Ten-Cent Jimmy had a broken hinge.
This was not unusual.
Ten-Cent Jimmy had many things.
Rope.
Wire.
Nails.
Buttons.
Three kinds of chalk.
Four empty bottles.
A ceremonial silver serving spoon legally gifted to him after Greyhaven.
Two Bags of Holding, which Paul had forbidden him from putting inside each other.
A bent spoon that had once saved everyone’s lives.
And one broken iron hinge.
Old.
Thick.
Square-edged.
One corner snapped away.
Three uneven screw holes beneath the rust.
Paul knew that hinge.
He had hated that hinge since the monastery.
“Throw it away.”
Jimmy looked at him.
“No.”
“It is broken.”
“Yep.”
“It doesn’t fit anything we own.”
“Not yet.”
“It weighs nearly a pound.”
Jimmy shrugged.
“Could need.”
Paul pointed down the road.
“We have carried that hinge through a fortress, a royal ball, a magic shop, a lost kingdom, and across the Sea of Storms.”
Jimmy nodded.
“Travel hinge.”
“That does not make it better.”
Jo Mama leaned over.
“Emergency hinge.”
Paul turned.
“Do not encourage him.”
Jo smiled.
“Could need.”
Paul walked faster.
Madison joined him.
“You know he’s going to be right eventually.”
“No.”
“He was right about the spoon.”
“Once.”
“The wire.”
Paul frowned.
“The rope.”
“Everyone needs rope.”
“The grease.”
“That was absurd.”
“It saved him from a kraken.”
Paul looked back.
Jimmy walked peacefully beside Jo.
The hinge stuck out of a side pocket.
Paul faced forward.
“I refuse to live in a universe where hoarding random hardware is repeatedly validated.”
Madison smiled.
“You may be in the wrong party.”
Their current assignment involved an abandoned watchtower.
A small one.
This distinction mattered.
Nothing ancient slept beneath it.
No vampire lived there.
No cursed relic waited inside.
No army surrounded it.
According to the local magistrate, travelers had reported strange lights around the tower at night.
The party had been asked to investigate.
Jo liked the assignment.
“Easy.”
Paul immediately stopped walking.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Never call an assignment easy.”
Jo thought.
“Medium.”
“Better.”
The watchtower stood beside the old western road.
Three stories.
Stone walls.
Partially collapsed roof.
One wooden door hanging crookedly from a single hinge.
Jimmy stopped.
Everyone kept walking.
Jimmy did not.
Jo noticed first.
“Jimmy?”
He stared at the door.
Then slowly reached into his bag.
Paul saw.
“No.”
Jimmy removed the broken hinge.
Paul stopped.
Madison stopped.
Ellie stopped.
The Paladin stopped.
Luviana stopped.
Jo gasped.
Jimmy walked toward the door.
“No,” Paul whispered.
Jimmy held the hinge beside the damaged hardware.
Same size.
Same width.
Same uneven hole placement.
The exact ridiculous piece of iron he had picked up months ago beside the monastery.
Jimmy looked at Paul.
Paul stared.
Jimmy looked at the door.
Then back at Paul.
“No.”
Jimmy smiled.
Ten minutes later, the door worked.
Jimmy opened it.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Smooth.
Perfect.
He looked at Paul.
“I knew we’d need it eventually.”
Jo exploded.
“HE SAID IT!”
Paul stared at the repaired door.
Madison covered her mouth.
Ellie leaned against the tower laughing.
Luviana applauded.
The Paladin smiled.
Jimmy stood proudly beside the hinge.
Paul pointed.
“This proves nothing.”
“It proves hinge,” Jo said.
“It proves one broken piece of hardware happened to fit one broken door.”
Jimmy nodded.
“Needed.”
Paul walked into the tower.
“I hate all of you.”
Madison followed.
“No, you don’t.”
“I am currently evaluating.”
The strange lights were upstairs.
They were magical.
They were also harmless.
Paul spent twenty minutes examining them.
Then another ten confirming they were harmless because Jo had already started calling them “glowy friends.”
Magical moss.
Nothing more.
The moss had spread through cracks in the tower and glowed brightly enough at night to frighten travelers.
Jo looked disappointed.
“No monster?”
“No.”
“No ghost?”
“No.”
“No vampire?”
“No.”
Jimmy touched the repaired door.
“Good hinge.”
Paul pointed upstairs.
“We solved the mystery. We are leaving.”
Ellie did not move.
“Hold on.”
Everyone looked.
She stood beside a loose floor stone.
“Trapdoor.”
Paul stared.
“Of course.”
Beneath the tower was a small chamber.
Inside:
A desk.
A rotted chair.
Three empty shelves.
A journal.
And a folded circle of black cloth.
Jimmy saw it first.
Paul saw Jimmy see it.
“No.”
Jimmy had not moved.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You thought very loudly.”
Paul examined the cloth.
His expression changed.
“Oh.”
Luviana leaned closer.
“What?”
“Portable Hole.”
Jimmy’s face transformed.
Paul saw it.
“No.”
“You haven’t explained.”
“I know what you’re going to think.”
Jimmy waited.
Paul sighed.
“It creates an extradimensional storage space.”
Jimmy inhaled.
Paul pointed at him.
“No.”
“How big?”
“Approximately six feet across and ten feet deep.”
Jimmy looked reverent.
Jo looked at Jimmy.
Then at the Hole.
Then at Paul.
“Pocket room.”
“No.”
“Pocket cave.”
“No.”
“Pocket house.”
“Absolutely not.”
They read the journal.
The former owner had been a collector.
The journal contained lists.
Hundreds of them.
Tools.
Books.
Furniture.
Artifacts.
Household objects.
Items acquired for reasons that became less clear as the pages continued.
Jimmy read in respectful silence.
