The Guild's main attraction was the practice dungeon. The full members usually monopolized that. It was like something from a game show in a country unconcerned with lawsuits: lots of falls, low-intensity flame jets (with staffers standing by to save unlucky contestants), and various swinging and falling things. Then there were the locks to pick and occasionally a volunteer Guild member to fight atop a tilting platform or in a cramped passage.

One of those volunteers was Selen, paying her dues. One night she showed up and the guy in charge of training said, "Hurry; we're short-handed. Put this on." He offered a ridiculous leathery green costume with a fanged hood.

"I was just here to try --"

He handed her a padded club. "Doesn't matter. You're Ambush Goblin #3 tonight. Get in place."

Selen donned the heavy, padded cloak and took one of the side doors to enter the long, linear tunnel. She perched behind a fake stone pillar and waved to another hapless trainee. Already there were shouts and a thunderclap from up ahead, making Selen's eyes widen. "How powerful?"

Her fellow monster said, "Two guys, one a force mage. Jump him first."

Selen laughed; it was her Vulin sparring partner again, trying to do a monstrous growl.

Selen peeked through a slit in the false stonework. Any repeat customers had to know about the ambush. She hadn't done this particular scenario yet but had gotten this far into the obstacle course, once. So right now the players were probably on the bridge.

Sooner than she expected, a Human man leaped up two stairs and into view, wielding a huge shield. Selen and her companion hesitated, not seeing his friend. The warrior turned and swung a padded club at the other goblin, leaving his back exposed. Selen took the chance to leap and swing.

Something struck her. She slammed sideways and skidded across the floor. A red Kobold with a wand and shield rushed up and aimed at her.

"I'm down!" Selen said, raising one hand. [Health: 19/25], read her interface, and that was from one hit.

"Down!" shouted the other minion under assault from the shield-bearer. She groaned as the man backed off and let her slump against a pillar.

The two adventurers moved on to their final challenge, a heavily booby-trapped chest. Selen rolled over and accepted a hand up from the other goblin. "Ow. Thanks. That was over so quick I hardly saw."

"They're good. And a real goblin fights to the death."

Selen watched the duo having more trouble with the box surrounded by nasty little spikes and spells than they'd had with her. "Haven't seen one yet. They're not real animals?"

"Dungeon beasts. They don't have to be sane."

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"I don't think I want to fight a frenzied murder-monster just to get a new sword."

The "ambush goblin" pulled back her hood and grinned, exposing those sharp fox teeth. "I'm going to train more before doing another real dungeon raid. That and I've got an actual job."

Selen nodded. "But I do want to try the real thing sometime."

They watched the fighting duo solve the puzzle box and get cheered on by the bar patrons above. Selen asked, "Why do you suppose the dungeons exist?"

"Gift of the gods, supposedly. Something meant to challenge us. They've got scholar types here in the Guild who study the things, to figure out how they grow. I'd like to work on a project like that, but there's too much else to do, you know?"

"I know the feeling."

#

Selen had set up a little laboratory. It was fine to have a dozen things going on in her life, but she'd cleared out one side of her small bedroom to be organized. On the desk she had several bottles and racks and an attempt at record-keeping and chemical processes. Or alchemical, as they said around here. The local word implied mystery and magic.

It was a mystery to her, since she didn't know how much of physics carried over. Her limited understanding of combat had taught her that losing a limb or suffering brain damage was almost unheard of, short of near-fatal injury. You could get beaten half to death in a dungeon and bounce back within days. Permanent scars were the mark of close calls. So did something as basic as blood behave the same way in this world as back home? The armor she wore in her practice sessions was rated as Armor 1 or 2, meaning it reduced each impact by only that much. People were more cavalier about getting hurt, if they could usually heal so easily. Even infection didn't seem to be nearly as big a risk around here. That was great news, but it meant that she couldn't make a big impact on this world by convincing doctors to start cleaning their tools. She had questions now about processes like baking and brewing, if microbes behaved differently here. Her basic medical training had focused on keeping the blood where it belonged, not on biochemistry.

Selen shook her head, trying to clear it of her many distractions.

There was a simple ongoing experiment: documenting the weight-reducing backpack. She hesitated to tell others about it, after hearing nothing about similar devices; it might get confiscated or lead to the Duke taking interest in her again. But she could still study it. Its magic effect was mysterious but measurable, and it was declining along an exponential curve. Several times she'd been spotted doing the weight tests and had to explain she was "testing some theories".

Her main project this evening was ink. She'd used her connections with Aunt Tradewind and the Knowledge Society to get her talons on several varieties. Now she fiddled with the tiny bottles and with several bits of metal.

"Still trying to invent something?" asked Dad from the doorway.

"Pens!" she said. She held up her latest attempt at creating a ballpoint pen. "See, this bit spins and leaks ink at a controlled rate... Or it's supposed to."

"Keep at it," he said. "Just don't make anything dangerous. You gave us all a scare, back in spring."

She scratched her head, saying, "I think there's somebody looking out for me. Did you ever hear more from the Duke?"

"He's been quiet. As long as he's not interfering with our business, I can't complain. Whatever the robbery was about, it's over our heads."

Selen stared into her tiny collection of experimental gear, including a borrowed magicite crystal. No angel had bopped her on the beak and given her a mission, which raised the question: "Why am I here?"

She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Dad ruffled her head-feathers. "Your purpose is something that you have to decide for yourself. Part of it is your geas; you've been trying to learn something daily, right?"

"Yeah. It's easy when you don't know anything."

"You're young. It's your time to figure out what you're good at. Have patience." He patted her again and headed out, saying, "Good night."

Selen nodded as he left, but there was one thing she did know about her life that he didn't.