The rooftop wasn’t the highest or the one Tibs wanted to walk, but it was the one he’d picked for his first break-in. He’d prefer Tirania’s office, but as she’d said, she was expecting him. He also suspected the building had plenty of ways of detecting a Rogue who shouldn’t be there. This house, which was new and only moved in recently, wouldn’t have anything magical guarding it.

He lowered himself to the highest window from the roof, feeling along the wall with his toes until he found purchase and moved closer. He didn’t wear his armor for this, not for his first time. He had on a light black shirt, black pants, and no socks. He hadn’t known he’d be breaking into a house before today, and none of the merchants had black socks. Even Darran, who had plenty of things to remain hidden, didn’t. But he said he’d have something better for him in a few weeks.

He was three stories high, low enough anyone passing by would notice him, which forced him to act quickly. Even this late in the night, he’d seen people walking about. Some had the demeanor of guards, but others the furtiveness of Runners heading to do things they shouldn’t.

The window didn’t open when he pulled or pushed. So someone here knew height didn’t mean security. Tibs smiled. At least this wouldn’t be easy.

He took the thin shim from his bracer and slipped it between the bottom of the window and the sill. He moved it until he felt it catch, then maneuvered it, figuring out the mechanism by feel. A latch release, he decided, and repositioned the shim to apply the pressure to the right position. He moved slowly, ignoring the pain in his finger and toes.

That was a pain he was familiar with, even if he hadn’t felt it since arriving in his town. It was the pain of work, of knowing that soon he’d have a sliver of copper to pay for a piece of moldy bread or, if he was lucky, he’d find bread or an old orange the owner hadn’t finished.

He wouldn’t get anything like that here tonight. If his interest was taking something, he suspected he could leave and never have to worry about coins until Harry caught him and threw him in a cell. This was for training, and if he found coins, his proof would be a lone copper.

The shim moved, and the latch released.

Tibs put the shim away and waited. Dark rooms weren’t always empty, he’d learned the hard way. When no motion or sounds came after a minute, he grabbed the bottom of the window and pulled it up. He slipped in and his fingers complained. He didn’t remember the pain being this sharp. Out of practice, from months without hanging by them.

He let his eyes adjust to the darkness and made out a desk. By touch, he found the oil lamp and wished he’d thought to bring something to light it. Maybe once he had fire essence, he wouldn’t have to worry about light.

Huh, did light and fire have something in common, since fire generated light? He shook his head. No time to be distracted. He needed to figure out if this room had anything worth breaking into, or if he needed to wander the house.

He planned on wandering the house regardless, but this would tell him if it was out of enjoyment or as part of his practice.

On the wall behind the desk, he felt wood, shelves, with books in them. He paused. He counted ten books and found himself at a loss. How wealthy was the noble living here that he had over ten books? The way Carina spoke about them, Tibs got the sense their value was in electrum, if not gold.

“So, this is what you’re doing with your night.”

Tibs spun, knife in hand, as the lamp lit to reveal Bardik putting away a stone.

The Rogue smiled. “Now this is exactly the right time to pull a knife on being surprised. I’m happy learning not to take it out among the townsfolk didn’t become a habit when needed.”

“How did you get in?” Tibs asked, looking at the closed door. How hadn’t he heard Bardik move?

The Rogue showed the window. “You left it wide open. How could I not enter? Does Mister High and Mighty know what you’re doing?”

“Who?”

“Our new warden.”

“You mean Harry?”

Bardik studied Tibs. “On an actual name basis? Should I worry?”

Tibs rolled his eyes as he put his knife away. “I’m not going to tell him about you smuggling something into the town.”

“I did not smuggle in anything.”

Tibs shrugged and turned to face the shelves with so many books on them. Each shelf was like a wooden box with them stacked on top of another and the front edging decorated with fine carvings.

Shelves were places where people on his street hid things; behind or under a decorative stone, or a piece of wood with a picture carved on it. But would someone who displayed such wealth bother hiding anything?

