Bottom Rung, page 13
“It’s water.” Tibs discreetly focused on what Bardik wore, trying to see what, if anything, was magical, but the man took his chin in his fingers again.
“Are you sure?” He searched his eyes the way Tibs had searched empty cupboards for scraps of food.
“Alistair says it’s because of my age.”
Bardik released him. “I’m going to have to take his word for it. I’ve never heard of anyone having an element and not the matching eye color, but you are the youngest person I’ve heard of managing it. Water’s not bad. With some practice you can shape it into a knife and other tools.”
Tibs followed the other rogue, mulling over what he’d said while looking at the man. As far as his eyes told him, everything he wore was mundane.
“But I’m not the youngest to go into a dungeon.”
“No.” The rogue’s expression darkened, but when he spoke, he sounded more sad than angry. “About sixty years ago was the last time a dungeon appeared before this one. That was right after a war, so you can see how the kingdoms were strapped for people to send.” He fell silent. When he spoke again, he was angry. “So they sent us children, and the guild fed them to the dungeon.”
Bardik stopped rubbing his left wrist when he noticed Tibs looking, but this time, instead of looking away, Tibs looked at the man expectantly.
“That’s not when I broke the rules and earned this,” he said. “It should have been, but I was a brand new adventurer and believed every lie the guild fed me.” Tibs continued looking. “That’s all you’re getting, and stop looking when I rub it, it’s rude. I’m trying to break the habit, but the damned thing itches.”
“You know you won’t always have it, right?”
“Oh?” Bardik glared at him. “And you’re an expert on them all of a sudden?”
Tibs shrugged. “Alistair had one. He still rubs his wrist. He said he did his tasks, and they removed it.”
“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t believe everything you’re told,” the man snapped. “You want to practice, or keep filling my head with other things ‘you’ve been told’?”
“You don’t have to be nasty about it,” Tibs mumbled, then spoke up. “I want to practice.”
“This isn’t me being nasty, Tibs.” The man forced out a slow breath. “It’s me being annoyed that someone who grew up on the street, and survived to reach your age, still believes what someone in power tells you.”
“So what do you want me to do? Stay away from everyone? Be alone all the time? At least Alistair isn’t going to die on me, like everyone else has in this place.”
“Oh, he can die,” Bardik said with a dark chuckle. “No one’s immune to that. Not even Gammas or Betas.”
“And what are you?”
The man went back to rubbing his wrist. “I was Delta. I’m Kappa now.”
Tibs went over the ranks and realized what that meant. “You can go down?” he exclaimed.
“No, you can’t go down,” Bardik replied, his expression darkening. “You’ve got to be forced down.”
“The guild?” he asked as they reached their usual training ground, the building still at the same level of un-construction.
“You know anyone else with that kind of power?” the rogue asked, handing Tibs a knife; he still didn’t know where it had come from.
“I’m Street,” Tibs said, taking the knife. “I don’t know anyone with any kind of power.” He stepped away and turned to face the rogue.
Bardik smiled. “Tibs, when you call yourself that, you should put all the pride you can muster in it.” He took a fighting stance and motioned for the young rogue to come at him.
Chapter 15
“Did you hear?” someone yelled as they entered the mess hall. “A team made it out of the dungeon without losing anyone!”
The silence that had begun to fall over the occupied tables, a quarter of the room, broke. It was not a piece of news that was that surprising to Tibs; everyone was getting more powerful. And most people had an element, based on the color of their eyes, so it was bound to happen at some point.
The announcer looked around. Her clothing was in better condition than most. More and more of the rogues knew about the secret cubby, so the quality of the clothing the surviving Runners wore had gone up. Some even wore magical shirts or pants, providing a little more armor.
She frowned as the conversation went back to full force. “They got to keep almost all the loot they found!”
The tent fell silent, everyone looking at her. She nodded and conversations exploded, filled with new energy. Now they all knew what the incentive to keep other party members alive was. Tibs also realized it would affect how teams formed. Encourage people to create theirs, instead of letting them be randomly assigned by the adventurers. If the goal was for everyone to survive, they’d want the right mix of ability and experience.
People looked each other over in the tent. They looked right over Tibs. But now it might no longer be because of his short size, but because of his eyes. Those who had their element had no interest in saddling themselves with someone without theirs. Close to two dozen of the occupants had normal eyes.
Tibs wished he could tell those ignoring him they were wrong. His eyes weren’t indicative of a lack of element, but even those who’d seen him train—no, especially those—ignored him. He’d trained alone, since Alistair had been busy with guild work, and tried to do more than summon a little water before he was out of breath. Even his ice balls were more pebbles, and throwing one left him panting hard.
Because he didn’t get tired if he kept the water in contact with him, the last thing he’d done under Alistair’s watchful eyes was spread it over his hand and then his arm, coating it in a thin film. Tibs hadn’t thought much of it, but Alistair smiled.
“This will help ensure you survive to do more.”
He looked around. Surviving as everyone ignored him wasn’t fun. The humor hit him as someone called his name. He’d spent his time on the street doing everything he could to be ignored, and now he was unhappy about it.
