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Stepping Wild, Draft 2, CH 71
🕑 Added 2025-06-25 13:00:02 +0000 UTCFinding lodging proved difficult. Few places offered them. And those which did, required him to justify his stay by providing immigration
Finding lodging proved difficult.
Few places offered them. And those which did, required him to justify his stay by providing immigration documents. Explaining he only needed the room until the caravan left didn’t work. There were lodgings for its guard by the market.
The immigration office proved to be, as he expected, more interested in convincing him to leave.
What skills would he bring to the city if they let him stay? They asked, with a tone saying they didn’t believe someone like him had anything to offer. They had plenty of people willing to fight, and their guards went through training specific to the city. No, merchants couldn’t make use of his services. The city provided guards for that.
The one skill Tibs had he knew the city didn’t, they wouldn’t look well on and he had no interest in a cell as his lodging. Although he was curious what would happen if he was in a cell when the caravan left.
He doubted they’d just kick him out of the city to fend for himself in the wilderness.
Well, he was confident other cities wouldn’t.
By the time he left the office, he had to wonder just how far Torleris would go to maintain order.
So he found an abandoned attic above an unused shop and settled in.
Walking the city without drawing the guards’ attention took work.
He had to get clothing that would let him blend in, and needed to buy them slowly, from all over the city, to keep from being noticed, before the caravan left. As a stranger, every merchant demanded to know why he’d want a piece of clothing from them. He played the excited visitor, gushing over the workmanship, the stitching, the colors.
He worded his compliments in ways that made is clear he was ignorant of anything relating to tailoring, and was criminally overcharged for the performance. But, over only four days, he accumulated a variety of pieces. Enough to fit in nearly every common social echelon within the city by careful variation of them.
While he brought them all to his tent by the caravan corral after purchase, only one set remained there.
Before the caravan had to leave, Tibs could walk about without being noticed.
It meant using the roofs without being seen until he found an alley free of guards so he could fall into with the city folks. And it meant speaking as little as possible. It would be months before he could hold a conversation without an accent. And while the city had an enclave of people from the Kingdom of Janidan, who insisted on speaking their native language there, even they weren’t looked at favorably outside the enclave.
As long as he had the patience to deal with being sneered at, Tibs could manage to be a Janidian flawlessly.
Tibs had to be with the caravan when it left. Each time he headed into the city, a guard reminded him they kept a tally of who left, of who wasn’t in a cell. And if they had to go look for him? He wouldn’t enjoy the result.
As with any last day of a caravan at a city, the chaos spread from the market to the corral the caravan wagons were kept. People from the city competed with the merchants as one demanded to be sold that one last item they couldn’t be without, while the other needed to pack their wares so they could be carried to their wagons before he guards made good on their threats of helping them along.
It had the advantage of making it impossible for the guards to keep track of everything and everyone, and they relied on paying attention to those who stood out.
Tibs walked to the corral as himself, laden with boxes for the spice merchant and jostled by city folks who’d realized their merchant had closed their booth, but still needed to buy that very important item.
Only letting people with coins into the market meant they also had the attitude they shouldn’t be denied what they wanted.
He paused at his tent after delivering his cargo to change. Then left it covered by an etching of Darkness to join a group of satisfied customers heading back into the city. He dropped it as he stepped behind and matched their attitude. The guards barely had the time to spare them a glance.
It was much the same as they exited the marketplace, breaking away from them once they were well out of the guards’ sight to mix with other city folks.
With nothing to do to ensure he could be undetected in the city, Tibs spent the day observing the inhabitants, confirming details he hadn’t been able to investigate in his previous outings.
The guards didn’t always need a reason to accost people; or arrest them. The only group who seemed immune to being randomly questioned about their actions, their thoughts on the city and those making decisions, were the nobles. The one time he saw a noble being questioned, they had been arguing with a merchant and the guards were no more gentle with them, as they were the merchant.
Making yourself noticed removed any protection your status granted you. If Tibs were willing to play noble for the duration of his stay, that was good information to have.
