Stepping Wild (Dungeon Runner 04)

"Alright," the caravan master called. He was a lanky man, now dressed to show wealth rather than for the comfort of travel. "For the new ones with us. Stay with the caravan or the stalls. Toleris isn't a city kind to troublemakers. I'm not paying to get you out of whatever cell they throw you in."

The information was new to Tibs. Nothing in his reading about the city had indicated it was harsher on criminals than any other city. A learned city, one scholar had written, as a descriptive. It had the largest library in the kingdom of Fristirek, which was a reason why Tibs had picked this caravan.

The other had been that it had was closes to the Forest of the Lost.

Nothing he'd read about it hinted to monsters or creatures. There weren't even mentions of unusually large animals. The only thing he'd noted when reading about it was the reason behind the name. People who went in the forest rarely returned.

There were many, ordinary, reasons it happened.

The forest was large and dense. So getting lost and dying there would be common, as would be exiting elsewhere, but he'd expected that to be noted. People unable to explain how they'd found themselves some place were as noteworthy as all those vanishings. Even if there were no large animals, one could still die to a reasonably sized one. Or groups of them.

But, the possibility a dungeon was the cause couldn't be ignored.

And if he found nothing? One of the roads away from Toleris eventually reached the dungeon city of Durimar. He'd find a caravan to travel with, be thwarted yet again in his attempt to be a Runner, and move on to more searching from there.

He had time. Tibs had ample time.

Unlike all cities he remembered, the caravan market was immediately past the gate, instead of deep within the city, where all could reach it with the same ease. Many were next to the transportation platform, adding visitors as possible customers.

The stalls were well-made; of wood and stone. The sense of permanence was there. Nowhere was there space for hastily put up tents. Flowers and small trees took whatever space was present between stalls, adding a sense of comfort to the market's bustling traffic.

He spent the time helping the merchant setup, eager to see how else the city made itself comfortable for its citizens.

When the sun reached its zenith, Tibs and his team were done setting up the merchants they'd been assigned to, and they found the caravan master for their pay covering this leg of the journey.

Tibs didn't tell him he wasn't returning. He found he only warned them when he'd built a friendship. And this time he hadn't. It hadn't been him actively keeping the others from being close, but the guard leader ran things much like Tibs figured armies ran and it hadn't led to any friendship.

And he might return. Even the presence of the library, the largest in the kingdom, wasn't a guarantee he'd stay. The claim might be wrong. The subjects it covered might not be of help to him. A week was long enough to work that out.

He spent the rest of the day wandering the shops and taverns that lined the market place, speaking with the people behind and at the bar. There was even an inn offering rooms, and he saw a few merchants paying for them. As with any inn he'd eaten at, the food was better than the taverns, but he didn't stay long. He always found himself missing Kragle Rock and his friends there.

The reason for his conversation with barkeeps and their patrons didn't serve him as well here, as they usually did.

Taverns and the locals who frequented them were usually good places to get a sense of the city. They'd suggest other places to spend their coins, neighborhoods to avoid. Why their city was so much better than the previous one he'd come from, the next one he'd go to.

Everyone he asked answered him, but those answers came with an unexpected amount of light for how positive they were. He always expected some light. People would always exaggerate to make their city seem better than elsewhere, but so much outright lies? Especially when the answer to 'how did the city treat its workers?' was 'the city made sure everyone was well looked after.' 'How was the city better than Caustiran?' the next city destination of the caravan. 'In all ways, of course.' 'Were nobles fair to the city's less fortunate?' returned him a blazing 'the fairest of any city, of course.'

The one answer that was always dark was when he asked about the city guards. 'Dedicated to maintaining order.' 'Not people to cross, or to want chasing you.' 'Never resting.'

Nearly without fail, unless he asked about the guards, the people lied.

He'd tried to prod, asked specific questions that would let him work out the truth, but immediately the person turned nervous, worried, at times outright fearful. Not of him. They looked around when that happened, mumbled apologies, and moved away.

There had been no guards in the tavern, not even anyone paying them attention, not that a glance would reveal anyone skilled at eavesdropping.

Once darkness fell on the city, Tibs went looking for his answers.

Running the roofs proved more difficult than other cities.

Someone already owned them and was protective of them; and organized in doing so.

He'd expected to find someone in charge like the Master, or what Jackal described of his family, but enough oddities about those guarding the roofs registered to make him doubt thieves, however organized they might be, were responsible.

