Echoes of the Fey: The Prophet's Arm

by Malcolm Pierce

  ~

  The second Sofya stepped into the pub, every eye in the room was on her. There were a dozen Leshin seated throughout the surprisingly spacious tavern and every one was curious why a Human would dare to join them.

  Normally, Sofya felt rather comfortable around Leshin. Spending so much time with Heremon over the last few months helped with that. But she’d rarely visited their side of the border, and mostly interacted with them as minority in post-occupation Vodotsk. This was different. Now, she was the only Human in the room.

  “Do you see any soldiers around?” Sofya asked quietly.

  “No one dressed as such,” Heremon replied.

  “Good. I don’t see Braden here and I need a drink.” Sofya headed for the bar but Heremon grabbed her arm.

  “We need to be careful. There could be an ambush.”

  “They tied up their horses out front. Not a very good ambush, if you ask me.”

  Despite her joke, Sofya still chose a spot at the bar where her back would be to the wall and she could see the entire room. Was it enough to prevent the ambush Heremon feared? Likely not. Sofya, Heremon, and Simion had been bested by a few Melinkov guards just a day ago. Leshin soldiers would be even more of a challenge.

  Hoping to calm her nerves, Sofya ordered a vodka. As soon as it was delivered, Sofya gulped it down. Like all Leshin spirits, it tasted a bit like wood. Somehow, they couldn’t even get vodka right. Nevertheless, Sofya asked for another.

  “It’s not even noon,” Heremon muttered, settling in next to her. “And we’re meeting with a client.”

  “We also might be taken prisoner for the second time in as many days, so I might not be able to get a drink tonight.”

  “That’s terrible reasoning,” Heremon said, though he didn’t try to stop her when she ordered a third vodka.

  After spending a few minutes surveying the room, Simion joined them at the bar. “Where is this client of yours? I’m starting to get nervous.”

  “Do you think anyone here recognizes the arm?” Sofya asked.

  “If they did, they’re going to keep quiet about it,” Simion replied. “Only an ir-Dyeun would recognize it. I trade in all sorts of goods and even I didn’t know what it was.”

  “Does look awfully nice for something that’s hundreds of years old,” Sofya said. “They must have taken very good care of it.”

  Heremon leaned in and looked at the arm, which seemed to make Simion a bit uncomfortable. “It is a remarkable piece of articulation,” Heremon said. “Almost mechanical, to the point where it almost resembles a modern Human machine rather than an ancient Leshin artifact.”

  “The Leshin of Cathal ir-Dyeun’s time were actually quite different than the Leshin of today,” Simion replied. “As much as we all hate to admit it, his teachings changed the very fabric of what we are. It’s not surprising that a false arm from his time looks so strange.”

  Sofya crossed her arms. “Then why didn’t you know something was up with it when you bought it?”

  “I knew it was an oddity,” Simion replied. “Not a religious artifact.”

  “Do you feel strange wearing it now that you do know?” Sofya asked.

  Simion shrugged. “I never much believed the ir-Dyeun stories anyway.”

  Sofya had her doubts. Even now, after three drinks, she could feel a powerful magic weaved into the Prophet’s Arm. She was surprised that Simion didn’t notice it. Neither did Heremon or the other Leshin in the bar, but they didn’t have it attached to their body. Sofya couldn’t imagine how Simion managed to ignore it.

  Before she could ask any more questions, the door to the pub swung open and Braden ir-Alba stepped inside. Just like Sofya and her companions, he must have noticed the horses tied outside because he cautiously surveyed the room before heading over to join them.

  As soon as Braden saw Simion and the Arm, his eyes lit up and he seemed to forget all his worries. “You found it!” he exclaimed, a little too loud for Sofya’s taste. Braden hurried towards Simion, though he completely ignored the Leshin man wearing the Arm. Instead, he was enthralled by the false limb itself. “My word, it’s more beautiful than I imagined.”

  “Yes, well, I bought it fair and square,” Simion muttered. “So we might have a problem.”

  Braden finally tore his gaze away from the Arm and looked up at Simion. “Who are you?”

  “Simion ir-Sheaf. Banker, trader, lender… Supporter of Leshin who choose to remain in Human territory. Also the man who found the Arm you were looking for.”

  “And we found Simion,” Sofya interjected. “So we did do the job you hired us for. Long and short of it is that the Empire took the Arm from your shipment. Then they lost it to separatists, who sold the Arm to Simion.”

