Echoes of the Fey: The Prophet's Arm

by Malcolm Pierce

  ~

  Sofya stared at the empty whiskey glass on her desk and considered pouring herself another, even though she was almost halfway through the bottle. She’d been back in Vodotsk only a few hours and her tiny office was already feeling oppressively cramped. She considered going for a walk, but the rest of the city didn’t feel much better. Besides, here she had Heremon, the only person who shared her disappointment in the day’s events.

  “I can’t believe that woman,” she muttered. “Ratted us out to the Leshin just to spite us.”

  Heremon shrugged. He sat in the chair on the other side of Sofya’s desk, nursing his first—and usually only—glass of wine for the night. “I believe it. You threatened her and she had a way to retaliate. Why would you expect anything different?”

  “Human solidarity?”

  “Human solidarity doesn’t seem to go very far, Sofya. Honestly, you should know that better than anyone.”

  “We shouldn’t have taken the carriage the Melinkovs ordered for us. The driver was surely in on it.” Sofya poured another shot of whiskey, though she told herself she’d try to sip this one slowly. “At least we learned something. Don’t trust anybody.”

  Heremon placed his glass of wine down on the desk and rubbed his temples. “The one thing I don’t understand is how did the Melinkovs know about Braden and what we were going to do with the Arm? They clearly didn’t know what they had when they took Simion prisoner, or they would have confiscated the Arm then.”

  “Maybe they were monitoring Simeon’s room?” Sofya asked. “Some kind of listening device or charm? Though that would be strange, considering he was being held by himself. I’m trying to think of what we talked to Simeon about in the jail cell, but it’s all running together right now.”

  “How much have you had to drink?” Heremon asked.

  Sofya grunted in reply.

  “The good news is that we got half our payment up front, and the AFC didn’t say anything about confiscating the money Braden already gave us.”

  “We spent a lot on carriages I would have liked to expense,” Sofya replied. “Maybe we need to stop taking cases that make us leave Vodotsk more than a couple times.”

  Heremon crossed his arms. “Maybe you should start listening to me when I tell you not to get involved with matters that could get us in trouble.”

  “Then we’d never have enough work to make rent.”

  Heremon chuckled, though Sofya wasn’t joking. Sofya gulped down her drink, breaking her promise to herself. Then she resumed staring at the empty glass.

  “I feel bad for Braden” Sofya finally said. “I mean, if he was telling us the truth. The Melinkovs only got involved in this incidentally, so his arrest was through no fault of his own. He couldn’t have ever known he’d stir up the ire of some Humans willing to report him.”

  “But he didn’t tell us the truth,” Heremon replied. “Not all of it, at least. He should have mentioned that he had not even informed the AFC of his attempts to find the Arm. That he was operating without their approval was an important part of the job he neglected to mention. By not saying anything either way, he implied that he had permission. And that behavior raises all sorts of questions about his actual intent.”

  Sofya shook her head. “I don’t know… If he was doing exactly what he said he was doing—trying to find a real artifact and transport it to a museum—then why would he think he needed permission from the AFC? Preserving history isn’t in any way assisting the ir-Dyeun. The only reason he was arrested was because the Melinkovs planted the idea that he was trying to fabricate an artifact, which could definitely be seen as promoting ir-Dyeun stories, at least.”

  Heremon took a sip of his wine. “There’s no way to be sure. But I merely wanted to make you feel better. Braden did bring this upon himself, at least to some extent. He failed to protect himself from the AFC with the simplest of precautions. He could have let them know what he was up to. Given how the AFC has been cracking down on the ir-Dyeun, it would have been the smart thing to do.”

  “I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

  Before Sofya could pour herself another drink, there was a loud knock on the door. Startled, Sofya nearly jumped out of her chair. It was far too late for any customers, and there was no reason for anyone to travel to the city limits where their office and apartment was located.

  “Who the hell is that?” Sofya asked. “Should we answer it?” Before Heremon could answer, Sofya felt something strange beyond the door. It was magical energy, a signature she’d come to recognize quite well. “Wait, I think it’s Simeon. I can feel the Arm.”

  “What’s he doing here?” Heremon asked. Before returning to the office, Sofya and Heremon returned Simeon to his shop on the other side of town. He remarked that he had a lot of mail and overdue paperwork and bid them farewell. The last thing they expected was for him to pay them a visit later at night.

