The Case of the Musical Orb by Shant Khodadadian

The Case of the Musical Orb by Shant Khodadadian

Heroes’ Street was as lively as ever. The name originated from the belief that this was the exact place where the heroes of yore gathered before setting out for their journeys. Even after historical evidence pointed otherwise the name remained. People will get confused, the vendors argued at the city guild, and more importantly, the business will stop booming.

Fawn held her robe high and jumped from the water pool in front of a Harpy egg vendor. Her head turning all over the place, she soaked anything her eyes could set upon. Even after some time living in the city, the Heroes’ Street overwhelmed her with mysteries. She always noted how she doesn’t know almost a third of anything offered by its vendors. And as Sir Senan said, if you don’t know what you want you’ll never get it. Like most wisdom coming from him, Fawn felt she understood the words but not their meaning, if there was one.

In front of Mrs. Marple’s statue at 10 o’clock, Sir Senan said in the early morning. This one she understood even though the sentence didn’t have a verb. She was, in fact, standing in front of the statue and she was early. She raised her hand and examined the stonework. She had seen this one many times before but she never got tired of gushing over every little detail. It depicted a nameless elder wizard raising his staff with a brilliant stone on it. Interestingly, the name of his cat, Mrs. Marple, survived the march of time. She was made from black marble, sitting between the wizard’s legs.

Fawn didn’t wait long. She heard Sir Senan before seeing him. He had this amusing way of dragging his feet which he contributed to a big battle he participated in his youth. That was it, my pointy friend. I couldn’t get shit done walking like a drunkard so I quit the royal army and came to this dragon dung. Fawn turned toward the sound and waved.

“Hey lass,” Sir Senan said when he reached Fawn. “Did you get the address for the request?”

“Yes, Sir Senan,” Fawn said while showing the address on a piece of paper. Sir Senan treated her like his daughter even though she was twice his age. Somehow, it made sense to both of them. They started walking down the street. She filled him in about the case. He listened intently but his response was unrelated.

“Still calling me sir, eh?”

“Umm… Yes sir.” She was confused for a moment.

“Ok, So this warlock fellow,” Sir Senan said. “Why is he taking so much soul debt from demons when he can’t pay it back?”

“The patron did not specify the reason.”

“And what is this patron’s form of alliance with the warlock? Are they friends or something? I don’t think a demon would post a request on a pubs notice board.”

“That’s also not specified,” Fawn said. “But their handwriting seems… peculiar.” She took some paper out of her robe and presented it to the halfling.

“That actually looks like demon handwriting. Interesting. Maybe it’s a goon job.”

Fawn couldn’t hide her worry. “Do we do that kind of stuff?”

“Not unless there’s a good reason for it. I ain’t desperate enough for that.” Sir Senan replied.

They continued down the street. The patrons address was in one of the southern back alleys. Fawn was still soaking the scenery even though she’d just walked the exact path. One could find everything here. From armor and weapons to herb spices used in cooking and even children’s toys. A vendor was shouting “Dragon nuts for only 2 king’s coins. It’s the last batch, hurry.” Elf looked curiously at the bloody round shaped things. They didn’t look like nuts, more like the internal organs of something.

“They aren’t actual nuts, they’re Maldric hearts.”

“Maldric?”

“Aye. Never seen one? They look like… horses, you can say. But they’re pretty dumb so they never got domesticated.” Sir Senan explained while playing with his long mustache. Making it spiral shaped. “Dragons like to eat Maldric’s heart but they don’t like the rest of the Maldric. So they rip them apart and just eat the heart.” Fawn imagined how horrifying that would look like. Sir Senan continued obliviously. “It almost looks like how you would eat a walnut. Hence, dragon nuts.”

“But they’re alive when it happens.” Fawn protested.

“Well I guess that’s the subtle difference between the two.”

