SC Book One: Life's Bazaar - Chapter Three: Locks
Dreams haunted Zip’s sleep. Dreams of memories from years past. The feel of a cloth over his mouth. Cold, dark tunnels. Humiliation. He woke in a cold sweat, his brother snoring softly in the bed next to him and Ayame sleeping soundly in the next bed over.
They had to find those kidnapped people, they had to. Zip had an inkling as to what might have happened and he couldn’t let others go through that hell.
Not after experiencing it himself.
The day dawned much brighter and cheerier than the previous one had set. As usual, Dip had attempted to take over the entire bed during the night, giving Zip the smallest space possible without completely kicking him out. He’d tried kicking him and shoving him in the night, but his brother never budged. Dip slept like a boulder - a great, heavy, loud boulder.
Ayame seemed refreshed, probably because she hadn’t had to sleep in the same bed as the great oaf. Not that Dip hadn’t tried. As they had decided to get only two rooms for the night, Ayame ended up in their room. He’d grinned at her in his imitation of manly flirtation, which mostly just made Zip snicker. “You know I don’t have to sleep with my brother.”
She’d given him a curious look. “Aren’t you used to sleeping with sheep.”
Zip had tried not to, but snorted, then tried to cover it up as a cough. Dip frowned, still not understanding the joke. “I’ve only slept with a sheep once that I can remember. When I was two a sheep carried me off.”
“Aww! You poor thing!” she cooed, hugging him with both arms and wings. “A pedophile sheep! How horrible!”
Zip saw his brother wrinkle his brow at the word ‘pedophile’. “It was kind of comfortable,” he went on, continuing to dig his own grave. “I really don’t remember it much. I was only two.”
“You poor dear! But seriously, you’re sleeping with your brother.”
Ayame changed behind a dressing screen and went down for breakfast first while the boys finished dressing. Dip was way too energetic for so early in the morning, Zip thought, as his younger twin practically dragged his yawning brother down the stairs. They met up with Wrast, Shiore and Nona in the main common room. Nardakk was already there after having had decided to spend the night outside the city walls. He had said he felt uncomfortable in the city and would make camp in the wilderness. “I may get used to it in time, but for now it’s still a bit overwhelming.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable,” Zip had asked, “why did you come here?”
The orc shaman had hesitated before answering. “I’ve felt a disturbance with the spirits. This seems to be a good place to start.”
Ayame had given him a questioning look. “Well, if the disturbances are in here, shouldn’t you stay in the city?”
But it hadn’t swayed him and the orc had gone to make camp.
“You look a bit worn out,” Shiore said to Zip as the twins sat at the table. “Bad night?”
Zip shook his head, trying not to remember the dreams. He added a smile and a playful nudge at his brother. “This one kicks in his sleep, trying to take over the mattress.”
“Do not!” He punched Zip’s arm.
Before it could devolve into a friendly sibling wrestling match, the innkeeper approached. They all turned their attention to him. Shiore paled slightly. “Is there something wrong with our steeds?” Zip had almost forgotten they had left Trip and Bogo on the stables before traveling to the church.
The innkeeper blinked, startled. “Wha- Oh, no. This came in a little while ago.” He handed Shiore a small note, along with the coins they used to pay for the rooms the night before. “The church has sent over money to pay for your lodgings,” he added as explanation.
Shiore perused the note then read it aloud. “It’s from Jenya. She says that since we refused payment she has insisted that the church pay for our rooms and other expenses while we’re employed by them.”
“That’s very generous of them,” said Ayame. “Say, did anyone else notice the odd pictures in the rooms? Ours had some strange paintings of what I guess is a morkoth in different situations. All with him drunk, of course.”
Shiore nodded. “I couldn’t stop laughing!” She chuckled, taking a bite of egg. “Don’t you think he looks like a Kevin?”
Zip and Dip snorted while Nardakk raised an eyebrow. “Kevin?” he asked incredulous.
“Sure, why not?”
“I think Kevin’s a lovely name,” Zip agreed, snorting into his potato.
After a few errands, the group taking off briefly on their own business - Zip and Dip taking a peek at a few merchants - they gathered again by late morning to head for the orphanage.
