The Pale Locksmith

CHAPTER 5: THE PAST AND THE FUTURE

The market square was starting to bustle, but the Locksmith's store remained closed. He remained seated inside, staring into space. He really did not feel like opening the shop just yet, in fact he did not like doing much at all. The same lethargic feeling always came to him at this time. The elation from meeting his need had worn off, and the pressing thirst had not yet returned. The lul was as much a part of the cycle of his life as the violence.

He had grown up knowing of the sea, for the lifeblood of Kessia-upon-Water was its harbour. Every day ships would arrive, bringing in trade, wealth and people from all along the Talunda coast. Sometimes they would even come from as far away as the continent of Salathal the land of sun and dust. Its people had dark skin and darker hearts, or so the stories went. He remembered from his childhood hearing stories about the Expanse of Great Woe, an area of the ocean which sometimes went calm – too calm, and where sailors had often found themselves trapped,

"... I've been stuck there for weeks at a time, I have. No waves, no wind, nothing. We can't get the ship moving without either of these. It just ends up a question of what runs out first – food or sanity..."

But eventually, as the wind always rescued those who floundered in the Great Woe and irrepressibly moved them forward, the returning thirst always motivated him into action. Something would possess him, pushing him to make drastic choices he would never have considered before his life began to sink.

It was this thirst which had made him leave a life of wealth and brought him to this grubby little corner of Cilia Town. In such a place, where the value of life was so low, who would notice a few extra bodies. And while being a Locksmith may waste his education, it meant that other opportunities were opened to him - literally. The thirst had also made him a hunter, a schemer, one who learnt from his mistakes over time, and had become quite adept at doing what he needed to do.

He had in the past tried to educate himself on what had happened to him, what had turned him this way. He read enough books on anatomy and medicine that he could have qualified as a physician, but it was little use. Outside of what was written in the old stories, he could find no evidence of anyone else like him. It was of little comfort to him to find out that this was no ordinary vice, such as one may have to alcohol or to Threedice. It was of more than a little discomfort to him to learn that blood was poisonous to consume in any sort of great quantity. He suspected that was why he felt ill so often.

In books, of course, there were people such as him, in one respect or another. Over time, he had read many variations on the old Antolunder myths. Some characteristics remained constant; the pale haunting eyes, the need for blood at each full moon. Inevitably each story ended the same way. The hero would arrive just in time to rescue his belovèd and in the process would deal with the foul Bloodbane - usually with a large sword. Never a thought to appeal to the Locksmith, even when he was at his most pitiful.

* * *

It was unusual for one of the stores in the market to not be open this late in the morning. Adiniah kept looking over to it through the morning, whenever she had had a free moment. That Locksmith sure was a strange one. Did he not want money? There would most likely be those wishing for his services, for there had been rumours that another woman killed in her very own home, and that type of thing always made people feel insecure. Maybe all Talundans were a bit peculiar. The Locksmith was the only mainlander she had ever met, and he was like no one else she knew.

One day she longed to get on the boat to Kessia-upon-Water, and see Talunda for herself. She wanted to see the world – maybe even go to Salathal. It was supposed to be a dry place, mostly desert – but it was still part of her heritage. She knew her mother's family were there, and some of her father's. She wondered if she could find them. Her father's family name was Loh, she was not sure of her mother's. Wan or Wen, she could not quite remember. Of course, she should probably explore Antolund first. She had been to the Golden Plains after her grandmother had died, but that was it. She wanted to visit Dejana, even if her parents did not seem to enjoy it. And to eat the fish of Govannon. And to go to Velaka, even if the wind blowing over from Janlund carried the foul smells of the island. Maybe she would go to Janlund itself, where farmers had spent generations hacking away half the forest to make room for their sheep to graze.