“Tibs Light-Fingers!” the adventurer called, adding the extra part this time.
Tibs groaned and stood. Had Bardik told everyone about it?
“You Tibs?” he asked as he approached. He nodded. “Grab your gear, you have a team waiting for you to enter a dungeon.”
Tibs ran out. He had a team. He wasn’t giving them a chance to change their mind, and it wasn’t like he had gear to collect.
* * * * *
Tibs stopped as the adventurer who handed him the shirt and knife indicated a group of four. Tibs had expected at least one of them to be someone he knew. It had been how it happened the previous times. Did it mean none of his last team had survived?
He watched those strangers as he approached, putting on the shirt. A woman, a fighter by the sword she held, noticed him, and her bright red eyes widened. “Oh, they can’t be serious!” She looked over him. “What’s the big idea saddling us with a kid! And one without an element!”
“Stow the attitude,” the man next to her said. Another fighter, shorter than her but more muscular. “Are you Tibs?” he asked, ignoring her glare. His eyes were the reddish-brown of those who had earth as their element.
“Yes,” he answered hesitatingly.
“Good.” He smiled. “I asked for you. Arch told me about you.”
“You what?” the woman demanded.
“Who is Arch?” Tibs asked, trying to remember who he could have met by that name.
“That’s not his name, sorry. He was an archer, from before I graduated. I didn’t really bother with names back then. This tall, nice guy, like he was your brother or best friend.”
“Oh!” Tibs smiled. “How is he? I haven’t—”
The fighter’s face fell. “He didn’t make it out of that run. Got blindsided by a rock rabbit. Anyway, I’m Jackal, an earth fighter. That’s— Are you okay?”
Tibs nodded, swallowing the pain. Another person he’d known dead. He wished they could stop dying. Or that he could stop getting attached.
“That’s Claudia, she’s a fire fighter. Over there is Walter, a water sorcerer, and I am not kidding about the name.” The sorcerer rolled his eyes. “And the lovely lady is Zarkane, wood archer. Tibs will be our rogue. Arch said he has an eye for details, and that any team would be lucky to have him.”
Tibs straightened, pride at someone saying good about him raising his spirit.
“If you hadn’t picked up on it,” Zardane said, “Jack fancies himself our leader.”
“Jackal, please,” the fighter replied. “Jack’s just some common name everyone and their sisters can have.” He grinned. “Jackal, now that’s dignified.”
Claudia shook her head in annoyance. “You have clearly no—”
“Listen up!” an approaching adventurer called to them. “Since the five of you are Upsilon, things are going to work differently.”
Walter looked at Tibs, surprised, but before he could speak, the adventurer continued.
“This one time you get to pick the equipment you’ll use. You can use the standard crap you’ve been getting, and if your whole team returns, you get to keep it along with everything you find, minus the usual ten percent. Your other alternative is to get a guild-quality version and pay it back over your next runs. In that case, we take half your cut until it’s paid off.”
Jackal raised his sword. “Couldn’t we have been told that before we got everything handed?”
“I’m telling you now. You want to decide or not?”
“Do we at least get to see what’s on offer before we decide?” Claudia asked.
The adventurer smiled. “Of course. We wouldn’t expect less from a discerning adventurer.” He led them to another table and Tibs looked for Bardik. If he got to pick something, he was the only person he trusted to help, but the older rogue wasn’t around.
The armor they offered was hardened leather, and the weapons seemed to only be undamaged versions of what they already had. The man behind the table placed a smaller armor on it.
“We even have something that’ll fit you,” he told Tibs. The buckles had play, so it could be made to fit properly. “Go on, put it on. It’s the best you can find.”
The words put Tibs on edge, and Bardik’s warning came back. Should he trust that man just because he was older and more experienced? What was even ‘guild quality’? And another thing that hadn’t been mentioned.
“How much?” he asked, picking up the knife. It looked like the worn one he was given, but it was lighter, the balance was better, and this one had an edge.
“It’s half what you find from each run until it’s paid off,” The man said.
“But how much do I have to pay off?” he asked. He knew how scammers worked. The street was filled with them.
The smile the man gave him was filled with condescension. “Don’t you worry that little mind of yours, we’ll keep track of that for you.”
Claudia smiled. “Oh, I so want to hear the excuse you’ll give me when I ask how much I’m going to have to pay for this.” She put the armor and a sword before the man.
He fixed his gray eyes on her. “Are you implying the guild would try to swindle you, young lady?”
She leaned on the table. “Buddy, where I come from, I kick guys in the nuts for calling me that. Are you, or aren’t you going to answer Tibs’s question? How much is this going to cost?”
The adventurer looked like he’d rather be elsewhere, then finally said, “Each set is a hundred silver.”
Tibs stared, then looked around to try to get a sense of how much more than he imagined a hundred was, and in silver? How did anyone get silver? Then he remembered the silver they’d found at the bottom of the warrens, so maybe it wasn’t as impossible as he thought it was.
“That sounds like a lot,” Zarkane said, looking over the armor before her. “I can’t speak to most of this stuff, and definitely not about the amulet, but while the leatherwork on this is decent, my dad would be beheaded if he tried to sell it for more than a handful of silver.”