The Lantern Street Orphanage rested on the corner of Lantern Street and Lava Avenue, on the complete opposite end of Cauldron from where they were lodging. Zip looked up into the two-story walls of charcoal-colored stones held together with mold-encrusted mortar. As Jenya had said, the windows on both stories were barred and tightly shut. It looked to Zip more like a jail than a home for children the way it seemed locked down.
They came to the door. Dip chuckled and nodded at the oaken front door. Zip saw what he found humorous. Mounted to the door was a green copper knocker shaped like a smiling gargoyle’s visage, its nostrils pierced by a copper ring. With a grin, Dip took hold of the knocker and banged on the door.
The door opened and an elderly Halfling woman opened the door a crack and peered out, a scowl on her face. “Hello!” Dip said, holding his hand out. The others appeared to have not noticed the woman at first, expecting someone their own height, Zip supposed.
“Who sent you?” the woman asked curtly.
The smile froze on Dip’s face. His hand stood out in front of him, looking rather silly. He pulled it back hastily.
“Uh, the church sent us,” Shiore stammered, flustered, “to help find the children.”
The woman looked the group up and down, crossing her arms over her chest. “Prove it.”
Shiore’s lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. In an instant, Zip saw the tenseness in her face soften. Her smile was relaxed and genuine. “I realize you’re worried about the children,” she said, “and that’s why we’re here. To find the children.”
Zip searched Shiore’s face. Amazing her insight! Especially as her words seemed to pierce through the woman’s harsh exterior. The halfling’s anger drained from her and she seemed more vulnerable, tired. She nodded. “Very well. Please, come in.” She opened the door wider, allowing the group to make their way into the hall.
The ground floor was dimly lit and standing at the top of the staircase were small faces peering through the banister down at their guests. Zip smiled and waved back at them. A few of the little ones smiled and waved back, though he could see they still were wary.
“It is as you say,” the woman went on. “I am worried for my children. Please, forgive me for my rudeness, but it has been a trying few days. The watch has been of no help and although the church has done what they could, no trace of the children has been found.” She heaved a sigh. “Let me introduce myself. I am Gretchyn, the headmistress of Lantern Street. How can I help?” She mentioned a few of the staff members they could talk to that might be able to aid them.
“I think we should like to see the rooms upstairs first,” Shiore said. “And the locks.”
The rooms upstairs were just as Jenya described as well. Both rooms, on opposite ends of the house, had locks. Zip used his lock picks to test their quality. Despite his skill being rather impressive, he had a bit of trouble with them. Not only were they in working order, but were exception in construction. Someone of great skill would have had to be the kidnapper to be able to unlock them with ease.
Zip explained this to Shiore. “I also noticed that the locks were made by the same locksmith.”
Shiore nodded. “Yes, I noticed that as well.”
“Who made the locks?” she asked Gretchyn when they met back up with her in the foyer.
“A local locksmith, a gnome by the name of Keygan Ghelve. And he charged a pretty coin, let me tell you!”
“Does this Keygan Ghelve do all the locks in the city?”
The Halfling headmistress shrugged. “I suppose. He’s a local locksmith. I’d imagine he does his fair share.”
“Please find my children,” she pleaded, wringing her hands as she escorted them to the door. “I have little faith in the watch, the great oafs. And then there were these two half elves who questioned me about their disappearance. Said they were sent by the mayor. Got their names - Fario Ellegoth and Fellian Shard. They seemed concerned. Perhaps they might have more information as well. But you were sent by the church. I trust Jenya’s judgment.”
“We shall do everything in our power,” Shiore promised, patting the older woman comfortingly on the shoulder.
“So what do we do now?” Ayame asked as they joined the afternoon crowd on Lantern Street.
Shiore glanced down both ends of the street, as if trying to determine which direction they should go down. “Find out if the other victims have locks made by Keygan Ghelve.”
List of the victims’ names in hand, it took two hours of heavy chatting with the locals on the street to learn where they lived and directions to their houses. They had to split up somewhat to cover more ground. Dip traveled with Zip, who did most of the questioning. Although Dip considered himself friendly and quite the people person, none of that rivaled his older twin’s ability to gather information from even the most reluctant of people.
