Stepping Wild (Dungeon Runner 04)

The house Charlie took Tibs to was a few blocks away from the city's largest market, instead of an office on Office street, or one of the businesses in the market, since they were all open at this time.

The neighborhood was one where people Tibs considered the Well-to-Do, but who still had to work for the coins they had, lived. The houses were well kept, and the decorations simple.

The door opened after Charlie knocked, and a woman ushered them in, remaining demure even after looking them over and noting their shabbier attire for the area. He asked after Nariss, the scribe he was taking Tibs to meet, and she guided them up a flight of steps and a closed door before leaving them there.

Charlie knocked, and the person Tibs sensed on the other side didn't immediately move from the desk they were bent over.

Then they crossed the room and opened it with an annoyed and tired, "What?" the man looked at the two of them; he looked as tired as he sounded. He took a slow breath. "Hi, Charlie. What can I do for you?"

"Do you mind if we come in, Nariss? I'd rather not have one of the servants overhear us."

With a snort, the man stepped aside. "Stay away from the desk." On it were neat stacks of papers next to the slanted board scribes always seem to prefer over a desk's top. It had a lone page on it with the neat letters, lines, and boxes of a form some customer would be expected to fill. Behind the board were lines of ink bottles and pots. More than Tibs thought a scribe might need, there were multiples of the same colors. On the other side of the board were quills, a straightedge and a fine knife.

He bit back the question about what use a knife was when inking, by reminding himself they were here for a specific purpose. He willed an etching of Air in the walls and floor to keep their words from escaping.

"We need your help," Charlie whispered, looking at the door over his shoulder.

"I'm not interested in whatever you're planning this time, Charlie." Nariss motioned to the desk. "I'm busy making these forms."

"We'll pay you. Enough to have your sister looked after."

The scribe snorted. "Then I definitely want nothing to do with it. I'm not risking her recovery on any scheme of yours that you think is going to bring in that kind of money."

"She's still unwell?" Tibs asked. From how Charlie had told it, he'd been left with the impression this had happened months before. That'd she'd been roughed up by the Master's thugs for the unapproved fights she'd taken part of.

"She might never be well," Nariss replied, anger fighting with exhaustion. "I have to keep paying the cleric looking after her." He motioned to the desk again. "I can't risk the work I'm getting paid to do on whatever you're planning."

"What did the Master have done to her? Charlie only said she was beaten because of the fights."

He glared at the fighter. "That's what you called what was done to her? A beating?" he turned it on Tibs. "Both legs broken to the point she'll never walk right. Her sword arm so shattered the cleric doesn't know if he can mend it. And there's something going on with her head. A glut of something or other, the cleric said, that I don't remember what. And they need to be careful with that, otherwise they're going to make her worse."

"I thought magic could fix everything," Charlie said.

"If you're a high noble or a king. All I can afford is the best the hospice has."

"What if you could pay for a better cleric?" As much as he wanted to help directly, Tibs didn't have the skill to heal something a trained cleric couldn't. His etchings were more about focusing Purity on the injury and letting his body do the work.

"Then I know I want nothing to do with either of you. If you're willing to pay me that much, it's going to put my work at risk."

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"It won't, Nariss, I swear." Charlie said. "It's just a bit of work for a big score."

"I said no, Charlie. Something that big always comes with big risks."

"They wouldn't be yours," the fighter insisted,

Nariss snorted. "Until the guards catch you and you give me up."

"I'd never do that. You know me."

"Him then." Nariss pointed to Tibs. "I don't know him. And don't tell me the guards aren't going to be looking. It's been doubled recently."

"What if the Master is the one caught and punished for what we do?" Tibs had been thinking over an angle that would convince the scribe as soon as Charlie had told him who had arranged for the sister to be beaten. He'd said that all it would take would to make the Master look bad, but it didn't look like that would be enough.

And it would help a lot of other people to have the guards remove the Master.

