Tennora raised an eyebrow. Sovann winked at her. He waited for the last of the loiterers to exit before speaking.
'What sort of locks do you expect to be… researching?'
'A variety,' she answered swiftly.
'Well then, suppose you give me an idea of your… skills.'
Tennora lifted her chin in her haughtiest impression of her grandmother. 'I have a certain natural knack,' she said, 'but those old picks aren't making anything easy on me.'
Sovann seemed to weigh this.
'Where'd the old set come from?' Sovann asked, picking up one of the curved wires. He looked along its shaft. 'These are antiques.' 'They were my mother's.'
'A pretty North Ward girl like you…' He shook his head, then paused, giving her a curious look. 'Your mother's not Liferna Uskevren, is she?'
Tennora jerked back, startled. 'How did you know that?'
He tilted his head. 'Lockpicks aren't exactly collectibles of the well-to-do. And you… are well-to-do, even if you're dressed like a scholar.' He looked her up and down. 'Liferna's your mam. Huh.'
'She was. She died five years ago. Did you know her?'
'Never,' he said. 'Before my time. My old man told stories about his days rubbing shoulders with the best thieves in Waterdeep. He was mighty impressed with Liferna. The Shadow Wind they called her-can't catch what you can't see.'
'How melodramatic.'
'A touch.' He grinned again. ''Course, nothing to say your mother ever was a thief, slippery as she was. The Watch called her the Oyster, since all they ever figured out was that she liked pearls. My old man says she laughed hard about that one.' He wet his lips. 'I have to tell you, after all those stories I was a little sweet on the idea of the Shadow Wind-clever, blonde, ruthless.'
'Thank you,' Tennora said, uncertain of what she should say. 'I suppose.'
'What can I say? I was a strange boy,' he said with a cheeky smile. He pulled from beneath the counter a lock mounted into a board. 'So you can try them out,' he explained.
Tennora's heart raced. 'I'd… much rather see you do it,' she said. 'I'd hate if I damaged your wares accidentally.' He eyed her again, until Tennora was certain he was going to throw her out for being in the wrong shop. But she held her placid expression and kept her thoughts to herself.
'All right,' he said again. 'You're going to run into two main varieties around the city: warders and tumblers. A warder just needs a good skeleton key. There's one in here-just slide it in and go. Tumblers are the tricky ones.'
'Of course,' Tennora said.
'First,' he said, choosing a long thin wedge from the set, 'the turning tool.' He slid it into the keyhole and held it slightly to one side.
'Then we'll start with this little hooked pick.' He plucked it from the set and eased it into the keyhole, angling it upward. He looked up, and Tennora realized she had leaned in very close to watch. 'Tell me the truth,' he said softly. 'How many times you done this?'
'Three,' Tennora said. 'One for each broken pick.'
Sovann closed his eyes and sighed. He straightened and set the pick back with its fellows.
'No,' Tennora said. 'You said you'd sell me the-'
'I'm selling them to you, duchess,' Sovann said. 'I'm just not about to do it in a way that's going to get you into more trouble than either of us needs. Do you even know what you're doing?'
'Lifting the pins,' Tennora said hotly.
'Which one first?'
Tennora racked her brain, trying to remember what had worked, but it had happened by pure luck. 'The foremost,' she said finally.
Sovann shook his head and sighed. 'Your mam's probably turning sour in her crypt. All right-for your research-you're looking for what we call the binder. See, the grooves for the tumblers never do line up perfectly with each other. If you give it just a little twist with the turning tool, there will always be at least one pin that's rubbing on the groove just a little crooked, such that if you lift this one right, it'll get itself stuck. Here'-he held out the pick-'give it a try.'
Tennora eased the pick into the keyhole, running the tip along the top of the keyhole. Starting at the front, she felt out each of the small pins that hung down into the key's path and lifted them gently into their channels. The third one stuck.
'Good,' Sovann said. 'Every time you find the binder, you can twist a bit more and the pressure changes to a different pin. Do it lightly though, or you'll lock it all up. So find the next binder.'
She did, until all six pins were snugly in their grooves. She twisted the turning tool one last time and the lock opened.
'I did it,' she said, elated. It was as good as getting a spell right the first try.
Sovann jiggled the lock. 'Not too bad. Truth be told, I figured you'd shove those pins up too far and get them stuck. Happens to fumblehands.'
Tennora felt a warm rush of pride. She'd noticed the edge that divided the pins from their resting places- she'd avoided getting them stuck all on her own.
'How much are they?'
'For you? Thirty gold.' 'I'll give you fifteen. I may not be an expert at locks,' she added, seeing Sovann's raised eyebrow, 'but I know those aren't worth thirty.'
Sovann clasped his hands to his heart. 'You wound me, duchess. Twenty-five.'
'Twenty-two, since you gave me the lesson.' His eyes twinkled. 'Very well. For you.'
She counted the coins out of her purse-and she said a little prayer of thanks to the goddess of merchants that he'd come down.
Sovann swept the coins into his hand and added them to the store's cash box. He wrapped the picks neatly in brown paper. As he came around the front of the counter to hand them to her, he nodded at her belt. 'That dagger's your mother's too?'
'How can you tell?'
'It's not yours. You're wearing it crooked.' He reached down and slid the sheath around to the front of her hip. 'There,' he said, straightening, 'now you can grab it when you need to.' He stood disconcertingly close to her.
He was not handsome like Cassian. His nose was crooked off to the left. His chin was rough, and a scar left a bare stripe across his jaw. There was a gap in his teeth just behind one canine. He was not handsome.
But when he looked at her with those dark eyes and smiled that wolfish smile, something behind Tennora's knees went soft.
And something in her tongue went sharp.
'Perhaps I should start practicing right now,' she said.
'Perhaps.' He chuckled. 'But I have something I think you'll like better.' He stepped back, and Tennora blew out a breath.
He climbed up the ladder and took down a silk pouch from one of the higher shelves-deepnight blue and embroidered all over with hair-thin lines of gold thread. Sovann unlaced the bindings and opened it to display five silvery disks with points curving away from the center like the petals of a flower.
'Carvestars,' he said, sliding one out of its bindings.
'Little daggers?'
Sovann smiled. 'Can be.'
He cocked his arm back and threw the carvestar across the room. It sank into the post of the door with a resounding thunk.
'But they're better thrown,' he finished. 'And since you've shown such terrific aim, I thought you might like to try them out.'
A shiver ran up Tennora's spine. She reached out and laid tentative fingers on one of the carvestars. The metal was polished and smooth as water. She picked it up, gingerly avoiding the razor-sharp edge and considering
