kindar
patreon
Stepping Wild, Draft 2, CH 73
🕑 Added 2025-06-30 13:00:03 +0000 UTCTibs looked at the people among the crowd he followed, trying to identify those mistreated by the ruling class. In other cities, those
Tibs looked at the people among the crowd he followed, trying to identify those mistreated by the ruling class.
In other cities, those people were easier to find. Those abused by the city’s systems looked it. A family barely holding onto their lodging looked like it was where every coin went. Their clothing were in tatters, no matter how fine they started as. They were thin, as they barely afforded the minimum to subsist.
At a glance, he’d have a handful of people who’d find silvers or coppers they’d somehow misplaced in the bottom of a drawer.
Here, the city placed enough importance on everything appearing well that people put that first. The only place they couldn’t was on the Street. There wasn’t enough of anything there for them to cover up they had nothing. He’d done what he could, but this Street’s coppers were broken with a precision that meant they were well controlled. Too controlled to be the making of the Street itself.
Everyone else looked fine. Their clothing might be worn, but nothing that said they were in the process of being destitute. Even the way they moved gave little away. And the outside of every house looked…fine. The whitewash was recent on all of them, and he watch a group applying it to all the houses along a street. Only sensing the wood and stone that made them gave him a sense of which house did or didn’t belong to someone in financial trouble.
The need to appear as everything was fine explained, to Tibs, why the citizen had easy access to the clerics. If they were allowed to rot from the inside, they wouldn’t be able to carry on maintaining the illusion the city was well governed. He was baffled by the amount of work the rulers put in it when so few people came. Were they so afraid the king would find out? And wouldn’t it be easier to just make sure everyone had enough food and coins so they could live and work comfortably? Wouldn’t it be easier to rule properly than building up the illusion they did?
Were they so arrogant as to not understand that?
With careful attention, he found people to leave coins with. He couldn’t give them as much as he wanted. The change in their comfort would be noticed and questioned. Justified or not, they would be taken away for those, and might not always return.
He’d come to realize that many times, when the Nimble Roamer kept guards from taking someone away, that had been the reason. More than once, he’d been left wanting to reach out and bring the city offices down. To find the rulers and burn everything they had, so they’d learn the wrongness of what they did.
But he recognized it for his anger, and he knew the damage he’d cause this way would overshadow any potential good.
Still, anytime he couldn’t stop a guard from taking someone away. Any time he found himself feeling like the entire city was one Street, pretending it was something else. He wondered if the satisfaction at destroying everything here might not be enough to do it.
And because of that, he knew he couldn’t be the one acting on it.
*
With his ‘proper’ papers in order, he was able to find official lodging where the scholar he claimed to be could keep his tools.
One advantage to the efficiency of the system was the no one bothered checking a clerk had entered the information in the city’s registry. He presented his permit, the library clerk looked at it, made an entry in the journal, and allowed him in. So long as the dates were adjusted, the clerk didn’t question his presence. Same with his lodging. So long as he had the permit and the coins, they didn’t question his stay.
The clerk had asked what he intended to research, and by then, Tibs had decided on the kingdom’s economic impact on its neighbors. It would let him excuse reading just about any books, since just about anything could be connected to a kingdom’s economy.
*
The library was as well appointed as any he’d visited, and surprisingly well frequented, considering how few people came to the city. It was possible that like who he pretended to be, scholars from other cities worked through the arduous process of getting a permit. Or the city simply had a large caste of scholar of its own. If it did, they certainly seemed better off than the rest of the city folks.
They certainly thought they were.
It was the rare scholar who hadn’t reinforced that impression. Intellect, he’d often heard one of them say, was of the utmost importance and the distractions of the common folks couldn’t be allowed to get in the way.
In their own way, they were like nobles, but at least the worse of their crimes amounted to disdained indifference.
It only took him a few visits to learn the Forest of the Lost was Sunrise-mid-Nadir of Torleris, its edge starting three days’ gallop away. The closest village along it was two weeks at horseback Sunriseward, or a month Sunsetward.
With that established, he searched for books that contained stories that could lead him to the dungeon as well as anything that might address the elements, or even hinted of weaving with essence.
He figured he’d need a year to settle the situation in the city, and he planned on making good use of the time he wasn’t busy with that.
*
She showed up a month after Tibs started his research. He would have missed her, speaking with one of the librarians, if not for how his sense muddled where she stood. He used returning the book to its shelf as the reason to walk by them, taking in her copper hair, brown eyes, and the metal layers within her leathers. She glanced at him without stopping the conversation.
