“Wonderful!” Willem clapped his hands together almost like a small child, the gleam in his eyes flaring up in a way that had Del leaning backwards in his chair slightly. The man rose, the silver embroidery on his clothing stark against the black velvet, and held his hand out towards Del. He stood and shook it. The other man’s hand was dry and cool, his grip firm. “If you would be so kind as to be there tomorrow evening to start your shift. We assume it will take you at least a couple of nights to work out the best way to acquire the coin, and naturally you would like to get started as soon as possible.”
Del was more than mildly surprised now, he was close to incredulous. “In a rush, are we?” he asked jokingly, even though he did not feel amused in the slightest. Rush jobs were sloppy jobs, and sloppy jobs got people caught. In seventeen years of doing this, he had only come close once, and had never rushed a job since.
“The artifact goes on display in four days. Once it goes up to the display level it will be impossible to retrieve; the magical wards surrounding that section of the museum are impenetrable. Any chance at obtaining the item must be before then, so you must act swiftly.”
“It’s your coin.” Del shrugged. “I do of course require half of the money up front, and the other half upon completion.”
“We assumed as much, Mr. Deleroth. If you would be so kind as to check with the man behind the bar you will find we left a chest in your name when we arrived.”
Del was beyond surprise by this point. He felt as if he were in a dream, floating on air, and the bottom was about to fall out from beneath him. He just nodded. Words could not express.
“Ah yes,” the man added as he started to turn away. “Delivery of the item! We will know when it has been removed from the Museum and will meet you here on the following night for a transfer of goods. Until then, best of luck in your new job!” He turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Deleroth.
Best of luck? He certainly hoped so.
*
Cleaning the Archive section of the Museum of Antiquities turned out to be one of most tedious jobs Del imagined was ever created by man. The basic tasks were simple: push dust and particles upon the floor with broom into pile. Pick up pile and put into a container. Carry container to trash wagon. Empty container; repeat. When no more particles remained, fill a bucket with handles and use a mop to clean up residue on the floor. When water turned murky, dump into back alley and refill; repeat. By the fourth hour of his first night, he wondered how any reasonably intelligent individual could remain sane for more than one or two nights of this.
The Museum had three levels. The first was the lobby level where visitors entered through the main doors and passed a routine inspection and gave over any weapons or things of questionable description. The back of the building housed the Archive section. Amazingly, there was simply one small room leading from the alleyway straight into the Archive room. Granted, there were likely some major traps and sundries worked into the doorways and cases housing the items currently archived and being researched.
When he asked his guide, a senior cleaner by the name of Eliph, why the Museum risked so many valuable items being stored on the main level so close to the back door, the short little man smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “They are quite safe,” was all he replied. Not wanting to raise suspicion, Del merely nodded his head and followed the man as he showed him his job and what areas he was responsible for.
The cleaners here were responsible for the entire main level of the building, which consisted of not just the Archives room, but also the main lobby. Two massive wooden doors carved with a seascape complete with foaming waves and sea monsters chasing several ships through a storm rose nearly five paces high and four across, swinging inwards into the marbled grandeur of the lobby itself. Huge slabs were set into the floor, each one measuring at least a pace across in either direction, the pearly cream marble veined with thick rivers of deep greens and browns. Four round pillars rose from the main walkway towards the ceiling above, thick enough that it would take three men with arms stretched wide to reach all the way around them. They were covered in a deep red wood that was grained a thick brown coursing from the floor upwards. Two stairways curved slowly upwards from the center of the lobby, their marble steps matching the floor but in smaller squares that were expertly carved to the contours of each curving step, a pace across and a few hands deep.
There were two desks situated just inside of each doorway along the main causeway towards the stairs for acquiring your visitor’s pass as well as checking in weapons. The desks were a dark brown wood, polished to a near mirror-like sheen. Plain chests and shelves lined the walls behind each desk, heavily guarded during the daytime hours to protect whatever possessions visitors might have to surrender before heading up to the main display level.
During working hours the main doors were guarded on the outside by four of the city watch, as well as four more on the interior, two behind each desk. There was also one guard posted at the bottom of each staircase, and two guards—one on each side—keeping a close eye on the door leading back to the Archive room.
The second level was the main display level. Here was where the average visitor could see historical treasures sundries detailing the last few hundred years of the kingdom. More guards, locations unknown. He wasn’t allowed on that level as a newly apprenticed cleaner, but Eliph assured him the magical traps alone were enough to deter all would-be theives. Del had no disillusions about the display level; if he didn’t get the coin by the time it went on display, it was out of his reach.
The third floor was apparently off-limits to anyone but senior staff and visitors who paid an insane amount of coin and passed a rigorous reference check to verify their standings as good citizens. This was where the most valuable and magical of the Museum’s items were stored. As much as Del might wonder, he doubted he would ever reach the third floor without a perfectly legitimate reason. He chuckled at the thought. It wasn’t likely he would ever have such.