Nariss stared at him. "What?"

"What we're planning is big. Someone will have to pay for it. I don't plan on it being any of us. And the Master has caused me problems. I'm sure we can use the increased guards to our advantage so that he's the one blamed once it's all over."

"You can't do that."

Tibs smiled. "I don't let things I can't do stop me from doing them."

Nariss turned the lone chair and dropped on it. "Is he serious?"

Charlie shrugged. "Serious enough, he pulled me out of a beating I was about to get at the hand of the Master's people. None of us likes him, Nariss."

The man composed himself and looked at Tibs. "Alright. I want to know what I'll have to do before I agree to anything."

"We need official papers from a Kadalisarian noble family," he said. "And whatever's needed to show we traveled from that kingdom to here. We have the route we took. We need letters of introductions that will get us cozy with the high nobles here."

"I don't have any Kadalisarian papers," Nariss said.

"We can get you that," Tibs said, and the man rolled his eyes

"I can't use whatever cheap paper you find in an alley. Official government papers are made for that kingdom specifically. It's also possible the nobles there will have their own paper made. I'll have to ask at the office about that."

"I didn't know that," the fighter said, and Nariss shrugged.

"Can you get in trouble asking?" Tibs asked.

A shake of the head. "I'm always handed papers from other kingdoms as part of my work. If it's about their ink, I can tell you who uses what, and with a few tests, check that the one on the papers is the correct one. I don't deal with the paper directly, but that can affect the ink's behavior, so asking about them isn't out of the ordinary."

"Does your office have the right paper?"

"No. We don't make other kingdoms' documents."

"Won't the forgers' paper get sent to you when they get caught?" Charlie asked.

"Only if the guards need to know something about the work, or who did the work. I know most of the forger's marks, and Salize can identify who in the city made the paper. Once we're done with them, they go where the guards keep the evidence for crimes."

"I'd rather not steal from the guards," Tibs said at Charlie's look. "It's easier to have them not notice us that way. Can you find out who makes the right papers without making them suspicious?"

"Depends on how many kingdoms I ask about. She'll get suspicious if it's too many."

"How closely will the paper be studied when we hand the travel papers to the clerk here?"

"I don't know. I make forms, not go over the rules. If I'm guessing, I'd say that unless there's something else wrong with the papers, or you came through someplace we aren't on good terms with, they won't have a reason to look at the paper closely."

"Then, once you tell me who has the papers, I'll get extras."

"I can't tell you who had them, just who—" He stared at Tibs. "I haven't agreed to anything."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you don't want to help make the Master pay for what he had done to your sister?"

Nariss looked at Charlie, who just shrugged.

"All I can get you is who makes the papers. You'll have to hope they identify the bundles."

"I'll take everything."

"Won't that attract the Master's attention? Every forger pretty much works for him."

"You don't," Charlie said and earned himself a glare.

"I'm not a forger. This is a one-time thing. To make the Master pay."

"The Master won't know," Tibs said. "Paper is easy to be accidentally damaged." Especially since most papers were almost all wood essence. And if some weren't. There was always fire. Fire was hungry for papers.

"If you get me the right papers, I can make the inks for the travel papers. For the letter of introduction, it's on you to get me examples so I can match how they're written. We don't see those at the office."

"I'll get you that, as well as any information specific to the kingdoms we need extra travel papers for."

"Okay. Then about my pay."

"I thought you were doing this to make the Master pay," Charlie said, and was glared at again.

"How much do you need to get a cleric who can heal your sister?" Tibs asked.

Nariss stared at him. "I don't know. I never bothered asking because I knew I'd never be able to afford it."

"Ask. And that'll be what you get paid."

"Is he serious?" Nariss asked Charlie.

"I hope so, because he's leaving once it's done, and I'm staying. So I'm the one who'll have to deal with you being pissed."

"How ever this turns out," Tibs said, "you're getting the money so your sister is healed."