Chapter 157: Chapter 91

The house’s balcony was on the third floor and looked over wealth-filled houses that, in the daytime, were resplendissant with their vibrant colors set among large yards. In the darkness, with only essence-powered lights among the streets or lamps in the windows, he only saw spots of colors, and they looked dull.

He’d picked this balcony for his entry because it meant an inexperienced rogue wouldn’t have to worry about hanging on as they unlocked the door. The house had many windows the more experienced ones could use.

He took picks out of his bracers and set about unlocking it.

It felt strange to break into a house with no plan of taking anything, especially a noble’s house. But this was about evaluating Amelia’s house and its suitability as a training place for Omega rogues. It meant he needed to work with what those rogues would have.

When was the last time he’d broken into a house using lockpicks?

The lock yielded to him quickly, and he cracked the door open. Someone snored.

This was the house regent’s room. The man had been informed that Amelia had volunteered her house, but he had been adamant that he would give anyone he caught breaking in a solid beating.

Tibs smiled as he located the wicker cane by the bed; within the man’s reach.

Rogues who’d found Sto’s silence shoes would have an easier time moving through this room. He didn’t need them. He didn’t even need to use essence to move unheard. He reached the door and—

It was locked.

He smirked at the sleeping man, like that made things any more difficult.

His smile faded as he reconsidered. This wasn’t a problem for him, but an Omega? He nodded in appreciation at the complication the regent had added. This would force the rogue to evaluate if the loot was worth the danger. They wouldn’t know about the lack of real consequences for being caught the first time they came through.

Tibs silently unlocked the door and carefully cracked it open. He smiled at the lack of squeaking. Noble houses were good for that. Hinges were well oiled. He used his body to block the light in case the regent was sensitive to it. Even without essence, some people woke at the slightest beam of light.

A woman walked by the door without noticing it wasn’t fully closed. She wore the light clothing of a servant, but it was woven through with essence Tibs couldn’t identify. Most likely metal. Amelia wasn’t a fool. She had guards inside her house. They too were in on the help she was providing, but only Amelia would know when a rogue would break in.

She thought it was a way to keep her guards on their toes, as well as helping Tibs’s rogues. It was one reason she’d agreed. The other, she said giddily, was that it sounded fun.

Tibs stopped sensing, reminding himself that was something the others didn’t have, as the guard posing as a servant reached the stairs and continued down them.

Tibs exited the room and closed the door, pausing at the click of the latch and listening for motion inside the room. Then he moved toward the stairs.

The challenge with this entry point was that his target was one floor below and the only way there inside the house was the stairwell the guard had taken. Once the guard reached the landing, she would turn and make her way back up.

There was a door on each side of the hall before reaching it, so a rogue planning on using either would have to be quick to make it in and hope they didn’t wake the person inside.

The room on the left was Amelia’s, and the one on the right was Andia’s.

The arrangement confused Tibs. Watching them during his meeting to negotiate the use of Amelia’s house, he’d thought they were special to one another, like Jackal and Kroseph were. But then, why the separate sleeping rooms?

Tibs didn’t pry.

He also didn’t use either room.

He scurried to the wall until he was in the corner by the stair and held himself there using only strength. He wanted a sense of how observant the guard was.

It was getting easier to hold himself without using earth to increase his strength. His ice sword might weigh nothing, but slashing, parrying, and blocking was a strain and, as a consequence, he was getting stronger.

The guard came back and Tibs fought the urge to switch to Darkness to ensure he wouldn’t be seen in the shadow. Few runners had Darkness as their element, and an Omega wouldn’t even have the option of an element.

The guard walked under him without glancing up. When she reached the regent’s door, Tibs dropped silently and was moving down the stairs, avoiding the fourth one, which he’d noticed creaked when Amelia gave him a tour of the house.

Conversation stopped him at the landing and he fought against sensing who was there, and if the guard was on her way back.

Laughter on the next floor, his target floor. A glance around the turn on the stairs didn’t show him anyone, so he eased himself down those steps until he saw them. A man and a woman, their back to him halfway down the hall. He was rotund; she was muscular. Tibs couldn’t make out what they said.

