"Where is Don?" the Runner now standing by their table demanded, interrupting Tibs as he enjoyed his stew. The man wore leather armor and had an old sword at his belt. By the tint in the essence coursing through his body, he had metal as an element—Tibs was getting better at identifying what the tints meant.

"Now," Jackal replied over his tankard, "why would anyone at this table know where the asshole is?"

The man glared at the team leader. "Everyone knows he hates Tibs and that you are going to keep track of anyone who can put your rogue in danger. You also have an annoying habit of knowing too much about the people in this town."

Khumdar looked at Jackal, who shrugged.

"I like talking with people, and they open up to me. It's not my fault if you piss off everyone who just looks at you, Arruh."

"This isn't about me being jealous of anything," the fighter retorted. "That sorcerer had something to do with what happened at the Caravan Garden a few days ago."

"How do you figure?" Mez asked.

"Who else in this town has corruption as their element?"

"I have air," Carina said. "Are you going to blame me when a strong wind makes a pole fall in your way?"

"You aren't an asshole who'll poison you because you got a better cut of meat than him."

"Considering the way he acts," Jackal said with a smirk, "I'm surprised there's anyone left willing to serve him."

"Some of us," Kroseph said, exchanging tankard, "can set aside how we feel about someone and do our job." He was gone before Jackal could reply.

Arruh leaned on the table. "Jackal, where is he? It's just a question of time before the guards start looking for him. They aren't going to care how many of us get raked over in the process. Me and a few others want to find him first and make sure he pays for his part in it."

"For what you believe his part to be," Khumdar said. "You have no evidence he has taken part in what took place."

"He's corruption," Arruh stated.

"That is not correct. He has corruption as his element." The cleric smiled. "Believe me when I say that is not the same thing."

"Are you going to help us?" the fighter demanded of Jackal, pointedly ignoring Khumdar. "Or are you going to protect that asshole?"

"I'd like to help you," Jackal replied. "In fact, I'd love to watch you give him the pounding he so well deserves. But I have no idea where he is. No one's seen or heard of him since the building fell."

Cursing, Arruh stormed off.

"Would you have handed him over to be beaten?" Mez asked.

Jackal shrugged. "I'm surprised you aren't out there helping Arruh, considering the time you spent in the asshole's care."

Mez took his time replying. "I want to see that sorcerer punished for the things he did to me and others." He looked at the people seated with him. "But do any of you believe he had something to do with that corruption?"

"No," Tibs said before going back to eating, not letting the stare keep him from enjoying his food.

"Tibs," Jackal said, "that man threatened you. Tried to feed you to the dungeon. Why are you defending him?"

Tibs sighed and put his spoon down. "Don isn't an idiot. If he was, he'd have tried to hurt me already because of all the things he thinks I did to him. He's the only person with corruption in the entire town. He knows everyone would think he did it. If he wanted the shop destroyed, he'd use something else." He considered the man again. "He'd get someone else to do it. That way, if they got caught, he can claim not to have anything to do with it."

"Until Harry asks him," Jackal said.

"I don't think Harry's going to get to ask him anything," Carina said, looking at the door the fighter left by. "Arruh isn't going to stop looking. The town isn't so big Don can keep hiding and not be seen by someone." She looked at them. "And considering the anger the destruction created, I don't think Arruh or anyone else who finds Don is going to stop at just a beating."

"Will that not simply cause the guards to arrest those who did it?" Khumdar asked. "Is death not the penalty for murder here? Or do Runners get special treatement?"

"Killers get thrown in the dungeon naked," Tibs said, then tried to remember where he'd heard that.

"Won't matter," Jackal said. "This place has become our home. People stop being rational when their home is threatened. At this point, they'll think that letting Don walk around is asking for another building to come crashing down. A few of them being put to death for protecting the town is going to be acceptable."

Tibs looked at his bowl, his appetite leaving.

This wasn't his problem. Don could take care of himself. If he couldn't, it wasn't like anyone would miss him. Back on his street, people got worse for a lot less.

Only, he wasn't on his street. He was in his town.

It wouldn't miss Don, but it might miss the idiots who killed him. Arruh was one of the original Runners. He was a strong metal fighter and loyal to his team. His death would break up that team. How would they react? Would they be able to form another team? Would they be as effective in the dungeon?

He looked at the people seated at his table. This wasn't the early days, when you worked with anyone that was put on your team. Now, you knew who they were. They were friends, a family.

One person dying for killing another could lead to the death of an entire team. That would be one less group interested in keeping the nobles from gaining more control of the town.

He sighed. So it was his problem, after all.

He went back to eating. Hungry or not, Don could wait until after he was done enjoying his meal.