Zip forewent the charm spells for good, old-fashioned grilling. When Dip asked about it, Zip said he wanted to conserve his spells until absolutely necessary. His brother did that a lot - although he had magic, he didn’t use it just because he could. He waited for it to be of most use.
“It’s like your skill with your sithak,” he’d explained to Dip once. “Just because you can beat someone up to get your way, doesn’t mean you should, right?”
“Of course not!” Dip had said. “It wouldn’t be right. They didn’t deserve it.”
“Exactly. Just because I can mess with people’s minds, doesn’t mean I should. It wouldn’t be right. Though sometimes they’re annoying enough to make it worth the effort.”
Ever since, Dip understood. Mostly. Sometimes it was just frustrating and boring trying to do it the “old-fashioned” way. Asking normally didn’t always get the answers they were looking for.
“Krylscar Endercott? Isn’t he the guy who got kicked out of the militia for drunk and disorderly conduct? Yeah, I heard he disappeared. Scab probably just robbed his parents and skipped town. Disgrace.”
“Oh, poor Deven Myrzal! He’s probably been sacrificed to the tentacled beast lurking in the cold depths of the lake by now. There’s one living there, you know. Evil cultists like to kidnap people and feed them to it for their rituals!”
“I bet they’d been taken by those cloaked figured that have been appearing jumping from rooftop to rooftop the last few evenings. If you ask me, they’re up to something. Why hasn’t anyone stopped them?”
There was a certain storyteller aspect to these tales that appealed to Dip, but none were particularly useful - although a tentacled monster in the lake sounded like fun!
The group gathered back together and tracked down the residences they had been able to get. Shiore and Zip checked over each of the doors’ locks, the two conferring their opinion. Either Shiore had as much knowledge as Zip about locks - which was fairly extensive for someone who wasn’t a locksmith - or she had incredible powers of observation as she agreed with Zip about each lock.
And if it weren’t for the fact that Dip knew Zip had no interest in Shiore that way, he might have been more jealous. As it was, he was bummed he didn’t have something to talk to her about the way Zip did. He bet Shiore preferred intelligent conversation.
While they waited, Dip entertained himself by talking with Ayame. Of the two girls, his preference leaned more toward Shiore, which was probably just as well as he was pretty sure he’d been turned down by Ayame the night before. Hard to tell with the sarcasm and all the sheep jokes flying around. Dip had been mostly kidding anyway about sleeping together.
“It’s definite,” Shiore announced. “The locks were made by the same person.” She turned to Wrast and nodded. While he hadn’t understood her words, he seemed to understand this and responded with something in Elven. Zip barked out a cackle.
“What?” Dip asked.
Zip sighed and rolled his eyes. Dip often wondered how frustrated his brother was by constantly having to translate for him over the years - and not just Elven; Common, too, especially when they talked all round about with something instead of coming out and saying it proper. There was no help for it, though; he was just too stupid to figure it out. “He said, ‘Looks like we need to beat up a gnome’.”
“Oh.” Dip furrowed his brow in thought. Why would we have to beat up a gnome? Then he remembered - Keygan Ghelve was a gnome, the man who made all the locks! “Oh!” Suddenly he realized what that meant. It would have been so easy for the maker of the locks to break into these places. He frowned. “Bad gnome.”
The gnomish locksmith lived and worked at his shop in southern Cauldron on Lava Avenue. A small turret dominated the front of the two story black stone building. Iron bars were embedded into the thick window frames. Beyond the turret’s ground-floor windows sat a rather impressive display of locks, from large to small, simple to complex. As a kender, Dip appreciated the variety, although he was not as accomplished with lock picking as his twin. He saw Zip eyeing the locks wistfully, the curiosity of whether he could manage to pick them swimming in his gaze.
To the left of the turret, above a heavy oak door, swung a simple sign that read “Ghelve’s Locks”.
The late afternoon sun had dipped to touch the western horizon, throwing the light against the windowpanes of the shop and reflect back into Dip’s eyes. Shiore stepped up to the door, fist prepared to knock. At the last minute, she grabbed the door’s handle and turned. The door squeaked open. Shiore made a small noise in her throat and slumped her shoulders. With a disappointed sigh, she pulled the door opened all the way.
