Stepping Up, Draft 1, CH 55 (Patreon)

They had to leave behind Omer after he lost an arm, then Sawat, when she got an arrow through the calf. Don became vicious when he was able to get a hand on their attackers after that. Tibs suspected that once he was done, once he could think about what they’d done to these people, sleeping might not come easy for a while.

Unlike what they’d expected, whatever interfered with the use of their essence didn’t vanish when they reached Sebastian’s house. Jackal and Rao did a circuit around it to confirm there was no one guarding it.

“Would your father leave himself unguarded like this?” Don asked.

Jackal shook his head. “If he’s running low on people, he pulled them inside. With whatever this is,” he motioned around them, “he probably thinks there’s nothing we can do to him unless we make it inside.”

“He’s right,” the sorcerer replied. “I can’t do anything to the house with this stuff getting in the way.”

“You’re going to have to try,” Jackal said, “we need to force him out.”

Tibs ignored the angry retort and looked at the house. He couldn’t sense the state of the essence woven through it, but…

“Don, could Sebastian protect his house from the effect of the disruption?”

The sorcerer cut off his rant about Jackal and his ancestry to glare at Tibs. He kept looking at Don, not reacting to it. After a few seconds, the sorcerer took a breath, glared at Jackal, then looked at Tibs again.

“Yes, he could.” He thought about something. “But if he did, it’s easy to find out. Raonull, stay with me. You two, keep an eye out for anyone trying to take me out.”

“Sure,” Jackal said, rolling his eyes, but Don was already moving. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked Tibs, who looked back, unsure what his friend meant. “You sent him away so we could plan, right?”

“I just asked a question. I didn’t know Don would leave us alone.” He looked along the alley and the roofs. This wasn’t a good spot to see if archers had moved to them, but they no longer had anyone to spare to go up. “What I’m thinking is that if the house isn’t protected against it, that means the enchantments will be ineffective too.”

The sorcerer returned. “The outside of the house isn’t protected.”

“How—” Jackal asked.

“Do you think,” Tibs cut him off; they didn’t have the time to argue, “that whatever is causing this is inside the house?”

“How do you expect me to know that?” the sorcerer demanded. “Unlike him, I don’t have any link to that man.”

“You’re the smartest of us, Don,” Tibs replied. “You’re a sorcerer. If there’s one person here who can figure out how this item might work, it’s you.”

Don ground his teeth and looked at the house, then around them. “If what is creating this could be anything other than a radius of influence, I don’t see why he wouldn’t use something that kept his house unaffected. He might not have any essence users working for him, but I’ve seen what he wears. I’ve felt the essence woven through it all. That’s going to be rendered ineffective while inside the influence.”

Tibs nodded. “I can get in the house. The only defenses I couldn’t handle were the enchantments, and those aren’t working anymore. Locks are going to be easy. How do I stop the item causing this?”

“How would I know?” Don demanded. “I didn’t even know this was possible.” He stopped. “I mean, I knew it was possible in the sense that with enough essence, anything is possible, but who would want to make it?”

“Smash it,” Jackal offered.

“Are you insane?” The sorcerer glared. “Do you have any idea the amount of work that had to go into something like this? You don’t smash something priceless.”

“Would it stop it from working?” Tibs asked.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Yes, but he’s the greedy one.” He pointed to Jackal. “And he already said to smash it. Will it work? Will it stop the interference and let you rot the house?”

Don looked about to protest, then reconsidered it. “It depends what it’s made of.” He thought for a few seconds. “Crystals are the best at taking large amounts of weaves, so it’s most likely that, but it doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy to break. Some crystals are extremely durable.”

“How large will it be?”

Don glared at Tibs, exasperation on his face, but he took another breath. “I don’t know. The skill of the sorcerers who made it will be what determines the size. The better they are, the tighter the weave will be.”

“Would Sebastian hire anyone other than the best?” Tibs asked Jackal.

“You’re assuming he paid for it, rather than having it stolen. But yes, my father would want the best.” He looked at the house. “But I need to remember there are limits to what anyone can do. He wouldn’t ruin himself for this. Not unless there’s a lot more going on here than I figured out. So I doubt he got the very best version of this thing. It still doesn’t tell us how big it is.”

