The commotion, as Tibs stepped onto Merchant Row, caught his attention. Two merchants were being pulled away from one another by guards. Tensions in the row had been higher since the fire. Theft was on the rise but he hadn’t expected it would reach the point where guards were needed to bring arguments to an end.

He paid attention to anyone close to him. This was the kind of distraction he would take advantage of if he wasn’t on business already. He still, somehow, had an extra silver by the time he reached the Shield and Rope.

“I told you I’m not interested!” The voice came from behind the counter, but Darran wasn’t visible. Before Tibs called out, the merchant stood and turned to face him.

The glare melted away. “Tibs! How is my favorite rogue?”

Tibs studied the merchant. His many layers of clothing were rumpled, instead of their usual neatness. He also looked tired and distracted.

“What’s going on?” Tibs asked.

Darran waved the concern away. “Nothing that isn’t normal for a man like me. There’s always someone thinking they can squeeze a copper or two out of merchants.”

“Two merchants were being dealt with by guards on my way here.”

The man’s lips drew into a line. “There’s been a rash of theft and sabotage ever since the bazaar left.”

“I don’t know that second word. Do you think those doing this stayed behind?”

“Sabotage is when you break something of someone else in such a way it benefits you.” He rested his elbows on the counter. “As for the bazaar. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of what’s happened since is because this thief or that stayed here.” Darran hesitated. “But with the platform, it’s more likely that’s how they are arriving. So there is no need to worry about this becoming worse with the next caravan.”

“When will they be here?” Tibs would have to be on the lookout for thieves among them.

“A few weeks.” Darran shrugged. “No more than a month. Once the path is worn by a few caravans, they will be more regular. But no worry, they will come. Dungeon towns have too much money for them to stay away. Good, honest money and—” his expression darkened “—not so honest.” The merchant shook himself. “But you didn’t come here to listen to me complain. How can I help you?” He pointed to the bracers. “I see the dungeon is giving better armor now.”

“Yeah.” Tibs ran a hand over it, embarrassed. He hadn’t expected Darran to be able to tell. “Sorry.”

The merchant laughed. “That’s one benefit of being a Runner. You will get gear none of us sell yet. Magical?”

Tibs hesitated, then nodded. It made for a better reason for him to use them over the set Darran sold him, and since the merchant couldn’t sense essence, he couldn’t tell that they didn’t seem magical to anyone who could.

“Good. Take advantage of what the dungeon gives you. Sometimes using it will be worth more than the coins I can give you. Now, what brought you to me on this fine day?”

The merchant was purposely bringing the conversation back to Tibs, and that he could tell showed him Darran was distracted. Normally he could steer conversation anywhere he wanted without bringing attention to that. It had to be the troubles plaguing the row and Tibs considered asking, getting him to admit to what was wrong, but he didn’t have skill at controlling conversations.

He turned and showed the broken strap on his chest armor. It had snapped as he put it on for training this morning.

The merchant shook his head. “I have told you to come to have me fix those,” he admonished. “Come in the back. I’ll replace it and look over the rest.” Darran helped him remove the armor. “You know you don’t have to wear it when you bring it to me.”

Tibs shrugged and tensed as the merchant took the time to look the bracers over, but he didn’t remove them. The leather ties were in good conditions, would remain so, Tibs expected, as part of the essences woven through them.

“Have you heard of a man called Sebastian Wells?” Tibs asked.

Darran’s hesitation was slight. “Can’t say that I do. Why do you ask?”

How much could Tibs say? He trusted Darran more than any other merchant, but he was a thief and a man driven by coin. From what Jackal said of his father, he’d pay for information that could help him. Did Tibs looking into what he was doing and the people he was using count?

“Just some man I met; tries to play at being a noble. I thought you’d have noticed him.”

Darran looked up from this work, smiling. “If he wants to seem like a noble, he won’t be seen at this end of the row.”

“Are the thieves targeting specific merchants?”

“You mean me.”

Tibs sighed, and Darran smiled. “Keep practicing.”

“I’m better with pockets and roofs.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t train other sides of roguery”

“Is that a real word?”

