See this fancy key here?” he asked, pulling out a wide key, very similar to the keys in the jar. “See how along the top, they're all different levels. Those match up with the pins inside the lock.”
Kirrin had no idea what the man was talking about, and his confusion must have shown.
“Okay, look here,” Thavan said, drawing on a piece of paper. “This is what the inside of a common lock looks like. When the key is inserted into the keyhole, these pins, here,” he pointed to his diagram, “they get pushed up, above the ledge of the cylinder. So then it can turn freely.”
Kirrin watched and studied the diagram closely. It made more sense when he could look at it, and see what it looked like and how the pieces worked.
“But that's if you have a key,” Kirrin said, trying to keep the frustrated whine out of his voice.
“True. But before you can understand how to pick it open, you have to understand how it works like, no?”
Kirrin nodded, it was the first thing he understood without any confusion.
“Now, if you h'ant got a key, you can use pins, or picks, to push the pins up, manually like. And you use the tensioner arm, to hold the cylinder slightly twisted. Then as each pin goes up, in turn, it stays up on the ledge, caught. Understand?”
Kirrin wasn't sure he understood, but he thought he did.
Thavan brought out a lock and a set of pins, and demonstrated it to Kirrin. “Now, you have to have a really good ear, and learn what to listen for.” First he put the small tensioner into the lock and turned it with a tiny bit of pressure. Then he took a strange little L shaped piece of metal, barely thicker than a wire, and inserted it into the lock. “Now, listen while I do this.”
Kirrin leaned in, putting his ear as close as he could without getting in the way. “Ow,” he said, accidentally bumping Thavan's head. “Sorry.”
Thavan put a bit of pressure on the tensioner, and then had Kirrin do it, guiding his hand to feel what he needed to feel. Kirrin gasped. “I felt it.”
Thavan nodded. “Good. And now for the pick-pin. Watch, see how it slides in, and then ever so gentle, like kissin a babe, you feel for the pin and theennn...”
Kirrin heard a teeny snick, and felt a moment's excitement. Thavan removed the pick-pin and handed it to Kirrin. It had seemed too simple, watching Thavan, but by the time he heard his own tiny snick, sweat was beading on his forehead.
Thavan nodded. “You're a quick learner. Good hands.” He stood up and filled his pipe, packing the tobacco into it, and lighting it with a bit of metal he heated up in the nearby fire. “You can keep the pick and tensioner. With a bit of patience you should be able to open that mystery box of yours. But before you do it, you think long and hard on Gran's words. Few are there that ignore her advice - she don' give it out that freely. And she h'ant ever been wrong. Be sure you want whatever's inside, and wherever it leads you to.”
There was a level of gravity in Thavan's voice that Kirrin couldn't ignore. It was like each word sun
k down inside with a weight, right to his heart. He didn't understand it, but he felt it, regardless. He thanked Thavan for his time, pulling out his coin purse, spilling his silver pennies into his hand, counting them out.
“No boyo, I'll na take coin for this,” Thavan said, with a look on his face that troubled something deep in Kirrin's soul. “Like as with the box, I'll na want my hand on it, and taking coin for this will surely be tempting the gods involved to look my way. I'd na ask to be caught in the god's weaving when the web stirs. There's too many signs in the stars these days.”
Kirrin didn't know what to make of it all. He was elated that he was so close now to solving this little mystery, but worried that maybe the travelers might know something he didn't understand. He shrugged, hoping it was just more of the local superstitions his mother always brushed off. So he thanked Thavan, and headed back into the city, towards home. But those words clung to him, much like Thavan's pipe smoke.
It wasn't nearly as easy as Kirrin thought it would be. It didn't help that he was kept busy for the entire week-span, either. It was Spring festival and visitors thronged into the city, which meant the inn was full and Kirrin was kept hopping-busy most of the time. He made several trips to the confectioner's shop; those cocoa dipped fruits were a very popular item with the guests, and they paid a premium for Kirrin to fetch them. The inn did well during festivals; depending on the busy times of the year. Perrin always paid him for the busy times, so it was kind of nice, and a lot of the guests would tip him when he did things for them. So by the end of the week, he had a handful of brass ducats, and a pocketful of silver pennies.
He heaved a sigh of relief when he watched the last guest ride out in a rented carriage. He was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to grab his box and disappear into his private fort. But he had to spend the entire day cleaning up, dusting rooms and changing bed linens, and then washing the windows. It was late in the afternoon before he finally got away. He knew there was still more cleaning up to be done, but he was getting so miserable his mother finally told him to go. He took the pity, and dashed out before she could change her mind.