9th of Glade
Vivian had a day off. Ah, what a wonderful day for it too. It was raining, and decently warm, which meant the streets were being washed clean. After a relentless two-day torrent of foul weather, Vivian had noticed that the air was cleaner. The streets weren’t as grimy. Trash and rotten food was being swept neatly into the sewers, along with whatever else was left in the alleyways. Vivian loved spring and hated summer for this reason; summer meant dry heat. It meant the entire slum smelled like baked garbage, piss and dead animals. Spring rain was sweet, and with it came a better environment for everyone.
Vivian had resolved to take a short walk to up town. While the slums were getting an improvement with the rain, it didn’t mean he wanted to stay around. The markets in the middle-income portion of the city would be open, and the rain would cover his footsteps and appearance. A thief couldn’t ask for better weather to ply his trade, especially since the guards would be reluctant to leave their warm stands for the sake of a few damp handpies or bottles of beer.
The whore was in a fantastic mood, and it was about to get better. He walked easily up the street, humming to himself and keeping an eye out for anyone who would give him a come hither look. It was his day off, but he wouldn’t be opposed to a quick blowjob in a rainswept alley. Especially in the trading area of town where things were mildly cleaner. Unfortunately for him, everyone seemed to be in out of the rain.
Vivian shrugged and headed toward the market. There were a few fruit stands open, shaded hastily with beeswax-coated awnings to keep off the rain. There was a baker, and a few tinkerers. People always needed something repaired after all, even when the rains came, and rich folk liked to send their servants out for treats to enjoy in the quiet of their solars.
The whore drew closer to the tinkerer, and noticed an array of small bits of metal on his table. He tilted his head and picked one up. It was made of bent pieces of wire and spare chain mail rings, and what looked to be the tiny chain off a watch. The pieces were interlocking, and could be moved a few millimeters this way and that, but Vivian wasn’t quite sure as to the purpose.
The tinkerer smiled at him. “They’re called tavern puzzles,” he spoke up. “Young artificers like them; them folk that like to tinker with machines and the like. Objective is to get the ring free of the contraption without breaking it or bending the metal. Just moving pieces.”
“Oh?” Vivian muttered, distracted. How the devil? Someone was supposed to get the ring free of the triangle that bound it, up the chain, and over this spare curve much too large for it? What did this half-shackle serve to do? He fiddled with it, frowning. “You’re having a laugh, this is impossible…”
“I promise you it’s not.” The tinker smiled. “The key is patience, and not forcing the pieces.”
Vivian leaned against the awning pole, utterly engrossed. Right, that big shackle seemed to be a handle, since when he held it up everything else seemed to slacken. But that didn’t solve the problem of how to get the ring over the rest of it. Maybe this piece here slid…if he slid it left, everything locked up. When he slid it right, a slit opened up. He worked the ring up through the chain, but still no progress. He chewed at his lip and tried again. Shank went right, chain draped over his hand to get some slack in the line.
The ring fit through the shackle! It was still trapped on the chain, and he struggled to keep all the pieces loose. “The fuck you make these for?” Vivian grunted.
“I said before, young artificers like ‘em. Boys like you who like to mess with things. ‘Cept these are made to be taken apart.” The tinkerer chuckled, watching his frustration in amusement. “Tellin you what. You solve that one, you pick two of the smaller ones for free. For entertainin’ an old man in the rain.”
“You did it on purpose; this doesn’t come off without breaking the chain-!” Vivian growled. Alright, focus. Ring had to go through the shackle but behind the shank he’d held to the right. That made the chain go looser. Then he could carefully poke the chain through with his fingers. He had to back up and try again several times when the puzzle jammed, his eyes furrowed in concentration. Then, he slid the ring up over the shank and through the shackle again. To his surprise, the puzzle neatly fell into a chain comprising of the triangle, shackle, shank and chain…and he held the ring free.
The old man clapped. “See?” He said triumphantly.
Vivian blinked. “This isn’t magic?”
“Just metalwork. Artificers call it physics.”
“Physics.” Vivian mumbled. “That how trains move?”
“My guessin’ exactly. But you won.” The tinkerer leaned forward and plucked two smaller puzzles up, ones that could fit in Vivian’s palm. “This one called the Tinker’s Bell, same goal as that one you holdin’. This other ones easy; gotta get the wooden beads and chain through this little iron fish.” He offered them to Vivian, who traded him for the solved puzzle.
“But how about the one I solved? Isn’t it done now?” Vivian asked, tucking the puzzles away in his pocket.
“Oh. Well that’s the thing bout these-“ the tinker smiled and with a few twists, the ring was back on the triangle and chain again. “- just as much of a puzzle to put ‘em back.”
Vivian nodded, smiling. “Gotta pay you for them somehow.” He leaned on the pole and smiled, letting his coat open a bit and raking his rain-slick hair back from his face. The tinkerer laughed at him.
“Oh get with you now. I’m much too old for all that.” He waved a hand dismissively, but not cruelly. Vivian decided he liked him. Clever old bird who had clearly found a good niche and relaxed in it. He nodded.
“Well, Vivian Kreine owes you a freebie if you ever feel lonely.” He mentioned, and left the stall. He doubted the old tinkerer would ever take him up on the offer, but he felt bad leaving him with nothing. Vivian drifted to a few other stalls, quietly pocketing a pasty while the butcher was occupied getting a servant a few loaves of bread and sneaking a peach from the fruit stall. His breakfast secured, he snuck away into an alley that had a decent overhang and bit into the peach.
Spring stone fruits. This one had to be from a hothouse, but it still tasted good. It was sticky and sweet on his tongue, and was a good accompaniment to the sausage pasty he’d stolen. He ate quickly; lounging around was a good way to get the food stolen off of him. Then, leaning against the wall, he tugged the first of the two puzzles out of his pocket and tinkered with it. Physics, eh? He tilted his head. The puzzle was so small and elegant in its way. When pushed too hard, every piece locked and became adamant until the user loosened his grip. Force never seemed the way with these. It was gentle little movements.
Vivian fiddled with it a bit. These could be considered basic machines in a way, he supposed. They moved in a certain way only when their user did the required action. Force was never a smart idea, and the solution was always in front of them even if it didn’t seem so obvious at first. Vivian could appreciate the artistry this had taken, and wondered what artificer had originally thought of it. It was a good training tool anyway. It taught patience and respect for even the smallest of moving parts.
Vivian liked machines. He liked moving parts and had always considered the train station in Amoren a wonder. It always had an army of artificers crawling on it, tending to its every whim like bees in a hive. Vivian smirked, flipping his puzzle. Maybe if he’d done something different in life, been born different, he could have been one of them. It seemed like a glamorous life, didn’t it? Tending to a gigantic iron beast and all her interlocking puzzles. They always seemed so focused on something, much like Vivian had with the puzzle.
The whore put the puzzle back in his pocket with a contented sigh and looked back out into the rain. It was beautiful. The sun was shining through the clouds, the rain poured off every roof and gutter. He watched it for a little while his breakfast settled in his stomach, thinking about machines and the men who tended them.
