Stepping Wild (Dungeon Runner 04)

"More Ale!" Charlie yelled over the room's conversations.

Tibs had planned for them to go over the job. Workout what had gone their way, what had caught them unprepared, since it had been their first one together.

The others had, instead, dragged him to a tavern in a better part of the city and ordered food and too much ale for his liking. Uzoma didn't drink as much, but he had glasses of something stronger than their tankards of ale.

"I thought we agreed not to draw the attention of the Master's people," Tibs said.

"Like any of them will have noticed," Charlie replied. "It went off flawlessly. So I'm spending my share enjoying good food and good drinks with my friends."

Uzoma smirked. "If you were serious about what you drank. You wouldn't be drinking ale."

"For each one of those." Charley pointed to the glass in the archer's hand, barely half the volume of a tankard. "I get four of these." He brought his tankard to his lips and downed the content. He slammed it on the table with a satisfied sigh.

"We each celebrate success in our own way," Cynta said.

Tibs moved his hand before hers landed where it had been. The smile she gave him said she enjoyed this game they were playing.

He'd have to explain it wasn't a game. But now wasn't the time.

"So," the fighter said, once the server had brought filled tankards and left with his empty ones. "What is your story, Thibaud?"

"I told you." Tibs focused on cutting the thick slab of meat on his plate. "Revenge."

"But what drove you to that?" Charlie asked, leaning forward.

"Death," he replied, tone cold. As cold as Mama's body as he huddled against it. The laughter of the men came on the heel of that memory. How dangerous the Street became without her to shield him from it. How immense the buildings; walls so high he couldn't imagine anything existed beyond them. "That noble caused my mother's death."

Cynta's hand was on his before he realized it had moved. "I am so sorry."

He yanked it out. "I'm fine." His voice was harsher than he'd intended. The discomfort of her touch, he told himself.

"I've been that kind of fine," Uzoma said casually. "It didn't go well for me."

Tibs shrugged and forcefully calmed his tone. "I will be fine. Once she has payed."

"Why didn't you make her pay then? In your city?" Charlie asked.

Tibs snorted. "I couldn't do it there." Memories surfaced again. Impressions of buildings on each side of him as he struggled for food. Learned to pick pockets, and received pain for each failure. Found locks, worked them. Even roofs, as good as they had been, were nothings more than a field spreading around him with ideas of the buildings under them, or growing higher. Even the cell and the transportation platforms weren't clear anymore.

It wasn't the first time he remembered those times. But even when the memories had been clearer, when he'd been a Runner and had access to a platform, he'd hadn't been able to find one detail in them that told him which of the cities within the Pursatian Kingdom was the one he'd lived in.

He doubted he'd even know his Street anymore.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Charlie whispered. "It must have been hard, seeing that happen and not be able to do anything about it."

Tibs shook the guard's laughter out of his ears; the man was nothing more than a silhouette now, no details of the tabard that might hint at the city. He forced the anger down. "He'll pay," he whispered. "They'll all pay."

"And I'm going to help you," Charlie said, raising his tankard. "We all will, right?"

"Considering I'm getting enough money out of this, I'll never have to worry again." Uzoma raised his glass. "You can be sure of that."

"We'll help you avenge her," Cynta said, smiling as she raised her tankard.

Tibs raised his, fighting to keep his emotions in check. They weren't his friends. They were only the team he'd put together so he could accomplish his goal. "Thank you."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Then they focused on the food and the drinks.

* * * * *

The arm slipping into his caught Tibs by surprise, and Cynta spoke before he moved away. "I'm serious about helping you." She leaned against him. "Whatever you need. I'm here for you." The lack of light on the words made it too much, and he pulled his arm out as gently as he could. Her expression told him he hadn't been all that gentle.

He'd left the others as they laughed after the meal and drinks and talks of what they'd do with their share. He'd claimed to being tired, but their constant attempts at including him in their future had been grating. He'd been thinking about what else he needed, to get in the university and hadn't been paying attention to his sense.

"We need to talk about this," he said, taking her arm and leading her into an alley. Once he sensed no one in their immediate vicinity, he stopped and faced her. "I'm not interested."

"I don't understand." Light wrapped her words.

"I'm not interested in being your guy, special or otherwise."

"I'm not—" the brightness on them made him look at her incredulously. "Alright, but it's for the job."

