Stepping Wild, CH 06 (Patreon)

“Alright everyone!” Rigel yelled, and Tibs looked up from the crate he and one of the merchants were taking out of her wagon. “The carts for your good will be here shortly, so make sure everything you want at your booth as soon as you’ll open it is out of your wagons because after the first transfer, it’s first come first serve, unless, you know, you are willing to part with your money to hire your own carts.”

Grumbling traveled among the merchants.

Who paid for moving the good from the caravan coral to a city’s marketplace was always a contentious subject. Merchants wanted the caravan master to pay for all of it, since they had deals with the cities, but the caravan master, like them, wanted to spend as few of his money as they had to. Each caravan Tibs had traveled with had a different way to handle it, but none had resulted in everyone being happy.

Graiden stepped forward as Rigel moved away.

“Alright. The city guards will arrive with the carts, and they will take official charge of the coral. That means you will be released from your duties. Go see Rigel for your pay, and you are free to go. But I’d like four volunteers to stay.”

Tibs shook his head when the Chief looked in his direction and received a nod in return.

“This is a new duty, so you will still get paid for the work you’ve provided now. You’ll also only work a quarter of the say each, and be free to do as you will the rest of the time.”

“I’m in,” someone said.

“Me too,” a woman echoed.

While no one added to them, by Graiden’s nod and satisfied expression, he had no shortage of volunteers.

“We are leaving in nine days. That means that if you plan on rejoining, you have to sign up on the eighth at the latest. And even if you have, if you aren’t here when we leave, I am not going looking for you. You end up in a cell, or drink too much, or have so much fun in someone’s bed that you forget to be here. That’s on you.”

There were jeers and mocking that anyone would be that stupid, but Tibs had seen it happen often. Had missed his own caravan, back in his early days, because he hadn’t been able to escape the cell in time. Since he also hadn’t been able to stay in that city, it had meant traveling the wilds alone until he found a town and waiting for another caravan.

Tibs wasn’t a fan of being forced to travel in the wilds without the right preparations.

“So, as soon as the merchant’s goods are on carts, go get your pay and I’ll see those coming back eight days from now.”

Tibs didn’t rush to leave. Eight days was enough for him to figure out if he’d stay. Once the merchant he was helping had her good loaded up, he found someone else to help, and in this way was among the last to go to Rigel.

“Don’t enjoy yourself so much you won’t be with us when we leave,” the man said, offering the coin pouch.

“I might not be back,” Tibs said, and the man pulled the pouch away. “I have business in the city.”

“You didn’t mention that at any point.”

Tibs shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“What if I increase your pay? I’d really like another leg of the trip as peaceful as this one. Not even one hungry wild beast bothered us.”

Tibs chuckled. “You’re putting a lot on me, considering how many guards you have.”

“Very few of them have a habit of walking into the wilderness.”

“I enjoy the quiet.” It was also away from people that he could practice etchings.

Rigel smiled. “Of course, that’s all there is to it. I’m willing to go as far as doubling you pay.”

Tibs shook his head. “If my business here pans out, I’ll have to stay. If it doesn’t, I’ll know before you leave and I’ll be here.”

“Can you business really pay you more than I am?”

“If it pans out, no money will match what I will get out of it.”

With a saddened nod, Rigel handed Tibs the pouch, which he attached to his belt without checking the promised silvers were all there. Caravan masters who cheated their guards didn’t keep their business.

A month’s pay would let him afford a simple room in a modest part of the city for a year. Paying for food would reduce that, but for those who chose to settle, it was ample time to find employment. If nothing else, cities always needed guards, and if the caravan master was still around to speak of the work done, being hired was pretty much assured.

Tibs found a room in a better than modest part of the city. He’d either be gone well before the nearly three months’s pay even felt the cost, or money wouldn’t be a problem for him even if he didn’t visit any of the noble’s homes after dark.

While he would have to enter the dungeon as an Omega Runner, his knowledge would insure he left each run with enough coins to survive.

The goal of the room was to project the image of someone who could afford to pay to become a Runner, although he would need to get more money to pay for his entry.

If he could even approach the dungeon.

That had always turned out to be the problem.

He did his first approach in the night. Not as a thief, but as one of the many people who still had work to do even well past the sun disappearing. Cities never seemed to do more than slow once the sun went down.

So, dressed in worker’s clothes and with a bag of tools over his shoulder, he approached the mountain side of the city. This one had kept well away from the mountain, building a wall to separate itself from the area dedicated to the Runners.

Tibs sensed buildings large enough to be barracks, but without people. Other than a few guards patrolling the area, barely Epsilon, there was no one there. The whole area closed when the dungeon did so, too.

“Well,” a low voice said, the word stretched lazily, “that isn’t something you see every day.”

Tibs didn’t react, only noting how far from the wall he was. He didn’t know how it corresponded with how many floors a dungeon had, since he hadn’t been able to go in, and hadn’t dared speak with them after the first time he’d tried it outside of Sto.

Tibs wasn’t sure if that city’s guild had ever worked out why the dungeon had suddenly closed its door, trapping nearly twenty teams within itself. He’d tried to explain he wasn’t a threat, that all he’d wanted was to talk with them, but the panic was so deep they weren’t listening.

It took it three days after Tibs walked out of its zone of influence before it opened its doors again, and no teams came out.

Even now, knowing there was no one within the dungeon, Tibs wasn’t risking causing them to panic.

“What is it?” a second voice asked, approaching.

“Him,” the first one said. That was the dungeon, the other their helper.

“You’re right. What is he?”

“If you don’t know, then he’s a mystery.”

“Never heard of one of them with more than one element. You think he’ll step in?”

“That would be…interesting.” The ponderingness of their voice made Tibs thing of Stone. How he was always slow to anything, just like the rocks and mountains that contained so much of that element.

“Should you set up something for him? I don’t think the regular obstacles will be a challenge.”

“Let him test himself against what’s there. If he makes it to the seventh floor, them I will consider him worthy of a personal test.”

They fell silent, and Tibs made it to the gate within the wall and the road that went alongside it. He entered the tavern at the corner, and while enjoying a decent ale, sensed it.

The gate was a weave that bleed into the stone around it for a few paces. It was well beyond Tibs’s understanding, even with as many books on weaves as he’d read. Or maybe because he’d read so many. Too much different information about what the scholars claimed was the same thing only led to confusion, instead of clarity, and could all be blamed on how there were no right words to describe essence.

The weave would be to keep anything from crossing the threshold without being allowed in. Permission was most likely granted by the gate being opened, but there would be other safeguards.

Tibs fought the urge to rub his left wrist. It hadn’t become easier to resist over the years, but Tibs never allowed himself to give into it. He refused to act as if he had been branded, no matter how irritating it felt.

He could never tell if it was his imagination, or part of the way the brand was woven, but anytime it got too much, an etching of purity made him feel better.

Would there be something within the weave that would react to it here? As far as he’d sensed, no two guild cities dealt with their dungeon the same way. Some had open fields, others, walls like this one, of varying height, and with a variety of ways to allow passage in and out. 

And with a variety of weaves to implement their security.

Tibs left the tavern and walked along the wall, sensing for hidden entrances it could use if the gate was too well protected, but there was nothing. The wall was made of large stone blocks with crenations at the top and wide enough for guards to patrol it. He could jump it over it, using essence, but he expected that during the day there would be enough guards he’d be noticed.

He could get in now, but he’d have to spend the night evading guards who had elements, one of which had darkness. He was confident he could do it, but without knowing how teams were made for Omega Runners, there was no point.

Tomorrow, he’d approach the gate and see what the admission process was like. Then he’d figure out how to proceed.