“Young—” The adventurer stopped at the glare the archer gave him. “Miss, the guild can’t control how little armor goes for where you’re from, but here a hundred silver for that, the bow, and the arrows, are a fair value.”
“And this is a one-time offer, right?” Jackal asked, putting the armor down. “We don’t take it now, and it’s never coming back. We’re going to have to let the merchants fleece us.”
“Exactly!” the adventurer exclaimed. “I’m glad one of you understands the privilege you are being afforded here.”
“What do you say, Tibs?” Jackal asked, and Tibs just stared at the man for a few seconds, too surprised to form words.
“Where I’m from,” he finally said, turning to address the adventurer. “That’s the street,” he clarified for Jackal, “you don’t take the first offer on anything, especially not when there’s no one around selling the same thing.”
“Wise words,” Jackal said before the adventurer could respond. “So, what do you say to a little haggling?”
The adventurer straightened. “The guild doesn’t haggle.”
“Street rule it is,” the fighter answered. “I’ll pass.” He pushed the armor away.
“I wouldn’t pay half that for armor like this,” Zarkane said, “and if it’s indicative of what to expect, the bow isn’t worth it either.”
“How certain are you?” Walter looked from Tibs to Jackal. “I’ve looked in town, and no one sells charge stones.”
Tibs bit his lower lip. Were they right to go by his experience?
“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Walter,” Jackal said, his tone understanding, “but I agree with Tibs. Street rules, it’s never a good idea to buy from the person who owns the market.”
“But if there’s no one else,” the adventurer said, grinning, “what else can you do?”
“You aren’t helping your case,” Walter said. He took the amulet, then sighed. “But I don’t have a choice. The free one isn’t going to do me any good now that I have an element, I know that just touching it. This has a deeper reserve, and it’s made for actual essence, not whatever the other one contains.”
Jackal placed a silver on the table. “If you feel it’s that important, get it. I’ll help you pay it back.”
“Jack, you can’t—”
“It’s Jackal, please. And the only way we get to keep the loot we find is if we all survive. That is going to be a lot harder if you don’t have access to your element, which is what it sounds like you said the crappy amulet would cause. My element means I’m not going to need armor or the sword, so I can spare the coins.”
Claudia placed a silver coin next to Jackal’s. “You’re right. I made it through all my runs with crappy armor and sword, and I have my element now.”
“I’m in,” Zarkane said, putting a coin down. “You better not die, Walter. Otherwise, I am going to be pissed.”
Tibs looked at the coins and closed his hand on the roll in his pocket. He couldn’t decide what to do. Walter was going to die, he just knew it. Was it worth giving coins if there was no doubt of that?
Only, now they had an element, and that made them more powerful—maybe more powerful than the dungeon? If Walter died because Tibs hadn’t helped, or even if he survived, would they want him to stay on the team? Teams were supposed to help one another.
When he noticed the fighter looking at him, he made his decision and realized he had another problem. He motioned to a spot away from the others. “Jackal, can we talk?”
“Don’t let him pressure you into buying it just yet,” the fighter told Walter. He followed Tibs until they were out of easy earshot. “What’s up? Are you going to be insulted if I say ‘what’s down?’” Tibs shook his head. “Look Tibs, you don’t have to help. If you don’t have the—”
“How much copper is a silver worth?” he asked in a whisper, glancing to make sure no one was paying them attention.
Jackal looked at him. “You don’t know?”
Tibs shook his head. “I’ve never seen a whole coin before here.”
“And you mean copper, right? Wow, and I always thought I was as street as it got. Just where are you from, Tibs?”
Tibs shrugged.
“Didn’t you ask the merchants? You have looked at what they sell, right?”
“I bought a needle. I’ve been keeping the rest until I know what to do with it. I want to help, I want to be part of the team, but I just have copper. If I don’t have enough and you have an extra copper, I can give it back after the run. There’s silver in the warrens. I don’t remember how many, but even with whatever the ten percent is, I’ll be able to repay it, right?” he asked hopefully.
Jackal looked thoughtful. “You know, I hadn’t even thought about the warrens.”
“But you said that us surviving was the only way to keep all the loot.”
“Yeah, but I was only thinking of the copper. Keeping most of them adds up a lot faster than just one or two.”
Tibs narrowed his eyes at the man. “What kind of street are you from that money isn’t the most important thing? How do you pay for your food if you don’t steal it?”
Jackal smiled. “Tibs, I’m a fighter. I kick and I punch for a living. When I win, I don’t have to worry about paying for my meals. When I lose, I’m in too bad a shape to care about food.”
Tibs nodded. “So how much for a silver?”
“Here it’s fifteen copper to a silver. The guild enforces it. Elsewhere, where your copper is from will affect how much it takes.”
Tibs pushed the why that could be—copper was copper after all—away, and took out his roll, handing it to Jackal. “I don’t know what’s fifteen.” Unsure there would be enough in the roll, he broke the thread at the hem of his pant leg and took the three coppers there and the five he had stitched inside his shirt.