A waft of wood and pipe smoke filled Dip’s nostrils as they entered. The shop was lit mostly with the fire from the hearth; a tinker box, small vase of dried smoking leaves, and a fine collection of pipes resting on the carved mantle. Dip glanced around the shop as he walked the burgundy strip of carpet that traveled the length of the storefront from the door to the back wall. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of keys hung from tiny hooks in all shapes and sizes. His eyes rested on a shiny silver lock and key in a case on the wall. His feet brought him closer until a large gentle hand nudged him back to the group. Nardakk smiled down at him and gestured with his eyes to the engraved mahogany counter to the right of the entrance. Behind the counter hung a red curtain that hid the room beyond - a room behind the storefront window.
Everyone else had their attention on the man behind the counter, also a display case for more of the shop’s locks. It was a little taller than Dip, probably four feet tall, and he had to crane his neck up to see who stood behind it. The man’s head came up higher than Wrast and by his proportions the shopkeeper had the longest legs he’d ever seen on a gnome. Partially due to his brother, Dip had known many gnomes in the past and none of them had been taller than him, let alone taller than some humans. He gawked and then noticed the metal clamps on his legs. The gnome wore stilts! Dip contemplated the stilts, wondering how easy it would be to walk around on them. He’d be the tallest kender ever…
“Welcome to Ghelve’s Locks!” At the sound of the gnome’s voice, Dip snapped his gaze away from the stilts to the gnome’s face. Keygan Ghelve was about middle-aged for a gnome, although Dip was unsure what age range that made him. His short hair and neatly-tripped mustache were salted with white throughout the dark strands. He had rather bushy eyebrows and like many gnomes a fairly prominent nose. His face creased in a pleasant grin, though Dip saw his hawkish eyes watch them carefully, especially when they fell upon him and his brother. Recognition at the two of them caused his smile to falter somewhat and his eyes become even more wary.
Zip stepped forward, although he did not hold out his hand. Considering the current height of the gnome, Dip didn’t think the locksmith would have been able to clasp it without falling over his counter and toppling onto the floor. Zip may have recognized that. In a tongue Dip had heard his brother speak to several of his gnomish boyfriends, Zip spoke what Dip assumed to be a gnomish greeting. Based on the surprise evident on the gnome’s face, and the more genuine grin forming, this seemed to be a correct assumption.
Keygan chuckled somewhat and responded in kind. The wariness in his eyes diminished. Shiore glance between the two of them and narrowed her eyes at Zip, although Dip could see the playful smile forming. “Show off,” she whispered. Dip could tell his brother tried not to look smug, though he was only marginally successful.
With a sideways glance at Zip, Shiore spoke her own greeting, this one Dip assumed to be in Elven. The gnome’s smile faltered into confusion and he blinked. She sighed and Zip’s smug grin widened.
“So, what can I help you with?” Keygan asked in Common, glancing at each of them in turn. He put down the lock he’d been polishing and wiped the grease from his fingers. “I’ve got locks that will protect anything you need to keep safe.”
“What about town folk? And children?” Shiore asked with a slight tilt to her head, as if she were merely curious.
The gnome’s face paled and his smile wavered. “E-excuse me?”
The elf girl’s eyes dilated, going unfocused as if she were listening to something in another room. Dip strained his hearing to see if he could figure out what she might have heard. Under her breath, she muttered something in Elven. Wrast narrowed his eyes as he listened and replied back in a different language, one Dip had never heard before. Or had he? Had Wrast spoken this to Shiore once before? At the Lucky Monkey? He wasn’t sure, languages not being his forte. Whatever it was, Zip didn’t seem to understand it either, his face blank.
Dip had no idea what Wrast said to Shiore, but whatever it was had been some kind of cue and a moment later, a loud BANG! The elf warrior vaulted over the counter and tackled the gnome. Dip’s eyes went wide and leapt on top of the counter. The man’s speed had been incredible! One moment he stood relaxed and loose and the next he had sprung forward like a cat during a hunt.
Zip reacted immediately as well, following his twin onto the counter, gazing down at Wrast with a look so incredulous Dip could only imagine what thoughts spun in his head.
