Ten-Cent Jimmy had a system.
It was not a good system.
It was, however, a system.
The system was simple:
If an object existed, there was a reasonable possibility that someone might need it later.
The definition of reasonable was flexible.
Very flexible.
Dangerously flexible.
Paul discovered this beneath an abandoned monastery when Jimmy picked up a bent spoon.
“No.”
Jimmy looked at him.
“What?”
“Put it down.”
Jimmy examined the spoon.
It was tarnished.
Bent nearly in half.
Possibly older than the monastery.
Possibly younger than breakfast.
There was no way to tell.
“Could need.”
Paul stared at him.
“For what?”
Jimmy shrugged.
“Something.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Future thing.”
“What future thing requires a bent spoon?”
Jimmy thought.
“Don’t know yet.”
“Then you don’t need it.”
Jimmy looked at the spoon.
Then at his bag.
Jo Mama leaned closer.
“Put it in the bag.”
Paul turned.
“Do not encourage him.”
Jo whispered:
“Put it in the bag.”
Jimmy put the spoon in the bag.
Jo grinned.
Paul sighed.
Ellie continued down the corridor.
“I don’t know why you bother.”
“Because someday,” Paul said, “I would like to complete a dungeon without carrying half of it home.”
They were exploring the monastery because a scholar in town had offered them twenty gold pieces to recover records from its underground archive.
Records.
Paper.
Books.
Documents.
Paul had emphasized these words before they entered.
Jimmy had nodded.
Then he found a lantern.
“Put it in the bag,” Jo whispered.
“No,” Paul said.
Jimmy inspected it.
“Still works.”
“It belongs to the monastery.”
“Monastery abandoned.”
“That does not make everything inside yours.”
Jimmy put the lantern down.
Three rooms later, he found two brass buckles.
“Put it in the bag.”
“Jo.”
“Could need buckle.”
“Stop helping.”
Then came a broken wagon wheel.
“Absolutely not.”
“Could need.”
“It does not fit.”
Jimmy looked at his bag.
Paul immediately regretted saying that.
Jimmy rotated the wheel.
“No.”
He rotated it again.
“No.”
He tried diagonally.
“Jimmy.”
Jimmy left the wheel.
Jo patted his shoulder.
“Good try.”
Ellie searched the remaining cabinets while Paul examined fragments of parchment.
Jo found a chair.
It broke when she sat on it.
Jimmy looked at the pieces.
Paul pointed at him without looking up.
“No.”
Jimmy lowered his hand.
Ellie opened a cabinet.
“Found something.”
Paul hurried over.
Inside were three sealed document tubes.
“Finally.”
Jimmy leaned in.
“Good tubes.”
Paul took them first.
“These go to the scholar.”
“After?”
“No.”
“Could need tube.”
“No.”
Jo crouched beside another shelf.
“What’s this?”
A narrow stone passage disappeared behind it.
Paul frowned.
“That isn’t on the map.”
Ellie smiled.
“Secret room.”
Jo stood.
“Secret stuff.”
Jimmy’s eyes lit up.
Paul immediately pointed at both of them.
“We are retrieving records.”
“Secret records,” Jo suggested.
Paul paused.
That was possible.
“Fine.”
Ellie examined the passage.
“No visible traps.”
She rolled.
Three.
Ellie stared at the die.
“I hate everything.”
Paul waited.
“Anything?”
“No trap.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“Excellent.”
The passage led to a circular chamber.
A black key rested on a stone pedestal in the center.
Jo stopped.
“Shiny.”
“It is not shiny,” Paul said.
“Important shiny.”
“It is matte black.”
“Dark shiny.”
Ellie crouched near the entrance.
“Don’t touch it.”
Jo put her hands behind her back.
“Wasn’t.”
Jimmy stepped forward.
“Could need key.”
Paul blocked him.
“Nobody touches anything until Ellie checks the room.”
Ellie moved carefully around the pedestal.
“No wires.”
She checked the floor.
“No pressure plates.”
The walls.
“No holes.”
The ceiling.
“No obvious mechanisms.”
Paul frowned.
“That makes me more nervous.”
Jo nodded.
“Suspicious no trap.”
“Exactly.”
Jimmy pointed at the key.
“Could still need.”
“No.”
Paul approached the pedestal.
Ancient letters were carved around its base.
He brushed away the dust.
“Here.”
Ellie leaned closer.
“What does it say?”
Paul translated slowly.
“THE KEY OPENS THAT WHICH SHOULD REMAIN CLOSED.”
Jo brightened.
“Cool.”
“No.”
Jimmy nodded.
“Good key.”
“No.”
Jo leaned closer.
“What it open?”
“That is precisely the sort of question the inscription is warning us not to investigate.”
Jo considered.
“So mystery door.”
“Yes.”
“Could be treasure.”
“Yes.”
Paul stopped.
“No.”
Jo grinned.
Paul pointed at the key.
“We are not taking it.”
Jimmy looked wounded.
“We don’t even know what it opens.”
“Future thing.”
“No future thing.”
Jo whispered:
“Put it in the bag.”
“JO.”
Then the floor moved.
Everyone froze.
