I didn't know exactly what I was looking for.
Something in me thought it might know anyway.
I passed the building that housed the Grand Database. I found myself annoyed as I looked at the strange architecture and flickering lights – too bright for candles or lanterns – from within.
I knew why I felt that way: ever since my first day at the guild, I had regularly looked at my console to see if my skill array would change. After the Ebon Maw, the Green Delve, and every other dungeon. I had opened it every day after training, and sometimes even when I had just been strolling the city with Tessa.
Not a single change.
After everything I had been through.
It was infuriating.
In fairness, none of the others had seen changes either, but their skills were more developed than mine and it probably took more experience for them to advance.
I was still stuck with Mop Proficiency I.
I was getting distracted again.
The Tangle was old and poor and didn't make apologies for it. The streets were narrow and went where they wanted. Buildings crowded in from both sides, upper floors jutting out until the sky above was just a strip of dark. The lanterns were far apart. The shadows between them were substantial.
I took a deep breath and tried to orient myself. This was unfamiliar territory, but I knew I was east of the Market, and if I continued the way I was going, I would end up at the docks. I figured there would be no small amount of contraband being smuggled through the port, but the actual workings of the criminal element of this city would most likely not want to be quartered so openly.
I would head toward the middle of the Tangle.
I kept my eyes peeled for other people. I didn't see many – a lonely beggar asleep in an alley; a drunk stumbling from a dimly lit tavern; a man and a woman strolling together in clothes that seemed fancy, but also worn in ways that looked like they were the only clothes they owned.
I could feel something in the back of my mind stirring. I stopped in my tracks, trying to reach for it and getting nothing.
As the couple passed me, I made brief eye contact with them. Their gazes flickered from me, to each other, then back to the road ahead. It was small. Subtle.
But I caught it.
Some instinct told me to turn back to that alley.
The beggar was gone.
That wasn't by chance. I knew it wasn't.
I waited until the strolling couple had turned a corner and darted into the gap between buildings where I had seen the sleeping vagrant. It was nondescript; the buildings pressed close together, enough that even the shorter of them seemed to tower over me like monoliths.
There were doors leading into some of these places, and they were surrounded by trash receptacles, boxes, crates, barrels. Nothing particularly unusual.
I followed the alley.
I couldn't explain it, but I found that my steps were now much more cautious. Measured. I had not ditched all attempts at being casual, but alarm bells were going off in my head. Something was seriously off.
I came to a misalignment of narrow streets that quartered the alley unevenly. Each direction was another winding path that led out of sight.
I stood indecisively at this crooked crossroads, wishing that I had planned this further.
Then I heard footsteps. Loud, clicking, confident footsteps.
The alarm bells got louder. I knew I had to move.
I chose the left path, moving as quickly as I could while maintaining my quiet. The footsteps continued behind me. Whoever it was certainly seemed to be following me. I ducked around a corner and saw my chance: a large wooden bin, easily big enough to hide in. It looked like the ones the market district used to store sacks of grain or flour.
Without any further analysis, I lifted the lid and clambered inside.
The clicking of boot heels on flagstones got closer.
And closer.
I held my breath as the sound rounded the corner and stopped not ten feet from where I was hiding.
The silence was louder than the footsteps had been. I felt my pulse in my ears.
I heard a few more boot clicks. Slower, less concise. Searching.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
It was at this moment that I realized that I had not brought a weapon with me. Not even my utility knife. I could kick myself for that later. I was at the mercy of fate now.
After a painfully long stretch of time, waiting with my heart in my throat, I heard the footsteps again.
Loud, clicking, confident.
Receding.
I counted to one hundred. Nothing.
I exhaled softly, still unwilling to move. But as my tension lessened slightly, I noticed that I had indeed crawled into a bin containing sacks of flour. Either I had split one with my boot, or it had already been ripped. Either way, I was covered in the stuff.
I had another moment of panic. These boxes were definitely not airtight. If I had disturbed flour, it certainly had to have drifted out onto the street, even if only settling at the base of the bin. If I had gotten lucky, that didn't happen, or it had proved too subtle to notice in the dark.
If I had not been lucky…I didn't want to think about it.
That raised another flag. I was now covered in flour. Even if I'd managed to avoid detection by way of baking supplies, I still had to get out of the box. This would absolutely disturb the flour and make a mess. Not to mention footprints.
