Tibs cornered Jackal. “How did you know to have the guards there?” He’d waited a day, more to let his anger cool than have the fighter worry, and now he wanted to know how Jackal had managed it.

“How about we go—”

“No. We’re not going to the inn of a tavern.” Tibs motioned around them, at the deserted alley. “You don’t have to worry about someone learning how you manage to know everything that happens in town.”

Jackal shrugged and leaned against the wall. “I don’t know everything, but I know you, Tibs. I know that look you get when you think it’s your job to fix a problem. It’s the look you had when you finished explaining why that asshole was innocent.”

“Did you know where he was hiding?” Tibs demanded.

Jackal shook his head. “Don did a good job of vanishing.”

“Then how did you know where we’d be?”

“I wasn’t keeping tabs on you, Tibs,” Jackal said with a smile. “You’re too good at using the roofs. I’d need another rogue and I don’t trust them to not sell the information.”

“You can trust Tandy.”

The fighter shook his head. “She isn’t on our team. Yes, she’s helping with the training and the information gathering, but that isn’t the same as being able to trust her.”

“Okay, if you weren’t following me, how did you know where to be with the guards?”

Jacka smiled. “Arruh. He’s the one I’ve been keeping track of. Him, I could follow myself. When he got his team together, I knew something was about to happen, and even someone as smart as me knew it was going to be about Don. I figured you’d be in the middle of that by then.”

“The guards? Harry isn’t happy you got them to help you.”

“Knuckles’s as hard-assed to his people, as the rest of us. I’ve been commiserating with them on our shared misery. I’ve also been gathering favors and called in a few. You were there for how it turned out.”

Tibs waited expectantly.

“I don’t know what else you want, Tibs.”

He sighed. “I thought you were ready to tell me the truth.”

“I have,” Jackal replied. “There’s nothing more to it than that.”

That was a lie. But Tibs had promised himself he’d let his friends open up in their own time. “Alright. I’ll get you a tankard for forcing you to explain yourself.”

The fighter smiled. “You know you don’t have to do that. I’m happy to answer any of your questions.”

“Okay.” Tibs shrugged and turned away. “Then I need to—”

“Now now, Tibs.” Jackal stopped him. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t accept that tankard you’re offering.”

Tibs smiled at the fighter. “I thought so.”

* * * * *

The end of Merchant’s Row was closed off on account of the stench from the corruption that had settled over a three-building wide area around the pool. Only the people with the strongest stomach ventured there, and only for good reasons. It was what made the cleric kneeling by the pool an anomaly Tibs couldn’t ignore.

He’d decided clerics weren’t particularly brave. He had to admit they were dedicated; they healed anyone entering and exiting the dungeon, no matter how they felt about them. But anytime violence happened around them, they were moving in the opposite direction, vanishing before a few punches were exchanged. For a group dedicated to healing injuries, Tibs thought the reaction odd.

He climbed down from the building and covered his mouth with a cloth before stepping into the stink. Carina had bought it for him when she’d found out he kept returning here. It was woven through with essence and made the stench more bearable.

The cleric’s head was bowed, her hand extended over the corruption, nearly touching it. Under it, the liquid bubbled and turned to clear vapors. She was purifying it, he realized.

She looked at him and he saw she was young, no older than Carina, and tired. “Hello,” she greeted him. “Do you require my assistance?”

Tibs shook his head, her question surprising him. No other cleric had volunteered to help. He tried his best not to think of them as nobles, but they were making it difficult.

He crouched next to her. “What are you doing?” this close, the cloth did little to stop the stench. She wasn’t wearing one. How did she endure it?

She looked at the pool. “I am doing what I can to cleanse this mistake.” Her voice remained even as she spoke.

“Is that what Purity tells you to do?”

She smiled at him. “You know of the element’s demands on us?”

“I know one of the clerics,” Tibs replied. “He told me that it’s different for you than it is for me.”

She searched his face, his eyes, then nodded. “Purity wants this stain on the world removed.”

"Did the guild bring you here to take care of this?"

“No. I am here as the others are; to heal the Runners. But when one is truly dedicated to her element, they hear the call, and they must answer.”

Was she implying Hightower wasn’t dedicated? He wondered, and kept himself from snickering. Now, there was a noble hiding among the clerics.

“A friend of mine said that it’s in balance,” he said. “That’s why it isn’t spreading anymore.”

“Corruption can never be in balance,” she replied, smiling. “It can only ever want to devour more of this world Purity made for us.”

