Breaking Step, CH 50 (Patreon)

“Has anyone seen Don?” Tibs asked as he sat at the table. The sorcerer’s seat was unoccupied.

The other shook their heads.

“Can’t you tell where he is?” Jackal asked between bites.

Tibs was the one shaking his head this time. “He wasn’t at the house he stayed in last time.” The owner had confirmed what Tibs’s sense told him. 

“He would know you already found him there,” Khumdar said.

He’d then ran the roofs for a while, but the only source of corruption he’d come across was the pool. He’d even gone there to check, in case Don was using it to mask his presence. Then he’d gone to the other places he’d expect the sorcerer to be in, since he couldn’t sense the whole of the town, and hadn’t found him by the time he decided sleep was the better option.

“Has Don been in since last night?” Tibs asked the server as she placed the plate and tankard before him.

“The last time, he was heating with you,” she said.

That had been before the run.

“He’ll turn up,” Mez said.

“Not if he’s at the guild,” Jackal pointed out.

“Wouldn’t the guards be here by now?” the archer asked.

“Maybe he’s letting Tibs stew and worry,” the fighter replied. “You know how Don is.”

The guild building was one place he couldn’t sense from the outside, and not well inside because of all the weaves that made it out. Don might be hiding there, but that would mean he at least suspected Tibs could sense people and track them that way. The sorcerer was smart, but had Tibs done anything that could lead him to think that?

* * * * *

As far as Tibs could determine, Don was not within the guild building. His excuse to go had been a training session with Alistair, but his way of determining it had been to ask around if anyone had seen Don. As with the server, anyone who had, had seen him before their run.

“Can multiple people work on the same etching?” Tibs asked while he practiced forming Jir.

“Of course,” Alistair replied. “Anyone who has learned a specific etching can then make it.”

“No, I mean on the same etching, at the same time.”

“You mean rituals?”

Tibs shrugged. It wasn’t like he’d asked the Dragoling what it was called.

“That’s more the area of weaving,” his teacher said, “because etching requires sustained focus to determine its effect, and that’s difficult to achieve with multiple people involved.”

Unless they were created by the same dungeon and might have the same way of thinking.

“Now,” his teacher said, “use that focus on your practice instead of asking questions.”

* * * * *

“Are you sure?” Lamberto asked.

“What?” Tibs asked back, looking at the noble rogue and the lock he held. Lamberto had found him at the inn and asked if Tibs had the time to help him train. More because Lamberto had asked, instead of demanded, than because he felt he needed the distraction, Tibs had agreed.

“Are you sure this is the tension bar I should use?” he took a thin one from his roll of tools. “It seems flimsy.”

Why had he told him to use that one? Had said that? “Which one do you think you should use?” He might as well turn this into a different lesson then.

“You’re distracted.” Lamberto ran a finger over the set of tension bars, from the thinnest to the thickest, discreetly watching Tibs, who didn’t react. Then he took one, compared it to the lock’s opening, then another.

“Trouble with a teammate,” Tibs finally admitted, as Lamberto inserted it and then selected a pick.

“Those happen,” the noble said, moving the pick and testing the tumblers. “My brothers are always bickering about the team. If Father let them, they’d each go off and form their own.”

“Why won’t he?” Tibs was surprised. Silus had seemed to defer to Palden for every decision during their run.

“Punishment, I think.” Lamberto loosened the tension too much and the tumblers unset. “Their rivalry played a part in why we had to move here. So he’s forcing them to work together.”

“That’s going to get you killed.”

“I don’t think so,” he replied with confidence, then was quiet as he went back to testing the tumblers. “They’ve realized that if we don’t all work together, we aren’t going to make it through, so they set that aside for the runs.” He smirked, but it might be because the lock clicked open. “Then they pick those right up once we’re done.” He pulled the shackle, turned it and locked it again. “I’m sure your teammate will set the problem aside for your next run.”

Tibs wished he believed that, but after four days of the occasional search amidst everything else keeping him busy and no success in locating the sorcerer. He was worried about what he might be planning.

* * * * *

Tibs sensed the Gamma level adventurer with earth as their element approach the inn and he considered running. That there was only one was to his advantage, but Gamma meant… he didn’t know what it meant, other than the guild thought it was all that they needed to bring him in. Was that because Don hadn’t worked out enough to provide an accurate description of Tibs’s abilities, or because there was so much more Tibs didn’t know about higher ranking adventurer?

The latter, he decided. Don wouldn’t underestimate him at this point.

So he stayed in his seat, but put most of the paper in his satchel. No point in looking like he was ready to go, but he didn’t want to delay this anymore than he had to. He only had the week’s account when the adventurer stopped by the table and waited.

What he saw of him out of the corner of his eye didn’t fit an adventurer, so he looked up at the fidgeting clerk. He was well dressed, and had the medallion around his neck that Tibs had worked out only the higher ranked clerks had. 

“Mister Light-Fingers?” he almost stammered. Had he meant for it to be a question. He continued, in a trembling voice. “I have been tasked with escorting you to guild leader Tirania’s office.” Was he scared? “It’s such an honor.”

Tibs stared, and the man fidgeted more. This was not the behavior he expected of someone tasked with bringing him in. But he’d also expected Irdian to be who Tibs would be taken to. With Tirania, he might be able to minimize the damage Don had caused him. Maybe even turn it to his advantage by offering his serviced to her? No, that wouldn’t work. He wasn’t some adventurer in the wild; the guild owned him.

He put the last papers in the satchel and stood. He handed it to Kroseph as they walked by it. “See to it Darran gets it.” He continued before the server got over his surprise. He’d written a note informing the merchant to take over as best as he could if he didn’t hear from Tibs in a few days. However this turned out, Tibs didn’t see getting out of this without some time in the cells.

