You are probably wondering about Lyman right now. Where is he? What is he doing? Did he throw any solid oak doors around today? Or at least some chairs? In fact, the answer is really quite boring. Lyman was picking his teeth with a chicken bone and sighing happily because he had just eaten a chicken soufflé. Nothing important at all.

A loud clang sounded through the prison, followed by another, than the grating sound of a key turning in a rusty lock. Sally sat bolt upright. What time was it? Had she overslept? She gave herself a good whack on the face to wake herself up fully. She turned around to face the door of her cell. It was closed. Walking away from it was the Urickh town Sheriff. The real Sheriff. In his hand dangled a ring of keys. She felt a stab of terror. Sally ran to the door and gripped the bars, shaking them with all her meager strength. It was locked. The color drained from her face. Why had she been so stupid? Why had she listened to Egbert’s grand idea to sleep in a jail cell? She plopped down on the hard floor, burying her face in her hands.

“Sally? You awake?” It was Egbert speaking from next door.

“Of course I’m awake you great lummox! Don’t you realize what you’ve done? You got us locked in here! In prison! And now we’ll be stuck here for the rest of our days!” Sally was angry. She didn’t usually get mad, but she wasn’t very kind when she did.

Egbert was silent for a moment. “Aww, come on, Sally! Cheer up! At least now that we’re stuck here, we can play my favorite game, 20 questions! Let’s start now. I’ll even give you a hint. I am not a pickle.”

Sally groaned and slumped against the wall. “Egbert, you have got to listen to me and be sensible. We are going to get out of here, not sit around playing silly games! I’m going to yell to the others now that the Sheriff has gone. Maybe he didn’t lock their cells and they can let us out.” It was a desperate attempt, she knew, and likely to fail. She called for Jenkins, Joe, and BoneCrusher. She immediately got a reply.

“That you Sally? Come on over here and let me out! Joe wants to play 20 questions, and I would much rather play ‘would you rather’.” That was Jenkins, and it told Sally all she needed to hear.

“We’re locked up too. How on earth are we going to escape?” She shouted to Jenkins. 

Joe replied, “That doesn’t count, Sally! You can only ask yes or no questions! It’s in the rules of the game!”

Egbert chimed in, “No, Joe, thats not true. In 20 questions, you can ask any question on the first question. After that, for the other 19, they have to be yes or no questions.”

“Would you rather escape from prison, or eat a peanut butter & lard sandwich with a side of jalapeños?” asked Jenkins. 

BoneCrusher said, “You guys are all a bunch of ninnies! The real test is to play ‘truth or dare’! Or, if you’re to weak for such a test of courage, ‘I spy’ is always a classic.” 

Sally felt like crying. Was she the only sensible person in this dungeon? Most likely, yes. Yes, she was.

Lyman was having a tough time. He couldn’t seem to find any clues to the mysterious woman’s whereabouts. He was in Wigginsvin, riding through the gates of a tall yellow house. He dismounted and kicked the door in. It gave way under the force of his boot, and catapulted across the room, showering splinters and shards of wood as it crashed to the floor. (As you have probably noticed, the door-makers and carpenters in Fidledom weren’t very skilled at their trade.) Lyman grinned and walked inside, mentally crossing “Kick in a random door” off his mental to-do list. An old woman was inside, cowering behind a wooden barrel. She had scuttled there when she saw the door flying at her, and she was reasonably petrified with fear. 

“Good afternoon. Have you seen a woman recently? Brown hair? I believe she worked as a maid of some sort. Perhaps you know her?” Said Lyman casually.

The lady blinked at him.

“Come, come now, no need to be frightened!”

The lady crept from her hiding place and stood slowly up. As her spine struggled to straighten, it popped and cracked in a loud, grinding manner, making Lyman wince. How old was this woman? 

“I believe I know the lass you seek!” The lady began, “She…she worked here. She was my maid. You see, I turned one-hundred last September, and I’m getting too old for the housework, so I hired Marigold, and she kept house for me. She had lovely eyes and silky brown hair, and a nice, kind heart. I was sorry when she ran away…I got back from my bingo club and she was just gone! A pity, if you ask me.” The old woman’s raggedy hair waggled as she shook her head over the run-away girl.

Lyman stood. He blinked. He breathed heavily. His bushy eyebrows slowly raised. His eyes slowly widened. His hair slowly stood on end.

“Did—did you say…Marigold*?” Lyman’s voice shook as he spoke.

“Yes, yes, Marigold Beighn! She was a wonderful girl of course, related to the great Green Beighn himself! His own sister!”

Lyman rushed at the century old woman and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around in a most undignified fashion. She shrieked in terror, convinced now that she was in the hands of a madman. Lyman threw her aside and sat down on the floor, breathless. He was weeping by now, freely and openly weeping.

“Marigold! Marigold Beighn! My sister! My own, dear Marigold! She’s alive!” Lyman was looking at the old woman in wonder and ecstasy. He could hardly believe it. His own sister, the one he had missed so much, the one he had cried over and wept for. The one he had loved the most out of all his family. The sister who had stayed by his side for days when he had been ill as a little boy. The sister who had stood up for him when others bullied him. The sister who had always laughed at his dumb jokes when everyone else rolled their eyes. The sister who had wrestled with him when he longed for a brother to fight. The little girl who had gone missing and hadn’t been found. Why, she must be a woman by now! His own Marigold was the one he was hunting for. 

*Note to reader: You should not be surprised by any of this. Indeed, you are probably rolling your eyes and thinking, ‘I knew that Sally was actually Marigold all along.” Of course you did. It was my intention that you should know it. In fact, I kept Marigold’s identity a secret on purpose so that you could figure out who she was and feel good about yourself. Also, don’t go laughing at Lyman’s reaction to the news. You see, he had sincerely believed his favorite sister was dead, gone from this earth, and he had never dreamed of seeing her again. So really, his surprise and shock is not shocking or surprising in the least. I apologize for the many italicized words in the paragraph. If you are offended by them, or the fact that I am writing to you, good riddance.