“Hold up,” Jackal called, as Tibs headed for the room’s door. The fighter took his pouch of containing, as he called it, back from Don.

The sorcerer had spent the time he held it going from glaring at the pouch, as he pulled one item or another out, to being amazed. His most visible frustration had come as he’d pulled a long sword Jackal had yet to sell, it being easily ten time longer than the pouch was deep. He grumbled about books he’d have to ask for as Tibs and Jackal left the room.

“So,” Jackal said, pulling Tibs in a different direction than the one he’d intended to go in. “Metal?”

Tibs nodded.

“How did you manage that?” Jackal asked, turning them into an alley Tibs recognized as the shortest route to the warehousing neighborhood. “And how come you didn’t tell me?”

“One of the assassins stabbed me with a sword, but missed my heart. Instead of dying, I had an audience. And—”

Jackal spun Tibs. “An assassin? And this is the first time I hear about it?”

“I didn’t die,” Tibs replied. “And I dealt with—”

“Because you were lucky.”

“Luck isn’t a thing.”

Jackal glared at him. “It’s a good thing you dealt with them. It means I don’t have to hunt them down.”

“I dealt with all of them.”

“All of them?” the fighter asked in dismay. “Just how many times did someone try to murder you? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Tibs shrugged. “I thought you knew. You told me your father would take his revenge after his death.”

“Yes, the attacks on the town the guards and your Runners have been dealing with. I figured my father didn’t think to tell them about you, since you never told me you were targeted.”

“He told them.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of obvious now,” he replied in exasperation. His expression soften and he let go of Tibs. “And you didn’t tell me about metal because you didn’t want me to know about the attack, right?”

Tibs kept pace with the fighter. “I just forgot about it. I’ve been busy. Irdian had his guards looking for where I kept the training supplies until he got them. It took a lot of work to misdirect them for so long. There was also working out how to solve the dragon crest puzzle. Then I had to look over the list of what Darran could get me to replace what Irdian stole. Figuring out how much I’d have to spend, versus the quality and when they’d get here, gave me headaches.”

And had gone through nearly all the coins Tibs had gotten from the sale of the corruption pool. He had underestimated how much he could get by a lot. No getting a kingdom’s worth of arms and armors for him. But he’d have enough to equip the Omega teams with better armor than what the guild provided them, while they looked close enough not to attract attention. Darran had also made arrangements with the owner of the weapons shop for space to store Tibs’s equipment among his wares. It would make it harder for Irdian to notice them.

“So being busy is also why you didn’t train with it? And the reason you were all murder focused when you channeled it to deal with lightning?”

“Yes,” Tibs lied. He hadn’t known it would help against the lightning. It had just been the closest element to reach for in his confused state. He was surprised Jackal knew metal helped with lightning. “Metal is stubborn. Not flexible in how she goes about getting what she wants.”

“Metal, inflexible?” Jackal chuckled. “That’s funny.”

“Why?”

“Because metal is flexible when it’s made correctly. It takes a lot to break a metal sword or piece of armor.”

“I thought it was just because metal’s hard.”

“Stone’s harder,” Jackal replied. “Well, some are. But stone’s not flexible, so it’s easier to make it shatter than metal.” He motioned to the warehouse as it became visible. “But for now, you’re going to train with it. I don’t want that stubbornness to be why Don finds out about you.”

“Do you think telling him about the pouch was a mistake?”

“It’s a risk,” the fighter answered, “but I gave him reasons that work if the guild asks him to explain why I have it.” He grinned. “Everyone knows I’m so greedy I’d keep something like this.”

“But they are going to know to touch everything to see if someone on the other teams are hiding one, or something else.”

Jackal’s steps faltered. “Oh, abyss. I didn’t think about that part. Why were you okay with me telling him then?”

“He isn’t lying when he says he wants to be part of the team, and when he says he wants to be better. But he invested a lot of time becoming important to the guild. He might be tempted by that. You’re better than I am at figuring people that way.”

Jackal considered it. “I’ll have Mez pay attention. They seem to get along. If Don’s going to drop his guard around anyone, it’s going to be him and he can—”

Tibs stopped the fighter from moving further as he noticed people within his sense. No elements, and the faint essence of townsfolk and without weapons or armor, but inside the unused warehouse. Jackal touched the ground, then frowned.