He listened for the guard, who had to be on her way back now, but didn’t hear her. She was light on her feet, so he might not hear her in time. The two weren’t moving. There was a door on the left, but it might be locked.

Of course, the only thing standing here would get him, was caught.

He chose the picks he’d use once he saw the lock. This, having to work with the real chance of being detected, would cause many rogues to be caught. Indecision could be more dangerous than action.

They’d also lose time having to figure out which pick the lock needed. Tibs had the right ones and was inside. It was a servant’s room and was silent. Maybe it was the room one of the two in the hall used, which meant one or both of them might come in.

A visual check of the room told him the best place to hide was under the bed. As if it wouldn’t be the first place, the occupant checked on entering.

He heard the guard speak from the bottom of the stairs, and the woman replied in a jovial tone. A moment later, that fourth step creaked, and Tibs cracked the door open. The man patted the woman’s shoulder and entered the room to his right. She headed toward this room.

Tibs cursed, and he gently closed the door. Was this her room? He’d been certain she was a guard, too. Did Amelia treat her guards well enough to let them have individual rooms instead of a common one?

He stepped away, listening, ready to jump under the bed.

When the door didn’t open—he cursed himself for not relocking it—when he thought she would reach it, he returned to it and listened. Not hearing anything, he cracked it open in time to see her head vanishing down the stairs.

He hurried to the door on the left at the end of the corridor. His target.

This lock was better and required a delicate touch. This would be where most would get caught, as they’d have little time to open it. Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she would turn around and—

The lock clicked as her brown hair came into view. He was inside; the door closed and relocked. His exit would be through the window.

He listened to the silence, resisting the urge to use his element to help him.

This was Amelia’s office, a servant’s room she had converted. The desk was in the corner, so she could see the door. Tibs hadn’t liked having his back to it while they talked. In front of the desk would be two chairs for those speaking with her. To the left were two more chairs, more comfortable, with a table between them for those she was more at ease negotiating with.

What he was after would be on the desk. That was one thing they’d argued over. Tibs had wanted it in a safe as added training, but Amelia wouldn’t allow the use of that and didn’t see a point in adding one just for training.

So the carving called ‘The Tree’ was on the desk, just asking to be taken, yelling that it was a trap. He wasn’t sure if this would be the clue that tipped off the rogue that something was wrong with the setup.

Tibs planned to have the rogue he wanted to train come here of their own volition. Darran would hint he had a buyer willing to pay good coin for the carving, so he would reward any who brought to him handsomely. Everyone knew of Tibs’s dislike for nobles, so they wouldn’t question the offer from someone known to be his friend. The merchant would also hint others had expressed an interest in making the coins, so the rogue would have to hurry.

Rushed work led to mistakes. Under the conditions he had engineered with Amelia, those mistakes would lead to learning.

The setup would only work the first time with each rogue, but he thought it was enough so they would take any subsequent run through the house seriously.

He moved cautiously, not relying on his memory of the layout, but testing with a foot that the path was clear and stepping around any moved obstacles. He reached the desk and clunked a copper coin on it before sitting on a chair facing it.

The lamp lit, showing Amelia touching the wick with a fine stone. “I saw the door open,” she stated.

“Which is why I said that wouldn’t count. If a rogue chooses when you’re working here to break in, they deserve to be caught.”

“What did you think of my security?”

Tibs smiled. “They didn’t see me.”

She nodded. “Which means I need to have a talk with them. What should I bring up?”

He didn’t like helping a noble, especially not with making their house more secure, but that had been part of the agreement. This first run was both so Tibs had a sense of what the rogue would deal with, and so Amelia could ensure no one other than those being trained had a chance of making it to this room.

“They don’t look up,” he said reluctantly, telling himself that for all Amelia was a noble. She was the least noblish of them. “I hid in a corner of the wall and ceiling by the stairs and she walked under me. They also don’t pay attention to details. I had a door cracked open, and she missed it.”

She smiled. “The danger of a quiet life.”

He shrugged.

“So, any rogue caught is returned to you with nothing more than bruises and those who manage to take this.” She pointed to the carving. Stone with parts at the top jutting out randomly in what Tibs could imagine were branches, if he tried hard.

“Gets told they’re good enough to attempt one of the other houses and probably won’t be caught.”

