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.

“Do you need healing?” she asked, stepping forward. “He looks weak.”

“He’s fine,” Jackal said casually. “He spent the night running the roofs and forgot he had a run today.”

“I can remove the effect of lack of sleep.” She reached for him and Tibs stepped back. His foot slipped off the edge of the step and he had a flash of slipping off the edge of the mountain top, the dread of hitting the ledge. Khumdar steadied him.

“Just let them in,” the massive guard said, laughing. “If they’re looking to get rid of their thief this way, it’s their decision.”

“He’s a rogue,” Jackal replied harshly.

“Of course,” the guard scoffed and snickered. “Because polishing a title changes who someone is.”

“Just like putting you in leathers, Murg, makes you anything more than a thug.”

Murg stepped forward. “Watch your mouth, Jack. You’re daddy’s not—”

Jackal moves faster than Tibs followed. Then the guard was hitting the rock wall next to the door.

“Are you okay?” Jackal asked sweetly. “You really need to remember how clumsy you are, Murg. Constantly falling against my fist like that can’t be healthy.” He turned to the cleric. “My lady Cleric, while I am certain my friend would appreciate the assistance, he needs the lesson. The run comes before his pleasure.”

Tibs snorted. “Says the fighter who jumps Kroseph’s—” Carina put a hand over his mouth with a gasp and Tibs was thankful. He had no idea where that had come from. Maybe his hunger was affecting his mind as much as his body?

“We’ll make sure he survives,” Jackals said. “But a few close calls will do him good.”

She looked at Tibs. “My orders are to heal anyone before they enter the dungeon.”

“And we’ll all vouch that you healed him,” Jackals said. “Isn’t that right, Murg? Allan?”

“Whatever you say,” the other guard said. Tibs couldn’t make out what Murg grumbled as he got to his feet.

“There, as far as anyone who matters, you have healed him.”

She made a displeased sound. “If asked. This is so he won’t take clerics for granted anymore.”

“Whatever tale you want to sing,” Jackal said cordially, “I’ll be happy to sing too.”

“You can’t sing,” Tibs said.

“I so can,” Jackal replied. “Kroseph loves the way he can make me—”

“Jackal, the run?” Mez said, indicating the doorway.

“After this, I will show you all how well I can sing,” the fighter grumbled, stepping inside.

Tibs followed, and as soon as he thought the people outside couldn’t see, he put an arm over his stomach in an attempt to lessen the pain. Maybe he was eating himself?

“Tibs,” Carina whispered, “did the dungeon tell you how he was going to make your audience happen this time?”

“No. Maybe he got busy with something and isn’t paying attention to here right now. Sto!” he yelled and his friends looked behind them at the still too close doorway.

“Does yelling make a difference?” Mez asked when the guards didn’t come running in. “Doesn’t it know everything that happens inside, well, its body?” he sighed. “I liked this more when I didn’t know it was a person. This is really weird.”

“You should imagine how it felt the first time someone walked inside me,” Sto replied.

“There you are.”

“Dungeon’s here,” Jackal said, then looked at the doorway again. “Maybe we should move deeper in.”

“They can’t hear you,” Sto said. “I have it so sound from inside doesn’t cross outside the threshold.”

“He’s got a silence thing on the door,” Tibs translated.

“Mayhap we should hurry regardless,” Khumdar said. “The sooner this is done, the sooner Tibs can rest. I expect he will need to remain in bed for the next two days due to his hunger.”

“I’m fine,” Tibs said as his stomach sent a shard of pain.

“Why are you hungry?” Ganymede asked.

“Hey, Ganny. I’m using the way the clerics get ready for their audience. I don’t like it,” he grumbled.

“I’m not sure what that has to do with you,” she said cautiously. “You’re a rogue.”

He shrugged. “It’s making me die of hunger, so it covers the ‘intense emotions’. And I do feel like I’m going to die if I don’t eat anything soon.”

“Isn’t not eating dangerous for people?” Sto asked, “how long can people go without eating?” He became agitated.

“I don’t know,” Ganny replied. “But if Tibs says he’s dying, it can’t be much longer.”

“Okay, Ganny, I know it’s against the rules, but I’m making him something to eat. Come on, I must have something ready to eat. Can you eat meat? Why didn’t anyone come in with food?”

Tibs moaned at the idea of a juicy steak and his stomach growled loudly enough Jackal looked at him.

“I’m not eating,” Tibs forced himself to say. “I need to have the audience.”

“Tibs, I put that in the same room you had your audience with Fire. I didn’t know you’d do this to yourself. There’s no way you can get through the pool room and the whippers in your state, let alone the Ratling and Bunnylings.”

“Yeah, that’s not good.” Maybe some food would be okay?

“What’s happening?” Mez asked, worried.

“Things aren’t going according to the plan.” His stomach insisted food was vital at the moment.

“Okay, I’ve made a stack of some form of hard bread one of the nobles had; I think it was a noble. Why would a noble have that on them? Must have been someone else, but it’s something I can make and I did. Just go to the second floor Tibs, and it’s waiting for you.”