* * * * *

The barkeep eyed Tibs suspiciously. "Yeah, I know Slim. Why are you asking?"

Tibs shrugged. "He owes me coins." Slim was Don's latest fighter. The sorcerer was rough on the people working for him. Enough that Tibs was confident that if it wasn't for the fact only complete teams went into the dungeon, and that a sorcerer had to be with them, Don wouldn't have a team. It also meant that he ended up with the people no one else wanted, so saying the fighter owed Tibs money was believable.

"I don't know where he is, and I don't want any part of those troubles," the barkeep stated.

"I won't tell him you told me."

Everyone was looking for Don, but they seemed to have forgotten that Don was part of a team and that he kept a tight rein on them. It was only a question of time before one of them returned to the sorcerer, so he was asking after Slim and Omer. Don's fighter and archer. His rogue was still in a cell and he couldn't find out who the fifth member of the team was. He was confident there was one since Don had said the loss of his rogue could keep him from his run, but whoever they were had managed to keep that secret.

Someone had mentioned Slim went to the Drunk Hog, so here he was, asking after him.

"Look," the barkeep said, lowering his voice. "I don't know where he is, but he was here in the morning. He ate and left."

"Was he with his team?"

The man shook his head.

Tibs finished his ale and left.

* * * * *

"No, Slim hasn't been around," the fighter supervising the field said. "Which is a shame, because he's good with the younger trainees. Used to be here helping every few days, but I guess his team training takes all his time now." He yelled at a fighter as she was about to take her opponent's head off. "No killing! No, I don't care what he called you. This is training so you'll survive the dungeon. Once you're Upsilon, you aren't going to be my responsibility and then you can go about trying to kill one another." He grabbed her roughly and paired her with another fighter, ignoring the young man she'd nearly decapitated. He looked around, seemingly lost, until someone motioned him over.

"Do you know where his team trains?" Tibs asked once the trainer was back.

"Here I'm guessing; when my batch isn't taking over the field. Like I just said, I'm responsible for the Omegas. I don't keep track of anyone else."

"I saw him around one of the new constructions yesterday," the woman sitting by the sword rack said, not looking up from the one she was sharpening. "On the west side."

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* * * * *

Tibs held the copper coin between two fingers, keeping the drunk man's attention on him. "Slim guy," he said, "messy hair. Probably in fighter's leather."

"Oh yes, I know him." The man answered, grinning toothily. "You give me the copper and I'll take you to him."

Tibs made the coin disappeared and turned away.

"Come on," the drunk called after him. "I need that copper."

This was one aspect of his street he missed. The eyes. Back there, he could always find someone who saw what he needed. A beggar, an urchin, a drunk. Sometimes it had been Tibs who'd been someone else's eyes. On the street, there was a market for information.

So long as you could tell if the eyes were honest, you could find out anything happening on the street with a broken copper in the right hand, or a small tankard of something that might have been ale.

The drunk Tibs approached was one of the workers, and he'd claimed to know everything that happened in the town. His eagerness to get the copper had given him away. That was all he cared about, and he would have said anything for it.

* * * * *

"You mean Rosey?" the serving girl asked.

Tibs stared at her. "Tall, brawny for an archer, always scowling?" he had trouble believing Omer let such a nickname stand.

She looked thoughtful. "I guess that if you anger him he'd scowl, but he's never said a bad word to me."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Have you tried the west side? I think he does work for one of the crews there."

This was the second time the west side had been mentioned. He'd gone already. That entire side of the town was under construction. More buildings than he could count using his hands twice. Even for him, the odds of moving among all those workers without being seen were slim. If Don heard someone was that close to finding where he hid, he'd move. Tibs had to drop in before the sorcerer could react.

He considered waiting him out. Tibs had checked the schedule and Don had a run in two days. His rogue was still in the cell, but for how long wasn't announced. He might be released before then, or Don could convince someone to let them do the run anyway.

The problem was that Tibs hadn't been the only one looking for Don's name on the schedule. If he didn't get to Don before his run, he might only watch what was done to the sorcerer instead of stopping it.

* * * * *

Tibs sat on the roof of the building opposite the Drunk Hog as the sun rose. It was a nice sunrise, with the clouds parting before its light. It had rained in the night, leaving the roads muddy, but they would dry. If that was the only reason Tibs was on the roof, it would have been worth it.

Instead, he was also waiting on Slim to be done with his breakfast. The man had been furtive as he approached the tavern, looking everywhere for someone following him, except up. Tibs wished he'd caught sight of the man sooner, as he exited the construction site, but Slim had been well into the town when Tibs found him.