“…two months ago.” She returned her attention to the librarian, and Tibs used an etching of Air to carry the words to him as he stepped out of sight between shelves.
“We get many a visitor,” the man answered. “It is impossible to remember each of them.”
“Really? I didn’t see anyone around the platform.”
“That you did not arrive at the same time as others does not mean no one comes.”
“Fine. How many of them are still here? He always stays until everything else he’s doing it finished.”
Her accent was thick, but he wasn’t sufficiently at easy with Fristir to tease it apart, but he thought he heard Latiranian in it. “He had to show that permit everyone coming here is forced to get. So you know who’s here that arrived back then.”
“A scholar’s permit is verified when they pay for their admission. We do not record that information.”
Tibs knew the information had been written. Did the scholar not appreciate her investigating the library? Erudite speech had an advantage in masking how someone felt. It all sounded condescending.
“Why not? How can you not want to keep track of who comes and goes?”
“That is the work of the intake office. Go bother them.”
“I can’t unless I have a name to give them,” she replied. “And I know he come to this place. He always spends a lot of time in the libraries.”
“This is an institution of learning. Any who have gone through the steps to gain admission are welcome here. Those who do come here to improve themselves and their understanding of the world. We don’t take part in the chaos outside you claim he is connected to.”
“Oh, trust me. He works with that Roamer character.”
Tibs startled. How had she worked that out? There was nothing about the characters he created as a distraction that connected to anyone else he pretended to be, especially not the ones he used for his research.
He narrowed his sense to her, trying to pick up a detail that might tell him who she was, but the muddiness obscured her nearly entirely. The only part of her he sense without difficulty was below her knees.
So the question was, how had she gotten her hands on one of those stones?
Tibs was familiar with that muddiness. He hadn’t sensed it often since breaking the large block of green stone and the guild had taken all the pieces away, but too many horrible memories were linked to the man who had brought it to his town for him to forget it.
Some of the pieces had made it out of the guild’s control. Sebastian had gotten enough of them Tibs had been powerless to save Carina. But he’d sensed it a few times since then. But usually in the hands of powerful adventurers. Most likely on a mission for that guild requiring negating someone, or something’s, ability to affect essence.
She didn’t have an element; he could tell that. So she wasn’t an adventurer. A hunter without an element after a reward? He hadn’t paid attention, but the Nimble Roamer probably had a price on his head by now. Only, the fact she knew he ‘didn’t work’ alone meant she’d work out Roamer was connected to the other character he’d created in other cities, even if he’d made sure they all died before he moved on.
It had taken decades for it to happen, but someone had made links he couldn’t afford. If she, a woman barely out of girlhood had worked out all those distant things were connected, others had to also be looking for the person behind those crimes. She might work for them. A trainee, maybe? It would mean her teacher was nearby. And it explained how she came to have the stone. It didn’t explain how they’d think she needed it. None of his characters had come across as more than being out of bard’s songs. None of the essence he’d used had been noticed.
Her presence meant he should leave.
He had the information on the forest. Anything else would be added details that, while helpful, weren’t needed. He could research those in the next library. One he made sure wasn’t associated with one of his characters.
But his work in the city was barely begun.
He had the guards grumbling about not being respected because of the weekly problem with their pay. The rivalries between those still receiving full pay and those who didn’t had caused fights between them. The city tried to mitigate the disgruntlement by claiming the Nimble Roamer was behind it. But the advantage of making the Roamer someone out of songs was that everyone knew that if he had done it. It would have been a visible affair. As far as anyone was concerned, it was nothing more than the city looking to shift the blame.
But he still didn’t have anyone to stand up to the city; had only recently come across whispers there might be people organizing. If he left now, the city would regain control, tighten its hold on the people again, and nothing would change. Might grow worse as retaliation.
He found where the book belonged and went looking for another one.
But more importantly. She was just a girl. No older than he looked, but he had decades of experience at evading people far more skilled than she could be. Her teacher might be someone to be wary of, but they would be with her if they didn’t think she could handle this. And if they got involved? Well, Tibs had survived a dungeon or two…three now.
He’d be careful she didn’t find him, as the scholar or Nimble Roamer, but she’d have to bring much more than her teacher for him to worry.
Author's thoughts
Tried to reinforce why Tibs doesn’t want to be the one to fix the problems.
