Echoes of the Fey: The Prophet's Arm by Malcolm Pierce
~
While there were dozens of nobles in the borderlands who wanted the Empire out of the Vodotsk region, very few people stood to gain as much from independence as Alma Melinkov.
In the very early years of the war, when the Humans were taking massive losses at the original border, wealthy citizens of Vodotsk and surrounding regions fled the area in droves. Correctly realizing that the Leshin would eventually conquer the land immediately adjacent to the Great Forest, many divested their interest in the region at whatever price they could get. And Alma Melinkov was more than willing to buy.
As the Leshin marched forward into Human territory, she purchased dozens of tracts of land at rock-bottom prices. Their owners saw the deeds as worthless. Invading Leshin did not respect Human laws or contracts. Owning land controlled by them meant nothing. Alma Melinkov saw a much bigger picture. She trusted that the Humans would win. And she held onto those deeds for over a decade and a half, knowing that one day her efforts would bear fruit.
After all, Alma was nothing if not a savvy businesswoman. When she took over as leader of her family, they owned nothing but a small brewery in the western tip of the Open Plains. By the time of the war, the Melinkovs had amassed three vassal houses and significant influence in border politics. Now, a generation later, she was poised to make House Melinkov one of the great houses of Oraz once the Vodotsk County Council finished sorting out the deeds. The last thing she wanted was to turn around and hand over that power to an Emperor in the east.
Once Sofya was certain that the IKV was involved in the theft of the Prophet’s arm, she headed straightaway for the Great Plains. It was an hour ride from Vodotsk, but she knew it would be fruitful. The Melinkovs had never been directly implicated in funding the separatist movement, but everyone knew that they would do anything to keep the Vodotsk region independent. Almost all of Alma’s purchases were in the county surrounding Vodotsk. Alma’s eldest son served on the Vodotsk County Council and they’ had been moving assets to the city ever since the end of the Occupation. If anyone was behind the IKV, it was the Melinkovs.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Heremon asked as the carriage approached Melinkremlin, the massive fortress that served as the home of House Melinkov. Unlike most castles in the west, it was recent construct, assembled with reinforced stone and painted glass. Melinkremlin sat in the center of Volgrad, the original home of the the Melinkov brewery, and stood out among the crumbling buildings of the ancient city. “You’re an Imperial citizen. You’re not going to get a warm welcome.”
“The Melinkovs aren’t stupid,” Sofya replied. “I’m sure they already know that a Rykov is living in the region and they know I’ve been disowned by my family. I’m not a threat to them.”
Heremon scoffed. “You are going to accuse them of funding an attack on the Empire.”
“No, I’m going to politely ask them if they know anything about an attack on a single Imperial checkpoint. They’re already on record as opposing the way the Empire controls the border.”
“Opposing border control is different from killing a group of soldiers assigned to watch the border.”
“I’m just saying I don’t think they’re going to be surprised or put off. That’s all.”
“We’ll see…”
The carriage came to a stop outside of the gates of Melinkremlin. The driver dismounted and spoke to the guard on the gate. After a few seconds, the guard returned to his post and called into the keep on the local communications wire. He was checking to see whether they should be allowed inside the fortress.
Sofya knew that there was a chance the Melinkovs would turn her away, but she hoped that their curiosity would win out. After all, a disgraced Rykov daughter could be useful in their resistance effort.
Almost immediately, the gates began to lower. The driver returned to the carriage and guided it beyond the walls, towards the keep at the center of the fortress. Once they arrived, Sofya stepped outside and looked up at the entrance to the keep. She had to stifle a laugh.
Traditionally, the great houses of the east would hang banners on the walls of their castle, displaying their house sign. Sometimes, such as in the case of House Rykov, they would also display the sigil of prominent allied house. For years, her home hung both the Rykov and Lapidus banner.
The Melinkovs, however, opted for a more modern display. Bright red neon signs were mounted on either side of the door. They were shaped like the Melinkov sigil, the winged hare. They flickered and buzzed with the sound of the electricity flowing through them. It was incredibly gaudy and Sofya could hear her mother’s voice in her head, tearing down the Melinkovs as unsophisticated nouveau riche pretenders.
Inside the keep, Sofya saw even more strange, modern design. Very few castles had been constructed since the era of the Fey reactors, so most of them were crudely re-fitted with wires to provide light and heat. Melinkremlin Keep, however, was built years after the Volgrad reactor went into service. The pipes that carried the electricity were embedded in the walls, allowing for much greater freedom in interior design. Every hallway was lit with a deep, red neon glow that made Sofya rather uncomfortable. The ambiance felt more appropriate for a brothel than for the home of a noble house of Oraz.