“Purity made the world?” Tibs was surprised at the statement. He’d always figured the world had simply always been there.

“Of course.” Her smile grew as her eyes became distant. “Before there was the world, there was Purity. It sacrificed part of itself so we could exist and have a place to exist in. That is why it is our duty to look after this world it made. Ensure that all creatures living by Purity’s decree will thrive. Once there are only those following the decree left, Purity will take us back into itself, and it will be wonderful.”

Tibs opened his mouth to say how that made little sense, then closed it. There was something in her expression, how she spoke, that wasn’t right. Like the words came without her thinking about it, like she didn’t see him as she said them. He’d met people on his Street who spoke and looked like that. Each of them had a broken mind.

“How old are you?” she asked, her tone turning concerned. “Shouldn’t you return to your parents? They won’t want you to be here, so close to something this foul.”

“I’m a Runner,” he answered, surprised she didn’t know. Even out of armor, he was now sufficiently well known among the merchant that none of them confused him for a worker’s son.

“You seem young to be such,” she said, and only the flatness of her tone kept him from snapping.

“I’m old enough I’d have lost a hand if I hadn’t been sent here.”

“You will not steal,” she stated in something resembling the tone of her proclamation Purity had made the world.

“It was that or die of hunger.” Bitterness crept in his voice. He didn’t care how broken her mind might be. He wouldn’t be told that how he’d gone about surviving was wrong.

“Do your parents not provide for you?” she asked in dismay.

He snorted. “I’m Street. No one’s ever provided for me.” Mama had, he reminded himself, but that had been so long ago. He wouldn’t be alive if not for her, but she’d left him alone. Had been taken from him,

“Is Street your name?” she asked, sounding confused. Tibs stared at her now. How didn’t she know what he’d meant? Khumdar had mentioned how Purity clerics lived apart from everyone, but how far did one have to be not to know what it meant to be Street?

He thought about explaining it to her, but her eyes were distant again. Would she even understand what he told her of the misery of the street? He stood. “Thank you for answering my questions.” He left before she could respond.

* * * * *

“I'm going in first!” Don said with pride.

The schedule had just come out and everyone had rushed to find out what order they were in.

“It’s your coins to give to the guild,” someone replied mockingly.

Tibs found Don’s name, not at the top of the schedule, but under a group of names so long they had to be nobles. That made him first among the rest of them, not including the Omegas, who weren’t on the schedule.

Don had made a point of finding Tibs, telling him how he’d explained to Harry that Tibs had arranged everything because he wanted to rob the sorcerer of his run. The guard leader had agreed with him and ordered his rogue released. They’d had the best run of everyone, and he now had ample coins to ensure he’d go first. The sorcerer had recited all of it as if Tibs was the mastermind of a plot Don had masterfully defeated.

He wouldn’t spend all the coins getting the first position. Don didn’t care about the nobles. All he wanted was to be first among the Runners. And he knew none of them had given the guilds coins, so one copper was all it took.

Tibs counted the noble teams. Two and zero. Five teams hadn’t survived, much less than the rest of the Runners. He’d witnessed the arguments among them, who would move with whose team, who among the leaders would remain leader. He knew of one dying in her bed, but he hadn’t found out yet if Harry had caught the person responsible.

Looking into the training grounds, only two teams of Omegas were left. There had been deaths in the dungeon, but also many had graduated to Upsilon and were among the teams on the schedule. Walking around the guild after his training, he’d overheard Tirania discuss steps to bringing in new Omega early, instead of waiting for when the dungeon graduated again.

Tibs’s team was sixth after Don, which meant… he needed to count on his fingers. They were the two and seven team to go in. Only two official teams went in each day, with the Omegas going in as needed between them. Tibs hadn’t heard of another overlap. It meant it would be… one and four days until it was their turn, or… Carina insisted he work out weeks too. One week and five days. He was getting better, but he didn’t understand why there were nine days in a week instead of ten. He had ten fingers, and five weeks was one hand. It would make counting them so much easier.

Carina had explained it as something to do with the growing seasons and how Claria looked down on us to direct how they went. It made no sense to him.

Knowing when his team would have its run, Tibs left and immediately collided with someone.

A hand grabbed his shoulder as he fell back, and the man nearly tripped with him, only barely keeping them standing, their bodies closer than Tibs liked.

“Man,” Bardik whispered. “Short blond hair, fresh scar from the hairline down the left side of his jaw. At the transport platform. Now.”