Shiore leaned on the counter, her head between them. Her eyes went wide and she took a step back, staring practically through the red curtain. Her words came out in a low hiss. “There’s someone else here!”
They had to find those kidnapped people, they had to. Zip had an inkling as to what might have happened and he couldn’t let others go through that hell.
Not after experiencing it himself.
The day dawned much brighter and cheerier than the previous one had set. As usual, Dip had attempted to take over the entire bed during the night, giving Zip the smallest space possible without completely kicking him out. He’d tried kicking him and shoving him in the night, but his brother never budged. Dip slept like a boulder - a great, heavy, loud boulder.
Ayame seemed refreshed, probably because she hadn’t had to sleep in the same bed as the great oaf. Not that Dip hadn’t tried. As they had decided to get only two rooms for the night, Ayame ended up in their room. He’d grinned at her in his imitation of manly flirtation, which mostly just made Zip snicker. “You know I don’t have to sleep with my brother.”
She’d given him a curious look. “Aren’t you used to sleeping with sheep.”
Zip had tried not to, but snorted, then tried to cover it up as a cough. Dip frowned, still not understanding the joke. “I’ve only slept with a sheep once that I can remember. When I was two a sheep carried me off.”
“Aww! You poor thing!” she cooed, hugging him with both arms and wings. “A pedophile sheep! How horrible!”
Zip saw his brother wrinkle his brow at the word ‘pedophile’. “It was kind of comfortable,” he went on, continuing to dig his own grave. “I really don’t remember it much. I was only two.”
“You poor dear! But seriously, you’re sleeping with your brother.”
Ayame changed behind a dressing screen and went down for breakfast first while the boys finished dressing. Dip was way too energetic for so early in the morning, Zip thought, as his younger twin practically dragged his yawning brother down the stairs. They met up with Wrast, Shiore and Nona in the main common room. Nardakk was already there after having had decided to spend the night outside the city walls. He had said he felt uncomfortable in the city and would make camp in the wilderness. “I may get used to it in time, but for now it’s still a bit overwhelming.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable,” Zip had asked, “why did you come here?”
The orc shaman had hesitated before answering. “I’ve felt a disturbance with the spirits. This seems to be a good place to start.”
Ayame had given him a questioning look. “Well, if the disturbances are in here, shouldn’t you stay in the city?”
But it hadn’t swayed him and the orc had gone to make camp.
“You look a bit worn out,” Shiore said to Zip as the twins sat at the table. “Bad night?”
Zip shook his head, trying not to remember the dreams. He added a smile and a playful nudge at his brother. “This one kicks in his sleep, trying to take over the mattress.”
“Do not!” He punched Zip’s arm.
Before it could devolve into a friendly sibling wrestling match, the innkeeper approached. They all turned their attention to him. Shiore paled slightly. “Is there something wrong with our steeds?” Zip had almost forgotten they had left Trip and Bogo on the stables before traveling to the church.
The innkeeper blinked, startled. “Wha- Oh, no. This came in a little while ago.” He handed Shiore a small note, along with the coins they used to pay for the rooms the night before. “The church has sent over money to pay for your lodgings,” he added as explanation.
Shiore perused the note then read it aloud. “It’s from Jenya. She says that since we refused payment she has insisted that the church pay for our rooms and other expenses while we’re employed by them.”
“That’s very generous of them,” said Ayame. “Say, did anyone else notice the odd pictures in the rooms? Ours had some strange paintings of what I guess is a morkoth in different situations. All with him drunk, of course.”
Shiore nodded. “I couldn’t stop laughing!” She chuckled, taking a bite of egg. “Don’t you think he looks like a Kevin?”
Zip and Dip snorted while Nardakk raised an eyebrow. “Kevin?” he asked incredulous.
“Sure, why not?”
“I think Kevin’s a lovely name,” Zip agreed, snorting into his potato.
After a few errands, the group taking off briefly on their own business - Zip and Dip taking a peek at a few merchants - they gathered again by late morning to head for the orphanage.