  “Who was then taken prisoner by some rather unpleasant brewers,” Simion said.

  Braden looked at Sofya and Heremon. “Brewers?”

  “That’s a bit of a simplification,” Sofya said.

  “The entire building smelled of rotten grain,” Simion explained. “It was disgusting.”

  “Never mind that,” Braden said. “You’re free now. And all three of you have brought the Arm to me. I cannot thank you enough.”

  “Yes you can,” Heremon replied. “You can pay us what we’re owed. And you can work out whatever deal it is that you have to with this man. And we can all go along on our way.”

  Braden nodded vigorously. “I’ll have the money in your account by the end of the day. Don’t worry.” He turned his attention to Simion. “As for you…”

  “What do you intend to do with the Arm?” Simion asked.

  “Well, I am the curator of the Alban Museum of History,” Braden replied. “And no matter what you think of Cathal ir-Dyeun’s teachings, he was clearly an important historical figure for all of Leshin society.”

  Simion smiled. “I was just telling these two the same thing.”

  “Something owned and worn by the Prophet is of clear value for our museum. In some ways, you could say that the Arm was a part of him… at least when he was writing some of his most famous works.”

  “I believe some Leshin would tell you we should destroy it,” Simion said. “Considering what the Prophet led us to do. Considering how his teachings took us astray. He enchanted this arm with magic. As much as it was a part of him… what if he is still a part of it?”

  Despite herself, Sofya suddenly felt nervous about handing the Arm over to the Leshin. Even if it was going to stay behind glass in a museum, returning something that held any part of the ir-Dyeun prophet seemed like a mistake.

  “What does it do?” Sofya asked. “Do either of you know? Why were the Leshin keeping it in Vodotsk?”

  “How would I know?” Simion asked. “I only discovered what it was last night, when you rescued me.”

  “But you’ve heard stories, right? About what the Arm is supposed to be able to do? Its magical powers?”

  Heremon sighed. “Sofya, we’ve been over this. The Arm was enchanted so the prophet could move it with magic. Nothing more.”

  Simion smiled. “Actually, there is an instructive story on this matter, now that you mention it. Cathal ir-Dyeun is known among our people primarily as a philosopher and visionary. He lived long enough to see the fruits of his teaching spring into conflict between our people. He was also a military leader who inspired his own followers to spread his message between the cities.”

  “What does that have to do with the–”

  Before Sofya could finish her question, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. The curtain leading to the room behind the bar shifted, and a tall, wiry Leshin woman emerged. The moment she stepped outside, several of the other Leshin in the room stood up, almost in unison.

  “Uh oh,” Sofya said. “About that ambush, Heremon?”

  “Stay calm,” Heremon replied.

  The tall Leshin walked to the end of the bar and motioned for the bartender to leave. The other Leshin in the pub slowly walked towards Sofya and her comp
anions.

  “What is going on?” Heremon asked them, trying to stay calm. “We don’t want any trouble. We are just here to discuss a business transaction and–”

  “Which one of you is Simion ir-Sheaf?”

  Simion nervously raised his hand. “That would be me,” he said. “Who sent you? Surprised they didn’t give you a fairly easy description of me. There aren’t many one-armed Leshin.”

  The woman behind the bar looked at the other Leshin, who now surrounded Sofya’s group. “Not that one. And not the healing mage.”

  Before any of them could react, the Leshin in the pub descended upon Braden ir-Alba.They grabbed his arms and pulled him away, towards the door.

  “Hey!” Sofya yelled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? That’s my client!”

  “Get your hand off me!” Braden shouted. “Who do you think I am? I’m no criminal. I’m–”

  The Leshin woman stepped out from behind the bar and stood between Sofya and the Leshin holding Braden. “The AFC has been informed that you are attempting to procure ir-Dyeun artifacts and promote the veneration of Cathal ir-Dyeun.”

  “Wait,” Heremon said. “You are AFC soldiers?”

  The woman turned towards Heremon, Sofya, and Simion. “Yes. I am Ranger Cecilia ir-Corhal, Alliance Guard. We received a report that an ir-Dyeun extremist had tricked a trader by the name of Simion ir-Sheaf into procuring religious artifacts of some sort. Citizen ir-Sheaf, is this true?”

  Simion hesitated, but answered honestly. “Well, yes, I suppose it is. This man apparently believes my arm belonged to the Prophet.”