They did wear leathers, cut for running and quick motion, but there was a uniformity to their make he'd never seen among thieves. Even organized, thieves dressed as they would, as they needed for the work they did. Teams would share colors, and emblems, sometime design of armor, when obtained from the same merchants, but he'd never seen one place where everyone of them wore the same design, as if it was enforced by an unwavering authority.

The way the guard did.

And the layout of the watch posts also reminded him more of guards, with each set to cover as much of the roofs as they could, limiting the gaps, then thieves deciding this section was theirs and picking whatever was close to its center.

With them present, it was nearly impossible to run in a straight line for any amount of time. Staying to the blind spots was simple for him, and sensing those hiding in the shadows let him remain undetected. On top of that, unlike them, he didn't need light to see.

Another oddity was how empty the alleys were.

The only people he sensed, that night, walking them were guards.

Even cities that enforced curfews could never stop night people from going about their business.

Things turned stranger still once he reached the worse neighborhood of the city, with his building only standing because they leaned against each other. Where parts would fall during any storm and if people didn't mind the thunder, the following lightning could shatter lives along with buildings.

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He remembered people on the roofs, in his youth, holding the metal pikes. They couldn't be left there, otherwise someone would steal it and get a few broken coppers for the metal. He'd watched lighting strike one, it and the people who had held it smoking in the rain. Those still alive hurrying to grab it, raise it as thunder sounded again.

Here, the city's Street was filled with guards.

Short of tearing it down, for it to come back to life elsewhere in the city, this was the only way Tibs could think a city could keep life from continuing at night here.

But why would Torleris care what people got up to on the Street. Nothing that happened here left it.

Nearly every corner had a guard. Not taking advantage of the folks, or watching for anyone who might interrupt another one, taking their pleasure at the expense of the people here. They were alert, ready to…. What? Keep people from leaving their hovel?

Every building had someone it in. Cots filled floors. Some had fallen asleep at tables. A few had a room to their own, and now that he had Fever, he could tell when they slept, or were in the middle of sex.

Each time he caught sense of that left him wishing he could stop sensing that one element.

Why would a city keep people from moving about at night? Streetfolks, or anyone else. Even the nobles' neighborhoods only had guards in the streets, although not as many, and they didn't seem to be as attentive.

He eventually sensed night walkers. Just so few of them as to be meaningless.

He returned to the room he'd rented and slept. Once the day came, he'd visit the city and see what the light revealed.

* * * * *

The people Tibs walked by among the stalls were well dressed. All of them. Enough, he continued wandering, looking for anyone drawn to the market in the hopes of begging a few coins from those flush with them. Or liberating some without asking.

He saw no one in rags. No one in worn clothing. No one here only looking for things they would never be able to get. Even the poorest person Tibs saw had a purse heavy with coins.

He doubted this was because Torleris didn't have beggars. If that was the case, it wouldn't have a Street. People had to be able to fall lower to hang onto the hope begging could keep them living.

"Where do you think you're going?" the guard demanded, stepping away from the wall she'd been leaning against as Tibs stepped past the shop to continue along the street. They were present at each street and alleys.

"I'm going to explore the city." Then he added, thinking she might not realize who he was, since he'd dressed in a good set of clothing. "I'm one of the caravan guards. I don't have anything to do until we're packing up to leave in a week."

"You should remain with the market."

"Do you have any idea how many of them I see? Yours is better than any, but it's still just a market. I want to see something else for a while."

Her snort was derisive. "You're looking to cause trouble. You lot are all the same. You think that traveling with merchants somehow makes you special."

"No, I'm just—"

"Get back to your people," she said, placing a hand on the pommel of her sword. "Your kind aren't welcome here."

He returned among the stalls, surprised at her vehemence. Arguing wouldn't have done him any good. Her hatred was real.

As he looked for an unguarded alley, and also looked for someone poorer than a successful merchant. One of their helpers, or a servant, sent on the errand because their master couldn't be bothered.

Not one.

When he looked down the roads he passed, he couldn't even see someone like that heading for the market, to be turned away by one of the guards because…. Why would a city keep people with fewer coins out of the market? He knew what was sold; some could be afforded by poorer folks.

"Stop!"

The woman's order caused everyone along the road Tibs had just stepped on to freeze. He was a few steps slower, surprised at the worry and fear on their face.

"You. Caravan guy."

Tibs faced her and saw the satisfaction at having his attention.

"The rest can go about your business."

Their relief was palpable as they hurried away.

"Can I assist you?" he asked.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"In the city." There had been a lack of metal on anyone near the wall, so he'd moved reflexively. He hadn't considered she'd just moved away.

