The Scent of Secrets

Speaker had no name. "Speaker" was only a title, and not even that, it was a shortening of a title. You might call it a nicktitle, were you possessed of a particular sort of wit. A name was a fair price, they'd thought at the time, and had it been all they'd paid, it would have been.

All that was in the past, now, though. Or perhaps in the future, if certain rumors held substance. It was hard to tell, in these unsteady days, with time being such a slippery thing. In any case, Speaker's name was far from the Spindle, and that was perhaps for the best. An unfortunately large number of people wanted to kill them.

Names and enemies aside, Speaker had plenty of reason to visit the Spindle. They needed a terribly large amount of information, of a sort that couldn't be had where they came from. It was only natural, then, that the Horizon Gate would draw them, tantalizing secrets wafting over the horizon like the scent of fresh-baked bread. Speaker missed fresh bread. It had been such a very long time since they'd had any.

They weren't the only one here from beyond the horizon. There was another, a lady of lightning and flame. Speaker couldn't remember her name; they were very bad with names. It was an occupational hazard of working exclusively with people who only had titles. They remembered a few of those; people called her the Thunderslinger, the Bringer of Havoc, the Huntress with Hands of Death. It was said she'd come to the Spindle looking for heroes. Speaker wished her luck in that. They were fairly certain she was the only hero this side of the Gate.