The Dark Night, Khumdar explained, was the night when Claria and Torus vanished from the night sky together for a few minutes away from their children.

Tibs knew of those nights but hadn’t known they had a name. They were the nights when running the roofs was dangerous because the stars alone, the children of the story, didn’t provide enough light for him to see by.

Carina hadn’t known of it since nights didn’t carry any significance to her. Mez had heard of it but didn’t keep track, and Jackal hadn’t been around to ask. Kroseph hadn’t known, nor had any of his siblings. Tibs had asked Darran, who should have known, as someone who stole, but the merchant had never been one who depended on the night. He’d approached other merchants on the chance they were familiar with it, but he was sent away when it became clear he wasn’t buying.

There was a dark mood hanging over Merchant Row since the fire.

That left Tibs with one recourse. Alistair would know, and hopefully not wonder why Tibs asked about that particular night. The question was if he was in Kragle Rock already, or away and would only arrive in time for his training.

The only way to know was to go to the guild.

* * * * *

“Any idea what the plan is?” clerk asked her companion as they walked. Tibs turned to follow them on hearing the next words. “We’re running out of people to send into the dungeon.”

Tibs had been moving through the first floor of the guild building for a few minutes, checking the common and open practice rooms in case his teacher was there and had inexplicably gotten lost twice already. Magic had been involved; it had to be. He’d been trying to make his way back to the entrance when he came across the pair of clerks.

The man snorted. “They’re just going to bring in more criminals. The kingdoms are always happy to send those to us, to be disposed of.”

“But they have to catch them first,” she said. “Have you looked at the numbers? We’ve gone through over ten thousand since the dungeon was found. Now, the usual providers only have the kind of criminals that were caught on their first crimes. Those aren’t going to do us any good, the way the dungeon is eating them.”

“It’s going to calm down,” the man said. “It’s probably still rebuilding its strength. It did nearly die.”

“It won’t if we can’t send anyone for it to feed on.” She paused. They walked in silence for long enough that Tibs was about to go back to his search when she spoke again. “You think there’s something wrong with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve heard about it,” she insisted, and her companion shook his head. “We lost nearly ninety percent of the original conscripts. They were Rho, with a handful of Lambda.” She lowered her voice. “Samson says the dungeon’s going feral.”

“That isn’t a thing,” the man scoffed. “You know better than that.”

“I heard stories of—”

“Since when do you believe a bard? Or are you saying someone who knows what they are talking about is saying this kind of thing?”

She didn’t reply.

“I thought so.”

“You think they’ll abandon it if things don’t change?”

“Of course not. That’d just be an invitation for one of the kings in the area to make a play for it. We know the mess that’s going to turn into. I don’t know what the Guild does if a dungeon ends up not being a good investment. I mean, we’re here to train adventurers, not just feed it.”

“I am so glad I’m never going to be of a rank where I have to deal with those decisions.”

He chuckled. “No ambition?”

“I am quite happy with doing inventory and filling out reports.” She stopped at a door. “Speaking of which, I have to get back to it.”

Tibs walked past them.

“Have fun with that. Lucky me has to travel and talk with magistrates and explain the criminals have to be of age, at least. I don’t want a repeat of the toddler incident,” he grumbled.

Was Sto sick? He’d sounded fine during the run, other than him and Ganny arguing a lot. Would Tibs be able to tell if Sto was sick? He couldn’t see the essence in him the way he did people, and Sto wasn’t a person the way Tibs was. What would a sickness be like for him? Would Sto know? Was that what had Ganny worried?”

“Are you lost?” A woman asked, and Tibs froze. He’d been distracted by what he’d heard and hadn’t been paying attention to where he was walking.

He looked around. The room was large, with desks and people seated behind them. They had papers and ink pots. The woman at the one closest to him had wood for an element, by her green eyes, and the density of her essence made her slightly more powerful than Jackal.

“Hey, that’s Light Fingers.” The man at the desk next to her said. His eyes were a darker gray than metal, and his essence was denser than hers. He wore light clothing; nothing that indicated what class he had. Tibs had noted that most of the workers in the guild dressed like artisans more than adventurers.

“Are you here for a meeting?” Another asked, looking up from a stack. His eyes were crystal, and based on how dense his essence was, he was barely Lambda.

“I’m looking for Alistair, my teacher.” That was a good excuse…and it wasn’t an excuse. He was looking for him.

“Anyone know who that is?” The boy called. Despite his age and low rank, he seemed to have some authority.

“If he’s a teacher,” someone replied, “he isn’t hanging out with the likes of us.” That made them chuckle.

He studied the people in the room. Most of the eyes were green. Those who had another element seemed to be weaker in them.

Did wood help with writing? Tibs hoped not. If it did, Carina would demand he get the element to help him practice his letters.

Could he get wood? Once he had the ones Water had told him to get, would she give him more? How many were there? He’d never asked. He wasn’t sure how he could ask now.