Sir Senan suddenly turned across the street and hastened his steps. He went straight for a vendor that had many orbs scattered on his dirty rug. Sir Senan stood in front of the lot, observing them carefully. The vendor, a small gnome with dark skin and bald head, looked uncomfortable. As if he knew the person in front of him is not an easy customer.

“Do you have musical orbs?” asked Senan. “The ones that are the rave now.”

“Nah, halfling sir,” answered the vendor. “They took ‘em all, those Standard Guild bastards. Said have some problem and banned now. Buncha lies. No problem I’ve seen. They just can’t stomach us small folk making fat coin. That’s what my papa said. Look out for the guild men, he said, they be jelly and they be stone under your wheel. But I learned to go hasty and wild. I remember I was a gamin, half the size am now and…”

“I see,” Sir Senan said, raising his hand. “Thanks friend.” He turned around and mumbled let’s go to Fawn. After walking a few steps he said with a low voice, “Lad was going to talk till the eggs hatch. He’s one of those who talk a lot but never say anything.”

“Um, Sir Senan, why do you want a musical orb?” Fawn asked. She didn’t remember the halfling expressing any form of love for music or art in general.

“I don’t want one,” Senan answered. “Have you ever used one?”

“Yes, a few times. We weren’t allowed to use them in our village but I’ve used them in the city.”

“Good, there’s rumor of a batch recently. This musical orbs give the listeners diarrhea. I wanted to check them out.”

“What? Why?” They were crossing the Valor Bridge. Fawn looked at the magnificent stone work depicting the heroes march. Like always, she looked for the elven wizard in the army. It never failed to inspire her.

“Well a curious mind seeks novelty. And as you know-”

“Not that. Why does it give diarrhea?”

“Oh that why. I don’t know. I wanted to examine one for the same reason.”

Fawn went into thought. It was indeed an interesting problem. She thought they could ask the standard guild about the orbs. They would probably know about the cause but Sir Senan usually detested this type of problem solving. Said it takes the fun out of it. Fawn agreed.

“Why don’t you guys use musical orbs by the way?” Sir Senan asked suddenly. “I thought elves love their music even more than men do. Don’t you have these long epics that take decades to finish?”

Fawn gathered her thoughts before answering. Even someone worldly as Sir Senan rarely had interactions with members of her species long enough to understand them. She made extra care to provide accurate and sincere explanations.

“We do love music, a lot. The word means “soul food” in our language,” Fawn shook her long ears involuntarily and glanced toward her companion but his eyes were fixed to the front. “But there is a custom to never duplicate anything when it comes to arts. So when someone wants to recite a famous epic, a certain amount of artistic freedom and alteration is expected. Even if you’re performing your own music. No two performances should sound the same.” Fawn pointed her index fingers in parallel lines representing sameness, this time Sir Senan was looking at her. “Musical orbs defeat the idea of novel art.”

“So I take you guys are not fond of sculptures?”

Sir Senan sometimes asked the most random questions, Fawn thought. “Why would we not like sculptures? We love them too!”

They turned into a narrow street. Noticeably darker and dirtier. Buildings were too close to each other giving an uneasy feeling. Fawn never came here on her own. She hold up her dress. The pavement was patchy and full of liquids. She didn’t want to know what they were.

“But aren’t they permanent art?” Sir Senan asked.

“No, we paint them different colors all the time and add or remove sections frequently. A piece would be totally different in less than five hundred years.”

“Hmmm, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of sculptures?”

“What’s the purpose of sculptures?”

“To preserve history.”

What was he talking about? Fawn felt like having cultural whiplash again. Why would art serve a practical purpose? “I don’t agree,” she said. “Art is for art’s sake. To be beautiful. History can be kept in memory.”

“Privilege of the long life, eh?” Sir Senan said. Fawn wasn’t sure if she detected sarcasm. “We’re here.” Sir Senan stood in front of a building.

The windows were mostly broken and the stones were so dirty they looked obsidian. Fawn would think it’s an abandoned place if it wasn’t for loud shrieks from inside. “Are you sure?” she asked. Trying to tune out the screams of “harder, harder,” from inside.