“How long until they spread the word this is just a test?”

“I’m hoping to convince them that having others go through this blind is best. Even knowing there are no consequences or reward, some will still want to test themselves against your guards.”

She watched him thoughtfully. “We can widen the—”

“No.” Tibs glared at her. “I told you before, we aren’t bringing anyone else into this. I only trust you with this because Mez vouches for you. Even you said most of the other nobles aren’t good people.”

“Most,” she said. “There are some who see our position as an honor, not a privilege to be exploited.”

“No.”

She nodded. “Then I will hope I can earn your trust enough that my word will mean as much as Mezano’s.” She stood. “I shall escort you out. There’s no need for you to jump out of a window.”

* * * * *

You are reading story Bottom Rung (Dungeon Runner Book 1) at novel35.com

Tibs looked around the warehouse. The walls showed no more damage than the last time he’d been here, even if he’d practiced channeling Air only a few days ago. He’d kept the playfulness from getting out of control. He was getting good at that with nearly every element.

Except fire.

He knew he’d have to deal with it at some point, but he was terrified of it, of how raw everything was when he channeled it. He wished he could rip that element out of him.

“Okay, that’s still stranger than when you channel Corruption,” Mez said.

“What?” Tibs asked, turning his attention to his friends. He wished Mez would stop lying to himself about the price he was paying for what he was after. He thought about telling him, but he had enough control over the element now not to blurt it out.

“The way your eyes glow, but don’t produce light,” Carina answered. “Considering you’re channeling light, you have to admit that’s odd.”

“The essence,” he corrected. That was one thing about channeling that essence. He hated when people were imprecise. Carina knew how important it was to use the right words, so it annoyed him even more, when she didn’t bother.

“How do you feel?” Jackal asked.

“Lonely, stressed. Wishing I’d let Sebastian destroy all of this. What?” he asked at his friends’ troubled expression and then realized what he’d blurted out. “I’m not always wanting that,” he said. “Just… today’s been rough.”

“You didn’t say that before,” Jackal said.

Tibs shrugged. “I didn’t have a bad day then. And this isn’t your burden, so why would I volunteer information that will just make your life more difficult?”

“Because we’re your friends,” Mez said, and Tibs was pleased to see the archer wasn’t lying. They’d resolved their difficulties, but there were times when he hadn’t been sure that meant they were friends again.

“That is why I won’t burden you with this more than I’ve already have. I took on the responsibility of keeping the town safe, not you. And that also means keeping all of you safe from everything that comes from having taken on the responsibility.”

Khumdar smiled. “There is the overabundance of honesty you are in need of controlling, Tibs.”

“How about you control that need to lie instead?” Tibs snapped.

The cleric stiffened. “And what do you mean by that?”

Tibs stepped to the man, watching the spikes of light trying to escape the darkness engulfing him. He kept the sneer under control, but he didn’t understand how the cleric spent so much energy hiding so much.

The twinge of pain told him that was a lie. He knew why. He felt it when he channeled Darkness.

He’d just lied to himself. Was that a mark of improvement, or a detail of how light worked he hadn’t noticed before?

“What are you hiding from yourself?” Tibs asked, and was surprised that Khumdar jerked away as if Tibs had poked him with fire instead of a question. Was that a reaction to his light? Could he use it to burn away the darkness, for some honesty from the man? That would do him some good.

“That’s enough, Tibs,” Carina said.

“Why?” he asked, facing her. Maybe it was time they all stopped lying to themselves. “Because the idea you don’t need your family scares you? Don’t you get that clinging to them holds you back? They aren’t going to understand you and what you—”

“Tibs,” Mez said, “come on, don’t—”

“You hate what you have to do to be considered a noble,” Tibs snapped, barely keeping the derision out of his voice. “Why are you even bothering when it’s keeping you from the girl you love? Tandy is—”

“That’s enough, Tibs,” Jackal ordered.

“Oh and you—”

The fighter grabbed Tibs by the shoulders and shook him once. “You can tell everyone what you’ve worked out about me, Tibs, but first there’s two things. One. Do not ever speak to your team this way, is that clear? I don’t know what happened today that’s having you be so hurtful, but—”

“We lost three teams to the dungeon this week,” Tibs snapped.

