kindar
patreon
Stepping Wild, Draft 2, CH 63
🕑 Added 2025-06-06 13:00:01 +0000 UTCSilence spread through the room, as green leathers were exposed. It was sudden enough it turned into whispering before Tibs reacted. With a
Silence spread through the room, as green leathers were exposed.
It was sudden enough it turned into whispering before Tibs reacted. With a theatrical turn, he yanked the rest of the cloth off with a hand, pulling the hood over his head with the other, and then affixing the half mask.
“And Fleet Fingers looked so forward to a grand entrance,” he said, now facing his hosts. Cynta, between the two women, looked more and more horrified. “But he must give thanks for such a wonderful evening. Everyone, clap to show your gratitude.”
He brought his hands together as Cynta yelled, “Where’s my man!”
Tibs grinned. “Why, my good lady. He is enjoying himself to the utmost. Fleet Fingers made sure to ply him with more books than he can ever read.” He snatched a goblet from a stunned servant and drained the now corruption free liquid. “But you now must excuse Fleet Fingers, there is a safe calling to him. Surely you too can hear its plaintive cries?”
“Stop him,” she yelled, but Tibs thought Cynta had cracked a smile. She had only heard of Fleet Finger’s extravagance until now.
He faced the guards as they moved from the wall to blocking the door.
“Please, there is no need for anyone to bother helping Fleet Fingers. He can easily find his way. You should all enjoy—” he ducked under the noble’s swing and turned to face her. “And Fleet Fingers is proved right once more. What kind of person attempt to a decapitation from behind while he is telling other to enjoy—” He stepped aside from the swing. “Or, mayhaps, you object to others enjoying—” Her attempt at skewering him cut the cloak. “Could it be the word you object to? Enjoy—” He stepped back from the slash. He smiled. “En—”
“What are you waiting for?” Cynta yelled. “Get him!”
“She’d handling him fine,” Charlie replied. “That’s just some book lover playing rogue.”
Tibs wished the fighter didn’t try so hard. He twirled away from the sword tip. Fortunately, the nobles were paying more attention to his display than the hints Charlie had revealed. The guards had yet to move, possibly taking their lead from the lady’s less than impressed one, but he had work to do.
When she thrust again, Tibs stepped forward, the blade impaling his cloak, and placed a hand on her stomach. “Fleet Fingers believes you should step back before you ruin this oh so pretty attire you wear.” The push was light, but the Air etching he added ensured she backpedaled into the crowd of watchers.
He faced the guards, who were shoving Charlie forward. It seemed that laying a hand on a noble had been going too far. The fighter eagerly drew his sword, a smile of anticipation on his face, but Tibs disappointed him and the others by putting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder as he swung and propelled himself over all of them, landing before the door, where he turned to give his customary bow, but the guards were already turned and running for him.
He ran for the stairs.
“Don’t chase him, you idiot,” Cynta yelled. “Your job’s to keep me safe, since you weren’t competent enough to keep him from escaping.”
Tibs dodged surprised servants.
If she’d had to remind Charlie of his part in this; the fighter had been too much into the coming chaos. Maybe he thought he needed to be here to covertly help Tibs.
Or, this being Charlie, he had hoped for a good fight to be part of.
He reached the office without interference and had weakened the wood around the lock by the time he kicked the door in. The books were flying out from before the safe, its tumblers already moving. He had coins, bars and papers in the leather bag by the time the steps reached the top of the stairs. He’d made out Promises and something that might be a deed.
He tied the bag’s rope to his belt and melded the wood essence together, then turned to face the door. The guards crowded the doorway.
“Fleet Fingers fears you are too late. He didn’t leave you any.” He smiled. “But your masters will understand that Lord Fyrbrend is most displeased with them.” He made a shooing motion, but they kept blocking the exit. “No? Will you really force Fleet Fingers to make a mess of this pretty office?”
The two guards fully in the doorway rushed him, swords drawn. He dodged. Then seven followed, and the room became crowded enough he had to resort to essence to keep the blades from cutting him, or hurting each other too badly. He didn’t want any of them to die during this.