“Not guards,” Tibs whispered.

Jackal moved his essence within his body, but his skin kept its tanned hue. He nodded and they continue. The fighter pulled the door and stepped in as if he owned the place, then stopped, staring at the workers who were gathering the broken results of Tibs’s previous training into a large pile in the center.

“Can I help you?” a woman asked in surprise as she dropped larger pieces of a crate on the pile.

“We heard noises,” Tibs replied, “and came to see what was causing it.”

“Well, it’s us. You can move on.”

“Why are you clearing that?” Jackal asked.

“The owner wants to use it,” she replied. “So she hired us to make it usable. Of course,” she grumbled, “she never mentioned the war zone it was.”

Jackal frowned. “Isn’t this Harmel’s warehouse? He owns a leather shop.”

“No idea about that. We just do the work we get hired for.” She nodded to the door. “And you two shouldn’t be in here.”

Tibs exited, and a second later, Jackal was behind him.

“Well, that’s a problem,” the fighter said.

“Who’s Harmel?” Tibs sensed to make sure no one followed them. “I didn’t know the warehouse was owned.”

“That’s because it isn’t, not really. Harmel and his leather shop don’t exist.”

“Then, how was that his warehouse?”

Jackal chuckled. “My father would use businesses that don’t really exist to get a footing into neighborhoods that kept him out otherwise.”

“We were using it before your father came to Kragle Rock.”

Jackal didn’t comment, and Tibs glanced at him.

“I think this might be how he found out I was here. You needed a place to train, and I know who my father used to create those businesses, and the codes to slip in to make sure the agent creating it doesn’t discuss it with anyone. He has more agents doing that than it’s possible to keep count of, so I didn’t worry he’d question a specific agent about a specific business that he really shouldn’t remember not having created.” He sighed. “But it’s possible that he did. Sorry.”

Tibs shrugged. “Can you have another one made?”

Jackal shook his head. “Right now, my family’s in chaos as my brothers and sisters wanting control are fighting each other and the rest of our relatives. Everyone my father employed is going to know he’s dead, so they aren’t going to listen to orders coming from ‘him’. Then, whoever ends up in charge is going to need to regain control of those people who think they don’t need to worry about my family anymore. That’s going to come with changing all the systems in place, so I’m not going to know those codes or people handing those types of deals.”

“Will whoever that is stop the attacks on the town?”

“I doubt it,” Jackal said after thinking it over. “They aren’t going to know how. Everyone knew how vindictive my father was. It’s kept even the ones who hated him from trying to replace him. But my father would have made sure any deal he made to avenge him was done outside of my family’s influence.” He chuckled. “I even wonder if my father’s left the family any coins to keep going, or if he was so self-centered he dropped it all on his revenge.”

“So, this will never end,” Tibs stated, annoyed. He had more important things to deal with than a dead man’s revenge.

“The money will run out at some point.”

“How long will it take?”

“No idea.”

Tibs nodded and wondered how many coins he’d need to get the attacks to stop. That would have been useful to know before selling the pool. He could have made sure Darran got him enough.

“I preferred you when you got angry,” Jackal said.

“That isn’t useful.”

“But you’d have told me about the attacks and the audience.”

“I was—”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Jackal snapped. “You’d have been pissed, and you would have vented to me, and I would have been able to help with deal with those assassins.” He took a breath. “This cold isn’t you, Tibs.”

“It’s what I need right now.”

Jackal rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. He let out a slow breath. “That audience with metal means you can have more. Which element do you need to get next?”

“I don’t know. When I asked Water, she said it could be any one I wanted.”

“And of course you didn’t tell me about that audience either,” Jackal said in exasperation. It took him longer to regain control of his temper. “Then, which one are you going after?”

“I don’t know. The only way I know how to have an audience is to almost die from the element. How do I die from Mind?”

“Easy. Think too hard.”

“How about void? Crystal and Wood can have weapons made of them, but there are more elements I don’t even know what they are.”

