Sham

I didn't dare speak. I doubted even spells would work properly.

"Tell us, runaway," the bald man jeered, "which lord have you abandoned?"

I shook my head, feeling as though my own translation spell had failed, though I kept it active.

"Come now, the truth spell can only enforce truth when you speak it."

I eyed the man warily. He had a confident smile. He knew what he had done. And he knew I was resisting because I knew what he did. I simply shook my head again.

"Did you not say that you would not resist a truth spell? This counts as resisting."

I nodded.

"Then cease this resistance! Which lord have you run away from?"

I ran my hand through my hair. As I did, I bumped the air that was affected by the spell, which seemed to jiggle the air before my mouth. How could I get rid of it?

"Silence is condemnation, Scarred. We do have other ways of finding your master." He leaned in close, garlic on his breath, "Tell us who it is, and we could undo your contract with him."

Undo. That word. Undo... I had undone before. My wounds. I dropped my hand past the spell, willing it to be undone. To my relief, it came away with gentle golden radiance. Baldie froze.

"What would you have me say? I have spoken no lie, nor will I. I can vow to the four gods if that would make you happy, because you seem mistaken about your truth spell." I whispered.

"I am a certified wizard of the royal court." He replied, seething at my logic, "I am perfectly aware of what I have done."

I spoke up, so the crowd could hear as well, "You mean to say that you knew that your spell was literally worded, 'require my target to speak the words I wish to hear'? That does not sound like the truth to me."

The rising rabble silenced. The bald man looked to the white-haired.

The latter rose to his feet ceremoniously, "blasphemy, traveler. It is clear the result of this trial is decided."

"Before you decide to march me off simply for my curse, let this one thing be clear, the accurate way to cast a truth spell is this: Goddess of Air, destroy the lies that are spoken from every mouth here!"

My voice seemed to boom out, rumbling the trial room and the crowd outside.

"I have been holding a translation spell over myself to ease our conversation. I retain that. At the same time, however, no man, woman, or child will hear a lie from any of us or them," I gestured to the onlookers, "until I release the spell. And for your information, the truth spell has a much lower maintenance cost than my translation spell."

"You dare claim that me and my court have lied in any way?" The white-haired man thundered.

"Your court wizard has lied to me. I was promised a truth spell. He did not provide one."

"And how am I to believe that you are under this truth spell that you have conjured."

"I really like how I've been treated by your court mage," I lied, the words disappearing from the air before reaching even my own ears. I continued with truth, "I'm under it as much as you are, but as I offered to your mage, I can vow to the four gods if you prefer."

"Do that."

"I vow before your four gods, Brock, Celestia, Aquaria, and Ragos, that I will speak nothing but the truth."

"You- you just vowed so casually- so unconditionally." the bald man stuttered.

"It was not taken lightly. Now, believe me when I say that I have not run from any noble house. I have come from a faraway country, and resided in Farsfield, until two weeks ago."

"That can't be!" the innkeeper exclaimed, standing.

"I fell unconscious on my journey to Farsfield, and when I awoke, I had the scars. In regards of the scars, I find myself innocent. As such, I reserve the right of a fair trial."

"You're Scarred," the bald man growled, "You have no rights."

"I'm a man. All men have rights."

"You misunderstand, all Scarred in this glorious kingdom are slaves to one lord or another."

"Take a man's rights, and you give him the right to rebel. If the Scarred are as you say, then things don't look good for your glorious kingdom."

"Did he just threaten the king?" someone asked in the crowd.

I saw the shadow of future me lean over the railing before I did, "A kingdom built on broken backs is just waiting to be broken. This kingdom will fall if it continues to use slaves. And if I must make it fall, I will make it rise again."

"You speak treason!" the bald man exclaimed.

"I speak poetry. Regardless, I was arrested on the charge of assault, and that is the charge I will answer to. The man I struck was harassing her daughter," I gestured to the innkeeper, "and after receiving the daughter's permission, I struck the man once. He lives, and the story can be corroborated. What is the verdict of this?"

"Not guilty," the white-haired man growled.

"Then we have nothing more to talk about." and I vaulted the balcony railing.

The crowd surged away from me, and barely a moment passed before I landed on the dirt road. I strode towards the inn and Mayliam caught up. Nobody else got closer than five feet if they could help it.

"My things at inn?" I asked, having dropped the translation spell when I had dropped from the balcony.

"Yes, a guard dropped them off shortly after they put you in prison."

I nodded in acknowledgement, and continued on course. The people in the crowd parted for me like the red sea. None of these people would know that reference, would they?

No one was at the inn when I arrived. Mayliam let me into the room we had all shared, and we found my things in a tight bundle on the bed I had used days ago. The guard sword stuck out of the bundle.

"Faivere wanted to throw it over the wall," Mayliam said.

"She not think I need again."

"Her? I don't imagine Faivere having the foresight to predict this."

"She not. She make this happen."

"What are you say-" she cut off with a gasp.

I nodded in response, then grabbed the bundle. I pulled the sheathed sword from it and returned the weapon to my hip. I turned to leave wordlessly.

"I want to go with you!" Mayliam shouted. Her round face pointed down and slightly red.

"Want run? Guard come soon."

"I want," she said, suddenly quieter, "to go wherever you go."

"I risk. You come, you in risk."

"Stop pushing me away! Let me come with you!"

"I not say no. I ask if keep pace."

"Whatever it takes to be with you!"

"I go now."

"Then I'm coming!" she started packing her things in a bundle like mine. I scanned the next several minutes, then waited for her to finish packing. While I did, I noticed a quill and paper.

I jotted a quick note as Mayliam grabbed the last thing. "Ready," she said. I nodded, quick scribbling done, and lead her out of the room. Commotion was sounding down the stairs.

"Up," I suggested.

Mayliam nodded in agreement, and I led us up the ladder and onto the roof. I closed the hatch behind her. A gentle breeze blew this high up. Mayliam looked over the glistening shingles of other buildings, over the wooden stake wall, yet under the brilliant blue sky.

She smiled. "If being on the run means I get to have views like this more often, I should've gone on the run years ago."

I stood silently, watching her footing, and planning a way out of town. Preferably without being seen.

She turned to me, with a smile bright as sunshine, "I can't wait to see where this road takes us!"