Dungeon Runner

Stepping Up, Chapter 03

The humid air broke his concentration, and he was surprised by how bright it was, again. He wished he could arrive in MountainSea in the evenings or early morning, when the sun was still hidden by the mountains, but he couldn't figure out how time changed from one place to the other, so he kept being blinded on his arrival.

He joined those to the side of the path, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and listened to the sounds of the marketplace just outside the pillars. Merchants calling out their goods, the bustle of people. The promise of pockets heavy with coins. It had been so long since he'd dipped his fingers in a pocket and taken one out. He missed it, but the corruption in his body made his fingers untrustworthy. One spasm and he'd lose a hand.

It would pass, Tibs told himself; opening and closing a hand, feeling the ache. An exercise to gauge if it had gone down. Maybe it had. Or maybe he was trying to convince himself; to keep the despair of being unable to do what defined him.

He joined the throng of people passing between the pillars and kept his hands in his pockets as he passed through the market and onto MountainSea Road, which ran through the center of the city, from the mountain to the sea. At Carlisle Way, he went left and followed it until it widened, at Stone Drop, into a small shop district where Kroseph's family had their inn.

He stepped in and was blind again, until his eyes adjusted to the much lower light level.

"It is little man!" a woman yelled in heavily accented Pursatian, while he still barely saw anything, and Tibs readied himself. The woman grabbed him and lifted him off the floor. "Little man return!"

"Hi Jesebel," Tibs greeted her.

"How trip?" she asked, carrying him to the back of the eating room, by the bar. She was one of Kroseph's sisters or a sister of his parents. Tibs had tried to learn, but explanations came too quickly between other duties, and as all but a few of Kroseph's family only managed broken explanations, he still wasn't sure.

Greetings exploded on the way; his hair was ruffled, his back patted, his name called. More was said in a language he didn't understand but now recognized as the one spoken locally, and then he was placed down.

Jackal once told Tibs that enthusiasm was one of Kroseph's defining traits. After visiting the family multiple times now, Tibs decided it was shared by every one of them.

"Tibs," the older man behind the bar greeted him, then instructed Jesebel to get more ale.

"Mister Fernan," Tibs replied, taking the offered tankard as he sat on the stool and had his hair ruffled again.

"How were your travels?" he asked. The perfect speech was a reminder that unlike the others in the family, Kroseph's father had the magic the platform imbued that let them understand each other. Only those who worked at the inn in Kragle Rock had received it; since it was expensive.

Tibs placed the copper on the counter. "I didn't find it."

"You will." The man glared at the coin before lifting his gaze to Tibs. They locked eyes, and after a few seconds, he sighed, took the coin, and placed it in a box under the counter. They had this contest of will each time Tibs returned, and like the previous times, Tibs couldn't explain why he insisted on paying for his drinks and meals. Why he wanted to be treated as a customer here when he was more of their extended family in Kragle Rock.

The closest Tibs came to an explanation was that he didn't want to become too comfortable here. This wasn't his city. He was only visiting, and visitors paid for what they had.

"Where's Kroseph?"

"Off with Bad Fighter," Jesebel said, returning from the back with a barrel of ale over her shoulder. She was one of the stronger family members, and she didn't approve of Jackal.