They untangled themselves and with a rushed apology, the man was gone.

Tibs’s confusion lasted only until he remembered the ‘now’ and he ran for the platform, searching his pockets. He hadn’t felt the rogue adventurer’s hand close to them, but Bardik could produce knives out of nowhere. Planting something on him was simple.

Instead of the usual blue stone, Tibs found a small vial in the secret pocket of his jacket. The vial had essence through it.

The man was fourth in line. Tibs only slowed enough to give himself time to perform the plant. He passed between the man and the woman before him and only threw a hurried ‘sorry’ over his shoulder once he was past them. He continued around the platform, then headed for the training field, where Pyan’s team would join his. Today’s fight came with a wager, with the loser paying for the other team’s meal.

Jackal had plans for what the meal Pyan would pay for would be, and Tibs didn’t want to get in the way of that.

* * * * *

“Welcome back, Tibs,” the dungeon greeted him, as he stepped through the doorway.

Tibs held his responding question until they were deep enough the guards couldn’t overhear him. “Can you see outside?”

Carina looked at him worriedly.

Sto chuckled. “I can’t see outside, but for me, that starts at the bottom of the hill.”

Tibs was surprised. He thought Sto began at the door. “Doesn’t that mean you can make changes there?”

“Not with there always being people. But I can watch and listen to them. It’s how I’ve learned a lot about your town. On that subject, Don doesn’t like you. You should be careful. He couldn’t stop talking about how much more clever than you he is, and how his team should never have doubted him. I nearly send BB to shut him up, but Ganny wouldn’t let me.”

Tibs coated the floor of the trap room with water, nearly emptying the amulet in the process, and rippled the surface to make it easier to walk on it. “Don’s an asshole,” Tibs muttered as he headed for the cache.

“Also, Robert—”

“Please stop.” Tibs unlocked it. “I don’t want to know.”

“How about Pyan then?”

Tibs shook his head. Pants, no shoes. Normal pants too, which meant they could keep them. The guild didn’t want normal clothing, only things they could make use of. So, only clothing with essence woven through them mattered as far as they were concerned.

“Tibs, don’t you want me to talk to you?” Sto asked, sounding uncertain.

“I don’t mind it when I’m not busy fighting.” He headed for the exit. “But I don’t want to know about the other Runners.” He reabsorbed the water, the essence taking longer to fill the amulet both because it could take in so much more than his reserve and because he needed to consciously push the essence into it.

“I’m sorry. Other than Ganny, you’re the only person I can talk with. And I can only do that once you’re within my walls.”

“Why can’t you talk to me outside?” the boulder room was cleared, and the key was taken.

“Ganny says that I can yell further, but I can’t hear anything that’s outside. And until you’re within my walls, there’s people around you. Your team already looks at you strangely when you talk with me. I don’t want to have the rest of the Runners or the guards look at you like that.”

Tibs considered it as he crossed the warren room, also cleared. “I guess it is strange. No one knew a dungeon could talk. Is it just you who can do it, or can every dungeon talk?”

“Ganny says every dungeon talks. We have to, since we all have an assistant like her.”

“Where is she? I expected her to comment on you talking with me.”

“She’s working on the third floor. I really shouldn’t have given the whole thing over to her. She’s going to make your life difficult.”

The golem was rubble. The chest was empty and the stairwell accessible. “What is it going to be?”

Sto chuckled. “You’re going to have to wait. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

At the bottom of the stairs, his team waited for him.

“There you are,” Jackal said. “I was about to send Mez look for you.”

“No you weren’t,” the arched replied.

“Just go along with it,” Tibs said. “It keeps our leader happy. You didn’t have to clear everything without me.”

“Well,” Jackal started, then trailed off.

“We could hear you converse,” Khumdar said. “We decided you should be able to do so without us staring at you.”

“And that floor’s easy,” Mez said. “We could probably do it without the others at this point.”

“That’s an interesting proposition,” Sto said.

“I think you just gave the dungeon an idea,” Tibs said, and the archer looked horrified.

“How about we start this floor?” Carina indicated the path.

Tibs smiled. “How about we cheat?”

“Tibs,” Sto warned.

“Not that kind of cheating,” he replied, stepping to the edge of the pool. “There aren’t any creatures here.” He laid down. “Jackal, I need you to lower me.” He pushed himself partially over the side.

“Slow down,” the fighter said, grabbing his ankle. “What are you going to do?”

“Do you have enough essence?” Carina asked, looking over the length of the pool.