Darran smiled. “That is the beauty of words. There are so many of them that no one can say for certain what is and isn’t a real word.” He focused on the work again. “If you want someone to tell you something without them realizing it, nudge the conversation toward the subject so that they think it’s their idea when they tell you.”

“How do I do that?”

“That will depend on the person.”

“I prefer just asking the question. It usually works.”

“You do have a…” the merchant was silent as he reattached a strap. “An aura around you that makes most feel comfortable. You look young, and people believe children are innocent. It causes them to lower their guard. Your forthrightness can also be disarming in certain cases. So many people will step around the pot for a long time before adding the ingredients.”

“Like you?”

“Like me indeed.”

Tibs watched Darran work for a few minutes as he studied the scratches on another strap, then tested its flexibility before moving on to another one. “How did you enjoy working for the guard?”

“I don’t work for them,” Tibs stated.

“So you aren’t one of those the guard leader brought in to stop the robberies that were plaguing the nobles?”

“That was weeks ago. And the guards stopped it.”

“With all the respect they are due,” Darran said sarcastically. “They wouldn’t be able to stop the lowliest of thief. Not that most of that gang would even try,” he muttered.

“Harry’s a good guard,” Tibs replied, only slightly surprised at his eagerness to defend him.

The look Darran gave Tibs was calculating, then he was working on the straps again.

What did Darran know he wasn’t telling Tibs? Tibs couldn’t trick him into saying it. Should he buy the information? Did he have enough coin?

“I’m trying to protect the town.”

Darran paused. The shake of the head seemed sad to Tibs. Then he was back at work.

* * * * *

Tibs found Cross in the fighter’s training field, beating up three fighters at the same time. “Be with you in a minute,” She called, on noticing Tibs.

The fighters attempted to take advantage of the distraction by rushing her, the second quickly following on the heels of the first, and the third trying to flank her.

Cross ducked the first’s attack, planting a fist in his stomach. She turned, pulling the man with her, and shoved him as the second attacked and then decked the third with a punch.

“And that is why ganging up on me isn’t going to help,” she told the assembled fighters. Most were Upsilon—most Runners left were Upsilon or Rho—with the occasional Omega who’s survived without graduating yet. As she stepped away, the trainer handed healing potions to the downed fighters.

“Are you done playing with the puzzle, Mister Light Fingers?” she asked.

“Can I have the cube?” He turned and walked away from the field.

“Are you holding my puzzle hostage?” she asked, following him.

He smiled. “Will that let me have the cube?”

“No. But if you return it, I might have another puzzle for you to figure out.”

“I’ll bring it to you next time, then.”

She nodded. “Since you aren’t vanishing on me, I’m guessing you have something else you want to talk about. Wait until we’re at the Crawling Craven. They’re about the last place with drinkable ale.”

“That’s part of what I want to talk to you about.” Tibs didn’t react to Serba standing in the shadows, watching him. Only one of her dogs was with her. She’d agreed to his plan and would do whatever it took to get back in her father’s good graces. She was back in the green and black and it seemed part of what she had to do was spy on him.

“Ale?” Cross asked.

“The lack of it. There’s a lot of shortage in my town, and I’m thinking you might have ideas why someone might want to disrupt it.”

“Your town?” She chuckled. “I’ve never known a thief to be so possessive.”

“I’m a rogue.” He couldn’t tell if she did it to annoy him or she didn’t understand the difference.

“And you don’t have more experience dealing with thieves?”

“Not with the kinds that move to another town. In my street, we stayed there. And here, the guild won’t let us leave. You’ve traveled. You’ve met all kinds of thieves.”

Cross pushed her way through the crowded tavern.

Tibs made out people in black and green who seemed to be harassing one of the customers, but the crowd closed around them before Tibs could see if they were guards. Those were the color of Sebastian’s people, too.

The bartender demanded to see the coppers before he filled the tankards. Once copper each was criminal, but Tibs paid it and followed Cross to a table that cleared as she approached. He noticed more green and black, and those were clearly guards. At least they weren’t causing trouble.

