Dungeon Runner (Book 1 and 2)

Stepping Up, Chapter 58

"Are they that bad?" Tibs asked as Carina dragged her feet.

He wore an oiled sheet over his nice clothing to keep them dry in the drizzle. Zackaria had cleaned them and had also shorn his hair down to the thickness of a finger. They'd hummed through the process and asked Tibs about the dungeon. He kept his stories to the exciting part of exploring the first and second floor and didn't mention all the deaths he had had to endure. They were too nice to hear about those.

"They're a bunch of self-centered, narrow-minded, no imagination Puritans," she grumbled.

"That last one sound like it would apply to everyone in the city."

"That doesn't make it any better!" she yelled in exasperation and some of the men and women passing by looked in their direction.

She wore her sorcerer's robes; the one she'd gotten from Sto. Peolo had offered her one of Zackaria's dresses, but Carina had glared at the cleric. Tibs was sure that if the dress hadn't belonged to Zackaria, Carina would have shredded it.

"Will it go better if you tell them I'm your special guy?"

She glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

He shrugged. "Seems everyone expects us to have a special someone."

"That's not going to help, but thank you for offering. And they aren't going to have a problem with you. You're not part of the family, so they aren't going to have expectations as to who you should have become."

The neighborhood they entered had larger houses, but they were no more luxurious than any of the others before. By the sound coming from them, as well as the number of people coming and going, the size seemed to accommodate larger families, instead of denoting status.

When Carina stopped, Tibs did the same. Little set the house they stood in front of from the others. It was made of rough stones and the wooden beams supporting the porch were coated in pitch to protect them from the water. Zackaria had explained they used the wood from a tree that was more resistant to rain, but even then, it needed the extra protection.

The three rocking chairs and bench under the yawning looked well used. The shutters were open, the glass keeping the drizzle out and letting the light in.

Voices came from inside.

A lot of them.

"How many people are in your family?" Tibs asked.

"It depends who's in the city." She sighed. "By the sounds, I'd say we're dealing with at least thirty of them." He looked miserable.

"I don't have my knife," Tibs said. Maybe Peolo had known what Tibs might offer to make Carina feel better because he had kept the one knife Tibs had brought to the city. "But I can make one with ice and lower their numbers if it's going to make you feel more comfortable."

She fought against the smile. "No killing my family, Tibs." She lost, then her sigh wasn't so filled with misery. "I'm not happy with them, but not so much I want any of them dead."

Tibs thought Peolo had come close with his offer of the dress.

"I can pick pockets so badly I'll get caught and they'll kick us out."

"No picking pockets," she said, horrified. "You can't go into the dungeon if you're in a cell."

"It's kind of how I ended up—"

"No picking pockets, Tibs," she instructed. He nodded, and she sighed in resignation. "I guess I just have to go through with this and hope it's worth it."

"It will be."

She glanced at him. "For you, certainly. You're the one getting an element out of this. All I'm getting is..." she motioned to the house.