(Story reminder here.)
And here you are again at the crossroads. Now is your chance to pop home in Saddleback and use your crafting station. You’ll find that your Owl Skills include Rend, a power that allows you to pick apart and deconstruct materials that would normally require specialized tools. At this point you may not have all the patterns you need, but you’re about to get the chance to rummage through sacks and chests.
You’re on your way to the Southern Monastery. Watch the misty parts of the map reveal themselves.
“I’ve never been this way before,” Wrigley said.
“You’ve never visited the other monastery?” Rachel asked.
Wrigley paused diplomatically. “We are two different religions. Animals are not . . . treated well in the South.”
“Will you have a problem traveling there with us?” A little frustration crept into Rachel’s voice. This case had been postponed many times because of the Companion issue. Would she ever solve the thing?
“I go where Gage goes,” Wrigley replied.
“Unless it’s the lavatory. You’re not going there,” Gage said.
“Why would I want to go with you into the lavatory?”
“You wouldn’t. It was a joke.”
“Ah,” Wrigley said. “Not much to see, anyway.”
Gage nodded, then stopped. “Are you trying to be funny?”
“Yes.”
“Not bad.”
Rachel knocked her head against her shield and picked up the pace, eager to pursue the mystery of the monk’s robe. Perhaps the Southern Monastery had children. She’d heard rumors that His Created Church had an odd relationship with servants. She was following a particular case, but if she saw any signs of abuse she’d deputize everyone in Saddleback and return in force.
“Gage?” Wrigley interrupted.
“What is it, buddy?”
“Can we go into town first?”
“What?” Rachel grunted. “More delays?”
“I’d like to pay my respects to Tom’s mother,” Wrigley said quietly.
Rachel froze. It wasn’t a request she could deny. They turned around on the path and headed toward Saddleback.
Gage, someone well-liked in town, was in for a shock.
A large owl on his shoulder turned heads and caused scowls. Gage was a man who tinkered in his spare time and helped others as a profession. His genius at solving mechanical problems made him a welcome presence. This was what he knew. Now he had a sapient animal in a town that rejected such a thing. It was a new experience.
“Do people normally stare at you?” Wrigley asked.
“No,” Gage answered. Rachel snorted. “Well,” he continued, “sometimes.” He gave a little pose that indicated he was handsome.
Wrigley cocked his head. “What does that mean?”
At a loss, Gage gestured. “You know.”
Rotating backwards, Wrigley looked at Rachel for clarification.
“The ladies,” Rachel said wryly, “consider Gage an interesting person.”
Rotating back, Wrigley dipped his head to consider Gage’s entire presence. “Oh! You’re what humans consider handsome. Is that it?”
“Thanks, pal,” Gage said.
“Humans stare at you because they want to breed with you?”
Gage glared at Rachel, who almost broke her stoic resolve. A chuckle briefly escaped and was smothered.
“Wrigley,” Gage said. “You claim to be a philosopher. I know you understand this.”
Wrigley cocked his head, one eye involuntarily winking.
“Wait a minute,” Gage accused.
Wrigley clacked his beak with amusement.
“Get off my shoulder!” Gage yelled with mock outrage.
Townspeople turned toward them with frowns. Gage and Wrigley immediately quieted.
“Tough crowd,” Gage mumbled.
All of them sobered as they stopped before Mrs. Ebert’s house.
If you didn’t notice earlier the fur clutched in Tom’s fingers, now is your chance to discover a clue. If you did, you can mention it to Wrigley and he will make his deduction without further exploration. However, his keen eyesight will allow him to perceive the fur (now drifted into a corner of the room) and know that it belonged to a cat.
After giving his condolences to Tom’s mother (who, because of Tom’s love of the monastery, was not surprised that an owl would sympathize with her loss), Wrigley asked to see Gage’s house and workshop.
“This is our home together, after all,” Wrigley said. Gage, still getting accustomed to the Companionship rules, winced.
Much to Wrigley’s surprise, Gage was a very organized person. His workshop was clearly stacked and cataloged. Hopping off of Gage’s shoulder, Wrigley landed on his workbench and examined his shelf of tools. He pecked gently at Gage’s tubes and fixtures.
“What is this?” Wrigley asked, scraping his talons against the experimental crossbow.
As Gage explained his theory, Wrigley cocked his head and followed with interest. Rachel, standing in the doorway, almost rolled her eyes at their shared interest. They didn’t know how quickly their bond was increasing, but Rachel watched it all with amusement and impatience.
“Can we move along, gentlemen?” she asked.
“Will you bring the crossbow?” Wrigley suggested.
“Anxious to shoot things?” Gage teased.
“I’d like to see it in action. Even if you only shoot at a tree.”
“Okay,” he replied, secretly pleased. Gage juggled his rig, trying to load the crossbow past the shoulder harness. He ended up tangled, with Wrigley using his beak to straighten straps and Rachel doubled over against the door. When he was sorted, Gage was more mechanism than man.
Wrigley, preparing to launch onto Gage’s shoulder, stopped. “What’s this?” He was looking at a key press.
“I just help people and they pay me. That’s our job, buddy,” Gage answered. “Sometimes people lose a key or can’t get into a lock. I help them rebuild their key.”
“What’s a key?” Wrigley asked.
“You’re kidding again.”
“No.”
Rachel became interested. “You’ve never seen a key? You’ve never come across a chest or a door or something that needed a key to unlock it?”
“Oh!” Wrigley realized. “People lock things so other people can’t look.” He cocked his head in a way that looked like a shrug. “I’m sorry, I’ve only lived at the monastery. Nobody locks anything there.”
Gage pulled down a lockbox. “This is where I keep my money.” From under a tin cup he took a key.
Lifting an eyebrow, Rachel said, “The key to your safe is laying around with random junk?”
“No one would think to look there for it.”
“Wrigley,” Rachel pleaded, “help him.”
“It’s fine,” Gage retorted. He turned the key in the lock and opened his safe, showing his money piled inside.
“Wait,” Wrigley said. “Do that again.”
Complying, Gage locked the box and unlocked it. Wrigley closed the lid with one talon. Looking around the workbench, he found an end of metal wire. Gripping it, he inserted it into the lockbox, wiggled it about, and unlocked the box.
“What the hell was that?” Gage asked, astonished. Rachel stared, her eyes narrowing.
“It’s a piece of wire.”
“I know that! What did you do with it?”
“I stuck it in the hole and moved it about.”
“Look,” Gage said in exasperation.
“I can hear it,” Wrigled explained. “The tumblers. I can hear them fall when the wire releases them.”
This is a shadow-tier skill. You won’t learn it until you and Wrigley have become closer. However, if you look at your level upgrades, you’ll see it there waiting for you: Lockpick. Open any lock with your owl-oriented ability to hear miniscule sounds. It’s up the skill tree from its less distinct ability Mouse Rustle, which you can take now, if you like. Wrigley is about to demonstrate it for you. He pounces on a corner of your straw mattress, rips a piece out with his beak, and swallows the small rodent that had hidden there.