“I have the amulet, and that’s all water. There should be plenty of essence here for me to work with.”

“But you don’t know how to manipulate and sense yet,” she said.

“Then this is going to be a good practice.” He looked at Jackal. “If you drop me, you will never have dry clothes again.”

The fighter smiled. “Well, Kro does like me walking in nothing but my boots.”

Carina groaned, and Tibs rolled his eyes as Jackal lowered him.

With his hand touching the water, he felt the essence there. There was a lot. He tried to manipulate it, only to lose track of all except the little his attention was on. Then he realized he was ‘holding’ that essence, even if it wasn’t his. That was new, but not something he could do anything with. He let it go.

He called on his reserve, then pulled what was in the amulet. Something nagged at him as he did so, but he didn’t have the time for it. He spread his essence as wide as it would go. When it was throughout the water, he iced it and ice spread from it through the rest of the water, causing it to buckle, crackle, and crack as the ice expanded until the pool was filled with it, broken, and uneven.

He wondered if he could pull his essence back in while leaving the pool frozen. He’d try that once he was on the other side.

“That is interesting,” Sto said in a tone that told Tibs it wouldn’t be this simple next time.

Tibs yelled as Jackal let go of him. He glared at the grinning fighter from where he was sprawled on the ice. “I’m going to fill your boots with water,” he threatened.

Jackal lowered Carina, then Mez and Khumdar, before jumping down and immediately ended up on his ass. He smirked at the laughter.

Crossing the pool was slower than using the bridge due to the unevenness on the ice and how slick it was in places, but it came without surprises.

This time, Tibs reminded himself.

“How are we getting up?” Mez asked, once they reached the other side.

“I can throw you up,” Jackal replied, looking at the edge above them.

“I’m getting there under my own ability.” Carina stepped away from them and air whipped around her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jackal called as the wind caught in her robes and lifted her.

“Seems to be a great idea,” Mez said, watching her rise. Then, as the wind moved her robe more, he turned red and hurried to look away.

“Yes,” Jackal mused. “I thought that might happen.”

“Don’t look!” Carina yelled, fighting the wind to push her robe down. Then she was tumbling over and onto the platform.

“I really wish I hadn’t,” Mez whispered.

“You have seen a woman’s undergarment, haven’t you?” Jackal asked, looking at the now even redder archer.

“A man shouldn’t—”

“You aren’t a man,” Jackal cut him off. “You’re a Runner. Enjoy life. I certainly looked.”

“But you have someone!” Mez replied, horrified.

Jackal chuckled. “My man knows all I’d ever do with Carina, or any women, is look. What about you, Khumdar?”

“I respect our teammate enough to have looked away the moment I realized what would happen.”

“Tibs?” the fighter asked.

“I’ve seen women with a lot less on them than Carina.” At the surprised look he received, Tibs sighed. “So you need me to explain how quickly a dead body is stripped until there’s nothing on it?” He eyed the fighter. “I’m beginning to question if you’re Street, Jackal.”

“No one is as street as you, Tibs,” Jackal replied. “Never forget that.” Jackal jumped, caught the edge, pulled himself up. Only to be sent flying back over the pool.

“I can’t believe you looked!” Carina yelled.

Jackal laughed until his skid had him hit a raised chunk of ice.

“Still worth it?” Tibs called.

“Not doing it again,” Jackal yelled back as he stood. He bowed. “I offer my lady my deepest apologies.”

“Just get up here,” Carina called between snorts. “We have a floor to clear.”

Jackal jumped back up, then pulled Mez and Khumdar. “Tibs?” he asked, extending his hand down.

“I want to try something.” He pressed his hand on the ice and felt for his essence. It was still there. He called it to him, but instead of absorbing it, he reshaped the ice. It cracked and snapped. Then Tibs rose until he was even with the platform.

“Next time,” Jackal said as Tibs walked off the ice. “You’re in charge of getting us out of there.”

Next time, Tibs thought, Sto would have something ready for him.

With a hand on the ice, he absorbed his essence, filling his reserve and the amulet, and was then inexplicably left with enough essence to coat his arm with water. He looked at it. How could he have more than what he’d started with?

“Tibs?” Jackal called from further in. “You’re going to want to see this.”

He tested how difficult it was to keep the water on his arm, and found it easy, requiring barely any thought.

“What is it?” he asked as he reached the others, then looked into the room with the five golems, and now two dozen scurrying rats at their feet.

The water on his arm splashed on the ground.

“This is so not fair.”