Dungeon Runner

Bottom Rung, Chapter 06

They walked through the town; the crowd saw their injuries and gave them as much space as they could. At least one fight happened as people bumped into one another and a merchant tent was brought down before the adventurers could intervene. Tibs didn't see what happened to the brawlers, but he couldn't stop the image of a broken hand covered in ice from popping up in his mind.

On the other side of the town, Ariana left him to join the archers on their practice fields. Unsure what else to do, and not interested in risking seeing what the adventurers did with those fighting, he headed for the area the rogues trained in. Only a few groups were left, and the old rogue who had led his group was packing locks and picks away in a chest.

He noticed Tibs and made a face. "If you got in a fight, go tell the one of those good-for-nothing adventurers."

Tibs hesitated. "I got hurt in the dungeon. No one said who to see about my injuries." Did they expect him to simply endure them? He could, but how would those more gravely hurt to train?

"You expect me to believe you were in the dungeon?" the man said mockingly.

Tibs took a lock out of the chest and unlocked it in a few seconds. He almost threw it at the man's feet, but caught himself and handed it for inspection. If the man didn't remember him, a demonstration would do, Tibs hoped.

The old rogue looked it over. "I supposed being able to open locks doesn't require being big and menacing." He didn't sound impressed, but the corner of his lips curled up slightly. "And being small does have other advantages." He placed the lock back in the chest. "I take it they don't have clerics there yet? No, of course not," he continued before Tibs could ask what a cleric would look like. "They aren't going to bring them in until the dungeon graduates, and they start letting in the nobles. Wouldn't want one of those to die outside the dungeon and have their family complain about us not taking care of their precious children." The man spat and Tibs took a step back.

He didn't like nobles either, but he hadn't expected this kind of anger from someone as well off as the rogue before him.

The man patted himself down and took something out of a pocket. "Hold this while I get something for your injuries."

Tibs took it; a crystal the size of his thumb, like the one the rogue that had stood by the entrance to the training ground on the first day had had. It was a different shape and Tibs realized it was cloudy, with some blue or possible green in it. The color seemed to shift as he turned it in the light. Back on his street, he could get a few old apples for something pretty like this, but Tibs didn't think it had any real value.

"What do you think?"

Tibs startled, he'd been too focused on the crystal and hadn't noticed the rogue returning. The man was looking at it intently.

Tibs shrugged and handed it back. The man knew its values more than Tibs would since it was his. The man handed Tibs a small glass vial with a greenish liquid in it in return.

"Drink that."

Tibs eyed it. "What is it?" he uncapped it; the content stank.

"A healing potion, what else would it be?" the man said, annoyed. The man no longer held the crystal, and Tibs cursed himself silently for letting himself be distracted. Whatever pocket it went in, it might contain other things, more valuable things.

Not that he intended on picking the man's pockets. It would be an easy way to lose a hand, or more in this place. Still, he couldn't keep the suspicion out of his eyes when he looked at the man, trying to determine his motivation.

The old rogue sighed. "What's your name?"

"Tibs," he answered after deliberating giving a false name.