The door was free, so these were the only ones who’d been already too far to respond, or ignored, the nobles calls to guard them, as Cynta’s yells would have reminded them. As expected, Uzoma wasn’t among these people.
Now, he needed to estimate how long he had to keep the fight going for the archer to get into position since he couldn’t tell his essence apart in all this.
The desk broke under the weight of the guard he threw into it. Books were cut, shelves destroyed, and the guards were panting hard. He had to hope this had been long enough, because anymore and the guard would question how it was he was so good.
With people not used to magic, going from ‘skilled and lucky’ to ‘something unnatural about what he can do’ happened too quickly.
He kicked the guard away, turning for the window, but he sensed something wrong. The pantry wall had been moved. The group matched what he’d expected the ladies to bring with them, but the safe wasn’t being opened.
A guard tackled him while he focused on the locking pins, pulling out enough essence they’d break under a strong pull. He shoved the guard off and stood. Now, he had to hope that regardless of what Cynta could, or couldn’t make happen. Charlie’s little patience would cause him to just force it open.
He shifted his sense as the guards moved to block the door again. One person stood on the roof opposite this room.
“As always, Fleet Fingers enjoyed the entertainment you so skillfully provided.” He backed to the window, using essence to undo the latch, so it opened as he sat on the edge. “But now, it is time for Fleet Fingers to leave. He had shops to visit and other people’s money to spend.” He grabbed the top of the window and pulled himself into it.
He smiled, while readying himself.
The arrow hit his shoulder, unbalancing him forward, and he let his feet slip back. The impact of the sill took more of his breath out than the second arrow, this one in his back. He let himself fall out as the guard reached for his hand. Uzoma got two more arrows into him, one missing and planting into the wall.
He crashed into the bush-looking pile of hay the green fabric over them make it look like and remained still as someone wearing wooden armor approached.
“Watch over the body!” the woman peering out the window yelled. “We’re coming down for it!”
“She’s gone,” the person at the edge of the ‘bush’ hissed and more moved as Tibs pulled the wooden arrows out of his armor, healing the damage before anyone noticed. Convincing Uzoma the padding he’d add would be enough had been difficult, but the only way to pull this off.
As soon as he rolled off the hay, the bundle was pulled away and the actual bush, crushed, revealed. The body in green and black, with arrows in it, was dumped on top of that while a bundle was handed to him. He draped it over himself, and one of the man wearing wooden armor painted to look like metal helped attach it so it mimicked what they wore.
This had been suggested instead of wearing yet more clothing under his armor. He’d expressed concern about using fabric painted to look like armor, but Sistro had assured him it was a trick they used often to fill out the ranks of guards in a play when actors couldn’t afford to wear the wooden fakes. So long as he remained behind, and didn’t draw attention to himself, no one would notice.
They stood aside when the household guards arrived.
She smiled at the body. “You,” he motioned to their group, “there’s an archer on that roof. Get them and bring them to me. The Ladies will want to congratulate them for this.”
“Yes, sir!” the actor in front of Tibs said. “With me!”
He and the three others followed the man off the ground and into the alley by the house Uzoma had been on. As soon as they were out of sight they pulled the armors off, revealing clothing suited for nobles’ servants.
“You going to be okay?” one asked Tibs as he changed out of his green and black armor. “That was a long fall.”
He chuckled. “I’ve thrown myself out of higher, with less hay to land into. How about you? How safe are you going to be making it back?”
The woman next to him laughed. “Playing nobles and people who work for them is what most shows end up being about. Don’t worry, we’ll blend right in. The most we have to fear is Traren’s wrath because he has to remake these costumes.” She nodded to the armors. “You sure they won’t be found? A fire will attract people.”
“Making thing vanish without a trace is one of the skill I’ve picked up over years to theft.”
“Then we’re off.”
He waited until they were well away before causing the Wood essence in the armors and clothing to dissipate. The paints were left behind, but purity rendered that into less than nothing.
Uzoma wasn’t there when Tibs made it to the roof. Convincing the archer not to stick around had been harder than convincing him to shoot him. On the other side, servants were attempting to bring the crushed bush into something resembling life. It wasn’t dead; he sensed that. But it would be a long time before it regrew into something matching the others. A ladder was placed against the wall and one of them climbed it to pull the arrow out.
