Dungeon Runner
The Tiger Writes
sciencefiction
sciencefiction
31K5
Tibs survived by picking pockets; until he's caught.
Instead of losing a hand, he's sent away and told he must now survive a dungeon.
How is a kid who knew nothing more than his ...Bottom Rung, Chapter 10
Tibs did his best not to attract attention as he walked through the crowd. He knew how, but there were so many people milling about the paths between the tents that made accomplishing it more difficult. It also made his fingers itch from the temptation of the pockets around him. As he approached the alley leading to his destination, the crowd finally began thinning as none of the tents in this part of the encampment were occupied yet.
"Punctual," Bardik said, making Tibs jump and look around for where he'd come from. "I like that in a subordinate."
"I'm not your—" Tibs fought with the words.
The adventurer smiled. "Don't worry about it. It just means someone who carries out my orders." Tibs looked at him suspiciously and Bardik chucked. "It doesn't mean you're my slave. I wouldn't want you to be." They reached the unfinished building, and he leaned against one of the crates.
"Fine." Tibs looked at the stacks of planks, wondering what this building was going to be, and why the work had stopped. Before he could ask what he'd have to do, Bardik took a blue stone from a pocket and handed it to him. "What is it?" He turned it over, watching the light reflect off its surface.
"What does it look like?"
"An opal." The better-off people on the street sometimes wore them as a mark of their status. Tibs had stolen one and had tried to sell it. It was where he had learned what it was called, right before he was beaten by its previous owner.
"Very good, that is what it is. Have you been to the Long in the Tooth tavern?"
Tibs nodded, still studying the stone, trying to determine what was special about it, because there had to be something more. They were important on the street; here they couldn't be more valuable than the gravel that lined some of the paths.
"Did you notice the old man behind the bar? Heavyset, white mustache drooping over his lips, nearly hiding his mouth?"
"People call him the Old Walrus," Tibs said, which made Bardik chuckle. He'd tried to find out why they called him that and only found out it was because of the mustache and that a walrus was an animal.
"He's your target, I need you to drop that stone in one of his pockets."
Tibs narrowed his eyes at the adventurer. "That's it? I put this in a pocket and I've paid for my training? You're a rogue, why don't you do that yourself?"
"And don't get caught, obviously." Bardik smiled. "I can't have people know I'm involved; and I'm not the one who needs to pay for his training." He motioned for the stone back. "If you aren't interested in doing this, I'll consider the time I've already invested a loss and we can go our separate ways."
Tibs closed his hand over the stone. "I said I'd pay. I just don't understand why go through all that for a stone." He realized something. "It's a secret message, isn't it? A code."
"That's not your concern, is it?" Bardik replied with a smile. "For what you need to do, it's just an opal that needs to be in the man's pocket, and it had to be done before the end of the day."
"Mealtime is best. He's going to have to help the servers since he doesn't have enough and everyone wants to eat there." It was still the only tavern running, although a second one was almost completed.
The man had a knife in his hand. "Good, then how about we spend your time until then practicing?"
Tibs looked at the knife as he put the stone away. Where had it come from? He tried to look for a sheath, even one secreted on the other rogue, but he couldn't see anywhere one could be hidden. He took his knife out, held it the way Bardik had shown him during the last training, and waited.