Paul became increasingly uncomfortable.
The final entry said:
MUST ORGANIZE THE HOUSE TOMORROW.
Jimmy closed the journal.
“Good man.”
Paul stared at him.
“This is a warning.”
“Could organize.”
“You are identifying with the cautionary tale.”
The Paladin took the Portable Hole to the magistrate.
The magistrate confirmed the tower had been abandoned for decades and the recovered contents could legally remain with the party.
Jimmy nearly cried.
Before anyone touched the Hole, Paul established rules.
He held up Jimmy’s first Bag of Holding.
“This never goes inside.”
Then the second.
“This also never goes inside.”
Jimmy nodded.
“Bags stay out.”
“I mean it.”
“Yep.”
“No Bag of Holding goes into the Portable Hole.”
“Yep.”
“No Bag goes inside another Bag.”
“Yep.”
“No experiments.”
Jimmy hesitated.
Paul narrowed his eyes.
“No extradimensional experiments.”
“Yep.”
They tested the Hole in an open field.
Paul insisted.
Jimmy unfolded the black cloth.
A dark circular opening appeared.
Jo leaned over it.
“Pocket cave.”
“Storage space.”
Jo climbed down.
“JO.”
Her head appeared.
“Good floor.”
Paul sighed.
One by one, they explored.
Shelves were proposed.
Accepted.
A table.
Accepted.
Blankets.
Accepted.
Food.
Accepted.
Rope.
Tools.
Lanterns.
Accepted, provided the lanterns did not require flame.
A rug.
Paul hesitated.
Accepted.
Chairs.
Accepted.
“Fireplace,” Jo said.
“No.”
“Livestock,” Jimmy said.
“No.”
“Chandelier.”
“No.”
“Second floor.”
“NO.”
“Tiny tavern.”
“NO.”
Jo looked at Paul.
“Paul?”
“What?”
“Put Paul in Pocket House?”
“No.”
Jo nodded.
“Had to ask.”
They acquired the furnishings legally.
The Paladin supervised this personally.
Paul bought a magical lantern that required no flame and consumed no oxygen.
Jimmy installed hooks.
Ellie installed shelves.
Madison made labels.
Luviana added cushions.
Jo made a sign.
PARTY HOUSE.
Paul objected.
Nobody listened.
Then they found the cottage.
An abandoned farmhouse stood beside the road.
A tiny stone cottage beside it was scheduled for demolition.
The farmer had already begun dismantling it.
Jo stared.
Paul saw the expression.
“No.”
“Pocket House.”
“No.”
The farmer overheard.
“You want the cottage?”
Jo nodded.
“Yep.”
“You can have it.”
Paul turned.
“No.”
The Paladin immediately asked:
“May we have that in writing?”
The farmer did.
Paul stared at the signed permission.
“Why?”
“Saving me demolition.”
Paul looked at the sky.
“Of course.”
By noon, the cottage had been carefully dismantled.
Jo lifted the heavy stones.
Jimmy labeled them.
Ellie removed hardware.
Madison catalogued pieces.
The Paladin ensured they had explicit written permission.
Luviana brought lunch.
Paul sat on a stump.
“This is not an adventure.”
Jo carried a wall past him.
“House quest.”
“This is moving.”
“Adventure moving.”
“No.”
Jimmy carried a door.
“Good hinges.”
Paul put his face in his hands.
They reassembled the cottage inside the Portable Hole.
Mostly.
The walls fit.
The roof became removable.
The door worked.
There was a window frame despite there being nowhere for the window to look.
Jo hung a blanket behind it.
Jimmy installed shelves.
Madison placed the table inside.
Luviana added a cushion.
The Paladin stood in the doorway.
Paul climbed down last.
He stared.
There was a house.
Inside the Hole.
A tiny stone house.
Inside an extradimensional storage space.
Jo spread her arms.
“POCKET HOUSE.”
Paul opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Nothing came out.
Jimmy smiled.
“I knew we’d need it eventually.”
Paul pointed at him.
“You did not know we would need a house inside a hole.”
Jimmy shrugged.
“Could need.”
Then the floor moved.
Everyone froze.
The cottage shifted.
Paul’s face went pale.
“Out.”
Jo looked at him.
“Paul?”
“Everybody out. NOW.”
They scrambled.
Ellie climbed first.
Madison.
Luviana.
The Paladin.
Jimmy.
Jo.
Paul came last.
They stood around the black circle.
Nothing happened.
Jo looked at Paul.
“What?”
Paul stared into the darkness.
“I don’t know.”
The cottage sat below.
Quiet.
Still.
Then one wall shifted half an inch.
Jimmy frowned.
“Settling?”
Paul stared.
“Maybe.”
Jo leaned closer.
Paul grabbed her belt.
“Not tonight.”
Jo nodded.
“Tomorrow?”
Paul looked into the Portable Hole.
At the house.
At the shelves.
At the chairs.
At the collection of objects that absolutely should not have become architecture.
He sighed.
“Tomorrow.”
Jimmy folded the Hole.
Jimmy slept with the folded Portable Hole beside his bedroll.
Jo slept nearby.
Paul did not sleep much.
At approximately three in the morning, he sat up.
Something had occurred to him.
“Jimmy.”
Jimmy opened one eye.
“Yep?”
“How many chairs did you put in there?”
“Two.”
Paul relaxed.
Jimmy continued:
“Plus extras.”
Paul stopped.
“What extras?”
Jimmy closed his eye.
“Emergency.”
“JIMMY.”
Jo rolled over.
“Quiet.”
Paul stared at them.
Then at the folded Portable Hole.
Somewhere inside it sat a tiny stone house.
Somewhere inside that house sat an unknown number of chairs.
And Paul had the sudden, terrible certainty that tomorrow was going to be much worse.