“Okay,” Jackal said uncertainly. “I don’t see why that’s any—”

“I don’t know their names. I’ve gotten so busy with useless stuff I can’t know who’s coming to the town anymore to have Sto eat them. I’m supposed to keep them safe. That’s my job. If I’m not going to do that, I should at least know who I failed.”

“Okay, we’ll address that later,” Jackal said. “Right now, I want you to remember that everyone keeps secrets, including you, and the reasons are their own.”

Tibs wasn’t planning on keeping things like that. Once they were done, he was walking himself to the guild and telling them everything. At least they’d be able to help him get a handle on all this. The cost be damned. Of course, before they were done, he had to deal with Jackal.

“What’s the second thing?” he demanded impatiently.

Jackal let go of him and dusted Tibs’s shoulder, grinning. “That one’s simple. You’re going to lie to me.”

“What?” Tibs asked in disbelief.

“One lie. I’m not even asking for a big one. Tell me you’re okay with Khumdar keeping things to himself. Or that there’s nothing wrong with Mez picking his honor over his heart.”

“There is nothing wrong with that,” the archer replied angrily.

“Tell me my family will understand,” Carina said weakly, then swallowed.

What was wrong with them? Tibs looked at his friend, angry and in pain. The truth fixed things. Lies were what caused pain, not truths. Truth was freedom. Lies shackled people down. How did they not understand that? It was a kindness to tell them how things truly were. He didn’t do this to hurt them.

The pain brought him to his knees.

The pain of lying.

But he hadn’t lied. They had to know the truth, so they would—

He screamed.

Fine! He was angry. He wanted to lash out at someone, anyone, at this point. Didn’t he have the right to some revenge after everything he’d endured?

He was on hands and knees, panting.

Was this what Harry dealt with? No, it wouldn’t be. Harry wasn’t affected by Light the way Tibs was. No one was affected by their element like he was. Harry’s need for honesty was something the man had decided on.

“Tibs?”

That was who he was.

Tibs. A man—a boy—not light. He didn’t exist in a place where things were clear-cut. In his world, lies were needed.

He readied himself for pain that didn’t come.

“Tibs?” Jackal asked again.

The world functioned because people lied to each other and themselves. Carina told herself her family would understand, because they were important to her. Yes, the truth was that clinging to them would probably hold her back, but she was a Runner. She would be an Adventurer. She had years ahead of her to come to terms with it. To let them go or let go of her dreams.

Khumdar probably didn’t have a choice in the secrets he kept. Yes, it wasn’t Darkness demanding he kept then, but the craving for them was still there.

And Mez…

“You’re an asshole,” he told Jackal.

“I know. Now lie to me, because we clearly didn’t make the progress we thought we had the last time.”

Tibs rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“I said lie, Tibs,” the fighter said, impatiently. “Everyone knows that one’s true.”

Tibs wished he could show his friend how bright that lie was. How he didn’t have to play the idiot, the jester. The urge to spew the truth was there, and it was strong, but he fought it. Jackal was right in that he didn’t have the control over this element he’d thought he had. Jackal needed the safety being the idiot granted him. If no one took him seriously, he believed he could never become the danger his father was.

Tibs patted his cheek and let him keep that lie.

His body protested as he stood, and looking at Carina kept him from going to her. She was hurt and fearful of him. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was wrong. They understand why you’re doing this.”

“So,” Jackal said, “we’re all good?”

Tibs looked at the others. “No. We’re not.”

“We’re still friends, Tibs,” Mez said, turning to leave. “But don’t come close to me for a while.”

One by one, his friends left him. Even Jackal’s facade of buffoonery cracked and with a shake of the head he left.

Alone, Tibs looked at the warehouse’s wall and wished that’s where the damage had been this time.

You can find story with these keywords: Bottom Rung (Dungeon Runner Book 1), Read Bottom Rung (Dungeon Runner Book 1), Bottom Rung (Dungeon Runner Book 1) novel, Bottom Rung (Dungeon Runner Book 1) book, Bottom Rung (Dungeon Runner Book 1) story, Bottom Rung (Dungeon Runner Book 1) full, Bottom Rung (Dungeon Runner Book 1) Latest Chapter