  Sofya stood up and headed for the front of the office. She guarded herself, worried that this might be some strange trap that she didn’t understand, but when she opened the door, it was just Simeon standing there. He’d changed out of his dirty clothes into an elegant, immaculate green tunic with a long, sweeping cloak. The cloak hid most of the elaborate mechanical arm attached to his right shoulder, but Sofya could still feel it there, pulsing with energy.

  “Simeon! What brings you here?”

  “When I returned to my shop, I got to thinking. And I realized that I had done you two a disservice. Intended or not, you rescued me from my captivity.”

  Sofya smiled. “We only really wanted the Arm, but it felt rude to take it and leave you.”

  “And now, because I was so foolish as to be captured in the first place, you are out the payment you were promised for finding the Arm.”

  “That is true.”

  Simeon stepped into the office and greeted Heremon with a slight wave. “Simeon,” Heremon said. “I suppose you are already settled back in to the city?”

  “I have some very angry customers,” he replied. “But they will understand. We have all faced hostility and discrimination since the end of the war, though I suppose forceful imprisonment is an extreme case.”

  Sofya bit her tongue and kept herself from reminding Simeon that the Leshin occupied Vodotsk for over a decade. It didn’t seem productive.

  “Do you need our services for anything?” Sofya asked. “We’re kind of mourning our last case right now and it’s late…”

  “Yes, I can tell you’ve been drinking,” Simeon said. There was no hiding the smell of alcohol on her breath from Leshin. Sofya had already learned that lesson from Heremon. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to pay you what you’re owed.” Simeon reached into his cloak and withdrew a small pouch full of gold. “Forty gold pieces, correct?”

  “That’s right,” Sofya said. “But we also had about ten pieces worth of carriage expenses and–”

  “You don’t have to pay us anything,” Heremon interrupted. “That’s ridiculous. You didn’t hire us. We’ve accepted that we took a bad case and we lost. There’s no need for this.”

  “So, fifty gold?” Simeon asked Sofya, then turned his attention to Heremon. “Or are you going to turn down money that you earned just to teach your friend a lesson?”

  “Of course we’re not going to do that,” Sofya said.

  Heremon glared at her. “Sofya, he doesn’t owe us anything.”

  “You rescued me,” Simeon said. “I would have paid four times this much to be free. Making you whole is the least I could do.”

  “What’s the problem, Heremon?”

  “I… I just don’t want to be in this man’s debt.”

  Simion placed the small pouch of gold on Sofya’s desk, then drew ten more pieces from a similar pouch on his belt. He handed this to Sofya. “You owe me no debt. You are even allowing me to keep the Arm, which would be an amazing story to tell my friends and customers if it wouldn’t likely get me killed.”

 
Sofya took the ten pieces of gold and added them to the pouch on the table. “You’re going to keep wearing it? Even knowing what it is?”

  “What do I keep saying? You don’t find craftsmanship like this anywhere but the largest Leshin cities and its design is unique. Besides, I suppose it serves as something of an ir-Dyeun detector.”

  “Huh?”

  “Even I did not recognize the Arm. You said that the ir-Dyeun kept it secreted away in their temple here, out of view of the public. Anyone who recognizes it, thus, should be regarded with the greatest of suspicion.”

  Sofya hadn’t considered that before. Now that Simion said it, she wished she could keep the Arm and put it above her desk to serve the same purpose.

  “Still, I can’t imagine wearing such a powerful magic artifact,” Sofya said.

  Simion raised an eyebrow. “Powerful?” he asked. “What would make you say that?” Sofya hesitated. Before she could come up with a lie, Simion continued. “Trust me, this is just a simple mechanical arm. Yes, it is very old. But powerful? We cannot even be sure it actually belonged to the Prophet, let alone was given any sort of power.”

  Sofya didn’t argue with him. There was no way to explain what she felt, especially when it seemed invisible to the Leshin.

  “Thank you for fulfilling Braden ir-Alba’s responsibility,” Heremon said. “After thinking it over, we will accept your payment.”

  “Of course you will,” Simion said with a smile. “And please, now that you know where my shop is, feel free to stop by.”

  “I don’t plan on needing to pawn anything,” Heremon replied. “And certainly not take out a loan, not with the interest rates I’m sure you offer.”

  Simion chuckled. “I would surely cut you a better deal,” he said. “But that is not what I meant. In my line of work, I tend to come across quite a bit of information. And that is your business. I may have something to offer you. You never know.”

  “Thanks,” Sofya replied. “I guess you’re a good person to know.”

  “You have no idea,” Simion said. With a slight bow, he turned and headed for the door. “See you around, Lady Rykov.”