He ran a finger along one shelf, passing more books than he could count and feeling the carvings under his fingers. He fought against the amazement, he was here with a purpose. He had to find a piece of copper, something to prove he’d accomplished what he set out to do.

Would there be copper anywhere in this house? If there wasn’t, would he settle for silver? Would there be even that?

Maybe setting his sight on a noble’s house had been a mistake. Only the other option was the townsfolk, and he wasn't doing anything against his people. The nobles, they were always intruders.

“You passed it, by the way,” Bardik said.

“What?” Tibs turned. The Rogue had his back to him, studying a dresser with figurines on it.

“Whatever it is you’re looking for, you passed it.”

Tibs looked at the shelf. It was divided into seven compartments going from one wall to the other, each the same size, as were those above and below them. He ran his finger the way he came.

“Missed it,” Bardik said. The Rogue was still looking at the figurines. Was he messing with him?

Tibs didn’t put it past the man, but he also didn’t put indirectly helping him past Bardik. All the compartments looked the same, but what they contained varied. The one under had more space, holding carved stones instead of—

Bardik chuckled.

Tibs glared at the Rogue’s back.

The compartment above also had books, but not as many, so maybe—

The Rogue sight.

“You could tell me, you know?”

“But how would you learn then, Tibs? This is what it’s about, isn’t it? I never took you for the overly greedy type. You seem just greedy enough to me. You need to stop thinking as if this was the street. The people who have this house; they have wealth, they have coins beyond what you can imagine. They can do things you wouldn’t think possible.”

“Like the dungeon?” Tibs looked at the compartment.

“Not quite that much, but you are in the right direction.”

Tibs glanced over his shoulder. Now Bardik was watching him.

In the dungeon, there would be something, a clue to help him along. It was why the hidden cache was never perfectly hidden, or why the door to the boss room hadn’t quite matched the rest of the wall. It was subtle; as he’d noticed, none of the others saw either, even after he pointed the signs to them.

Bardik was his sign here. He’d pointed him to this compartment.

The owner wouldn’t want someone like him to realize there was loot here, but they’d also need something, some way to know which of the compartments contained it. He carefully took a book out and reverently placed it on the desk, the spine facing him. He took out the next one and placed it on top, then the third and fourth, which was when he realized he was missing a potential hiding place.

Back in his street, some of the craftier people had taken to carving out part of planks in the box's wall they lived in and hid slivers of copper in them. Tibs couldn’t believe someone would do that to a book, but Bardik had said thinking of this as a dungeon was the right direction, and he could imagine the dungeon doing that. Maybe the nobles had so much coins they could destroy a book.

He opened one, gently flipping through them, watching the lines of ink pass by. He did the second and noticed Bardik’s approving nod.

“It’s not in the books.”

“Then—” he looked at the books in the desk. “You nodded in approval, that I was doing the right thing.”

“Yes. You thought to check the books. You understand how valuable books are, right? How did you think something might be hidden in one?”

“They could have cut a hole in one to hide it.”

“Do you believe anyone would do that to something as valuable as this?” Bardik asked.

“I don’t know.” Tibs looked at the books. If Bardik said they were valuable, then they had to be worth more than Tibs could imagine. “But I don’t know how the nobles think. I only saw them afar, with guards around them. If I don’t know what someone might do, I have to think they could do something no one else would.”

“I knew you were clever, Tibs. You’re right. Never take for granted that just because something seems like no one would ever do it, that this one person didn’t do just that.”

“So this noble could have hidden something in one of the books.”

“He could have.”

“Then why tell me what I’m looking for isn’t in them?”

“Because you don’t have all night, and because while it’s possible there is something hidden in one of the books, I know there’s something else hidden.” Tibs nodded and closed the book, placing it on top of the others to preserve the order, and went back to removing those in the compartment.

When he was done, he had two stacks of books on the desk, one of ten and one of seven, ten-seven books in one compartment. Would the noble here miss one, if Tibs kept it? He was certain Carina would like a book, only she might decide to use it to teach him to read.