“So, you want to know why someone would move to a town.” She sat and leaned back until the chair was on two legs and her back against the wall. “I can’t tell you why a thief would do it, but I can tell you why merchants would. Because it’s a new market.”

“But a merchant wouldn’t cause all this trouble.”

She smiled before taking a sip of her ale. Tibs followed suit and was sad to find out the ale was indeed good, better than what Kroseph had left to serve them now.

“You’d be surprised what a merchant would do to help set themselves up. If a merchant was behind what’s happening here. They’d call it disrupting the market. They’d do it in a way that hindered their competitors while helping them.”

“Sabotage,” Tibs said, and Cross nodded.

“So if you want to figure out why this person you aren’t naming has moved here. Look at who the disruptions are hurting and how they’re helping him.”

“It’s hurting the merchants,” Tibs answered, “the town.”

She raised an eyebrow and took a slow and long drink of her ale.

Tibs looked at his tankard, then around the tavern.

Not every merchant was suffering, only most. “But she isn’t doing this,” Tibs said. “I don’t know her well, but I don’t think she’d worry about how well or badly the other taverns are doing. And she wouldn’t care about the rest of the merchants.”

“Where are you from?” Cross asked. “Small or large city?”

“Street.”

She shook her head. “That’s an environment within a city.”

“It’s all I knew before coming here.”

She thought about it. “Okay, the mistake you’re making is thinking the tavern owner arranged what’s happening. Only you know there’s someone else behind it, right?”

“You know who it is.”

Cross shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. I will tell you I am not involved, and you’re going to have to decide if you believe me or not.”

Tibs nodded. He wanted to believe her. She’d arrived before Sebastian showed up, but the guard who answered to him, one of Harry’s trusted sub-leader, had also been here for a long time before. She hadn’t done anything overt that hurt the town, but he’d still have to be careful with what he told her.

“So why is she making money when so many other tavern owners aren’t?” She asked. “Are any other tavern owners making money? If so, why them too?”

“Maybe they’re just better at protecting their barrels.”

“That’s possible.” Her tankard, as she took a sip, almost hid her smile.

Tibs rubbed his temple. “Why is it this is sounding more and more like another lesson?”

She shrugged. “Maybe if you didn’t ask so many questions, you wouldn’t get so many lessons out of them.”

Tibs drank his disappointment away. “So this is my fault.”

“Most of our pain tends to be of our own making.”

Tibs snorted. “You aren’t running the dungeon.”

She closed her mouth. “That’s a good point. I guess it’s only some and not most, but my observation is still valid. You asked about this. Now you need to figure out what the lesson is.”

He looked at the tavern again. The owner benefited, but she hadn’t caused it. She was taking advantage of it. Charging more than the ale was worth because she and a few others were the only ones left with good ale.

“Why isn’t she bringing in more ale?” This had gone on for a while. Kroseph’s father had difficulties with the people selling him the ale because he was short on coins. She clearly wasn’t. And yet, there were almost no barrels left behind the bar. Maybe how they were kept safe made it hard for her to get to them? He tried to drink the forming headache away, but he was out of ale.

“I never agreed to this,” he grumbled.

“Then walk away.”

He glared at her, then groaned in realization. He had brought this pain on himself. Then he chuckled.

“Not the reaction I expect after what sounded pained.”

“Just realizing that I’ve been complaining about Harry asking for my help, about how hard figuring out what’s going is. But I decided to take this on. If Harry hadn’t asked me, I probably would have dealt with that thief once I realized what he was doing would hurt my town.”

“As I said, just walk away.”

The matter-of-fact tone with which she said it made him realize she could do it. She could stop caring about the town and its people. Or maybe she didn’t care at all. She hadn’t been here when it was only tents and dying Runners. She hadn’t seen the town grow. The merchants arrive. Things improve.

Maybe she had a city out there she called her own.

He’d never had that before. Not even his Street had been his own. He’d just survived there.

This was his town. Sto was his dungeon.

This was his pain.

He wasn’t walking away. He’d deal with the pain. He’d work out what was going on and why. At least, the questions he was gaining he could ask and not worry about revealing secrets.