At first, there was nothing in the endless labyrinth but dark stone walls and tiled floors of the same color. He put his last attribute point into Perception, bringing him up to 24. Examining the floor of the labyrinth, something was off with one of the stone tiles. The explosions had damaged the tile, knocking it loose.

  He dug around the edges of the tile with his knife and pried it up. Beneath the tile, he found five thin, square metallic plates about three inches across. On each plate was a strangely shaped letter of the alphabet: A, K, F, M, D. There must be a reason they were there. He stuck the letter plates in his pack and carefully put the tile back so it wouldn't look tampered with. His night of wandering revealed ten more slightly off-color tiles. Prying them up gave him a total of 55 letters, many of them duplicates. What was he supposed to do with them?

  The labyrinth seemed empty. Knowing the dungeon, there had to be a secret entrance or passageway. But where? The sunset turned slowly into night, but with his enhanced Perception, the small amount of light from the stars and the two moons was all he needed. He walked slowly down the passageways, looking for traps, or anything out of the ordinary. Fortunately, his internal map prevented him from getting lost or turned around.

  He kept going until he found a wall with the drawings of children sitting at desks in front of a chalkboard. Remembering his successes on the first floor, he tried to move the stone around on the wall and failed. But there were eleven very faint squares above the picture. Six squares sat side by side, on top of another five.

  He pulled out his letters. It had to be two words. A five-letter and a six-letter word. He wasn't sure what the five-letter word was, but everyone knew how to spell school. He placed the letters S C H O O L for school in the six squares. The tiles stuck to the wall where he'd put them for several seconds, then they fell off. He tried again. Same response. He tried LEARN for the five-letter word. Same result. He tried SCHOOL and CLASS to fill in all the squares. Again, nothing. He tried every word he could think of relating to school and learning. Nothing. He pounded the wall in frustration. Now what?

  As it grew darker, the monster bats quit attacking. Odd, considering.

  “A little help, Flint?”

  “I could easily solve this problem for you, Jeremy, but I fear I would be doing you a disservice.”

  “Yeah? You just don't know.”

  He was close to the answer. He knew it. But he was exhausted. It would be nice to have a decent place to sleep, but there wasn't much choice. He found a nearby corner, wrapped himself and his pack inside his spider-silk cloak, and was out like a light.

  Someone was pulling at his covers. “Let me sleep, Mom,” he mumbled. There was laughter.

  He opened his eyes. “Eeeep! Orcs?”

  Seven orcs surrounded and looked down on him. To add insult to injury, Flint once again stood off to the side, tapping a whiteboard and the words. “DON'T BE AN IDIOT!” with his sword cane.

  Two of the orcs were heavily armed and armored. The five non-fighter orcs wore light armor or robes and held staffs, identifying them as spell casters.

  The scary orc fighter named Little Rampage towered over the other orcs.

  They must be the group coming after him the evening before. He'd hoped to have more time before they caught up to him. “Uh. Good morning. Would you like some candy?”

  “Where did you get this?” snarled an orc Identify revealed as Sta Piklas Child-Spellcaster. (Level 11), holding up Jeremy's near-invisible spider-silk cloak. “If it weren't for your smell and snoring, you would have been harder to find.”

  He didn't snore, did he?

  As best he could tell, the orcs were teenagers.

  “The dirty human stole it,” snarled Rampage, grabbing Jeremy by the throat and slamming him against the stone wall. Jeremy could feel the hate and menace pouring off him. “How about I bite the human's head off and spit down its throat?” Rampage's ugly face was inches from Jeremy's, and orcs have really bad breath. “Also, the word orc is an insult. We are the Urakh't tribe. Urakh't in our language means the gentle people of the mountains.”

  Fortunately, Rampage appeared to be the only human slayer in the group, suggesting Jeremy might get out of this alive after all.

  “You don't seem that gentle,” Jeremy choked out.

  “You don't seem like a dirty human thief.” Rampage paused. “Oh. My mistake. Yes, you do.”

  Sta stepped forward, restraining his much larger companion. “No, you may not kill him. I'm not getting a black mark over a baby human thief.”

  “If the human attacks me, killing it would be self defense,” Rampage said. “And this human looks dangerous.”

  “We've talked about this. The dungeon is too smart for that,” Sta responded.

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  “Is the human with Cleansing Wind?” one of the other orcs asked.

  “What is Cleansing Wind?” Jeremy forced out.

  Rampage slammed Jeremy against the wall, hard enough to make him see stars, then stepped backward, letting Jeremy fall to the dungeon floor. “He's a human. Of course, he's with Cleansing Wind.”

  “Do you know UrgMiZinNeh of the forest people?” Jeremy asked, trying to change the subject. “She was my friend.”

  “No. I've not heard of her or her people,” Sta said.

  “The spell-caster Mezirma killed her. He and three others should have come through here. I'm sure they are Cleansing Wind. You should kill them.”

  There was silence. The orcs looked at each other.

  “Yes, they came through here,” Sta finally said.