Sofya was led through the winding, crimson hall to a spacious lounge near the back of the keep, under the grand staircase up to the private quarters of the Melinkovs. This room was more tactfully lit, thanks to a massive window in the rear of the lounge that opened up onto the castle grounds. Natural light poured into the room, revealing a young woman lounging on the couch near a full bar. The room was otherwise unlit, though Sofya could see the neon tubes scattered on the walls. She could only imagine how ugly the room looked at night.
The woman who waited to greet Sofya looked to be barely twenty years old, but she was clearly a member of the Melinkov family. She was tall and thin, with chocolate-colored skin and bright green eyes. Her curly dark hair was cut short, adding to her youthful appearance. Just above her, mounted on the wall, was a detailed portrait of Alma Melinkov, the matriarch of the House and the person Sofya had hoped to meet. The resemblance between the two women was uncanny, thought Sofya felt a little put-off that her visit merited only one of Alma’s younger grand-daughters.
“Lady Rykov, please come in,” the young woman said, rising from the couch as Sofya approached. Her eyes darted over to Heremon, who remained by Sofya’s side. Sofya detected a slight curl in the woman’s lip. Perhaps it was because she saw his pointed ears. Sofya resisted the urge to lash out at the young woman. Many Humans still hated Leshin. They would just have to learn better.
“I’m sorry,” Sofya said. “I seem to be at a disadvantage. I asked to meet with Alma Melinkov and–”
“I apologize,” the young woman replied. “My name is Nadezhda Abramych Melinkov. I was personally instructed to meet with you by Lady Melinkov—my grandmother. She is quite busy.”
“Too busy for a few questions? Too busy to see the cast-off firstborn from House Rykov? I thought I might rate a little higher around here.”
Nadezhda looked away for a moment, clearly embarrassed. “She is also a bit under the weather, if I must tell the truth,” she said. “And my older brother Nikolai is away from the estate.”
“He’s in Vodotsk,” Sofya said. “On the county council there. I know. That’s where I come from.”
“Oh! Is this about county business? I could have saved you the trip and referred you to–”
“This isn’t about Vodotsk. Well, not directly. It’s about the whole border region.”
Nadezhda smiled. “Then I will see how I can help you, Lady Rykov. Before we begin, can I offer you a drink?” She motioned to a large wet bar near the back window.
“Always,” Sofya replied. Heremon gave her a dirty look but said nothing.
Nadezhda stood up and glided over to the bar. She didn’t ask what Sofya wanted, but instead began to pour a glass of straw-colored ale from the nearest tap.
&nb
Sofya took the glass and lifted it to her lips. “Wait, you’re not going to offer any to my friend?” She asked.
Nadezhda looked towards Heremon. “Your kind doesn’t like beer, right?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Heremon replied. “But I’m not in the mood right.”
“Your loss,” Sofya said and finally took a sip. “That’s… That’s very sweet. It doesn’t really taste like beer. More like peaches.”
“That’s what the people want,” Nadezhda said. “Our fruit beers are very popular, easily our best sellers.”
Sofya sighed. She rarely encountered a beer she didn’t like, but this one was close. “Maybe that’s true here out near the forest. But in the east, we like–”
“You’re not in the east,” Nadezhda reminded her.
“It’s… It’s delicious,” Sofya lied. “Just not what I expected.”
Nadezhda gave a polite smile, poured a glass for herself, and returned to the couch. She pulled up her legs and reclined across the lounge as she took her first sip. “So, what brings the exiled Rykov into our home?”
A month ago, Sofya would have bristled at being called an exile. Now she was used to it and took it in stride. It was certainly a better word than what the eastern nobles were fond of calling her. “I’m sure you know that I’ve been working as a private investigator in Vodotsk. I’m merely here to see if you have any information on some documents I’m trying to track down.”
“Documents?” Nadezhda asked, her voice tinged with well-deserved skepticism.
Ever since meeting with Inspector Teteriv, Sofya and Heremon had decided to stick to the story that they were searching for private papers lost at the Imperial checkpoint. If word started to get out, that tale would draw considerably less attention than the truth.
“Personal letters and pictocharm impressions,” Sofya said. “They were lost at a checkpoint near the Leshin border. Specifically the road between Vodotsk and the Earlywood region of the Great Forest. We believe that the documents were lost when the checkpoint was taken down by an IKV attack.”
Nadezhda’s face fell and she put down her beer glass. “You think my family had something to do with this so-called attack?”