Slim exited the building and Tibs walked alongside as much as the roofs allowed. Sometimes he had to detour around gaps too wide to jump; he still couldn't get his air jump to work. On the west side, Slim hurried. It was early enough to be mostly deserted, and the workers who had arrived were busy setting up scaffolding.

Tibs dropped to the ground and followed the man as he navigated between partially constructed buildings until he paused before one. Tibs couldn't see what the man waited on. Maybe this was how Don stayed well hidden? Forcing whoever left to need to be guided back. It meant they—

The knife at his throat stopped his thoughts.

"You shouldn't be here, Tibs," the man whispered.

Questions flashed through Tibs's mind as he recognized the voice. Why was he here? There had been no talk of him having anything to do with Don or his team. Still, he was here for one reason. "I need to talk with Don, Radkliff."

"Do you really think he's going to want to talk with you?"

"What are you doing here? There's no way you'd work with someone like him."

Radkliff sighed. "I told you we can't all be lucky enough to have a great team. Some of us have to settle for who will take us."

"But he already has a rogue."

"So? It's not like he can't have more than one to fill that last spot."

"I'm sorry," Tibs said.

"Don't." Radkliff's tone hardened. "I don't need your pity. I'll survive. It's not great, but I have a team."

"If you want to keep it, I need to speak with Don."

"He isn't going to be happy about it."

"Radkliff, how happy is he going to be when a bunch of Runners ambush all of you on your way to your run? Everyone in town thinks he destroyed the Caravan Garden."

"Everyone?"

"I wouldn't be here if I thought that."

"Anyone other than you here to help him, and I be jumping with joy." Radkliff moved the knife away. "I have him," he called. "It's Tibs. I said you'd been followed."

"How was I to know?" Slim said, joining them. "I'm not a rogue."

"You could look up," Tibs replied. "I wasn't hiding all that hard. Just walking along with you on the rooftops."

The fighter shuddered. "You people are crazy, going up there. You could hurt yourself falling."

"The fall's not that bad," Tibs said.

"It's hitting the ground that tends to hurt," Radkliff finished, and the two of them smiled.

"Rogues are crazy," Slim muttered. "You better leave Tibs. Don's not in a mood to deal with you."

"He isn't going to be in a better one when we get ganged up before we reach the dungeon," Radkliff said. "Or do you think Don's going to give up the run to keep us safe?"

Slim cursed. "Don's not missing the run for anything. What do you want to talk about?"

"A way out," Tibs answered.

"You mean one that sees him in that cell next to Francis?" the fighter demanded.

"No."

"Let's just take him to Don and he can decide how to deal with him." Radkliff shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry Tibs, but he's my leader. What Don says goes."

Tibs shrugged, then followed Slim when Radkliff urged him forward. They walked down more alleys made confusing by how some were formed because of the construction material waiting to be used. When the fighter pulled part of a wall away, Tibs stepped into the darkness that became near total once the wall was back in place. Someone took his arm and led him. After a few turns, they were in a large room partially illuminated by openings high in the walls.

This would be a warehouse, Tibs decided.

"Well, this day's starting well," a mean voice came from a dark corner.

"I'm here to talk, Don."

Omer stepped out of a shadow in another corner, bow in hand.

"He's just here to talk," Radkliff told Omer.

"Oh Tibs," Don said, his voice echoing when none of the others did. "Talk, really? And what is there to talk about? How you stole my archer, got my fighter killed? Oh, how about how you got my rogue thrown in a cell to make sure I won't do my run?"

"You know the others are looking for you, right?" he asked. He wasn't bothering with whatever delusion the sorcerer had.

"Looking, but not finding," Don replied. "And don't think you're going to tell them."

Tibs rolled his eyes. "No one's finding you because they aren't bothering to look. They know where you're going to be tomorrow." He smiled. "I mean, you have a plan to get your rogue back, right Don? Or are you going to use him being in a cell as the excuse for giving up your spot on the schedule?"

The sorcerer fixed his gaze on Tibs. He forced himself not to break it. It was a good thing keeping up with Slim meant he hadn't had time for food yet.

"Oh, I'm not going to let anything you do keep me from my run. You're not that clever."

"Then, they're going to be waiting for you. I doubt you found a new way to enter the dungeon."

Don stepped closer, annoyed that Tibs wasn't looking away. "Let me guess. The great Tibs is here to save me. Here you are with a plan to get the guards to protect me from the entire town," he said, mockingly.

Tibs smiled. "Basically."

"Do you think I'm an idiot, Tibs?"

"If I thought that, I'd be with the others looking to make you pay. Instead, I'm here, trying to help you."