“Can it fit in his pocket?”

“No,” Don said. “For something that small, you’d need an Alpha grade sorcerer of each element required to make it, and since I suspect it’s affecting all of them. You’re talking twenty-four Alpha sorcerers. Even if there were that many, they wouldn’t work on something like this, not all of them.” He looked at his hand, considered something. Added his second one three-hand span away. “This is probably the smallest it would be.”

“Then it’s going to be in a safe,” Tibs said. He looked at the house.

“Of under guard,” Don said. “I said the smallest we can expect, not the most likely.” He looked at Jackal. “Did your father bring anything unusually large with him?”

“How?” Jackal raised a hand. “Sorry. I’m on edge. Nothing in the unusual size,” he said in a calmer tone, “but it’s a house. When he moved in, he brought furniture and a lot of that was in crates. This item could have been in one of them easy.”

“So, if it’s too big for a safe,” Tibs said. “It’s in a guarded room.”

“Those are the most likely assumptions, yes,” Don said.

Tibs looked at the window on the third floor. That was how he got in. After that, he’d have to see.

Jackal took his shoulder. “Tibs, this isn’t like the dungeon. My father doesn’t fight by any kind of rules. The only thing he cares about is getting his way.”

Tibs nodded and smiled. “I’m a rogue. I know about cheating.”

“But my father is a master at it.”

* * * * *

The house was further than Tibs would like. Without his air essence, making the jump would be risky, but climbing Sebastian’s house directly was too dangerous. He could have someone hiding in a house looking in on it. There were too many of those to check out. So a jump to the roof, close to the window, and in as quickly as possible.

If he missed it, he’d have to hope the fall didn’t hurt too much. Three stories without Carina to soften the landing could be a problem.

He ran down the roof’s incline, gaining as much speed as he could, jumped, and sailed over the large alley. He made it to the other roof but immediately slid down. He cursed in pain as he grabbed onto the dormer, and hurried to use his other hand as he started slipping, to climb into his laid on his stomach across it.

He rubbed his fingers together.

Oil. Sebastian had impregnated the roof tiles with oil. Jackal was right. His father cheated. He slid to the end of the dormer and studied the window. The lock was set, and with his hands slick and no essence to make tools with. He had to go back to when he lived on the Street.

He placed the shim he’d made of what he’d found in the alley and carefully maneuvered himself down the dormer. He scraped his foot on the siding to remove as much of the oil, then carefully placed it on the windowsill, adding weight only once he was confident it wouldn’t slip. Then his other foot.

His hands he wiped on his pants, the back of which was still dry. A pouch with fine sand was his next purchase.

The angle wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the first time he worked in less than ideal circumstances. The shim went in, and after nearly losing his footing to give himself the leverage, the window was unlocked. He pulled it open and was inside.

He took a few seconds to catch his breath, then gave Jackal the thumbs up, before closing the window. The room contained boxes of weapons. Half of them opened and with missing content. Sebastian had come ready for this fight. Or, considering the number of untouched boxes, ready to take on the guild.

When he tried the door, it didn’t open. It was locked but didn’t have a latch. He needed a key to unlock it, even from the inside. Sebastian didn’t depend entirely on the enchantments to protect his house.

Tibs found a tool in the third box. A slim assassin’s blade; smaller than his little finger and ending in a tip that fit in the lock. He couldn’t manipulate the tumbles with it, but that wasn’t the goal.

An ear to the door to confirm no one was moving, and he turned the knife. When it stopped without having forced the lock open, he channeled earth. The lock snapped, and he rested his head against the door. Hurrying was pointless. He needed to listen in case the sound had brought someone.

When he confirmed it, Tibs remained there. Stillness was comfortable. Everything resolved itself when given enough time.

Radkliff wouldn’t be back, he reminded himself. No matter how long he waited. That was one thing that wouldn’t be resolved. And if he wanted too long, Sebastian might not pay for it.

Reluctantly, Tibs let the essence go and opened the door enough to look. At one end were stairs going down. At the other, a guarded door on the opposite wall. The guard was a woman on a chair, seemingly asleep. Tibs was careful exiting the room and walking to her, holding the assassin’s blade ready to throw if she moved.

