“What happened to all the teams?” Don asked, baffled.

Tibs gave him the side-eye, then went back to looking at the board. They’d died. That was what happened. What Tibs had trouble with was why so many of the Upsilon and Rho teams lost members.

He’d noticed that there were fewer and fewer people at the inn but, until now, he’d thought it was because everyone other than the loyal customers were eating at other places because of the supply problems the inn was having.

Just this morning, another shipment had arrived from MountainSea with many of the crates broken. The Attendants couldn’t be blamed, since moving things using the platforms didn’t affect the items, so Kroseph’s father was in MountainSea now, investigating why so many shipments were damaged by the people transporting them to the platform.

Two and eight teams were on the board. The eight first were nobles. Of the others, Tibs only recognized half the names. It meant that the leaders of the other teams were recent graduates to Upsilon or some Runners who had lost their leaders had had to take over.

There had never been so many deaths of Runners with elements before.

“I get only the best survive,” Don said, looking at Tibs with more dismay than sneering. “But you managed it, so more should have.”

“Did you lose anyone on your team?” Tibs asked, looking to Radkliff, the only member of Don’s team present.

“No.” Don narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Are you implying I’m not good enough to keep them alive?”

“Anyone knows if they are bringing in new conscripts to fill the ranks?” Jackal asked. “Some of the names are Runners who graduated, but not many.”

“Is there anyone left in the kingdoms’ cells to send?” Mez asked.

“I do not believe there has ever been a need for so many conscripts before,” Khumdar said. “From what I have learned in my travels, the first group is normally large enough to cause a dungeon to graduate, and then people paying to run the dungeon suffice to continue feeding it.”

“I guess they never had someone try to kill it before,” Don said, glaring at Tibs. “And have someone messing that up.”

Tibs glared back at the sorcerer.

“Don’t tell me you were actually involved with those people, Don,” Carina said, annoyed.

“If they killed it, we wouldn’t be here anymore,” the sorcerer snapped. “They wouldn’t need us!”

Jackal snorted. “You were wrong Tibs. He is an idiot.”

“Watch your tongue.” Don reached for Jackal, but Tibs stepped in front. The sorcerer’s hand was surrounded with essence.

“Don’t.”

Don grinned evilly. “If you want to suffer in his place, I’m more than happy to make it happen.” The essence shifted, linked into strands that resembled barbed hooks, and when he put his hand on Tibs’s chest, they pumped corruption into his body.

Tibs considered acting hurt, letting the sorcerer think his attack worked, but despite the danger, he wanted to put him in his place. He looked him in the eyes and didn’t react.

When Don’s surprise turned to suspicion, Tibs realized having Don look into what he was up to could cause problems, so he misdirected the sorcerer. “I was doused in corruption. You can’t make enough to compare to that.”

Don snatched his hand away from Tibs, worry and annoyance on his face. Corruption was how he put people in their place. Tibs wondered how many of the Runners watching the exchange would stop being afraid now that they saw one person resist the sorcerer.

To keep the sorcerer from lashing out later, Tibs stepped back and put effort into remaining standing. Jackal held him by the shoulder, worried.

Don sneered in triumph. “You aren’t worth my essence.” He turned and left, Radkliff following after giving Tibs a powerless shrug.

“Are you okay?” Carina asked worriedly. “I thought—”

“I’m fine.” Tibs cut her off and walked away from the boards. Tibs took the essence and hesitated. Did Don continue to sense it once it was inside him? Could he, like Tibs did with water, have it act at a distance? Or was this like with Sto, where Tibs’s life force would cut off the sorcerer’s sense?

Yet another question he couldn’t ask.

“What’s going to happen if too many of us die?” Mez asked as they walked.

“I think we have more important things to deal with,” Jackal replied, then lowered his voice. “Tibs, what’s going on? I thought you had the element.”

Mez chuckled and shook his head.

“What?” the fighter demanded.

Tibs eyed the archer. They had their problems, but he hadn’t expected him to be so callous.

Mez looked around to confirm no one was close. “He’s acting.”

Tibs raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, it’s obvious. Don touched him and Tibs didn’t react at all. Only after a few seconds did he ‘feel the pain’. Probably to keep Don from throwing a tantrum.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Jackal asked Tibs.

“Don’s not an idiot,” Tibs said, still acting as if he was in pain. He didn’t care if it looked like they were alone. He knew how easy it was to eavesdrop. “But he’s also overconfident. So long as he thinks he has the upper hand, he won’t worry that I resisted him a little.”

“You scared me,” Carina said, relieved.

“Sorry.”

“So,” Mez said. “What’s going to happen if all the teams die?”

“That won’t happen,” Jackals said. “We are not going to die. As for the rest, that’s the guild’s problem, not us.”

* * * * *

Tibs massaged his chest, keeping up the act of being in pain for the few customers in the inn. Three other tables were occupied, but none by Runners. Tibs knew none of them, even by sight. People from other cities, here for a visit.