  Cecilia looked at Simion’s arm and laughed. “That thing?” she said. “There’s no way it’s hundreds of years old.”

  “No!” Braden shouted. “That’s it! That’s the Prophet’s Arm!”

  “I’m sure that’s what you want us all to believe,” Cecilia said. “You and your other extremists. You thought a piece of the prophet might re-inspire us, might turn us against our better nature. Quite a plan. I’m sure you were going to pay these people enough that no one would doubt your claim.”

  Panic flickered across Braden’s face. “Ir-Dyeun? Inspiration? You have the wrong idea! I’m a museum curator. This is all wrong!”

  Sofya held her head. “I’m so confused. What’s going on?”

  Cecilia sighed. “I’m sorry, but it sounds like you and your friends were tricked.”

  “Tricked into what?” Sofya replied. “The Arm isn’t fake. It–” She stopped herself before she could explain any further. She was the only Human in the room. There was no way she’d be able to explain how she felt magic inside of it that none of the Leshin could sense.

  “Oh, it appears to be quite well crafted,” Cecilia said. “But there is no way it ever belonged to Cathal ir-Dyeun. It’s just like all the other artifacts the ir-Dyeun pass off as sacred. They are nothing more than trinkets, manufactured with elaborate stories to give the illusion of authenticity.”

  “What is going on?” Braden yelled. “None of this is true!”

  Sofya felt paralyzed. She knew that Cecilia was wrong. She had tracked the Arm from Vodotsk to the border checkpoint, to the Melinkov’s keep. But there was no way she could explain it. She had followed the magic embedded in the arm. There was no other connective tissue between Braden’s story and the particular fake limb she’d found. That was the only way she knew the arm on Simion’s shoulder was the same one given to the courier in Vodotsk.

  “Listen, are you sure about this?” Sofya asked. “Because… because I don’t think he was lying to us. The arm Simion is wearing is–”

  “I’m sure he told you quite the story,” Cecilia said. “That’s how these people draw others in. They play on your expectations. They make you believers.” She looked at Heremon. “You know what I mean, don’t you? I bet we were both believers, once.”

  Heremon sighed and looked away. “Yes, I suppose that is the ir-Dyeun’s standard strategy. But I don’t believe that this man is ir-Dyeun.”

  “Yes, well, either way he is attempting to gather ir-Dyeun artifacts. Fake or real. It doesn’t matter, it is still in violation of the AFC charter. Ir-Dyeun artifacts are to be reported to the AFC and destroyed. You and your friends should be glad you were tricked, otherwise you might be liable as well.”

  Sofya frowned. “But I’m a Human. I’m not subject to your charter.”

  “True,” Cecilia said, then motioned to Heremon and Simion. “But they are.”

  This was enough to silence Sofya. Heremon had encouraged her not to take this case. He didn’t want to provide the Arm to the Leshin, even if they seemed safe and secular. Now, the case potentially threatened his freedom. Materially assisting the ir-Dyeun in any way was a crime under the charter of the Alliance of Free Cities. The AFC knew their power was newfound and fragile; there were plenty of Leshin willing to fall back in line under the ir-Dyeun. From what Sofya knew, they acted to suppress these ir-Dyeun reactionaries without mercy.

  Even if Braden ir-Alba had been telling Sofya and Heremon truth about everything, an argument could be made that returning the Arm to the Leshin was an act of assistance to the ir-Dyeun. Especially if it was for real.

  “Lady Rykov!” Braden shouted again as the AFC soldiers pulled him out of the bar. “You know it’s not fake! You know I’m telling the truth. I only wanted to preserve a part of our history.”

  Sofya didn’t respond. She let the AFC drag Braden from the pub, as much as it pained her to do so. She owed everything to Heremon and wouldn’t endanger him just to protect her client. Especially when she wasn’t entirely sure she believed him about his intentions for the Arm.

  As soon as Braden was custody in a carriage outside, the AFC soldiers began to file out of the pub. Sofya thought that they would just ignore her, Simion, and Heremon. They had what they wanted. But Cecilia was the last to leave. She stuck around until all the other AFC troops were gone. And then she approached Sofya.

  “So, are we done here?” Sofya asked.

  Cecilia smiled. “I’m also supposed to give you a message.”

  “What?”

  “Nadezhda Melinkov hopes that you enjoyed your time at her estate.”