The short, balding Eliph explained this to Del before handing him a broom and bucket and a pat on the shoulder for listening so well. “Pay attention, lad, do a good job, follow the rules, and one day you might even get to see the top floor of the building!” He said it as if the third floor was some heavenly paradise filled with beautiful naked women surrendering to your every desire and rivers of deep red wine to swim in. Del was hard pressed to keep a snicker from his lips.
The door to the cleaning supply room was off in the corner of the Archive area near a stairwell leading down to the research chambers below; a heavy wooden door was bolted and locked to keep any unauthorized persons from entering. It was a tricky piece, but he was sure he could pick it within a few minutes given the opportunity. That was for another night, though. Tonight he was simply a good little peasant, eager to serve and earn an honest wage scrubbing floors.
Several large rough wooden tables with glass cases full of various items lined the walls of the Archive room. There were also two large tables set out in the middle area. Those were empty at present; during normal working hours Museum staff were busy scrutinizing and cataloging items to either be put on display above or sent below for more detailed study. There were plain wooden shelves along the walls above the tables, stacked with brushes, small hammers, neat little stacks of cloth, scores of tiny little vials and larger flasks. Tools of the trade, it appeared.
He saw no coin matching the description he had been given in any of the cases. It had most likely been moved downstairs already. Still, there were many other curiosities. Centuries-old pottery shards marked with strange carvings and runes of ancient languages lay next to a shred of parchment that was marked with faded lines of a script he could not read. There were also some other coins but they were simply older variations of the ones currently in circulation; fat little gold and silver coins etched with faces barely discernable through the tarnish and wear of time. Several stick-figure doll-like models, nearly a foot tall with a
few wisps of hair still attached. Necklaces and bracelets of beads and shiny rocks; baubles traded by ancient humanity before the advent of the almighty gold.
His gaze took all of it in. A lesser man might have been tempted by such a gathering of trinkets. Del was not a lesser man. Temptation was another cardinal rule a professional did not break; he had not garnished such a reputation over the years by petty theft. Stick to the job, get paid, stay out of jail. Greedy got you caught. Del didn’t want to get caught.
Eliph poked his head through the door and eyed the floor. “Looks like you’re done here,” he said with approval. He gestured towards the lobby. “Let’s go clean out your water and get to work on the lobby. If we hurry we can be done in a few hours and catch the alehouse before it closes for the night.”
Del ducked his head and scurried off, eager to please his new master.
*
Del caught his breath as Eliph shifted in his position, but his body still slumped as though sleeping. The draught he had given the old man should keep him knocked out for at least two hours and it was unlikely anyone would discover him sleeping on the job; afterwards it would appear as if the thief had clubbed the old man to avoid detection. There were only two guards who patrolled the lower level of the building in the wee hours of the morning and they never entered the Archive room; the trap and alarm system built into the backdoor was advanced enough they felt no need to worry. Seeing the old man slumbering soundly, he bent his head back to the lock and very gently twisted the pick in his left hand as he jiggled the one in his right hand up and down very softly. A tight grin split his features as he heard the soft snick of the first tumbler. The trick with this particular lock was to get that first tumbler open and locked in place; after that it was simply a matter of repeating the same steps until all five were cleared. He eased the lock open and set it to the side, then heaved the door open, dropped down into the opening and catching the door behind him, closing it as quietly as possible.
It was pitch black. He took the small lantern hanging from his belt and fumbled for his flint. Several sparks later and a soft glow suddenly lit the stairwell, showing a broad dirt floor and several low tables a few steps down. There were two hallways leading off of the first room into others. Del quickly moved through the tables, searching.
He found what he was looking for in the third room to the right. A small table in the corner of the room set apart from the others had several smaller coins as well as several books of indeterminate age placed neatly around a coin that could be none other than the one he was after.
The coin itself was larger than those used for common currency, easily large enough to fill half of his palm. It looked more like a medallion, now that he had a closer look at it. It was thick, at least as thick as two gold crowns stacked together, and it shone with a burnished silver gleam. The woman’s face was carved with intricate detail, her heart-shaped face and full lips turned upwards in a slight smile that spoke of secrets only she could tell. Her nose was small and pert, slightly upturned, and her eyes were large, sparkling with intelligence. Surrounding her face at even spacings around the edge of the medallion at the top, right, bottom, and left were the four symbols his scrap of paper showed. He noted another detail; the woman herself seemed to be wearing a medallion just like the one he was staring at, marked clearly with the same symbol as the one on the right-most side of the circle.
He glanced at the books that were stacked neatly on the desk. Three of them seemed to be historical references to coins of past generations, but one of the books caught his eye; Mythos and Legends: Fact or Fiction? A small scrap of paper was lodged in the book. He picked it up and turned to the page.