“I just hoped you might have some idea where property seized from the Empire during that time might have ended up.”
“And why would we know anything about that?”
“C’mon, Naz,” Sofya said. “Can I call you Naz?”
Nadezhda frowned. “No.”
“Fine. Are we really going to play this game? I’m not an Imperial agent. You’re not going to tell me anything that can hurt you or your family. I couldn’t care less who you want controlling the Vodotsk region or how you try and influence that decision. And I’m sure that if you weren’t funding the IKV, you know who was.”
Silence. Nadezhda stared at Sofya for a moment, trying to read her, before finally speaking. “Tell me, Lady Rykov… What did it feel like when your parents turned over your inheritance to House Lapidus?”
“What?”
“I know you were young when it happened, but you were old enough to know what was happening. You were the first born and your legacy was taken from you. I am not so lucky to inherit a house leadership, but even I would rage at the indignity of it all.”
“Not that any of it matters anymore, but nothing was taken from me. House Rykov did not become a vassal. Our land still belongs to my mother. It was an alliance. We merely pledged coin and troops towards a common good. And I would hope you’d agree with our cause: after all, the Empire stopped the Leshin forces just miles outside Volgrad. Without us, this castle would have–”
Nadezhda had heard enough. “House Melinkov fought just as hard as anyone to protect this city! We deployed our own armies alongside the Emperor’s forces. You act as if we could not have done it without Lapidus. Well, I say he could not have done it without us.”
“Yes,” Sofya replied. “You are describing an alliance.”
“There was no need to make it permanent.”
Sofya took a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was to get into a full-throated defense of her mother and the Empire. Sofya didn’t even necessarily disagree with Nadezhda. The decision to pledge House Rykov had given her family a lot of influence in the Empire, but Sofya had no way of knowing whether that was better or worse than the independence they had before. However, the discussion was a distraction and entirely meaningless almost fifteen years after the fact.
“I’m probably less welcome at the Imperial palace than you,” Sofya said. “So let’s just get back to the subject at hand. I’m not here to debate you on Human consolidation or the end of small kingdoms. I just want to know about the border checkpoint.”
Nadezhda groaned and finished her beer in a large gulp. “You want to talk about border checkpoints? Let’s talk about them. They were set up to prevent Leshin from taking any more than a pound of gold out of Human territory. But why did the occupiers get to take anything? They surrendered. And what happened when they tried to take more? The Empire seized it and shipped it back east. The whole system was institutionalized robbery of the occupied territory from both sides.”
“So you admit that you had reason to support the attacks on the checkpoints?”
“Of course. And if the IKV was as noble as they claimed, they would have distributed anything that they seized among the people of Vodotsk—the people who suffered under Leshin occupation for over a decade.”
“And what about something with no apparent value?”
“These documents you’re looking for? They were probably burned.”
Heremon’s eyes went wide. “Burned? That’s terrible. Think of the historical records that could have been lost.” Sofya had to stifle a laugh. The idea of destroying books—even fake ones Sofya invented to cover up their real objective—distressed Heremon to the core.
“Why would the IKV keep anything around that would tie them to attacking an Imperial outpost? They didn’t want to start a war.”
Sofya crossed her arms. “Then they shouldn’t have attacked fellow Humans. They’re lucky the Empire merely covered up the destruction of the outpost rather than invading Vodotsk.”
“They did invade Vodotsk,” Nadezhda sneered. “There are Imperial troops on the forest border and performing military exercises just outside of the city as we speak.”
“That’s for protection.”
“Don’t be a fool, Lady Rykov.” Nadezhda stood up with a flourish. “If that’s what you believe, we are done here. I realize you do not work for the Empire, but you certainly continue to carry water for them, just like your mother.”
“I don’t–”
“If you ever want to repay them for how they treated you, we could always use more mercenaries. Now, please, take your leave.”
Nadezhda quickly exited the room before Sofya could get another word in edgewise. She was almost immediately replaced by two guards wearing the tan and red colors of House Melinkov. They led Sofya and Heremon out of the castle in silence.
Once they were outside, the guards stood at the door until Sofya and Heremon entered their carriage.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Heremon said. “Though I suppose we know that they probably sold the arm.”
“We know more than that,” Sofya replied. “I felt it. The arm was in there.”
Heremon gasped. “What?”
“The Melinkovs have the Prophet’s Arm.”
“I suppose that’s the end of that, unless we can convince them to sell it to us.”
Sofya shook her head. “No, they’d never do that. They might not know what they have, but if they know I want it… Let’s just say we’re not going to be able to negotiate with them.”
“So the case is over?”