He was questioned twice during the day and adopted the Janidanian accent when responding. It didn’t quite match the way he was dressed, but his clothing had enough earth tones in them he wasn’t questioned about that.
On an errand, he replied to being asked what he was doing. He gave the name of a wealthy resident of the Janidian enclave as the one who sent him. When asked about his thoughts on the ruler of the city, Tibs didn’t have to act puzzled. He couldn’t understand why someone like that had an interest in what lowly city folks thought.
And having to figure out his answer gave him a sense of why they were asking.
While he hadn’t heard anything about it, the harshness of the law enforcement had to create an undercurrent of dislike. Ordinary folks might not be able to hide that when speaking about the person responsible for it. Maybe that was the reason behind the unexplained arrest he’d witnessed.
He affected a confused disinterest while telling the guard he thought they did a good job, and was let go.
The day after the caravan left, criers spread word of one of the caravan folk caught stealing, and that she would be punished at the day’s zenith. He was there, and close enough to recognize her as one of the caravan guards.
What she’d done to deserve the whipping varied based on who talked about it. A few coppers out of a pocket, some said. Out of merchant’s coin box, others. Some claimed it had been silvers. One stated she’d been caught taking electrum from a city office. He hadn’t needed the light on the words to know that was a lie.
The whipping was less severe than Tibs had expected for theft; she got to keep her hands. But harsh enough she had to then be dragged to the Street afterward.
He considered helping her, as well as how he’d go about it, but decided not to. Having both been guards with the same caravan didn’t make them friends, or her his responsibility. The caravan master had been clear about what would happen to anyone causing trouble. She’d gotten herself into this, she’d have to get herself out of it.
He had more important things to work on.
*
Tibs improved his wardrobe over the following weeks and gained a better sense of how the city worked.
During the day, anyone without a demonstrable purpose might be taken away for questions.
Tibs acquired a satchel in which he kept fresh clothing. Making a delivery for his employer. He’d learned the name of half the city’s tailors and location of their shops in case a guard asked for details. They didn’t. That he be about on business was enough.
A bell ran when the sun was two fingers’ width from the top of the walls as warning. And everyone was to be inside by the time full dark fell, to leave only when the morning bell sounded, with the sun’s rays breaking over the walls.
The one exception surprised Tibs. If someone called for a cleric, no matter how late, a guard fetched one. If one was found out, they needed to prove they were a cleric, then were escorted to their destination. Anyone else was taken away, not to be seen again.
Those arrested in the day would return later, a few days later, at most. They looked rougher for their stay in a cell and did not speak of what had been done to them there.
Tibs found where those arrested at night were held by following such an arrest.
The city had a large complex of cells under the guards’ headquarter filled with people. Freeing them would create chaos, but would anything come of it?
He knew better than to believe removing the ruler would change anything. He couldn’t even be sure she was the one who was responsible for the harsh enforcement. He only knew what he’d read about the kingdom, and that was always old information. Maybe every city was this harsh, although the caravan master has specified the city, not the kingdom, so possibly not. Keeping the person in charge ignorant of what was happening under their sight only meant controlling the information, since they didn’t bother with walking the streets to make sure everything was done the way they wanted it.
It hadn’t been to this extent, but Tibs had seen it before.
He couldn’t leave this for the king to handle, if this wasn’t how the kingdom was ruled; and if Tibs even knew how to go about warning them of what was happening. From what he’d read, the kings’ rules for cities far from where they resided were carried by representatives. And cities reported on how well they carried out those instructions through those same representatives, who didn’t walk around the city to confirm it was true.
Who would a king trust? A random citizen or a trusted representative?
No, if things were to change, they needed to happen here, by someone here.
No, not someone.
One person couldn’t fix how a city did things. The people of that city needed to be the ones to retake control of their lives; control of their city. They might need to be shown it could be done, and how to go about it, but they needed to decide to act, and only then could he help them further.
And, of course, there needed to be someone distracting the guards while those realizations happened.
*
Gathering the clothing took time. He had to slip the garish colors among other purchases for his ever improving wardrobe.