A deep grinding sound rolled through the chamber.
Ellie looked down.
“I didn’t touch anything.”
Paul looked at the pedestal.
“I didn’t touch anything.”
Jimmy held up both hands.
Jo did the same.
“Jo very innocent.”
The walls moved inward.
Paul stared.
“Oh.”
Jo planted both hands against one wall.
“Wall rude.”
“Push!”
Jo pushed.
The stone slowed.
Barely.
Paul ran to the opposite side.
Ellie searched the floor.
“Mechanism has to be somewhere.”
Jimmy opened his bag.
Paul turned.
“Jimmy, unless you have a complete architectural solution in there-”
Jimmy began unloading objects.
Rope.
Chalk.
Candles.
A hammer.
Six nails.
A small mirror.
A coil of wire.
A cork.
Another cork.
A third cork.
Paul stared.
“Why do you have three corks?”
“Could need.”
“Not now.”
Jimmy continued.
A wooden peg.
A tin cup.
A hinge.
Paul froze.
It was an old iron hinge, thick and square-edged, with one corner snapped away and three uneven screw holes still visible beneath the rust.
“Where did you get that?”
“Found.”
“When?”
“Before.”
“That explains nothing.”
Jimmy set the broken hinge beside the rest of his collection.
Jo grunted.
“Wall.”
“Right.”
Jimmy kept digging.
Then stopped.
He held up the bent spoon.
Paul stared at it.
“No.”
Jimmy looked at the wall.
Then at the mechanism beside the pedestal.
A narrow slot had appeared as the floor shifted.
Jimmy walked over.
Paul’s eyes widened.
“Wait.”
Jimmy shoved the bent spoon into the slot.
It fit.
Perfectly.
There was a metallic CLUNK.
The walls stopped.
Silence.
Everyone stared.
Jimmy twisted the spoon.
The mechanism caught.
Then reversed.
The walls slowly moved outward.
Jo stopped pushing.
She looked at Jimmy.
Jimmy looked at Paul.
Paul looked at the spoon.
Nobody spoke.
Jimmy smiled.
“Could need.”
Jo threw both arms into the air.
“PUT IT IN THE BAG!”
Her voice echoed through the chamber.
Put it in the bag.
Put it in the bag.
Put it in the bag.
Paul closed his eyes.
Ellie laughed.
Jimmy carefully removed the spoon.
Paul pointed at it.
“You get to keep that.”
Jimmy nodded.
“Good spoon.”
“I hate that it is a good spoon.”
Jo leaned down beside Paul.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Say good spoon.”
“No.”
“Paul.”
“No.”
“Paul.”
Paul looked at the bent, tarnished, ridiculous object that had just prevented them from being crushed to death.
“Adequate spoon.”
Jimmy looked satisfied.
Jo gasped.
“Paul likes spoon.”
“I said adequate.”
“Paul love spoon.”
“I will throw it into a river.”
Jimmy immediately put it in the bag.
“No,” Paul said.
Jimmy raised his hand.
“No.”
Ellie tilted her head.
Paul pointed at her.
“Don’t you start.”
Ellie smiled.
They left the key alone.
Back in the archive, they collected the remaining documents.
Jimmy picked up the brass buckles again.
Paul saw him.
“Those stay.”
Jimmy sighed.
He returned them.
The cracked plate stayed.
The chain stayed.
The metal hook stayed.
The empty box stayed.
Jimmy looked personally wounded by each decision.
Jo helped him sort.
“Not ours.”
Jimmy held up a nail.
Jo considered.
“Probably theirs.”
Jimmy put it back.
Paul watched.
Something strange happened in his chest.
Pride, perhaps.
Or indigestion.
Difficult to say.
Jimmy held up the bent spoon.
Jo nodded solemnly.
“Hero spoon.”
Paul sighed.
“Fine.”
Jimmy put it in the bag.
The old broken hinge went in after it.
Paul noticed.
He looked at the rusted square of iron.
Then at Jimmy.
“Is that ours?”
Jimmy considered the question.
“Found outside.”
“Outside where?”
Jimmy pointed vaguely toward several hundred years of abandoned monastery.
Paul stared at him.
Jimmy waited.
Paul had already survived one argument with the contents of that bag today.
“Fine.”
The hinge disappeared.
They returned the documents to the scholar.
The scholar paid them.
Paul handed out the gold.
Ellie counted hers.
Jo immediately tried to trade two coins for a polished purple stone at the market.
Paul stopped her.
Jimmy inspected the scholar’s desk.
Paul stopped him too.
“Nothing from the desk.”
Jimmy pointed at a loose screw.
“No.”
“Could need.”
“No.”
Jimmy sighed.
Jo leaned toward him.
Very quietly:
“Put it in the bag.”
Paul turned.
“I HEARD THAT.”
“Jimmy.”
“Yeah?”
“The spoon.”
Jimmy looked at him.
Paul sighed.
“Adequate.”
Jimmy smiled.
Ahead of them, Jo shouted:
“HE SAID IT AGAIN!”
Paul groaned.
And somewhere inside Jimmy’s bag, the bent spoon waited patiently for the next future thing.