He made it past her without a reaction. He had his hand over her mouth and the blade in her side, between her ribs and in her heart before her eyes fully opened. He left the blade in place to keep the blood from gushing out as she slumped back in the chair.

A quick search didn’t produce keys but gave him a good set of lock picks and seven silvers, which he got to use on the door, also locked. More boxes, those unopened, as well as a safe with a rotary lock. Tibs resisted the temptation and exited the room.

At the stairs, he heard conversations faint enough to come from the ground floor, or a nearby room with a closed door. Looking in the hall as soon as he could showed him two doors on one wall, two on the other, and a thug walking the length. The hall was long enough it took the guard a dozen seconds to walk from one end to the other. Not enough for Tibs to pick a lock. But…

He slipped to the closest door as soon as the guard walked away from it and tried the latch. It was unlocked, and he slipped in.

The room had been remade into a barrack, with six bunks best on the opposing wall and fave on this one. Four of the two and two beds were occupied. Piled on a chest was clothing. Tibs grabbed a set and put it on. He had to roll the sleeves and pant legs, but they covered his armor. If he could avoid being looked at too closely, no one should notice how bulky he was.

He waited for the guard to walk away, then exited and confidently walked to the stairs. Hopefully, this floor was all sleeping rooms. On the ground floor, voices came from in the distance, along with the sounds of people eating. Tibs’s stomach rumbled. He’d eaten only a few hours ago, but the memory of starving was still too fresh.

He should be used to that sensation, he told himself. He’d grown up with it.

“We’re running low on people,” a woman said.

“They’ll be fine,” Sebastian replied.

“Sir, they have magic.”

“They’re children. They barely have any, and they can’t get close to us. They aren’t that strong if the guild isn’t bothering to come to their rescue.”

“They’ve still taken out half of the people we brought.”

“Then we send for more. They’re running out of food, and the people living here are going to turn on them, eventually.”

Tibs moved away from there and walked by a seating area. A guard stood at each window, looking outside. Three more sat around a table, playing a dice game. Another room with guards looking out the windows. The door, guarded by two men. If every window was occupied, then they were inattentive with boredom not to have noticed Tibs and his friends by one of the alleys.

He turned and headed to the kitchen. None of the rooms had something resembling an enchanted crystal.

“Archers,” the woman said. “We’re running short on them to watch the platform. Now, as they’re trying to reach us. Would be the best time for them to have reinforcement arrive.”

“And if they had someone to send out messages with, I’d be worried,” Sebastian replied, “but they don’t. They might have convinced those attendants to help with moving people about, but without the platform, they can’t go anywhere useful, and I control that.”

Another room with guards at the windows and waiting. At the end was the other door, also guarded, both men looking out.

“All it takes is for them to remove the handful of archers we left there and they’ll be able to take it.”

“Only long enough to send someone out,” Sebastian countered. Tibs walked by the kitchen. “They’re going to realize this assault is useless, then we’ll be able to put my people back in place. Even if they call for reinforcement. Will pick them out as they arrive. Eventually, the attendants will just stop coming here.”

Sebastian was standing by the table with a woman, they were looking at papers. Tibs walked past. The last room was another sitting room, it too with guards looking out. Nothing looked like it was made of crystal and of a size to be what he was looking for.

Maybe he should have opened the safe.

He turned to walk back the way he came as part of the wall connecting to the other room opened and someone stepped out.

Only the other room didn’t have a door. In fact, it also didn’t have windows, which Tibs was certain were on the outer wall. The open panel was also the height of the wall and twice as wide as a door, and the space beyond it seemed the same. He entered the sitting room and headed for the closing panel. The exiting guard caught it and held it open for him. Tibs gave a nod and went down the stairs.

The cellar was a hurried construction. The walls were rough, packed dirt with boards across them. Beams kept the ceiling from crashing down. And in the middle of the dug-out space was a rough-hewed block of crystal approximately the size of the opening he’d stepped through, slowly pulsating with a greenish glow.

Around it, eight muscular men in armor stood and turned to face him.

“Who the fuck are you?”