I had bungled the entire operation.
I knew that it was time to cut my losses and go. I couldn't avoid the mess, or the footprints. I just needed to go. Quickly and quietly.
I counted to one hundred again.
No sound.
I lifted the lid of the bin as quietly as I could and peered around. Nothing. Nobody.
Good.
I slowly and deliberately pulled myself back onto the street, taking extra care not to make excessive noise.
Then my foot slipped on a collected pile of flour on the stone.
I slipped and went down hard. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to knock the wind out of me.
I lay there for an extended, very concerning moment, unable to move, think or breathe. Then I rolled onto my side and saw it. Almost at eye level.
A sigil.
It wasn't a glowing rune or alchemical circle. It was just a carving, at the base of the bin. Two concentric circles struck through with a line that was slightly offset from the center.
It almost looked like a trader's mark, used to identify ownership.
Almost.
An identifying symbol would almost definitely have used a centered line. I had found that people were like that. They liked symmetry. I did too. That was why this stood out.
I stared at the symbol, unable to pull my gaze away. My mind was whirring, struggling to grasp at something just out of reach. It was almost like something in my subconscious was screaming at me to understand, and my waking mind refused.
I couldn't move. I was stuck there, on my back in a dark alley that was undoubtedly crawling with criminals. I was perhaps moments away from being caught – again – and all I could do was stare at a sigil carved into a wooden bin.
Then the feeling was gone.
I realized that I was standing.
I also realized that I was across the alleyway from the storage box, just around a corner, on another street.
I blinked slowly.
I must have panicked and ran.
I took a deep breath. I had to go home. This was over for tonight.
I carefully wound my way through the streets, hugging walls and keeping to extra shadowy corners. I left the Tangle behind me with more ease than I expected.
That had been far too close of a call. I would have to rethink my strategy.
I couldn't remember most of the trip back. My mind was so ablaze with thoughts, questions, wild ideas and conjecture that I had blocked out what I was seeing on the streets and went on muscle memory. Before I realized it, I was back at the dormitory.
Kael was out cold still. That was good.
I quietly climbed out of my dusty civilian clothes, wondering briefly how I was going to explain to Kael in the morning why the floor was covered in flour.
But that was Tomorrow Lorne's problem.
Once I had cleaned up to my satisfaction and was changed into my night clothes, I slipped into bed.
I knew that sleep was going to be a long way off, so I decided I would use the time I had to recount my evening.
The Tangle. The Silk Runners. They absolutely knew I was there. The couple I had seen, the beggar…even the drunk I saw could have been watching me. But now that I was thinking about it, it was difficult to watch someone when you're violently throwing up in the gutter.
Maybe they had just been that good. The thought amused me, despite myself.
The symbol on the flour bin.
That couldn't have been a coincidence. Definitely a marker. Something one would use to identify where they were and where they had to go, if they understood it.
And I had felt…familiarity. Why was that, I wondered.
The pulling feeling in my brain still lingered, just not as intensely. I suspected I would give myself a migraine if I thought much harder about it.
And then I let myself remember what happened next.
One moment I was on my back on the stone, covered in flour and unable to breathe. Then, before I could blink, I was standing across the way.
Surely I had just got up and made a break for it.
Surely.
But something about that didn't track. That moment. It felt identical to the floor trap in the Ebon Maw. One moment things were one way, then suddenly they were vastly different.
I struggled with it all for probably another hour before I decided to force everything from my mind and sleep.
Before I rolled over, I had a final thought. "Console," I said softly into the darkness.
The magical screen appeared from thin air, suddenly lighting up the room like a small sun. I blinked rapidly until my eyes adjusted. I looked over at Kael. Still asleep. Good.
I looked over my skill array. I didn't know why I'd thought to do it now. Just a feeling.
The usual information displayed like always.
NAME: LORNE CALLISTER AGE: 19 GENDER: MALE PLACE OF ORIGIN: UNKNOWN
CUSTODIAL DESIGNATION: FRONTLINER
Then I got to the bottom of the display.
In the SKILLS section, the words MOP PROFICIENCY I were still present, but they looked…broken, distorted.
And underneath it were words that made my blood run cold.
SHADOW ART: NIGHT STEP IV
I inhaled sharply, reading the line again and again until I was convinced it was, in fact, real.
I dismissed the console and pulled the covers over my head. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt something I didn't recognize.
Panic.