He didn’t normally go for garish. The characters he crafted might be out of bards’ songs, but they needed to be actual people. Successful thieves didn’t dress garishly. It was their crimes, their actions, that brought attention to them, became impossible to ignore.
Only this time, it couldn’t be crimes the guards noticed. To undermine the city’s stifling order, those behind them couldn’t be suspected.
So, this character needed to create the needed chaos simply by being there.
The clothing, more than the personality, would make him impossible to ignore, and for those, he went with lavender silk pants, a belt of black satin. The shirt was the orange of a warm season sunset, while the doublet over it the yellow of that sun at its zenith. The cap atop his head, the red of roses. He’d considered a bright green for the shoes, but realized they would be impossible to hide when he needed to be inconspicuous without using essence, so they were ordinary brown.
If the city’s guards were even slightly competent, disappearing from the chase would require the use of magic.
But for the Nimble Roamer’s first appearance, Tibs acquired a set of drab pull-apart clothing theater folks liked and picked a guard to follow, knowing it would only be a question of time before he was given an excuse to act.
That time came when the guard reached for a merchant setting clay mugs on a table before her shop.
He grabbed the wrist while pulling his outer clothing off and smiled at the man’s surprise.
“Now, this isn’t how one treats a respectable woman.” Tibs made his accent Itranian. “Please let her arm go without causing her to drop her wares. Madame, I do apologize for this—” he stepped out of the way of the sword’s point. “You should retire inside, madame, while I handle this.”
He faced the guard. “Is that an acceptable way to treat a newly arrived visitor to this… I suppose this is putting doubt on this being a fine city.”
The responding slash came fast enough, Tibs didn’t entirely step back in time and the bright yellow doublet was cut, but not the orange shirt below. He couldn’t let it touch his skin, since he hadn’t worked out how to use Fever to let himself bleed.
“I say. What kind of city is this, that its guard will assault an innocent man, instead of protecting him from ruffians.”
With a few more slashes, Tibs had a measure of the man’s speed and skill, and avoiding the attacks became easy.
Sensing the person edging to the roof’s end, Tibs stepped into the guard’s attack, took the sword from him—to the forming crowd’s gasp of fear—and slashed the arrow out of the air, an Air etching causing the actual deflection.
He pointed to the archer with the sword. “See, that is who you should be protecting me—” He looked from the guard to the archer and the guard again, making a show of noticing they wore the same armor. “Well, this is embarrassing. Have I confused the city’s ruffians for guards?”
He slashed another arrow out of the air, then faced the crowd. “Can one of you, good folks, point me to the city guard? I suspect I’ll have trouble finding them, if bandits dress the way these do.”
He slashed another arrow while the crowd took in his question. “Do you mind?” He threw the sword in the archer’s shoulder, needing essence to adjust its direction, then looked at his empty end. “That might not have been the smarted thing I’ve done.” He sidestepped the guard’s attempt at planting a dagger in his back and shoved him away.
He faced the crowd. Some pointing at the man he pushed, others at the archer, hand on the sword as if he contemplated pulling it out.
Everyone looked scared.
“Those are the guards?” He faced the guard, maneuvering for an attack. “Is it normal for guards to accost merchants going about their business in this city?”
“What we do isn’t any of your business.” The man lunged and Tibs stepped aside.
“When guards attack an innocent wandered such as myself, you have made the situation one I must address. No one has ever claimed the Nimble Roamer leaves injustice standing.”
The guards staggered as he turned to face him again. “Who?”
Tibs grinned, rushing forward and punching the guard off his feet. “No need to worry. Soon, the entire city will speak my name.”
He faced the larger crowd, sensing the group forcing their way through the back of them. He gave a bow. “The Nimble Roamer must leave. But fear not, gentle folks. I will not leave you at their mercy. While my wanderings usually take me away, this time I will remain until they remember what role guards play on the stage of a city.”
He turned as the gap the guards made, pushing people out of their way, became visible and ran for the alley.
Author's thoughts
Mostly fine tuning the text, again.
I did adjust Nimble Finger’s dialogue. Turns out it was a lot like that of Fleet Fingers, so I let him use contractions.
Otherwise, nothing jumps out as a significant change.