“Don can tell you about them, I expect. So, should I start looking for a crystal dagger I can plant too close to your heart for comfort?” he asked, biting off the words.

“I’d have to explain why I want to know about all those other elements.” Tibs ignored the edge to Jackal’s words.

“Use the same reason you use to annoy everyone else. You’re curious about something you don’t know. I have no idea how you always get them to answer you.”

“I’m a kid. No one gets angry at kids for asking questions.”

Jackal snorted.

* * * * *

Tibs looked over the report Darran had sent him regarding the equipment he’d ordered with time frames and explanations for the delays, or how some that might arrive early. To avoid attracting attention, they’d arrive with caravans spread over multiple bazaars.

This meant that by the time the first shipment arrived, he’d have Upsilon teams among the urchins, and possibly some at Rho, if they learned quickly. He’d have to hope training would be enough to convince some team to join him or they might be beyond his ability to help by the time he had enough equipment.

* * * * *

The room was illuminated by a sole lamp when Tibs slipped through the window. The man seated at the table only a silhouette, while the stacks of books were plainly visible. Not that Tibs had any interest in them. Tibs stepped quietly, but Don still looked up from the papers he was writing on.

“How late is it?” he asked. One of the diagram from the dungeon was before him, with yet more pages with writing on them spread around the table. The letters on the open book were too small for Tibs to make them out.

“Very.” The noble’s house had been challenging. A mix of good locks, subtle use of enchantments and attentive guards. He’d made it to the office, and took a silver since he hadn’t found copper by the time the guards had begun noticing something amiss.

Don snapped the book shut. “I don’t know what I can get out of these. I’m nowhere strong enough to justify asking my teacher how adding all this to an etching makes the resulting complexity useful.”

“Didn’t the books tell you that?”

“Those are what the merchants had on hand they would lend me, but they’re only tangentially related to incorporating the Arcanus into etching. The dungeon’s not powerful enough to draw those who’ll benefit from those books. I contacted Anuja regarding more relevant books, but I can’t know how long it’ll take until she has a reply for me.”

Tibs glanced at the diagram. “That’s Kha, it looks too big to be part of a filigree, that’s Bor. That line of all Fet.”

Don narrowed his eyes at him. “You aren’t even Lambda. How can you recognize any of the Arcanus?”

“They look like letters.”

“But the letters aren’t called Kah, or Bor, or any of that. And what’s a filigree?”

Tibs shrugged and indicated the line of Kha, close together. “When Alistair does etching and puts Arcanus into it, they remind me of the filigree that decorates fine goblets or necklaces. I don’t know what it’s actually called.”

“It’s a string,” Don replied. “Okay, I shouldn’t be surprised you can sense essence work that fine, but that doesn’t explain how you know the names. Did,” he hesitated, “Carina teach you?”

“No, Alistair told me some of them.”

“He told you?”

Tibs nodded.

“My teacher only just started preparing me to graduate to Zeta, and he barely talks about that level of etching, and yours just gave you their names?”

“What’s the test?”

“What? Test?” Don stared at him, confused. “It’s about taking the essence I’ve suffused throughout my body and pushing it into a specific channel. Once I can make that happen, I’ll have graduated to Zeta.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you about to tell me you can already do that?”

Tibs shook his head. “How do you make it happen?” He sensed for Don’s essence.

As with everyone with an element, it was tinted with that element’s color, and it flowed through him along paths Tibs thought of as channels, but were they the same as what Don meant?

“It’s about exercising my mind on—wait. Why am I answering you? What is your teacher doing telling you about the Arcanus when you’re just Rho?”

“Answering my questions.”

Don rolled his eyes.

“We had to do things differently from the start because of my age, so why should I stop now?”

Don watched him. “My teacher told me that I couldn’t work with the Arcanus until my body was stronger. Are you telling me he lied?”

Tibs shrugged. “He works for the guild. But,” he added. “Alistair did warn me that there are reasons the guild teaches the way it does. Most of them are about ensuring we survive the process of learning.”

“But that Alistair still teaches them to you.” He tapped the diagram.

“We’re rogues,” Tibs answered. “Following rules isn’t really what we do.”