"No, it's not." He hadn't needed the light on the words to know that. He'd seen plenty of people with the look she'd given him, had been on the receiving end of too many over the years. "The job hasn't started, so you don't need to look at me the way you do. I can play at being your man once it starts, but I'm not interested in that the rest of the time."

"Oh." Her disappointment was replaced by a smile. She stepped forward. "That doesn't mean you have to spend your nights alone."

He caught her hand before it reached his chest. "I don't want that."

Now her smile turned knowing. "You like guys."

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I don't like anyone!"

She stared at him. "How can you not like lying in bed with someone?"

Why did it always have to go this way? "I don't know."

"Maybe you haven't found the right—"

"Abyss, just stop! I don't want to find anyone. Whatever you feel at the idea of being with someone, I don't feel it. I never have."

"But—"

"No."

"But maybe—"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"That's so strange."

Tibs shrugged. "Get with Charlie or Uzoma. Have a good time. You aren't going to get that with me."

"I'd rather be with you."

He barely stifled the exasperation. "Cynta, I just—"

"No, not that. You're comfortable to be around. I don't have to be anyone when it's just us." She shrugged. "Like when we were at the theater. You didn't look at me strangely when I told Herns to call me Cynta, or when it was obvious I used to be one of them."

"I already knew Cynta wasn't your name. Just like you know Thibaud isn't mine. And why would I care you were part of a theater? At least you aren't a bard."

She chuckled. "You'd be surprised how theater folk get treated in this city if you aren't with a 'real' theater. They might as well be thieves and thugs."

"Your theater isn't a real one?" It had looked real enough; not that he knew what went into making a real one.

"They can't afford the city's permits. The patron of a certain theater made sure the cost increased to the point that only those with the right connections managed to afford them."

"Is that what you'll do with your cut? Help them get the permits?"

She hesitated. "I want to help them, but I don't know if it's going to be enough. I also don't want to tie myself to the city. Every season needs a new permit. If I become their patron, I have to remain here and…I'd like to see the rest of the world at some point."

"Have a Money Holder deal with it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How is one of them going to help the theater?"

"Don't you know what they do?"

"They hold people's money," she replied flatly. "It's in their title."

He chuckled. "They do so much more than that. Let's find a quiet tavern and I'll explain."

* * * * *

She looked at him suspiciously. "How do you know so much about Money Holders?" she asked once he'd explained the other things they did that would help her and the theater.

"I've had to make use of them a time or two."

There had been those he'd wanted to help, but where just handing them all the coins they'd ever need wouldn't work. The mistakes he'd made learning that lesson had been difficult to fix; when he'd been able to. Figuring out how to ensure they receive only what they needed, when they needed it, had led him to find out the other functions Money Holders dealt with.

"And they see to it the money they hold grows?" she asked, sounding doubtful.

"The good ones. They explained how they do it, and I got a headache from it. It's about how the market works. Helping the right merchant with the money we give them, and getting some back over time, which they used to hand out what you've arranged for them to hand to the people you picked. In this case, the theater."

That way, he'd set up some people for a long time. He'd wanted them set for life, but the amount of money needed for that hadn't been something he could hand over to Money Holders without raising question he didn't want asked.

"They take a fee from the money that is returned to them, and the rest goes back into your purse. With the right holder, and a light drain on the purse, they can stretch what you give them for many years."

"Why don't they just leave with the money I give them?"

"That's part of what goes into finding a good one. Those, I've been told, understand they can make more money from what they do than just taking what you give them. And they can't do that for long. Other Money Holders aren't going to let them. Ask the merchant who helps them. With how this city works, the Merchant's office probably keeps track of them and who's reliable."

"I doubt they'll just tell me."

He chuckled. "I doubt they'll tell Cynta, the theater person, but a merchant who's come into success and wants to help another business? I'm sure that woman can convince the Merchant's Office to point them at the right Money Holder. Once it's arranged, you can leave the city without worrying about what happens to your friends."

Her expression turned speculative as she sipped her ale. "That's what happened, isn't it? That noble did the bad Money Holder thing. Took all the money you had and left. That's why you know so much about them, isn't it?"

He shrugged, raising his tankard to his lips. He hadn't planned on that being part of the lie, but it also served him better by remaining speculation instead of him confirming it.