“Mister Light Fingers?” she said, still smiling.

Tibs considered telling her, all of them, that Light Fingers wasn’t his name.

“I have to ask that you leave. You really shouldn’t be in here.”

He nodded. What was the point? They wouldn’t listen. No one did. He wanted to find out where Bardik was so he could kick him in the shin for saddling him with that name.

He made his way back, keeping his mind on where he was going so he wouldn’t get lost a fourth time. He made it to the training rooms and Alistair was on the other end of the corridor, in an argument with Harry.

Tibs stayed where he was. He didn’t want to risk Harry asking what Tibs wanted, since he couldn’t think of an answer that wouldn’t contain at least a slight lie.

The guard leader noticed him and pointed before turning and storming away. Alistair wasn’t happy at the interruption, but he put a smile on once he saw Tibs. “This is unexpected,” his teacher said once Tibs joined him. His voice was strained. “I didn’t expect you to show up for your training quite this early.”

“What was that about?”

Alistair ran a hand over his face in annoyance. “Harry being Harry. Crime grows as a town does, and he isn’t happy about it. He is under the mistaken impression that keeping the non-guild affiliated thieves that are settling here under control is my responsibility.”

“He asked for my help with one of them.” Tibs kept from shuddering at the memory of how the thief had died. What kind of person used a poison like that?

“He mentioned that. You shouldn’t have accepted. He is in charge of stopping them, not you.”

Tibs shrugged. “He was trying to cause trouble for the nobles. Everyone would have paid for that.” He smiled. “And Harry couldn’t handle it without me.”

“Remember how you said you didn’t like how the guild treated you special?” his teacher said soberly, and Tibs’s smile fell. “You aren’t part of the guard, Tibs. You aren’t responsible for the town. You need to focus on your training, on getting stronger. On surviving the dungeon.”

Had that been worry in Alistair’s voice?

“I am. But I can’t train all the time. It gets boring.”

“You can’t simply train when it’s exciting. That will get you killed.”

“I do my lessons,” Tibs stated. “I try to push my essence through the wall of my reserve,” he lied. “But when nothing happens, it’s hard to stay with it.” How long until Alistair thought there was something wrong with how long it took? How long would his young age work as an excuse?

“I know. I had to deal with that too, once.”

Tibs raised an eyebrow.

“Even without your particular difficulties, learning is still hard work. You’ll get there. But not if you get yourself killed first. Stop helping Harry. We’re rogues. We put ourselves first.”

Tibs snorted. “I did that my entire life and all it did was get me in a cell to have my hand cut off. I have a team now. I have a town. I’m not going to let the nobles take that from me, or some thief who wants to cause trouble.”

The exasperation in Alistair’s eyes took time to get under control. “What brought you here? Looking to put in more training?”

Maybe he could—later. “Do you know when the Dark Night is?”

“Why do you want to know that?” his teacher asked, surprised.

“Just curious. I heard people talk about it and I want to pay attention next time.”

Alistair let out a breath and looked up, finger tapping his thigh. “Let’s see. We’re the twentieth of Sarbon. In this part of the world, Claria will wink in three days, but Torus isn’t due to ensconce himself then. It isn’t until the…eighth of Marmel for him, and then… no, Claria too that day. The eighth of Marmel is when it’ll happen. You’ll have to ask someone more familiar with the area for an exact time.” He grinned. “I travel too much to bother with local times.”

Sarbon and Marmel were names of the months, and each was four and five days long. “Is Marmel next month?” He still had trouble remembering which name went with which month. Alistair nodded.

So…he counted on his fingers. He had two and five days until Marmel started, then it was eight days, so… He needed more fingers for those large numbers.

“You are working at this quite hard for something that’s mere curiosity.”

“Carina wants me to practice my numbers, too,” he answered, not having to act at being annoyed. “She wants me to add and remove, too.”

“What have you come up with?”

“Three and three days.” Tibs looked at Alistair hopefully.

“Thirty-three, that’s right.”

At nine days in a week… could he borrow Alistair’s hand? The first three were in tens, so if he took away one for each and moved it to the other… three weeks and six days.

That was a long time during which he would have to practice going hungry. “When is the one after that?” A few more weeks meant he wouldn’t have to suffer right now.

Alistair studied him before answering. “I’m not an astrologer. I can tell you that Claria winks every thirtieth day, and Torus ensconces every fifty-second one.” He smiled. “Why don’t you make this an exercise and find the answer yourself?”

Tibs looked at his hands. How in the abyss was he supposed to do that?

Three and three. Three weeks and six days. That was how long he had to practice going hungry, or it wouldn’t happen.

* * * * *

Tibs looked up as he approached the house. Claria was nearly all gone. One day and she’d wink, as Alistair called it. The next one and he’d try for his audience. If he didn’t succeed, it wouldn’t happen. Carina had told him when the next Dark Night would be, from the numbers he gave her, and it was so many days away Tibs couldn’t understand the number.