The Medallions of Lashiva. Mentioned only briefly in legends surrounding Lashiva herself, the ancient crone of legend that lived undying upon the earth and ruled the mythical nation of Parsuval. She had four medallions crafted by the ancient smith Hefistal who, in partnership with the sorceress Lashiva herself, created these talismans of great power. It is not referenced in any way that this author could find as to what exactly the medallions did. However, it is rumored they were the source of her longevity, wisdom, beauty and wealth, but that they carried with them a great risk. No one knows for sure what happened to Lashiva. It is said she ruled for nearly two thousand years and then one day simply vanished. The medallions are mentioned in several different folklore legends, especially in the northern regions of Lucimia, but no one has ever actually seen one and they are generally considered simply myth. There was rumor of one surfacing in the late Tilenium dynasty but it was later proven to be a fake.
So his client was betting this medallion was some sort of magical item, even though no historical references could be found. Even with a fake discovered centuries earlier, he was willing to risk spending an extraordinary amount of gold to simply find out. Del snorted to himself. The rich surely had some odd eccentricities.
He idly fingered the edge of the coin then picked it up. It was strangely light, no heavier than a smaller sized silver coin would actually be. He turned it over and blinked, surprised. The image on the back was the direct opposite of the young, beautiful woman on the front. This woman was old beyond measure, her skin taught across her cheekbones, her features ravaged by time. Her hair was sparse and clumped across her scalp; liver spots speckled her hairline where it was revealed by her thinning hair. Half rotten stumps of teeth poked out of a mouth gaping wide in what looked to be a grimace. She was wearing the same medallion as the woman on the front, and the symbols were matched the same around the perimeter. He took one last glance around the table to make sure there was nothing else of importance, then placed the medallion in a special pouch woven into the inner walls of his jacket. He cinched the ties tight and made his way back up to the door. He blew the small lantern out and let it cool for a few minutes while his eyes adjusted to the dark, then cinched it back in place at his belt and opened the door.
The old janitor was still asleep where Del had left him. He quickly replaced the lock and paused as the old man snorted and turned, groaning something about cold porridge and no honey. Smiling to himself he made his way into the smaller room where the supplies were kept, wiped his hands on the seat of his pants, and began to slowly measure his breathing. The real challenge was this door.
Over the past three nights Del had taken as much time as he dared to avoid suspicion studying the door. As far as he could tell there were three mechanisms in place to warn not only the guards, but the City Watch headquarters across the street as well as the patrols out in the streets that foul play was at hand. One was a simple catch trap located in the casing of the lock itself. If a tumbler was turned without the proper key the catch would trip, causing an alarm to go off. It was easy to disable, and meant to lure the unwary and amateur thief into thinking they had managed to break in unawares.
The second was far more intricate. It involved a series of pressure plates just under the tiles entryway of the door. Once set, the plates must be pressed in the correct order as soon as the door was opened. If they weren’t, several small needles tipped with what Del could only assume was a sleeping agent of some kind were fired from several different angles. The merest prick would render a person unconscious for several hours. He hadn’t tested the residue tipping the darts, but he had managed to locate three of the launchers. The sticky red substance covering the tips smelled like verifle extract, used to ease the pain of childbirth. Mixed with water it was harmless enough and simply acted as a pain reducer; dried and mixed with the wax of the terunim plant it became a powerful tranquilizer.
The third device was the trickiest and it was not really a trap, just a simple follow-up mechanism that had to be set in the proper order or the alarms would go off. He had only come across such on two other occasions, and both had been in situations where he had alternate exit routes. Once the key was turned, the door opened, and the pressure plates pressed in their correct sequence, the individual then had to quickly close the door and turn the
tumblers with the proper key… from the inside. He had searched Eliph for a key but had found none, which meant there had to be a trigger device somewhere inside the small room to disable all three of the traps for those occasions when the old man had opened the door for him to take out trash and dirty water. Try as he might, he had found no such device anywhere, and that bothered him. He really wished there was a way out through the front of the building, but those doors were sealed every night and patrols on the street out front were very heavy. The easiest way out was through the alley and into the shadows between the buildings.
Which meant setting off the alarm.
He had no way to bypass that third device. The only thing that might have worked was a string-and-pulley mechanism that worked by mounting the device on the handle and passing the strings underneath the door to be manipulated by the user on the other side. The only problem was the door needed some type of a gap at the bottom for the strings to pass through. This door was sealed tight, in all directions.
He breathed a short prayer to gods he didn’t believe in, just for luck, and gathered the rope he had attached to the door handle earlier. He backed around the corner, listened to the beat of his heart as it began to speed up, then gave a sharp tug. The door sprang open. He heard a bell start ringing out in the lobby and the muted shouts of the two guards. He silently counted three seconds; there was a series of whooshes followed by several tinks as several small metal objects fell to the floor. He waited a few more seconds to make sure another trap wasn’t going to spring; he might have missed something. Hearing nothing, he leapt through the room and out the door.
Bloody Knuckles (And Other Tales) Page 16