"And you think the guards are going to be any kinder to me than the Runners?"

"Harry will."

Don laughed, and Tibs shuddered. Had the man practiced that laugh? There was no way something that creepy came naturally.

"Harry Hard Knuckles is no better than the rest. He leads them. He's going to be the first to sacrifice me just so everyone else's happy. People like him don't care about the truth. They want peace and they are going to kill whoever is needed to give the illusion it's there."

Tibs stifled the sigh. Did Don think everyone was after him? "Do you know Harry's element?"

"Light," Don answered dismissively.

"And do you know what light does?"

"Shine on the shadows or some shit like that." He sounded bored.

"Do you know what that means?" Tibs fought his annoyance. Don couldn't be that dumb. He was doing this on purpose to be difficult.

"Why don't you enlighten me, great and powerful Tibs?"

"He knows when you're lying," Tibs snapped.

"What?" Don asked, all pretense gone.

"Harry knows when someone lies. You go before him, you tell him you had nothing to do with the building being destroyed, and he's going to know you're telling the truth."

Don crossed his arms over his chest, his expression suspicious. "And what do you get out of it? I know you. You don't do anything unless it serves you and only you."

Where was the sorcerer getting that idea? Was he insane on top of delusional? He almost yelled that he was doing this because it was right. But he realized that wasn't true. It was, but that wasn't why he'd come to help Don out of this mess. So maybe the sorcerer wasn't entirely wrong about him.

"What I get out of it is one more team of Runners still around to keep the nobles from overwhelming us. And I don't mean your team," he added. "I know you'll go back to hiding the moment there's a problem. I mean the Runners who are out there looking to kill you. Harry's going to punish them for that, and them, the town needs."

"I would never let this town fall," Don growled, glaring at Tibs.

"Then come with me. We see Harry and he'll make sure no one does anything to you."

The sorcerer rolled his eyes. "And you think it's going to be as simple as walking up to the guild building and asking to speak to him?"

Tibs smiled. "Basically."

* * * * *

It wasn't.

As soon as they left the construction area, they were followed. Before they reached the center of the town, two full teams of Runners blocked the way. Arruh was in the lead.

"Out of my way," Don ordered.

"Thanks for getting him out of his hiding place, Tibs," the fighter said. "We'll take it from here."

"No." Tibs looked around for a guard. Where were they? They had to have noticed ten Runners in armor and armed standing in the street. "We're going to see Harry." Had they thought they were just heading to the dungeon?

"There's no need to bother the guards with this, Tibs," the fighter said, his tone hardening. "This is between Runners."

"Is it now?" Jackal asked, stepping out of a doorway. "I wasn't aware we'd been given enforcement authority." He grinned. "I would have had fun with that."

"Jackal," Arruh warned, "this—"

"Is none of my business. Go back to where I came from. Blah blah blah. You can save your breath, Arruh. I know all that. I just don't care. You're about to start a fight we're all going to end up paying for."

Arruh turned to face Jackal. "And what are you going to do about it?"

"Me? Why nothing? I'd never dream of getting between you and the violence you want to send dear old Don's way." Doors opened and guards stepped out of buildings. "Them, on the other hand, promised me they could stop anything you tried to start. So, do me a favor and start something."

* * * * *

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Harry demanded of Tibs, pacing the length of his office. "Of course, I know he had nothing to do with it. Why do you think I didn't send every guard to find him? He's Upsilon. Do you have any idea the kind of power it takes to create corruption on that scale?"

"Everyone in town was looking for him," Tibs replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He hadn't done this to be yelled at.

"And I would have dealt with that!" the guard leader ran a hand over his face and grumbled. "Rogues. I swear." He looked at Tibs. "Maybe you want my job? Seems to me you think you can do a better one, with the way you keep meddling. You and that Jackie-boy, with how he's ordering my guards around. You two want to take over?"

Jackal had vanished before they'd gotten close to the building, but the guard who had escorted Tibs and Don to Harry had explained how Jackal had going them and gotten them to intervene in the fight that was about to happen.

"I don't want to take over anything," Tibs said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I don't know if I have to put the blame for this on you being a kid or a rogue."

"I am not a kid," Tibs snapped. He hadn't survived this long to be dismissed as one.

Harry glared at him. "Fine. You did good," he said in a mocking tone. "Happy now, Tibs? Do you want a reward too? A handful of coins?"

"I kept you from breaking up teams!"

"You think that's not going to happen anyway?" Harry yelled back. "You think the world isn't going to break them? That's why you're a kid. The rest of us know better."

"Fuck you!" Tibs spun and headed out, ignoring Don's smirk.

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