Art the Wanderer: Chapter 7: Part 2

First, he got a room at an inn, then went out and bought new clothes. Then he treated himself to a really nice dinner. Then he had bought a dagger, because it looked cool. All these purchases, of course, required that he travel about the city, which he did by carriage. He also went to a play, which was okay, and then he went to a topless bar, which was fantastic. In fact, he went to several topless bars, all of which were marvelous in their own right.
One week later, Art had about five dollars left. With the realization that his funds were almost gone, Art decided to find a job. He’d learned, in his brief time in the city, that there was one general rule to the layout. The nicest things were in the western part of the city, near the palace. The neighborhoods grew steadily worse as you moved east, until you got to the Alley, which was a section of the city that even hardened criminals didn’t like to enter at night. Being fairly optimistic, Art started looking in the best, most expensive districts of the city. He quickly learned two things. The first was that he had almost no saleable skills, other than lock picking and being a target for pickpockets. The other was that the best shops generally only wanted to hire either well-endowed, seventeen-year-old lingerie models or tall, muscular young men with chiseled good looks and washboard stomachs.
He then decided to move down a bit in the economic bracket and tried the shops several miles away from the palace. Though requirements were less stringent, he still couldn’t get a job. Art moved further away from the palace, with the same results.
Art was now on his last dollar and was seriously considering picking a few pockets in order to avoid the starving. Remembering what Merv had suggested, Art went to the area around the Engineer’s Cube, which abounded with craftsmen and specialty shops. He was confused when he first saw the Cube, as it seemed to be a square building several hundred feet wide and long, but only about forty feet tall, making it more of a Slice than a Cube. He then found a little plaque in front of the building that revealed that most of it was below ground and that it really was a Cube and yes, it didn’t look like a Cube, but it was, take their word for it.
Initially elated to find a number of locksmith shops, Art’s hopes were quickly dashed when they started asking questions like what his qualifications were, whom had he worked for, and most importantly, whether he thought they were dumb enough to hire some kid off the street with no experience or qualifications. He did qualify for apprentice positions, but that required signing his life away for the next fourteen-odd years for room and board and a lot of backbreaking work.
Thinking that reverse psychology might actually work, Art then tried the area around the Wizard’s Tower, which was a really big black obelisk that didn’t seem to have any windows or even an entrance. However, there was a little plaque in front of it which explained that unlike the Engineer’s Cube, which was mostly underground (so they said) the Tower was actually pan-dimensional and could easily house the entire population of the city, so stick that in your Cube and smoke it.
This was Art’s first real indication that the Wizards and Engineers hated each other, aside from the ‘No Pointy Hats’ signs around the Cube and the ‘Slide Rules are for Dorks’ T-shirts that were popular around the Tower. He also discovered that there were no locksmiths near the Tower, but there were a lot of shops that sold things like gnat livers and slug eyebrows. He tried to get a job in a few of those shops, but discovered that they also liked their salespeople attractive, especially when clad in black and wearing pointy hats.
Art’s dream of becoming financially solvent without resorting to theft was rapidly disappearing along with the last of his money. Then, while heading toward his lodgings, weary after a day of rejections, he noticed a little shop called ‘Upenwald’s Locks.’ Shrugging, he went inside.
“Good evening, sir, how can I help you?” asked the Goblyn behind the counter. Art was unfazed, as he’d seen a number of Goblyns about the city and had even passed a Pyxy, one of the little, winged people from the west, who despite their murderous reputation, was rather cute in her pink Pyxy armor. It was even cute when she noticed Art’s stare and threatened to ‘skewer his eyeballs’ with her little pink spear.
“Uh, actually, I’m looking for work.”
“Really? Do you have any experience with locksmithing?”
“Not as such, no.”
“Then, seeing as we lack the time and facilities to train you, I’m afraid we really can’t help you. Good day.”
Art stood there, staring at the little green man.
“Now, now, no need to get upset. I’m sure you’ll find employment elsewhere.”
Art swallowed hard. “Look, here’s the deal. I’ve been all over this city trying to find work. I don’t have any qualifications or anything, but I was a member of the Advern Thieves Guild for a while and can open any lock in the city. Will that help?”
“Hmmm . . . ” the Goblyn stroked his immaculately trimmed mustache. “I’ll tell you what, young man. I’ll fetch my best lock. If you can pick it, you’ve got a job. Fair enough?”
Art pulled out the set of picks Byrn had given him and unrolled them with a flourish. “Let’s go.”
The Goblyn smiled and jumped off his stool, disappearing in the back room for a while. Art’s smile faded when they Goblyn emerged. He was carrying an immense, custom-made lock that looked like it was designed to fit on a very wealthy man’s safe. Nevertheless, Art set to work on it. The lock had no less than four sets of pins and wafers, which were staggered around the keyhole in an ingenious arrangement that seemed to defy gravity.
Art worked for half an hour, before managing to spring the first set of pins. The next set took another hour. The third set took only ten minutes, but had a safety device that reset all the other pins. Art said several bad words when that happened, but kept going. After two hours of work, Art rose from the bench.
“Giving up?” asked the Goblyn.
“Nope, just stretching my legs.” Art walked briskly around the shop for a few minutes, and then settled back down.
Another hour passed, in which the lock reset itself twice, prompting Art to use several words he’d learned from Gorb. Art took another break to get a glass of water, then got back to work.
After almost three hours of lock picking, intermixed with occasional bouts of swearing, the Goblyn reached out and plucked the pick from Art’s hand. “I think you’ve had a fair chance.”
“But-“ Art sputtered. “I can do it! It just won’t give!”
“What do you mean?”
“Every time I get a set open, they somehow spring back! It’s like its magic or something!”
“And yet, you can’t open it, can you?”
Art sagged. “Right, I can’t pick this lock.” He accepted his pick back and rolled his tools back up. “Thanks for the chance. Sorry about wasting your time.”
“Hold on a moment.” The Goblyn tapped the lock. “Aren’t you curious as to why you couldn’t pick it?”
“Well, yes.”
“Simple. You were mostly right, it is a magical lock. No regular set of lock picks could open this.”
“Then why let me try?”
“Well,” the Goblyn said dryly. “I was hoping you’d give up after twenty-minutes and go away.”
“Oh.”
“Lock the door on your way out, please,” the Goblyn said, as he began closing up.
“Sure.”
“And I expect you back first thing tomorrow.” He smiled at Art’s confused expression. “I don’t actually need anyone, but we’ll work something out.”