“And the best we have for my favorite Runners.” Kroseph placed bowls of stew on their tables along with tankards of ale, then dropped in the extra seat.

“Stew’s the best you have?” Jackal asked before digging in.

Kroseph sighed. “There’s only so much we can do with low-quality meat. Russ’s going around seeing who can sell us better cuts while dad’s back home, but no one has anything to sell. At this rate, we’re not going to get anything until the next caravan’s here in a few weeks, and they are going to jump on the chance to charge us far more than the meat’s worth.”

Jackal opened his mouth, but Kroseph raised a hand.

“Everyone’s had a bad time, Hun. This isn’t your father targeting us. I can count on one hand the taverns with good meat, and they aren’t selling it since they have all those customers to feed now.”

“Is it not nonetheless suspicious,” Khumdar said, “that supplies coming from so many different places will arrive with spoiled food?”

“Could your dad do this?” Carina asked Jackal.

Jackal thought about it. “I don’t know. He would do it, that’s sure, but he hasn’t been here long enough to know where everyone gets their supplies from. Normally I’d ask around, get someone who has had contact with people around my father to tell me, but none of the guards are speaking with me right now. Seems that after a few of them have had accidents, none of them will go against my father’s wishes.”

“I thought none of them worked for him anymore,” Mez said.

“They’ve seen the kind of things my father can make happen while they worked for him, so they know what those accidents really are. And they will be quick to warn any new guards Knuckles brings in, not that those would be of any use to me.” He looked around the nearly empty inn. “My father is the kind of man that can make a lot happen with a few well-placed words.”

Kroseph squeezed Jackal’s arm. “This isn’t your fault.”

“No, it’s my father’s.”

“Some of the guards have items that let them lie to Harry,” Tibs reminded the others.

“Have you been able to tell which ones?” Carina asked.

Tibs shook his head. “I tracked down the one who spoke with your father, and I can’t sense any magic on her.”

“I expect this will not be what you wish to hear,” Khumdar told Jackal after giving Tibs a calculating look. “But would it not be best if you submitted to him? It would alleviate the trouble he is causing. It would allow you to plan without him always watching.”

“He’s spying on you?” Kroseph asked in surprise.

Jackal shrugged.

“I feel the eyes of the people he pays,” the cleric said, flicking his eyes to the occupied table on their left.

Jackal glared at the occupants, and one of the men grinned, raising a tankard to him. They didn’t care that Jackal knew, Tibs realized. Sebastian might even want him to know he was being watched.

Kroseph kept Jackal from standing.

“You don’t know my father.” He told Khumdar. “Submitting to him wouldn’t make him stop hurting the people I care about. At this point, he’d do it so I knew how much of a mistake defying him was.”

“How about killing him?” Carina offered, and Tibs stared at her. That felt drastic coming from her, until he remembered what the dungeon had put them through. She might not come from the street like him, where that was a reasonable reaction to a threat, but she’d hardened throughout the runs.

“It won’t help,” Jackal replied. “My father has orders in place to ensure that anything he considers his gets destroyed in the event of his death. He probably has something in place so even once time kills him, people will pay for letting that happen.”

Tibs thought over what Jackal said, and why he’d said it. “This isn’t his town.”

“He settled here, Tibs,” Jackal replied darkly. “As far as he’s concerned, it’s already his, and I can’t think of any way to force him to leave, not that I’m sure he’d stop thinking of it as his if I managed it.”

“It’s not his town,” Tibs stated.

He studied the people at the table out of the corner of his eye. They looked like the others in the inn, and Tibs suspected that if not for Khumdar’s connection to darkness, he wouldn’t know they were spies either.

Tibs needed that. He needed to know who was spying on them, no matter what they looked like. He couldn’t afford to let the cleric keep this secret anymore. He finished eating while working out how he would arrange this.

Once he was done, he stood. “Khumdar, I think it’s time for my next lesson.” He hadn’t seen the spies before, so he hoped they didn’t know his friends well enough to tell who usually did what.

“What lesson?” Jackal asked.

“His letters,” the cleric replied, standing. Tibs didn’t react, but was surprised at the ease with which Khumdar picked up on his intent. “You are welcome to accompany us. I am certain you too can benefit from more time practicing it.”

“No thanks,” Jackal replied. “You two have fun with that.” He gave a questioning look to Kroseph, who simply smiled and patted his arm. “Remember, we’re training later,” Jackal called after them.

“You’re not going to protest?” Tibs whispered as they exited. The woman who’d sat next to the man who had toasted Jackal was following them, not bothering to pretend otherwise. It made Tibs think someone else would do so too, out of sight.

“No. I believe there is now too much happening for me to hold on to this particular secret. For as much as I enjoy being the only one who knows so much about this town, you are the one better able to put this ability to use in protecting it.”

“You could just tell me what I need to know to protect everyone.”

Khumdar smiled. “Relinquishing one secret is difficult enough. I do not believe I would be capable of telling you everything you need to know. You will have to gather those secrets on your own.”