“Yup,” Sir Senan said and knocked on the door. “This should be interesting.” The sound from inside cut off instantly and then came a highly exaggerated “coming boo” and footsteps coming close.

“What’s up?” said the person opening the door. Fawn felt her ears become hot. A succubus was standing in the doorframe. She was tall – even taller than Fawn – and her slender reddish body was barely covered by some patches of dark leather. A tail was playfully bouncing from behind her back and the practice pose that she had exaggerated her curves.

No one said anything for a few seconds. The succubus rubbed her right horn while tilting her head and looking at them questionably. Her big purple pupils jumped up and down from Fawn to Sir Senan.

“Is this a threesome suggestion or are you guys lost?” the succubus asked finally.

“We’re… We’re with the job you graciously requested,” Sir Senan said. “Mam.” He added after a pause, almost questioningly.

“Oh, right,” The succubus said. “Aren’t you a polite one little man?” she added flirtingly. Fawn knew Sir Senan became overly polite whenever he was embarrassed. She remembered a job involving a wraith haunting an open air bath of dwarven women. He didn’t come out of the faze for more than a week. “Ok let’s go then,” The succubus continued. “Call me Evieth.”

Sir Senan introduced himself and Fawn. “By the way, Mam. I don’t wish to meddle, but wasn’t someone at your dwelling?”

“Oh, he’s tied up. He can’t go anywhere.”

“I see.” Sir Senan said. Fawn failed to understand how Evieth’s answer was satisfactory. She attempted to change the subject. “So about this problem you requested help for…”

“Oh yeah,” Evieth said. “He’s one of my dedicated patrons. He’s acting… let’s go with weird, recently. Asking my hand in marriage and stuff like that.” She laughed something between amused and aroused. They were in the main street now and Fawn couldn’t help but notice that they were turning heads. “Usually I don’t react much to these developments and leave. But I noticed he’s bringing me expensive gifts, every single day, to woo me. He’s a warlock so I got worried maybe he’s borrowing so much from his sugar da – I mean, his contract demon that his soul might not be able to pay back. So I posted the notice. Maybe someone else can bring him to his senses.”

So she wasn’t the person the warlock was in debt to. Fawn didn’t know if succubi even go into contracts with warlocks. She knew they were demons but she also knew they were all sorts of demons.

“Why would you care about that?” Fawn asked. Everything she knew about succubi from the elven epics portrayed them as incapable of empathy.

Evieth turned around and put her finger on Fawn’s lips. “That hurt bunny girl. You’re cute so I don’t mind you being a little mean to me.” She touched Fawn’s jaw very lightly. “I felt sorry for my guy. We’re not that heartless.”

Evieth wasn’t looking in front of her and she bumped into someone coming out of a building. “Hey watch out!” The person yelled in a husky voice. Evieth didn’t even stagger but the other person fell flat on the street with all their belongings scattered around.

They were a satyr, probably a he given the horns.Fawn kneeled to help him gather his belongings, she heard Evieth “You bumped into me horn boy.” Sir Senan was helping the satyr stand up. “Can you stand up? Man you’re totally wasted, eh?” The satyr took his belongings from Fawn and staggered. “Just a couple of shots, that is all. Nothing I can’t handle.” Fawn saw Sir Senan looking at the pub questionably. “A couple of shots? of that?”

When they got separated Fawn asked about the pub. Sir Senan explained, “That’s Troll’s Den. Famous for heaviest drinks in the city. Almost pure alcohol. If the guy can take a couple of them and still function in any capacity then he must be a beast in drinking games. Also…” He lowered his voice so only Fawn could hear him. “Don’t believe everything from elven epics. People are more nuanced.”

Fawn remembered her remark and felt her ears becoming warm again. She didn’t say anything and just looked in front of her feet for the rest of the walk.

