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 ...Stepping Up, Chapter 44
Tibs walked among the booths being set up. He had planned to look for thieves among the people arriving with the caravan so he could identify those who stayed behind, but the smells of cooking sweets were distracting him; reminding him it had been seven days since his last meal. That his run was in the afternoon, and that he wouldn't be able to eat once that was done.
He paused before a completed booth with pans over burning coals. There was nothing in them yet, but the smell of the smoke was enough to make him salivate.
"Come back in a few hours," the woman behind them said, putting down wooden boxes with essence woven through them. Mostly air, some water, and others he couldn't identify. "I'll have fried potatoes around Tardinian meats for a silver a stick."
"What's that?" Tibs asked. A silver for meat sounded like a great deal at the moment.
She looked at the box. "That's my cold box. I keep my meats in it so I don't have to pay to send someone back to my wagon for more all the time."
Tibs nodded.
"I know my food's great, kid," she said with a chuckle, "but you're just going to make yourself sick waiting for it to be ready. Come back in a couple of hours and I'll make sure there's one for you."
His stomach growled, and he put his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. He wanted to eat right now.
He walked away, then out of the bazaar, giving up on his plan. All it would take was one booth with food ready and it would ruin his attempt at an audience today.
* * * * *
Tibs looked at the door at the top of the stairs and stifled the groan. There was no way he'd make it up as weak as he felt. It was as if staying away from the bazaar when he knew there was food ready to be sold to him, was stealing more of his strength than if Khumdar was bathing him in darkness. Unlike Kroseph, they would serve him if he paid.
Kroseph didn't know why Tibs was fasting, but he respected it and smiled when he came begging for scraps.
He took a breath and steadied himself before starting up, his team at his side. He would do this.
"You realize," Mez said, "that the cleric is going to take one look at Tibs and know something's off. She had to go through this, right? She will know the signs."
"Clerics will go through years of training before they will go through the process of readying themselves for the attempt at their audience," Khumdar said. "I do not expect she will recognize Tibs's state as an attempt of such. I expect she will not even consider that it is possible for someone not of a purity bloodline to know the method, let alone attempt it."
Carina sighed. "He's right. Clerics can be narrow-minded."
Tibs did his best not to slow everyone, to keep his legs steady. Falling now would attract the cleric's attention, and the question of if she could heal hunger came back to him. Neither Khumdar nor Carina had sounded confident when they said clerics couldn't do it. And if she attempted to heal him and it didn't work, wouldn't that be suspicious too?
"Let's still be careful," Jackal said in a low voice as they got within earshot.
"Don't worry," Tibs whispered. "I don't want to ever have to do this again."
"Simply stay to the plan," Khumdar said, "and all shall be fine."
"Don't say that." Tibs barely stifled the groan. "It never goes according to the plan."
"You have the dungeon on your side. I am certain this will go well."
"It will," Sto said.
So long as he got inside, Tibs thought, as the cleric focused on him.