The Lantern Street Orphanage rested on the corner of Lantern Street and Lava Avenue, on the complete opposite end of Cauldron from where they were lodging. Zip looked up into the two-story walls of charcoal-colored stones held together with mold-encrusted mortar. As Jenya had said, the windows on both stories were barred and tightly shut. It looked to Zip more like a jail than a home for children the way it seemed locked down.
They came to the door. Dip chuckled and nodded at the oaken front door. Zip saw what he found humorous. Mounted to the door was a green copper knocker shaped like a smiling gargoyle’s visage, its nostrils pierced by a copper ring. With a grin, Dip took hold of the knocker and banged on the door.
The door opened and an elderly Halfling woman opened the door a crack and peered out, a scowl on her face. “Hello!” Dip said, holding his hand out. The others appeared to have not noticed the woman at first, expecting someone their own height, Zip supposed.
“Who sent you?” the woman asked curtly.
The smile froze on Dip’s face. His hand stood out in front of him, looking rather silly. He pulled it back hastily.
“Uh, the church sent us,” Shiore stammered, flustered, “to help find the children.”
The woman looked the group up and down, crossing her arms over her chest. “Prove it.”
Shiore’s lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. In an instant, Zip saw the tenseness in her face soften. Her smile was relaxed and genuine. “I realize you’re worried about the children,” she said, “and that’s why we’re here. To find the children.”
Zip searched Shiore’s face. Amazing her insight! Especially as her words seemed to pierce through the woman’s harsh exterior. The halfling’s anger drained from her and she seemed more vulnerable, tired. She nodded. “Very well. Please, come in.” She opened the door wider, allowing the group to make their way into the hall.
The ground floor was dimly lit and standing at the top of the staircase were small faces peering through the banister down at their guests. Zip smiled and waved back at them. A few of the little ones smiled and waved back, though he could see they still were wary.
“It is as you say,” the woman went on. “I am worried for my children. Please, forgive me for my rudeness, but it has been a trying few days. The watch has been of no help and although the church has done what they could, no trace of the children has been found.” She heaved a sigh. “Let me introduce myself. I am Gretchyn, the headmistress of Lantern Street. How can I help?” She mentioned a few of the staff members they could talk to that might be able to aid them.
“I think we should like to see the rooms upstairs first,” Shiore said. “And the locks.”
The rooms upstairs were just as Jenya described as well. Both rooms, on opposite ends of the house, had locks. Zip used his lock picks to test their quality. Despite his skill being rather impressive, he had a bit of trouble with them. Not only were they in working order, but were exception in construction. Someone of great skill would have had to be the kidnapper to be able to unlock them with ease.
Zip explained this to Shiore. “I also noticed that the locks were made by the same locksmith.”
Shiore nodded. “Yes, I noticed that as well.”
“Who made the locks?” she asked Gretchyn when they met back up with her in the foyer.
“A local locksmith, a gnome by the name of Keygan Ghelve. And he charged a pretty coin, let me tell you!”
“Does this Keygan Ghelve do all the locks in the city?”
The Halfling headmistress shrugged. “I suppose. He’s a local locksmith. I’d imagine he does his fair share.”
“Please find my children,” she pleaded, wringing her hands as she escorted them to the door. “I have little faith in the watch, the great oafs. And then there were these two half elves who questioned me about their disappearance. Said they were sent by the mayor. Got their names - Fario Ellegoth and Fellian Shard. They seemed concerned. Perhaps they might have more information as well. But you were sent by the church. I trust Jenya’s judgment.”
“We shall do everything in our power,” Shiore promised, patting the older woman comfortingly on the shoulder.
“So what do we do now?” Ayame asked as they joined the afternoon crowd on Lantern Street.
Shiore glanced down both ends of the street, as if trying to determine which direction they should go down. “Find out if the other victims have locks made by Keygan Ghelve.”
List of the victims’ names in hand, it took two hours of heavy chatting with the locals on the street to learn where they lived and directions to their houses. They had to split up somewhat to cover more ground. Dip traveled with Zip, who did most of the questioning. Although Dip considered himself friendly and quite the people person, none of that rivaled his older twin’s ability to gather information from even the most reluctant of people.
Zip forewent the charm spells for good, old-fashioned grilling. When Dip asked about it, Zip said he wanted to conserve his spells until absolutely necessary. His brother did that a lot - although he had magic, he didn’t use it just because he could. He waited for it to be of most use.