The compartment didn’t have any cracks that could hide a door. As far as he could tell, it was carved out of one piece of wood. Running his fingers against the wood didn’t reveal any depressions or bumps that would indicate a mechanism.

As he turned to ask Bardik, Tibs noticed a gap between the piece of wood the carving was on and the edge of the compartment. The carving wasn’t part of the compartment as he’d thought.

He tried to pry it off, but it resisted. If he worked it too hard, it would break and reveal he’d been here. And if it was part of how the compartment opened, there had to be some way to do this that didn’t involve breaking it.

He tried sliding the carving up, down, sideways. He could feel hints of play, but it didn’t move. He did all four sides with the same result. So the inside of the compartment held what he needed. Tibs figured if it was something unrelated to this, Bardik would have spoken up.

There were no cracks, no depressions, no bump. There was nothing that could move independently in the compartment. Which left the compartment itself.

He placed a hand on each side and pushed left, then right, then back, and with a click, the carvings flipped away from the compartment, revealing a line separating this compartment from the ones around it. Tibs pulled it out carefully and placed it next to the desk. Looking at the back, he saw a lock of a kind he’d never seen before.

“Now that’s beauty,” Bardik said, as Tibs took his picks out. “You won’t open that with those.”

“I’m going to try.”

Bardik placed a hand on Tibs’s as he reached in. “This is a Kornata lock. It needs special tools or magic to break. All you’re going to do if you try is break your picks.”

“I came here for something. I have to try.”

Bardik placed a copper piece on what was the top of the compartment below the one he’d taken out.

“What’s that?”

“Proof of accomplishment. That’s what you set, right? One copper, to prove you’ve gotten in.”

“I didn’t get in.”

“Tibs, this is just stubbornness. You found the lock. That’s an accomplishment in and of itself.”

“Can you open it?”

“I don’t have the tools. If the tools needed to break that lock were found on anyone here, it doesn’t matter how good of a Runner they are, or the kind of friends they have. They’d be executed if they are lucky.”

Tibs nodded and swallowed. “Too valuable to be killed.”

“I’m glad you listened.”

He looked at the coin. Bardik was right. He’d done a lot. He’d gotten in the house, had figured out how to get to the lock. But he couldn’t take it, not before knowing something first.

“Did someone on my team tell you about the coins? They’re the only ones who know.”

“No, Tibs, they didn’t tell me. They’re loyal to you. Even that cleric, for all the secrets he has, respects you enough he wouldn’t divulge anything.”

Tibs frowns. “Khumdar has secrets?”

Bardik chuckles. “The darkness always holds secrets, Tibs. I’d have expected you to figure out that one by now.”

“Then how do you know?”

The Rogue studied Tibs. “Darkness is about more than hiding things and keeping secrets. Do you know how the light can ferret out ‘truth’?” Bardik hooked the index and middle fingers on both hands and wiggled them up and down as he said ‘truth’.

Tibs decided not to ask what that meant. “Harry knew I told the truth when I told him I’d never stolen anything in the town.”

Bardik grinned. “And you said stolen, not committed a crime.”

“I’m not stupid, Bardik. Harry’s a guard. I wasn’t going to say something he might find out wasn’t true, even if I didn’t know about what the light does. He warned us he could find out things because of his light.”

“Alright. Well, darkness is also about knowing when something is trying to remain hidden. Think of it as a different way of finding out truths. And I have friends with other elements who can help me.”

“You don’t trust me,” Tibs stated. “You have someone spying on me.” He remembered the window being open, and his comment about how he could think of a way air essence could be used to push a voice to another room. This meant it could also bring a far voice to you.

“I don’t trust people who hide things, Tibs. It’s not about you.”

“Everyone has things they hide.”

“I know.”

Tibs shook his head. It was one thing to be careful. He’d had to be, it was the only way he’d survived the street, but to not trust anyone? Tibs was happy he’d been able to keep that.

“Keep the coin,” Tibs said, taking the compartment off the floor. He needed nothing as proof he’d done the work. And it would be Bardik’s coin, not that of the noble. It wouldn’t mean anything, even if he had it.