He looked around for movement before climbing down from the roof. Only cats roamed them with him. The other rogues and thieves might consider this too dark to risk the roofs. Or the area wasn’t wealthy enough for them to bother with, either.

Tibs paused between floors.

When had a pouch of silver become ‘not wealthy enough’? Not so long ago, Tibs would have taken risks that could get him killed for the chance to see a whole copper. When had he stopped counting them?

He dropped the rest of the way and listened for indication anyone had heard him. Workers lived in this part of the town, and the guards only patrolled it every other hour.

He stepped to his target. The house had been abandoned when the town was deserted in the wake of the attack on Sto, and no one had moved back in. Tibs had thought it was because there were so many other houses, but then he’d heard the stories of noises in and around it.

Haunted, people said. A creature had escaped the dungeon, others said. Carina said a creature could escape, but it was one of the reasons the guards were at the door. Any who made it out would be killed. As for haunting. She scoffed at the idea. When people died, they just died. If it was in a dungeon, their essence fed him. If it was outside, the essence just went where essence went.

When Tibs had asked questions of the people telling the stories, he got more details. Scratching was what they heard, but louder than rats. One had seen a beast on all fours, large, with red eyes and pointed teeth. It had growled, and laughter had sounded.

The sounds had come more often recently, they had admitted.

Tibs hadn’t been able to get a day, but now he had an idea what this was.

Or who.

The window pushed in with the barest creak, but it was enough for something inside to move. Tibs dropped into the dark room and a growl came, then a second, a third. Claws sounded on the wooden floor as they approached.

Tibs took the jerky out of his pocket and broke a piece off.

The growling stopped.

He smiled and crouched, offering it to the darkness.

One of them approached, sniffled his hand, then snatched the piece and ran off.

Tibs hadn’t seen enough to be sure, but he thought that had been Thumper.

He broke another piece and more came at him.

He was under a pile of dogs, fighting to get jerky out of his pocket before they ripped it open, pushing them away from his face so they’d stop licking him. Dog slobber was gross.

“No!” Someone snarled, and the dogs scattered. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Tibs got to his feet as sparks flew and a candle caught. The woman who became visible in the pale light looked nothing like the one Tibs had met before. Her black hair was wild, her skin dirty. The way she looked at him, teeth bared, reminded Tibs of an angry dog.

“I was worried about you.”

She snorted. “You don’t know me.”

“I hardly know anyone in the town anymore, but I still worry about it.” He stepped forward cautiously. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” she snarled.

“One of your dogs was killed.”

“One? You think one is what it took for me to come here?”

“I’m sorry, I only knew of one.”

“That one wasn’t for me. It was the rest of them.”

Tibs was close enough to see she wasn’t wearing anything. And the dogs were massed around her. There were a lot more dogs than Tibs knew she had.

“Sebastian killed them,” he said.

“Had them killed. He doesn’t do the work unless he really cares about those involved. I never warranted his attention.” There was so much anger Tibs couldn’t tell if it was because he’d ordered the death of her dogs or because he hadn’t done it himself.

The dogs growled as one as he took another step.

“Oh, now you don’t like him?” she asked sarcastically.

“I’m out of jerky.” He crouched.

She looked disappointed.

“Serba…” He trailed off.

“What?” she asked, and the threat was clear.

“Are you going to stay here? Living like this? Isn’t Harry going to worry about you?”

She snorted. “My uncle doesn’t care about me any more than my father does. I’m one of his guards, not family.”

Tibs couldn’t argue. In the time since she’d disappeared, Harry hadn’t done anything to look for her as far as he knew. He wanted to tell her Jackal was worried, but that would be a lie. Jackal was terrified of her and her dogs, and any day she wasn’t around was a good day for him.

“I came looking,” he finally said. “I’m sorry it took me so long, but you hid well.”

Her smile was small, but the pride bright, if quickly extinguished. “What do you want?”

“For you to come back.”

“If I go out there and don’t do what my father orders me to do, more of my dogs are going to die.”

“What does he want you to do?”

She shook her head.

“Serba. I want to help you.”

She laughed at him. “You are deluded if you think this is something you can help with. It’s all lost, Tibs. This town was lost the instant my father set foot on this platform.”

“No. This is my town. I’m going to keep it safe.”

“My father controls an entire city. Even the king lets him do what he wants. My father knows everyone who can threaten him and he’s already dealt with them.”

Tibs snorted. “He hasn’t dealt with me.”

Her laughter died quickly. “You’re serious? You think that you can stand up to him? He’s going to have you killed, Tibs.”

“I’ve survived the dungeon. I’m not afraid of what Sebastian can do.”

“You should be,” She whispered. “My father isn’t like the dungeon.”

“He cheats, I know. But I’m a rogue. I cheat too.” He ran a finger over a bracer.

And he had access to so much more than anyone here. It was just a question of getting serious about his training.