Secret Exposed

“The one who stirs the pot should lick the spoon.” 

-Excerpt from “Travels of the Rune-Bard”

The cart rattled along a country road, swaying with the breeze. I sighed and leaned back, eyes closed. It had been months since I left the Royal Capital, and being back on the road sent a wave of peace through me.

“Hey, stop ignoring me,” Elma said, and kicked my shin.

I flinched, sucking in a breath. “What’s your problem, princess?”

“What's your problem, you buffoon?” she snapped, kicking me again. “You said you’d tell me why you’re helping. And don’t call me princess.”

“Yeah? And I did,” I muttered, rubbing my shin.

“Like hell!” She snapped.

The cart driver glanced over his shoulder, smirking. I shrugged, and he shook his head like he was watching a couple of fools.

“What do you want from me? I told you why I’m helping.”

“You can’t just say, ‘I once ran away from home,’ and expect me to buy that,” Elma said, throwing a hand over her face. “That tells me nothing. Every child runs away once. What made you do it? Did mommy yell at you or—”

The moment she spoke, my mood soured. I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t talk about my mother,” I growled. “You don’t know anything.”

“That!” She said, pointing at me. “That’s the point. I don’t know anything. So tell me.”

“This conversation’s over.” I pulled my hood over my eyes, crossed my arms, and lay back on the bench. She kept fussing beside me, but I let my mind drift—back to childhood, to things I’d rather forget.

We reached Fallon as the sun dipped below the horizon. I watched storefronts pass, the familiar ache of returning to this place twisting in my gut. Elma’s last words echoed in my head, blending with the usual discord Fallon stirred.

Two years had slipped by since I last saw the town. Nothing had changed—the same rolling hills, the same outskirts, the same press of people. The only difference was how empty it felt. I had called this place home until I was sixteen, but now the only thing left for me here was an unmarked grave beneath a drooping white willow. 

“Where does this man live, anyway?” Elma asked, chin propped on her hand, boredom etched across her pretty face.

“Near the center,” I said, dragging my eyes from the streets. “We’re close.”

“I’ve never been this far from the Capital before. I expected more.”

“More?”

“It’s so... plain. The Royal Capital is so much bigger. And grander.”

“Well, it is the largest city on the continent.” I explained, glad for the distraction. “Fallon’s nothing special, but it’s big enough to matter.”

“I’ve seen maps with a lot of cities, though." She said. "What makes this place any different? 

“Fallon’s the fourth largest in the Kingdom. Its the main trade hub into the Central Dominion, so anyone heading to the Capital comes through here—performers, merchants, soldiers, mages.”

She harrumphed but didn’t argue. We rode in silence until the cart stopped. We stepped down. The cart continued to rattle down the cobblestone road for several more minutes, before stopping in front of a row of conjoined buildings. 

“This is it,” I said. It was a modest house, indistinguishable from the storefronts around it, save for the glow of firelight in the windows. Green ivy clung to the stone facade, winding its way toward the sky. 

I stepped up the short staircase, and knocked on the door. I knocked. Inside, something rustled. Then Zygan opened the door. Taller than me, hair grey where it was once salt-and-pepper, his face was lined from a hard life rather than age.

“Zygan,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in the doorway. “Who are you again?”

I froze, then snorted. “I’m gone two years and the old coot goes senile? Just my luck.”

He laughed and pulled me into a hug. “Good to see you, lad.”

“I’m not so much a lad anymore.”

He stepped back, hands on my shoulders. “Sure enough. You’ve grown into a fine man.” He looked past me and did a double take. “And you’ve brought a fine young lady.”

“Ah, right,” I said, stepping aside. “This is Elma, the woman I mentioned.”

“Introductions can wait,” Zygan said, waving us in. “Your letter was vague, and that tells me we’d best talk in private.”

“Indeed.”

Zygan’s home smelled of old leather and cedar smoke. Browns bled into shadow, the fire’s glow casting the room in a warm hush. It was quiet. Mature. Safe.

“How the hell did you end up with a place like this?” I asked. “I thought a gutter rat like you would live somewhere less...”

“Expensive? Nice? Clean?” he said with a grin.

“I was going to say boring,” I grinned. “Didn’t expect you to settle down. Thought you’d die drunk in a ditch.”

“Credit my Lord. He gave me a pension and land.” Zygan said, pouring tea for the three of us. It was earthy and rich, the kind more at home in a noble court than a wayward minstrel's home. 

“Back on topic,” I said, and the air shifted. “Elma needs a place to lie low. I didn’t mean to bring this to your doorstep, but—”

“She in danger?”

I glanced at her. She nodded once. “She is.”

“Then say no more. If a lady’s in danger, then it’s only right her man stand tall beside her.”

“She’s not my woman,” I said quickly. “She’s just—”

“A friend?” He teased. “Is he always this dense?”

I looked at Elma. Her face had gone crimson, and she nodded without a word.

“Ah, young love,” Zygan mused. “One regret of life on the road—no time for such things.”

“Hey! I’ve been on the road too,” I snapped. “And it’s not like that. Stop trying to embarrass us.”

“One day perhaps,” He waved it off. “For now—there’s a spare room upstairs. Bed’s not much, but it’ll do. I’ll feed you while you’re under my roof.”

“Wait, only one room?” Elma asked.

Zygan’s grin turned wicked. “Problem? You could always sleep with me if the lad’s not to your liking.”

“No!” I shot up halfway. I’d seen his taste in women, and the speed with which he attacked.

“Oh? And why not, if you’re not ‘like that’?” He smirked. I had been baited. 

“Damn you.” I said, then let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Relax. I’m teasing.” He sipped his tea. “You’re both hopeless. I’ll get the room ready. Just relax.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, carefully avoiding Elma's eyes.

Zygan stood. “I won’t ask for the full story, but I’ll have words with you, Deryth.” He never used my name unless he meant it.

“I promised to help, and I will. But hiding the Duke’s daughter? That’s beyond the pale.”

I froze, breath caught in my throat. I looked at Elma. She looked away. 

“You didn’t know?” Zygan asked. Then he sighed, turning toward the stairs. “Sort yourselves out first, I suppose.”