"Why?"

Had he ever heard so much suspicion in one word? "To visit."

"The market's not enough for you?" she asked disdainfully. "All the good shops are here, just for you folks." There wasn't as much glow on the words as he expected. Not a lie, only an exaggeration. Had they really set the better shops here? Away from the city's center?

"I see markets at every city we stop at. I prefer seeing the city itself."

She narrowed her eyes, and he readied himself to defend his decision this time. "We're going to watch you. We don't have any patience for folks like you."

"I'm just—"

"Oh, I know the kind of folks who guard those things. We get your kind too often. You even think of causing trouble and we'll know. Then you'll get to see what our cells are like. Compare them to the other ones you've spent time in. Am I clear?"

He nodded. She'd said all that without the words glowing. She believed it fully. But she was letting him go, and that was all he wanted.

But he felt eyes on him well beyond the following intersections.

How difficult would it be for him to blend in?

His features weren't overly distinctive. His pale brown skin wasn't common everywhere, but he couldn't remember one city where he hadn't seen other with the same skin tone, or darker, or with a golden hue, or slanted eyes, or a thinner mouth.

He'd asked a scholar once, early in his travels, why people looked so different, if they all came from the same elements.

The man had explained that a long time before, well before the transportation platform, people didn't travel as they did now. Because they stayed in one place, they gained characteristics of the elements that were more common there. Over the eons, those become pronounced enough they created distinctive looking people who had lighter, or darker skin, different eyes, or mouth, or cheeks, or shape of their bodies.

Once the platform came, the man had then added. These people were able to mix and now, they could be found in so many places that it was difficult to know where that first land had been.

The explanation had felt wrong to Tibs even back then. When he sensed people, he didn't sense some who had more than one element compared to others. Or at least not so much that he noticed a difference when he wasn't narrowing his sense so tight only the two persons he compared registered to him. But even then, he didn't think such a small difference could be the answer.

No two objects, no matter how alike they were, had exactly the same distribution of elements.

But he didn't have another explanation.

The biggest problem he could think of in passing himself as one of them was that he hadn't mastered the language.

Tibs saw wariness on nearly every face. Not when they looked at him, but almost at anytime they looked at those around them. Definitely when they looked in the guards' direction. It was the rare person who moved about without showing concern. And what he noticed about those was that they had wealth. They dressed wealthily, and their purses were heavy with coins.

If you have money. You could afford not to worry about the guards.

Because they could pay for the privilege? How much did that cost that only the nobles and most successful merchants could manage it?

A detail that had escaped him during his night of exploration was how drastically the quality in construction changed from one neighborhood to the other. On one side of the street, it would be all excellently built structures with vibrant colors, while the other might be shabby construction, whitewashed walls. Nothing so bad as to be falling apart, the way the Street was at risk of doing, but he wondered if that was only a question of time.

When he stopped at a shop, he was stared at, or ignored. No one was willing to sell him whatever they had. At taverns, he was ignored unless he placed a silver coin on the bar. Then that vanished in exchange for a tankard that wasn't worth so much.

He doubted anyone else there paid more than a copper for it.

The city was not welcoming to visitors.

He found the transportation platform roughly in the center of the city, and deserted. No market place surrounded it. No Attendants stood, ready to welcome the next person in line and to take them to their destination. Not even one encouraging passersby to travel, as he'd seen in some cities when few people needed their services.

He could sense a handful of them with the golden tint of those who had Void as their element, but they were in a building at the back. Someone would have to seek them out, if they wanted to travel.

He noticed the men and woman on the roofs.

If they were even allowed to travel.

He walked from well-built houses to questionable construction a few streets later. A few more after that, they were even better built than in that previous neighborhood. He attracted looks there as much as in the shabby one. People dressed in ways that matched their neighborhoods and didn't trust anyone who didn't match them.

Stepping onto the Street didn't happen.

"This isn't a safe area for citizens," the guard who stopped him said.

Tibs nodded to keep from revealing he wasn't from the city, and tried to sneak in, but every alley was guarded.

To see what took place there, he had to resort to the roofs and an etching to Darkness to keep the watchers there from noticing him.

Nothing untoward was taking place on the Street. The folks there went about surviving as best as they could, under the constant eyes of guards. Any who committed a crime was taken away. Just as he saw elsewhere in the city.

This was why everyone was worried.

The city enforced its laws brutally.

He smiled and decided he'd be staying for a while, no matter what the library offered.

He was going to have fun here.

But first, he needed to find a place to stay.