The Pale Locksmith

CHAPTER 31: THE PEACEFUL PASSING

The Locksmith should have left the water on the fire a little longer – now it was too cold to be comfortable. He was beginning to shiver as he ran the dripping cloth over his bare skin. Still he continued, for he was sure he was not yet clean. He examined every piece of pale skin that he could see, making sure no trace remained of the evening's activities. There had not been more than the occasional speckle anyway, but it was wise to make sure.

Next to receive close inspection were the clothes he had been wearing. He cleaned the dirt off his shoes, then gave them a quick polish. They were a long way from new, but still looked presentable enough when looked after. His trousers and tunic appeared free of incriminating marks, but he washed them anyway, the soap and cold water turning his hands raw. Finally, he held up his old grey coat. The seam had gone under one of his armpits, exposing the lining beneath. He pursed his lips: he was no needlemistress. Rather than sew it back up, he went to the drawer where he kept objects without their own place, but may prove to be useful in the future. From within it, he pulled out some rough twine and a needle. He began to work. His handiwork was not pretty, but it would hold for the time being. At least it now matched the other armpit. He went back to checking the coat. On one sleeve was a little round mark. It could have been anything, but he scrubbed it anyway, before hanging it up to dry.

It had been one of his better visits, for everything had gone according to his plan. After listening for voices for what seemed like an age, he knocked lightly at the front door. When the elderly man had opened it, he had been genuinely happy to see the Locksmith – not something he was used to. The request to come in and look for a missing tool had been accepted without question. As the Locksmith had gently closed the front door, the man had wandered along to his kitchen, talking about finding something for them to eat. The Locksmith had quietly followed him, listening as the man talked. Suddenly the man had paused, looking at the Locksmith as if seeing him for the first time.

"Your eyes... I had not noticed before. Were they so pale when you were in my house last week?"

"No."

He had seen no reason to lie. The man's lip had begun to quiver, making his next words were barely a whisper.

"I know what you are."

It was quick and neat. Very little noise. He sat down for a short while, taking advantage of a little fragment of time where he was as close to being at peace as he ever got. There was no enjoyment, but at least his throat was free. He knew that this would not last, but for a few moments, all had been well in his world.

He had returned to his home unseen, taking a meandering route through quieter streets. Once back in the sanctuary of his own home, he made his way around each room of the house, drawing the curtains. Then it was time to make sure it was clean, before settling into bed, for a much-anticipated sleep.

* * *

Adiniah caught sight of him in the square, and watched in bemusement. The Locksmith was a strange one, that was certain. There he was, taking a morning stroll when it was time to open his shop. Maybe strolling was the wrong word, perhaps limping was more accurate. Still, for once he seemed carefree, smiling as if he had not a care in the world. Such a contrast to how he usually was. Withdrawn, almost surly. It was as if he was a completely different man.

She decided if she wanted to ask him about Kessia-upon-Water, this would have to be the right time. Calling Elizur down the stairs, she told him she had to leave for a minute, then did just that before he could think of a complaint. On the way out the door, she reached for a Roundloaf, then walked in the cold sunshine.

"Good morning, Locksmith. You are in a good mood today."

"Why not? I'm alive."

"Fair enough. Would you like a Roundloaf?"