& & &

“We’re here.” Evieth said and stopped in front of a two story building. It was flamboyantly warlockish. The base stone was real obsidian, pitch black, but ornate with numerous purple and green gemstones. Under the windows, where normal houses had small flower pots, were little blue fires. There were small statues of demon just under the roof as if holding it up. Fawn didn’t know many of them but recognized Belial at the center.

Evieth knocked with the door handle that was shaped like Leviathan’s tail. After a short delay the door opened wide but there was no one behind. Evieth went inside. Fawn and Sir Senan followed.

“Who’s there?” A sound came from upstairs. “I’m armed, you know.” It was a low gritty voice. Fawn wondered why a warlock should threaten others with weapons.

“Someone that’ll make you happy.” Evieth answered.

“Evieth!” The warlock shouted. “I didn’t know you’re coming.” His voice became high pitched. Sounds of footsteps indicated he was running down the stairs.

The warlock froze as he made the last step. “Who’re they?” Back to the low and gritty voice but not all the way. He looked suspiciously at Fawn and Sir Senan.

“They are… friends,” Evieth said. “I asked them to come, I mean, they offered to help us…”

“Help us? Help us with what? We don’t need help my dear. What on Dark Rings of Ziajin do they have to help us with?”

Evieth started shaking her head. She looked back at Fawn and Sir Senan as if asking them for permission. “I’ve been worried about you my sweet Dubba.” Her voice had all the flirt of when she first met them with added flattery. “You’ve done things that can be categorized as… questionable, if I’m to be soft on you.”

“Oh never go soft on me mommy, you know the rule.”

“Just great…” Sir Senan mumbled to Fawn.

“So pure insanity it is then,” Evieth raised her voice. “I mean, holy cock of the purple dragon you bought me an Arcane Oscillator to masturbate with. That thing can level a city.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“That’s beside the point, it costs a third of the royal defense budget to get one. I don’t know how much you have borrowed from your sugar demon but-”

“But my soul belongs to you, my love,” The warlock raised his voice theatrically. “Oh the sweet maidens of Elandia send your love songs for I’ve found the one for I. Her eyes the shining orbs of fire and her lips the color of sweet wine. Oh how can I forget the firmness of her rump and the mountains that are her boo-”

“Busby Azalthaziar, that’s enough!” Evieth said firmly. The warlock, or rather Busby Azalthaziar, went silent immediately.

“Name’s Busby?” Sir Senan said probably louder than he intended.

Evieth turned back with a big smile and eyes closed, mouthing silently something along the lines of “No need to go there”. Busby started shouting something incomprehensible. Evieth returned her attention to him, “Buzz dear, no need to get upset about…” But Buzz was angrier than that. He raised his staff.

It happened in an instant. Fawn’s reaction was so fast her staff was up and glowing before Buzz could finish his movement. The warlock flew back and hit the shelf behind him. Several items fell down and shattered. “Easy… Easy…” Evieth said. Fawn didn’t lower her staff. She knew the warlock was ok. She hadn’t used anything dangerous. Just knocked him out.

They gathered around Buzz. Evieth kneeled beside him and put his badly positioned head on her lap. “So what do you think?” She asked.

“How much of a character change do you see in him? Compared to the past, I mean.” Sir Senan said. Evieth didn’t say anything for a short while. She looked like she was gathering her thoughts.

“I have to say, it’s hard for us to understand what you call personality.” she said carefully. “We don’t get it. What we understand is desire. It’s a sense like smell or sound. The behavior is just an unimportant afterthought of that. What I see is that he behaves like he has more desire. But I feel the actual desire behind it is less. It’s like a facade.”

“So if we want to put it in an example. You see the dung but you can’t smell it.” Sir Senan said.

Fawn wasn’t sure if that was a good choice of words but Evieth nodded in agreement. Sir Senan looked at Fawn. She knew what that look meant. He wanted her input.

“I don’t know him, of course, but his eyes lacked focus and his mana was all over the place. No warlock I’ve seen behaves like that.” Fawn said.