“It’s like your skill with your sithak,” he’d explained to Dip once. “Just because you can beat someone up to get your way, doesn’t mean you should, right?”
“Of course not!” Dip had said. “It wouldn’t be right. They didn’t deserve it.”
“Exactly. Just because I can mess with people’s minds, doesn’t mean I should. It wouldn’t be right. Though sometimes they’re annoying enough to make it worth the effort.”
Ever since, Dip understood. Mostly. Sometimes it was just frustrating and boring trying to do it the “old-fashioned” way. Asking normally didn’t always get the answers they were looking for.
“Krylscar Endercott? Isn’t he the guy who got kicked out of the militia for drunk and disorderly conduct? Yeah, I heard he disappeared. Scab probably just robbed his parents and skipped town. Disgrace.”
“Oh, poor Deven Myrzal! He’s probably been sacrificed to the tentacled beast lurking in the cold depths of the lake by now. There’s one living there, you know. Evil cultists like to kidnap people and feed them to it for their rituals!”
“I bet they’d been taken by those cloaked figured that have been appearing jumping from rooftop to rooftop the last few evenings. If you ask me, they’re up to something. Why hasn’t anyone stopped them?”
There was a certain storyteller aspect to these tales that appealed to Dip, but none were particularly useful - although a tentacled monster in the lake sounded like fun!
The group gathered back together and tracked down the residences they had been able to get. Shiore and Zip checked over each of the doors’ locks, the two conferring their opinion. Either Shiore had as much knowledge as Zip about locks - which was fairly extensive for someone who wasn’t a locksmith - or she had incredible powers of observation as she agreed with Zip about each lock.
And if it weren’t for the fact that Dip knew Zip had no interest in Shiore that way, he might have been more jealous. As it was, he was bummed he didn’t have something to talk to her about the way Zip did. He bet Shiore preferred intelligent conversation.
While they waited, Dip entertained himself by talking with Ayame. Of the two girls, his preference leaned more toward Shiore, which was probably just as well as he was pretty sure he’d been turned down by Ayame the night before. Hard to tell with the sarcasm and all the sheep jokes flying around. Dip had been mostly kidding anyway about sleeping together.
“It’s definite,” Shiore announced. “The locks were made by the same person.” She turned to Wrast and nodded. While he hadn’t understood her words, he seemed to understand this and responded with something in Elven. Zip barked out a cackle.
“What?” Dip asked.
Zip sighed and rolled his eyes. Dip often wondered how frustrated his brother was by constantly having to translate for him over the years - and not just Elven; Common, too, especially when they talked all round about with something instead of coming out and saying it proper. There was no help for it, though; he was just too stupid to figure it out. “He said, ‘Looks like we need to beat up a gnome’.”
“Oh.” Dip furrowed his brow in thought. Why would we have to beat up a gnome? Then he remembered - Keygan Ghelve was a gnome, the man who made all the locks! “Oh!” Suddenly he realized what that meant. It would have been so easy for the maker of the locks to break into these places. He frowned. “Bad gnome.”
The gnomish locksmith lived and worked at his shop in southern Cauldron on Lava Avenue. A small turret dominated the front of the two story black stone building. Iron bars were embedded into the thick window frames. Beyond the turret’s ground-floor windows sat a rather impressive display of locks, from large to small, simple to complex. As a kender, Dip appreciated the variety, although he was not as accomplished with lock picking as his twin. He saw Zip eyeing the locks wistfully, the curiosity of whether he could manage to pick them swimming in his gaze.
To the left of the turret, above a heavy oak door, swung a simple sign that read “Ghelve’s Locks”.
The late afternoon sun had dipped to touch the western horizon, throwing the light against the windowpanes of the shop and reflect back into Dip’s eyes. Shiore stepped up to the door, fist prepared to knock. At the last minute, she grabbed the door’s handle and turned. The door squeaked open. Shiore made a small noise in her throat and slumped her shoulders. With a disappointed sigh, she pulled the door opened all the way.
