Guild of Tokens: Trainee

Estate sale

"Hello," said a soft, raspy voice behind her, causing Beatrice to nearly jump out of her skin. She lowered her hand into her pocketbook, ready to brandish the knife at whoever had spoken, and slowly turned around.

A little old man who looked like a mole rat with glasses and an ugly sweater sat in a worn, leather chair right next to the door. Why she had missed him at first glance, she wasn't sure. But he wasn't Gilbert and he didn't seem very threatening, so she let go of the knife and lowered her guard slightly.

"Hi, umm. We're here for the estate sale?" Beatrice said. She could see Kate peering in from the hallway and waved her inside.

"What? Oh right. My sister's things." The old man pulled a piece of paper out of one of the pockets in his sweater and held it close to his face. "Yes, there's an estate sale here today at 1:30. But it's over."

"But it's only 1:33, sir. How is the sale already over?" asked Kate. "We didn't see anyone leaving on our way up."

"Hmm?" the old man peered through the thick lenses of his glasses at Beatrice, then at Kate. "There's two of you? You're a looker, aren't you?" he said, pointing at Kate. "And you're not so bad either. Must be my lucky day."

Kate blushed at the comment, and Beatrice grimaced.

"Anyways, what was I saying? Oh right. Someone came this morning and offered to take the whole lot off my hands. Offered next to nothing but I took it just the same. Heh." The old man's chuckling gave way to a hacking cough, and Beatrice turned away in disgust.

"Serves Doreen right. Wasn't even giving me the money. Nope. All going to some stupid charity for cats or something. She didn't even have a cat!"

"I see," said Beatrice. This whole outing was turning into an outright disaster and she was furious at herself for ruining her perfect raid record because she hadn't thought of going to the estate sale before it started. It was a mistake a seasoned Quester like her should never have made.

"It sounds like she was very difficult to get along with," said Kate. "My mom was like that, always complaining about this thing or that thing. She probably set the record for angry letters to the editor in our town paper."

Beatrice glared at her. What was she doing? Trying to make the old man even more annoyed?

"Oh yes. That was Doreen to a T. She had a talent for it though. Always seemed to get what she wanted. Like getting me to schlep up here from Baltimore to take care of her stuff. At my age. As if I had all the time and money in the world. Which I don't. But then I got that letter and, bam, suddenly I'm on the next bus."

Beatrice's face lit up and she turned to look at Kate, who smiled. The girl was full of surprises, apparently.

"Do you happen to have that letter still?" asked Kate.

The old man nodded.

"As a matter of fact, I do. It's in my bag over there in the kitchen. Be a dear and bring it over, would you?"

The girl dashed over to the kitchen and returned with a folded piece of paper.

"Mind if I take a look at that?" said Beatrice.

"Knock yourself out," said the old man.

Beatrice unfolded the crinkly yellow paper. The text was barely legible but her eyes were for some reason drawn to the words, which were written in deep black ink.

"Morton,

I'm dying. Get up here and take care of my stuff after I go.

-Doreen"

Beatrice ran a finger over the words. The ink felt almost like finger paint, like she could scrape it right off the paper with the right tools.

"Your sister wasn't much for words, was she?"

Morton shook his head.

"Nope. Can't say I'm sad she's gone, she was as rotten as a person could be, but part of me misses her phone calls."

"When they came and took out her stuff earlier, do you happen to see the pens or the ink she used to write this?"

Beatrice held the letter in front of Morton, whose eyes suddenly became fixed to the paper, as if he were in a daze, and she quickly withdrew it from his sight.

"No. They took everything. Well, except the bed. Couldn't get it out the door for some reason. And this chair obviously. I wasn't about to let them pull it out from under me. Not sure if they're coming back, but I hope they don't. I need somewhere to sleep tonight and this chair is qui-"

Beatrice sprinted to the little bedroom, hoping beyond hope that the Guild had not been as thorough as it appeared. The windowless room was as empty as the other one, save for a queen mattress on a box spring. It took up more than half the room and featured all manner of stain and discoloration, but at this particular moment, Beatrice couldn't care less, as she flipped up the mattress in one fluid motion to reveal...

Nothing.

Except the top of the box spring. She flipped that up too and was rewarded with a view of the parquet floor underneath. No secret stash, not even an empty box or a note saying "Haha, beat you to it." She had failed. For a second time.

Beatrice let go of the box spring and sat on top of it, the dirty mattress now leaning against her back. This should have been a simple raid, an easy win. But no. The Guild had bested her again. She felt all the fury and rage build up inside her - this failed raid, Garrett's latest dalliance, her chronic lack of sleep. What was the point of all of this? Was she going to have to keep grinding forever, the Guild forever taunting her from slightly out of reach?

"Hey. Look at that."

Kate walked into the room and Beatrice quickly brought her hand up to her eyes to wipe away the tears. She couldn't let her trainee see her this emotional over a stupid raid.

"What?" asked Beatrice.

"There's a bulge in the box spring. Right next to you."

Beatrice looked to her left. Sure enough, there it was. How had she missed it? She ran her hand over the protruding fabric and could feel the outline of several small objects. A quick slice with the ivory handle of the her knife sheared the fabric of the box spring, and she pulled it back to reveal a ziploc bag resting on top of a wooden slat. A ziploc bag containing two fountain pens and a small bottle of ink. She took the bottle out of the bag and shook it next to her ear. The sloshing of liquid inside filled her heart with a joy almost equal to hearing Jack Jack's wailing cry in the hospital that first time.

"Is that it then?" asked Kate.

Beatrice nodded.

"Yes. We've found it. Well, you did. Thank you."

Beatrice suddenly stood up and gave Kate a heavy hug. The girl seemed taken aback by the gesture, and her arms hung in the air for a few moments behind Beatrice's back before she returned the embrace.

"You're welcome. I didn't really do anything though."

She released Kate from the hug and they turned away from each other. An awkward silence pervaded the room, as if a barrier between the mentor and trainee had been broken. Beatrice should have been angry at her lack of discipline, but the unexpected bounty that they had discovered had salvaged an utter disaster, and not only that, there was an an extra pen and plenty of ink for her own use.

"You did though. Anyway, let's book it out of here before the Guild realizes what they've missed."

"Sure. But what's the Guild?"

Beatrice's thoughts again drifted to that moonless night in the Park.

"You don't want to know."