Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [34]
Corin shook his head to show he wasn't bothered in the least.
Weedle pulled a ring of keys from his belt. "Well it's no business of mine, but Fve got a key for you here so you don't have to worry "bout the lock no more."
"No," Corin protested. The whole point was to pick the lock and be waiting inside when Lhasha returned. He had to prove a point.
The halfling slowly put his keys back on his belt and gave Corin a sideways glance.
"Tall folk… never can figure you out. Well, if you need anything else, just let me know."
Nodding, Corin resumed his efforts on the lock, much more appreciative of the employees at the Golden Staff than when he had first rented the room in the early days of the Claws of the Cold. He was beginning to understand Lhasha's argument about being friendly toward the staff. If Weedle had caught him fumbling with the lock on a door the first night, he would surely have called for the inn's armed patrols to come and deal with the thief before hauling him off to the Jailgates, but the room steward liked Lhasha. He trusted her, and by association, he had even begun to like Corin somewhat. That was probably the only reason the Maces hadn't been called to haul Corin away.
However, Lhasha wasn't right about everything. In their month together, the warrior had been unable to convince his employer of the threat to her life, or of the necessity of having him keep guard while she slept. Despite bis frequent efforts to change her opinion, despite the ever improving relationship between them, she still insisted he was being overly cautious and refused to listen to reason.
Corin suspected that their relationship was actually becoming a detriment to his job. He found himself listening to Lhasha when she spoke, he actually enjoyed her conversation. She was charming and often funny, and always in a good mood. More and more he was catching himself paying too much attention to her words, and not enough attention to their surroundings.
So far there had been no consequences, but Corin chided himself for the lapses. In spite of Lhasha's frequent urging to "take a break, relax" or "cut loose," he still believed in the basic White Shield tenets of ever vigilant, ever ready.
The only way to get through to his stubborn friend, Corin realized, was to demonstrate to Lhasha how dangerous her situation really was.
He withdrew a thin, stiff wire from his pocket. Lhasha had given him the pick shortly after she had begun teaching him how to open locks without a key.
"Every thief needs a lock-pick," she had insisted at the time. "It's as precious as a warrior's sword and shield. Always keep one handy-you never know when you might need it."
Using his one good hand, it took Corin several minutes of manipulating the pick before the lock to her room at last clicked open. Corin allowed himself a little smile.
Breaking and entering. In three short tendays he had come a long way from the man troubled even by the thought of working for a thief. Lhasha had taught him well. Corin had to admit she knew her profession. Learning how to pick locks, or move without a sound, or hide in the shadows, did seem to ease the bitter sting of Corin's memories. The half-elf had been right again.
But she wasn't right about this!
Having successfully negotiated the lock, Corin slipped into the room. He left it dark, and locked the door behind him. He settled into a chair to await Lhasha's return. She wouldn't listen to reason, so it was time for a practical demonstration of her own vulnerability, and if that meant giving her a good scare in the process, so be it.
***
Lhasha carefully studied the man from across the crowded tavern of the Fortunate Knight. He wasn't a Purple Mask, she was sure of that. The Masks prided themselves on being physically fit, a necessity for climbing into upper story windows. This man had to weigh at least three hundred pounds-he could barely climb the stairs, let alone a terrace. The tavern wasn't warm, but even from her hiding