A waft of wood and pipe smoke filled Dip’s nostrils as they entered. The shop was lit mostly with the fire from the hearth; a tinker box, small vase of dried smoking leaves, and a fine collection of pipes resting on the carved mantle. Dip glanced around the shop as he walked the burgundy strip of carpet that traveled the length of the storefront from the door to the back wall. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of keys hung from tiny hooks in all shapes and sizes. His eyes rested on a shiny silver lock and key in a case on the wall. His feet brought him closer until a large gentle hand nudged him back to the group. Nardakk smiled down at him and gestured with his eyes to the engraved mahogany counter to the right of the entrance. Behind the counter hung a red curtain that hid the room beyond - a room behind the storefront window.
Everyone else had their attention on the man behind the counter, also a display case for more of the shop’s locks. It was a little taller than Dip, probably four feet tall, and he had to crane his neck up to see who stood behind it. The man’s head came up higher than Wrast and by his proportions the shopkeeper had the longest legs he’d ever seen on a gnome. Partially due to his brother, Dip had known many gnomes in the past and none of them had been taller than him, let alone taller than some humans. He gawked and then noticed the metal clamps on his legs. The gnome wore stilts! Dip contemplated the stilts, wondering how easy it would be to walk around on them. He’d be the tallest kender ever…
“Welcome to Ghelve’s Locks!” At the sound of the gnome’s voice, Dip snapped his gaze away from the stilts to the gnome’s face. Keygan Ghelve was about middle-aged for a gnome, although Dip was unsure what age range that made him. His short hair and neatly-tripped mustache were salted with white throughout the dark strands. He had rather bushy eyebrows and like many gnomes a fairly prominent nose. His face creased in a pleasant grin, though Dip saw his hawkish eyes watch them carefully, especially when they fell upon him and his brother. Recognition at the two of them caused his smile to falter somewhat and his eyes become even more wary.
Zip stepped forward, although he did not hold out his hand. Considering the current height of the gnome, Dip didn’t think the locksmith would have been able to clasp it without falling over his counter and toppling onto the floor. Zip may have recognized that. In a tongue Dip had heard his brother speak to several of his gnomish boyfriends, Zip spoke what Dip assumed to be a gnomish greeting. Based on the surprise evident on the gnome’s face, and the more genuine grin forming, this seemed to be a correct assumption.
Keygan chuckled somewhat and responded in kind. The wariness in his eyes diminished. Shiore glance between the two of them and narrowed her eyes at Zip, although Dip could see the playful smile forming. “Show off,” she whispered. Dip could tell his brother tried not to look smug, though he was only marginally successful.
With a sideways glance at Zip, Shiore spoke her own greeting, this one Dip assumed to be in Elven. The gnome’s smile faltered into confusion and he blinked. She sighed and Zip’s smug grin widened.
“So, what can I help you with?” Keygan asked in Common, glancing at each of them in turn. He put down the lock he’d been polishing and wiped the grease from his fingers. “I’ve got locks that will protect anything you need to keep safe.”
“What about town folk? And children?” Shiore asked with a slight tilt to her head, as if she were merely curious.
The gnome’s face paled and his smile wavered. “E-excuse me?”
The elf girl’s eyes dilated, going unfocused as if she were listening to something in another room. Dip strained his hearing to see if he could figure out what she might have heard. Under her breath, she muttered something in Elven. Wrast narrowed his eyes as he listened and replied back in a different language, one Dip had never heard before. Or had he? Had Wrast spoken this to Shiore once before? At the Lucky Monkey? He wasn’t sure, languages not being his forte. Whatever it was, Zip didn’t seem to understand it either, his face blank.
Dip had no idea what Wrast said to Shiore, but whatever it was had been some kind of cue and a moment later, a loud BANG! The elf warrior vaulted over the counter and tackled the gnome. Dip’s eyes went wide and leapt on top of the counter. The man’s speed had been incredible! One moment he stood relaxed and loose and the next he had sprung forward like a cat during a hunt.
Zip reacted immediately as well, following his twin onto the counter, gazing down at Wrast with a look so incredulous Dip could only imagine what thoughts spun in his head.
Shiore leaned on the counter, her head between them. Her eyes went wide and she took a step back, staring practically through the red curtain. Her words came out in a low hiss. “There’s someone else here!”