“Can I ask you something?” The clerk asked uncertainly. Tirania had picked an odd one to bring Tibs in. Was this to set him at ease? Make him think there was a chance he could run. “Did you really go into the dungeon alone to take on that renegade?” There was an odd eagerness in the tone. “I know you protected Kragle Rock, I was here for the last attacks, but I’d never think a Runner would go and defend a dungeon. Not after the way it’s used to make your life miserable.”

What was the man after? Tibs admitting about considering Sto a friend? That Sto was a person, after a fashion, instead of just some creature? He couldn’t refuse to answer, so he settled on a mix of it and lies.

“I didn’t go in to save the dungeon. I wanted to keep Bardik from doing something he’d get punished for. We were friends. Or I thought we were.”

“Did you know he was planning on destroying it?”

This couldn’t be about making him an accomplice, could it? They had Bardik already. “No. I figured he was up to something, but us rogues always are.”

“Yes, you are.” The man laughed and seemed finally at ease. “Like you and the ‘racket’ of yours.” Tibs heard the sarcasm in the word. “If the commander didn’t have a sword planted so firmly up his ass, he’d see that you’re just doing the same as his guards, only going about it in way that those who don’t trust him can accept.”

“I don’t think Irdian would see anything with that up there.”

The man looked at him in surprise, then burst out laughing. “No, I guess he’d be busy dealing with the pain. Although with Metal as his element, he might not have to feel it. I can minimize the damage earth attacks cause me,” he added at Tibs’s raised eyebrow. “And he’s much stronger than I am.”

“You don’t like him much?” he risked. This had to be about getting Tibs to be at ease, so he would say something incriminating.

The man sighed. “I don’t like his type. More interested in the rules than in doing good for the people living under them.”

“That seems like an odd attitude,” Tibs said, “considering you work for the guild.”

“What do you mean?” there was an eagerness in the question that felt authentic, and put Tibs on guard. Was that it? Get him to admit he hated the guild? Don could have told them that, couldn’t he?

“The guild left us to fend for ourselves when Sebastian attacked.”

“Oh no, they didn’t. From what I was told, because the siege took place when the dungeon had closed its door, we didn’t have a lot of people here, and they were busy defending guild properties from his attacks. It’s why Tirania tasked you and Don with banding the runners to defend the city, isn’t it?”

There was no light on any of the words. This man believed everything he’d been told about how things had supposedly gone down. Was he really what he seemed like? Some person overly eager to meet Tibs? To meet the hero of Kragle Rock? There was something of Lamberto, the first time they met, in the man’s smile and tone.

He nodded. All he’d do in trying to convince this man he’d been lied to, about the events, was be to make himself sound desperate to turn him against the guild. He’d seen how those inside it were. Even Alistair, with all his good intentions, went along with how the guild worked. Tibs saw no results of his claims of trying to change things from the inside.

His guard kept talking, an eager recounting of Tibs’s exploits, wrapped within an altered version of what had taken place. The guild didn’t outright claim he and Don had acted purely under its instructions, but there was a strong hinting that Tirania had been the guiding hand behind every element of defense that had taken place.

In the distance, he sensed someone with corruption ‘appear’ within his sense as they exited the guild. It would be Don, the power level matched, and the only others Tibs could think would be here were the corruption sorcerers, but they would be by the pool and much stronger than the one now walking away.

So, Don hadn’t wanted to be there to witness Tibs being brought in? It made sense; the sorcerer wasn’t brave, and he couldn’t know what Tibs might be capable in the seconds they were together and people still underestimated him.

The thing was, Tibs realized, he didn’t want to hurt Don. There was anger, but mainly disappointment. He’d wanted to talk things out this time. He’d tried, but it was the sorcerer who had managed to stay hidden—probably in the guild—and had caused things to escalate. The man vanished from his sense as he walked out of Tibs’s range amidst one of the small merchant plazas that were becoming numerous.

Still, Tibs would do what he had to do to turn the situation to his advantage, even if it meant making Don seem like someone whose mind had been eaten by the dungeon. How far he could push the idea Don had lied to them would depend on if the guild had a way to know if Tibs had more than one element. He couldn’t see how they would. As far as the guild was concerned, it was impossible to gain more than one element.

Or so everyone had told him. Most of whom were people within the guild, or who got their information from someone inside the guild.

Maybe going in was not a good idea.

He considered running as the building came into view, but there were now a lot more people with elements in the street, on its side and among the alleys. Some were Runners, but there were a lot of people with much stronger elements among them. And were those watching him and his escort? Were they there because this was Tibs’s last chance to run?

They’d stop him if he tried. And he would have branded himself as guilty of whatever Don had told them.

Since Tirania was who Tibs was going to see, and he’d showed himself to be her ally. Running wasn’t needed.

Right?

They entered the guild building without fanfare. Without much of anything. Greetings were exchanged, some waved and a few pointed, but it was all much like anytime Tibs had walked in. Everyone withing the guild seemed to know each other.

No one followed or took position around them as they proceeded through the corridors until they reach a door Tibs could tell was Tirania’s, since he was no longer affected by the weaves of confusion that were in the walls.

His escort knocked and gave him a smile. Was that supposed to be encouraging?

“Come in.”

His escort opened the door and motioned for him to enter.

She looked up from the paper she read, her expression weary. The stack of them on her desk was thick. “Sit,” she ordered, then went back to reading. Could those all be because of what Don had told her?

Had he been here all this time, not hiding, as Tibs thought, but telling his story? Whatever that was?