“I don’t think it’s going to help, Sto,” Ganny said.

“Ganny, I can’t just let him die of hunger.”

“He isn’t like you. I don’t think people just get better as soon as they absorb nourishment. You saw how they work when you tried making one.”

“Then I’m turning everything off.”

“No,” Tibs said. “You’re breaking enough rules for me by getting me the audience.”

“Tibs,” Sto implored.

“I’ll be okay. My team will make sure of it.”

“We will,” Jackal said.

“Can we know what we’re agreeing to first?” Mez asked.

“Are you saying you won’t help Tibs?” Sto demanded, then let out an exasperated cry. “Why didn’t your mysterious ‘them’ make it so I can talk with people?”

“Are you really going to turn your back on Tibs if whatever we need to do isn’t to your liking?” Jackal asked Mez.

“Of course not,” the archer protested. “But don’t you want to know? What if the dungeon needs one of us to throw himself at the creatures so they won’t eat Tibs?”

“Then I’ll do it,” Jackal replied, “and watch them break their teeth.”

“We’re not all made of stone, Jackal.”

“He won’t ask you to do that,” Tibs said. “That isn’t how Sto does things. And you just agreed to help me survive the rooms between here and the Maze hall. That’s where he put the audience room, the same place as where I had the audience with Fire.”

“Did he really have to use the same room where you nearly died?” Jackal asked.

“It was already there,” Sto replied.

“Sto had nothing to do with that.” Not knowingly, at least. “And he saved me.”

“That’s four rooms we need to get through,” Mez said. “Without you being able to pull most of your weight in your current state.”

“I can roll the floor back to your first run.”

“No,” Tibs replied at the same time as Ganny protested.

“Come on, Tibs. Ganny, I can’t just let him die. I’m supposed to help him.”

“My team will—”

“Come Tibs, be realistic here. There is no way any of them can get through the pool room without you, the way it is. You’ve always been the reason they made it. You showed them the triggers, you iced the water, you deactivated the traps. And before you even think of mentioning that. That room is going to be turned off when you exit. That is final.”

Tibs glared at the ceiling.

“At least…” Sto trailed off. “Tibs, let me roll back the poll room. Just that one, please.”

“Ganny?” Tibs didn’t trust his judgment in his current state of distracted anger.

“That one room. Sto, you have to just do that one room. After everything else, you can’t risk attracting more attention.”

“You don’t even know how any of that works,” Sto snapped. “So don’t—”

“Hey!” Tibs shouted. “That’s not fair! She’s doing the best she can to keep you safe.”

“It’s okay, Tibs,” she said. “He’s just scared for you. Dungeons have never gotten attached to one of the Runners. This is new for him. Both of us.”

“I’m not—”

“I think it’s time you stop saying that, Sto,” Tibs cut him off.

“While I am normally skilled at making meaning of things unsaid or unheard,” Khumdar said. “I am now hoping one of you has understood something of this exchange.”

“Not a thing,” Jackal replied.

“Sto’s going to make the trap room easier, but the rest we need to deal with as they are.”

“I am willing to change them,” Sto stated.

“He likes me, which is why Sto’s broken so many rules.”

“Told you,” Jackal said.

“But Ganny said that puts him in danger of attracting the attention of the people who enforce the rules, but Sto doesn’t really believe they’re real.”

“I didn’t make them up,” Ganny said.

“But you’ve never seen them either,” Sto countered.

“This isn’t going to work,” Mez said.

“You can’t fight in your state, Tibs,” Carina told him.

“Dungeon,” Jackal said, “the rooms with creatures in them. Are they going to be any harder than the last time we were in them?”

“Go ahead,” Ganny said resignedly.

“No, I’m going to have them at that same difficulty.”

“They’re going to be the same,” Tibs told Jackal, who immediately picked him up.

“Activate the doorway, Carina.”

“Hey, I can walk,” Tibs protested.

“I’m not risking you with the triggers in the pool room. Easy or not, you’re not in a condition to attempt them.”

“We can’t go if Tibs can’t fight,” Mez said as Carina looked at the area where the doorway to the second floor was.

“We can deal with them fine,” Jackal said. “Tibs stays in the hall by the entrance for each room.”

“Fine, what about the loot, then? We need—”

“Fuck the Loot,” Jackal snapped, stepping toward the archer, and Tibs slapped him. “Ow, what’s that for?”

“You love loot! You love it almost more than Kroseph. I’m going to get all of it.” He considered something. “Except the one in the pool. I can’t deal with whatever is in the water right now.”

“Since when is there loot in the pool?” Jackal demanded. “Carina, have you heard anything about that?”

“No, but then again, the few teams where someone tried to swim across the pool didn’t get any further after whatever is in the water ate them.”

“Next time I’ll get it for you,” Tibs promised.

“You better,” Jackal said, stepping through the shimmering doorway. “Because I love loot.”