  “Did you kill them?” he asked.

  There was a gravelly sound of bitter orc laughter.

  Jeremy wondered what that meant.

  “If we kill the human in a duel, we won't get marked,” Rampage spat on Jeremy. “Human I challenge you. You may use a weapon of your choice, I will not need one.”

  Yeah, right. Jeremy was doing his best to keep an eye on his cloak without appearing to. He studied the group. Two fighters and five spell-casters. No rogues, at least.

  “Is it normal to have so many spell casters in a dungeon party?” Jeremy asked.

  “You don't think orcs can be spell casters?” Sta asked. “Typical human.”

  “I stole the cloak from Clown Lord... I mean the Lord of the Clowns,” Jeremy said, standing up, careful to make no sudden moves. “And I'd like it back.”

  More laughter. Sta rolled up Jeremy's spider-silk cloak and stuffed it in an oversized pocket of his robe.

  “Did you steal this, too?” Sta grabbed Jeremy's necklace with the mana-summoning charm and yanked it off his neck.

  “Give that back!” Jeremy grabbed for it and missed. That was one of the most valuable items he had. “Wait,” he pleaded. “Let me join you. I could steal for you, and I'd help you kill them.”

  “Steal from us, you mean,” Rampage said. “Search his pack. See what else he's got.”

  “Wait,” Jeremy said, desperate to distract them. “Tell me, Rampage? How did you become a Human Slayer? Did you stab a human in the back, or did you slit someone's throat while they were sleeping?”

  Rampage laughed, not seeming to take offense. “You want to know? I'll tell you.” There were quiet groans from his companions, who must have heard this story many times. “I entered my first dungeon five years ago. I was running from humans attacking my village. They claimed we'd done something to them, but it was just an excuse. They killed my mother, father, and older sister in front of me, and I ran for my life. I saw a dungeon portal and entered. Three humans entered the dungeon from another world, and I joined their party. I acted stupid and nice. They thought I was their friend.”

  Jeremy stepped imperceptibly closer to Sta, pretending to be absorbed in the story.

  “That dungeon was tiny compared to this one. We finished it in a couple of weeks. At the dungeon's exit portal, I killed the humans, gained more levels, took their money and weapons, and then I left the dungeon. I found the humans who killed my family...”

  In the meantime, Jeremy had moved closer to Sta until he was less than a foot away.

  “And I killed them too. I like killing humans,” Rampage snarled. “Human Slayer is a dungeon mark I wear with pride!”

  That's nice, Jeremy thought, slipping a black vial, ink of the octoking, from his pocket, and threw it at the ground. Everything went black.

  Jeremy pulled the cloak from Sta's pocket and tried to grab the mana charm, but Sta must have moved and Jeremy grabbed empty air. There was the sound of orcs bumping into each other and a quiet hissing noise of a rapidly moving axe, a sound he'd learned well from Clown Lord.

  Jeremy flung himself to the side, but not quite fast enough. The axe cut off part of his left ear and made a line down the side of his face before slamming into the dungeon floor, sending chips of stone tile flying.

  Jeremy grabbed his pack and ran, slipping between the legs of the startled orcs. Sounds of their cursing followed him. Fortunately, the black mist seemed to suppress sound and smell along with sight. He should be safe as long as the mist lasted.

  “Human!” Sta shouted, voice muted by the fog but easily heard by Jeremy. “There is more than one way to kill an adventurer! Return and give us what we want, or we'll lure monsters to this part of the dungeon. If those monsters find and kill you, we are not responsible. It will be the dungeon that killed you.”

  “We won't get any experience,” Rampage complained, “and the dungeon will absorb his supplies.”

  “Children won't cry when I pass them in the street,” Sta responded. “I'm fine with this.”

  “Who put you in charge?” Rampage grumbled.

  “We did!” five orcs said at once.

  Jeremy knew returning to the orcs would be suicide. They appeared determined to kill him, one way or another. He reached the picture on the labyrinth wall he'd wrestled with the night before, gasping for breath. Blood dripped down his neck and pooled on the dungeon floor. He had to work fast.

  A wind blew through the passageways, causing the black mist to dissipate. Sta or the others must have cast a spell.

  “He went that way!” Rampage shouted. “Blood trail! Get him!”

  Jeremy was sure the words on the wall were Dungeon School, but the number of letters for this was wrong. What if the spelling was different?

  The orcs were coming. He pulled out his letters and tried DUNJUN. The word sounded right even if the spelling was wrong, and it was six letters. The letters flashed and stuck to the wall. Yes! It figured he was in a dungeon that didn't know how to spell. For the lower word, he tried. SCULE. Nothing. He switched the C for K. SKULE. Now there were two words on the wall, one above the other.

  DUNJUN

  SKULE

  “Found him!”

  There was a hiss of an arrow before it struck him in the back.

  “I told you not to kill him!” Sta shouted.

  The second word flashed, then the two words vanished, and a crack formed on the wall, turning into a doorway. He opened the door, grabbed his pack and dove through, slamming the door behind him.