Rylan Foil's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Rylan was adjusting his lute strap when the shelf collapsed. Not near him. Not because of him. The merchant's entire back wall gave way, sending clay pots crashing down on a woman who'd been reaching for honey. She hit the ground hard, pottery shards everywhere, and when she looked up with blood running down her temple, her eyes locked on him. "You," she said. Rylan raised both hands. "I didn't touch anything." "You walked in." She pushed herself up, wincing. "The second you walked in, I felt it. Like the air went sour." She pointed at the ruined shelf, then at her bleeding head. "Fix it." The merchant was already shouting about his pottery. Other customers backed toward the door. Rylan had seen this before—the moment people decided he was the problem. He usually left before it got this far. "I don't know how to fix a shelf," he said. She stepped closer, blocking his path to the door. "Then you're not leaving until you figure it out." Rylan studied her coat. The wool looked expensive once, but the hem was scorched black on one side and frosted white on the other, like it couldn't decide whether to burn or freeze. The kind of damage that didn't happen naturally. The kind that happened around him. He glanced past her at the fur-trimmed tent across the square. Military banners hung from the poles. A war council, maybe, or a noble's retinue. Someone important enough to afford that coat before he'd ruined it. "How much do I owe you?" he asked. She wiped blood from her eyes. "More than coin. That coat was my father's. The tent outside? That's where I'm supposed to meet a thane in an hour, and now I look like I crawled out of a ditch." Rylan felt the familiar weight settle in his chest. Another person caught in his wake. Another piece of someone's life broken because he'd walked through the wrong door. But this time she wasn't letting him walk away from it. "The luck merchant," he said. "Have you heard of one passing through?" She stared at him. "That's your answer? Chase a myth?" "He's not a myth." Rylan met her eyes. "And if I find him, I can fix this. All of it. The coat, the shelf, whatever else breaks around me." She touched the burnt seam of her sleeve, then the frozen hem. Her expression shifted from anger to something else. Calculation. "Where was he last seen?" Rylan blinked. "You believe me?" "I believe this coat was fine yesterday." She stepped aside, finally clearing his path to the door. "And I believe you're going to help me get to that meeting on time, because if a thane sees me like this, my contract's done. So talk while we walk."