He ran off. He hadn’t needed to see this, but he’d been curious. Now he needed to pay the Fyrbrend a visit. The deed had given him an idea to add to the chaos.
Even if the guards didn’t report Fleet Finger’s words to their masters, he could make sure they learned. How amusing would it be for the Fyrbrend to be in possession of a deed they couldn’t explain when the Ladies came calling, demanding an explanation?
Getting in was simple as he’d already laid down the groundwork. He made it to the office without being noticed, and placed the deed in the safe, among other important looking papers.
The other change he made was to move Fleet Finger’s costume out from where it was hidden, to the dresser of an unoccupied room. Another thing they might have trouble explaining.
That done, He left to rejoin his team.
*
Tibs approached the rooming house cautiously.
He could sense the people in the rooms. One or two, without unusual amount of metal with them; with one exception. Three in one room, with enough metal on the table and bed to be more riches than any of them had seen before.
He still took his time. Too much had gone wrong recently for him to take for granted all was well. No out-of-place sounds as he climbed the stairs, or unusual silence. Everything seemed fine when he reached the door. Even the voices on the other side sounded like his team; a giddy version of them.
He gave the knock. It opened, and Uzoma pulled him into a hug. “You’re fine!”
Tibs forced him in and closed the door. “I told you I’d be.” He set the etching to keep the sounds within the room. “It’s not the first time I’ve used that trick.”
“I could have sworn I saw the arrow go in deep.”
“Like you could see anything from that far,” Charlie said, pulling a handful of gold and platinum coins and letting them trickle back in.
Tibs lobbed his bag at the fighter. “How did it go?
“I was worried,” Cynta said. “With you being revealed among the party, and Charlie nearly going off to fight you.”
“Protect him,” the fighter corrected.
“Giving Jenifer the idea she needed to check on the other safe was delicate work. Which, unfortunately, I couldn’t get to include opening it to confirm one of your associate hadn’t already emptied it. I thought we were done for but this lug just grabs the handle and pulls.”
Charlie grinned. “And it worked!” He bent his arm, so the bicep bulged. “I’m stronger than I look!”
“More like it was poorly made,” Cynta said, then grinned. “The pins snapped, and we had access to all of it. He subdued everyone there, and we took everything.” She motioned to the bags on the bed. “They were so busy dealing with Fleet Finger’s body, no one noticed us leaving.”
“I’d be pissed at you keeping that part from me until the last moment,” Uzoma said. “But I got to put arrows into you.”
“Changing plans at the last moment is something teams need to get used to,” Tibs said. “But I would definitely have preferred having more time to put this together. If the nobles realized the theater was involved.”
“In what?” Cynta laughed. “It isn’t like nobles will think a disreputable theater troupe would be able to do this, and there’s nothing left indicating they were there. We’re all safe.”
“So long as you’re careful with your share,” Tibs said. “Remember. You can’t go around living the one of them.”
Uzoma snorted. “No chance of that with me. I’m hiring myself on the next caravan doing nadir and staying in a hole until then.”
Tibs looked at Charlie; the one most at risk of not using good judgment.
“Cynta convinced me to let her hide my share until well after things have died down. She’ll arrange for one of those money people to hand me some every month. Enough to live okay, but not enough to be noticed.”
“And you’re okay letting her do that?”
Charlie laughed. “No. But I want to live so I can take care of my city. That means I need someone smarter than me making those kinds of decisions. I’m going to learn about trading in the meantime. It’ll explain where the money comes from when I start using it.”
“That part was his idea,” Cynta said.
“I’m not that dumb,” the fighter said, smirking. He rubbed his hands together. “How about we split this up?”
Tibs took out charcoal and paper. This wasn’t getting done without a lot of numbers being written.
Author's thoughts
The bulk of the alterations were about streamlining the events. The addition of the theater’s involvement was an on the spot thing in the previous draft, so was clunky.
With the quick scene in the previous chapter and these alteration, I think it flows better.