Bardik took the coin, and Tibs slid the compartment back in. Carefully he folded the carved wood back in place and was pleased when it stayed. Whatever the mechanism was, It had re-engaged. He placed the books back in their positions, then stepped away. Everything looked as it had been.

The light went off, and Bardik’s shadow silently moved to the window. When Tibs turned, the man’s feet vanished up.

At the window, Tibs tested the latch’s smoothness. Pleased with how well it moved, he tied a thread to the top and stepped out. Making sure the other end stayed outside, he pushed the window down. He took the thread and pulled gently, latching the window, then breaking off the thread.

He climbed to the roof and found Bardik seated, looking in the distance. Tibs sat next to him.

“How do you live like this, Bardik?” The view in this direction was the mountain in which the crack was, well, door now. He could only make out the torches’ light at this distance.

“I remember why I decided to do this.”

“So it’s not a darkness thing?”

Bardik shook his head. “It’s a me thing. It was that or taking risks I wasn’t willing to take. Not wanting more, helps. When you know this is all you’ll have, it’s more tolerable.”

“That’s not living,” Tibs said.

“It’s surviving.”

“I survived. I did what I had to, but I never stopped wanting more. Maybe I forgot for a while when I was too busy surviving. But here, I remembered I wanted more. My team, I wanted that for a long time. I didn’t want to be alone. You said you have friends who can help you, but you can’t have friends if you don’t trust them.”

“I hope you never lose this, Tibs. This hope, this need for friends. I hope this cruel world doesn’t take that away from you like it took so many things from me.”

“You can learn to have friends again, Bardik.”

He shook his head. “It’s too late for me, Tibs. But that’s okay. There are people like you in the world, so it balances out.”

Tibs looked at the mountain, trying to think of something to say. Finding out Bardik didn’t trust him had hurt. He’d thought they were something resembling friends. He wanted the older Rogue as a friend, but if the man didn’t trust him, Tibs wasn’t sure he could trust him in return.

“I learned how to keep the dungeon from eating my knife,” he said. “When you wanted to teach me about knife throwing, why didn’t you tell me about imbuing? If I’d known about that, I probably would have let you teach me.”

“There wouldn’t have been a point. You couldn’t do it. You’d have lost it the first time you threw it.”

“They were already imbued. I didn’t know until earlier today, them and arrows, because the guild didn’t want to have to provide us with so much of them we’d be overburdened. Didn’t you know?”

“The guild doesn’t tell us, convicts, all that much, you should have realized that by now.”

“The people answer my questions,” Tibs said.

“Yeah, but you’re you. I’m not like that.”

“Didn’t you check then? Even if it’s a different essence that’s used to imbue it, there’s a feeling to an imbued thing.”

Bardik didn’t answer immediately. “Tibs, back then, if I thought I could have gotten away with it, I would have killed each and every one of you kids rather than let you go through this thing. It would have been kinder. I wasn’t interested in figuring out what the guild did to the crap they had us hand out. It was just false hope. Something to let you think there was a chance you’d walk out of there alive.”

“I’m still alive.”

The man sighed. “It’s still early, Tibs.”

Tibs looked at the dungeon. “I’m going to stay alive, Bardik.”

“You act like you have any control over that.”

“We all do. That’s what being sent here reminded me. I can’t control what the dungeon’s going to do to me, what Harry will, what Don will, or any of the nobles who think I’m nothing. But I can control what I do to my life. What I do with my life. Maybe you’re right and the dungeon will kill me; but until then, I’m going to live. Maybe you should do the same.” Tibs stood. “Anyway. I’d like it if you teach me how to throw knives.”

“Sure,” the man answered, sounding distracted. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”

Tibs watched the Rogue sit there, looking at the mountain. Maybe he saw the dungeon too, the way Tibs did. Or he saw something else. Tibs couldn’t know what the man thought, and with what Bardik had admitted to him, Tibs wasn’t sure that even if he asked, he’d get an answer he could trust.

But he decided he’d do what he could to be a friend to the man.

Maybe having one friend would remind him there was more out there to do until it all ended.