"Bollocks." He slowly pressed himself against the door, listening intently. It should be empty, for the merchants were practically abandoning the port for winter. Still, it was early in the day, and there was always the chance some dockworker would be hanging about, or some other hapless bastard whose job it was to haul shit all day to make another man very rich for very little pay. It was padlocked, and he contemplated just breaking the damn thing with his hammer, seeing as he didn't know the first thing about picking locks. Funny what you picked up. He knew how to make explosives out of fertilizer, but he never once tried breaking into a locked room when he was younger. Guess that was what he got for growing up in the country.