“I have to agree,” Sir Senan said. “I lived long enough to recognize someone under some sort of influence. What did you use to knock him out?”

“Just a standard Arcane Flatus, it won’t make him snap out of anything that caused his state. He’s just asleep. I can examine him to see if he’s under any magical spell but it will take a week or two.”

“Before that we should check the house,” Sir Senan said. “We might find a clue on what caused it. Will help with time. Let’s get him to bed.”

All three grabbed Buzz and carried him to the second floor. Fawn wanted to use levitate but Sir Senan said she’d better save her mana for later. The warlock’s room was big with a huge king size bed in the middle. Walls were covered with bookshelves and various items. Fawn noticed the famous twenty five volume of “On Genealogy of Demons” by Pumphrey P. Pwendolyn. A couple of magical items and a worn-out book named “How I Made a Succubus Fall in Love with Me and Other Deliriums” by Sataar Delfarib on the nightstand.

“So what should we look for?” Evieth asked. Sir Senan looked at Fawn questioningly. Fawn held her chin and thought for a few seconds. There weren’t many possibilities. Given that Buzz was like this for more than a week it meant the cause was periodically present. Curse edibles don’t last more than a day tops so if it was an edible he should’ve regularly consumed it. Cursed items could be a possibility. They radiate mana and she felt some from some items in the bookshelves. The only other way she could think of was long distance cursing services but those were expensive and she would at least felt some disturbance.

Fawn shared her thoughts. Sir Senan said it could be someone that breaks in and periodically curses the warlock. Evieth argued the house protection spells were quite powerful. Fawn agreed. With the amount of unconventional items around the house it was hard to determine which one was the cause but that was the only option they had. Sir Senan suggested Evieth search the house for items she thinks are new in the past ten days and Fawn to check every item that radiates mana. Evieth agreed and started searching. Fawn asked about what he would do. He started rolling his mustache. “The halfling intuition is extremely helpful when it comes to things like this.”

He went around the room while mumbling about the advantages of halfling brain in assessing danger and finding harmful patterns. “What’s this for example? I find this quite intriguing.” He asked. Fawn went beside him and looked at the device on the nightstand. It was indeed a fascinating object. It looked like a small rod made from a weirdly pink substance with some rotating purple gems on it.It made an ominous hum when you got near it.

“Ah, that’s the Arcane Oscillator,” Evieth said from across the room. Fawn and Sir Senan took a step back. “Oh that romantic bastard and his crazy gifts,” she came near the nightstand and picked up the oscillator. “But it does give insane orgasms if you’re willing to risk it… wait a minute, has he been using this on himself?”

Fawn pretended she was checking one of the bookshelves and Sir Senan said he will check out the kitchen for edibles. He went down the stairs saying something about halfling intuition about food.

Fawn started checking the items out for real. There were some magical art books about hell spawns. A fascinating mana transfer chain, some ruby capacitors, a very intricately designed bone clock, a dagger with scripture she couldn’t read and different sized teeth. But how easy would it be to curse a warlock with a simple item? That question was nagging her mind. Her eyes got fixated on a skull on a higher shelf. It probably was a human’s. It looked ordinary but she sensed mana from it. She stood on her toes and reached for it. It felt warm. She examined it from different angles. Nothing irregular.

“Pardon me young lady, but would you kindly put me back on the shelf please?” Fawn almost dropped the skull. “Whey,” the voice said when she grabbed the skull midair. “You almost let me go there.”

Fawn looked at the front of the skull and said, “You talk.”

“I believe I do. Good observation skills.” the skull replied. The mouth wasn’t moving. It was as inanimate as before. Fawn felt the sound comes from, not the skull, but somewhere inside her own head.

“Are you able to communicate because I’m holding you?” she asked.

“Now that’s actually a good observation skill. I apologize for my previous sarcastic remark. And yes, I can only talk if you hold me.”

Fawn put the skull on the shelf beside a mana capacitor, but held her finger on its forehead. She asked if it had a name. “Call me Bitz.” Fawn was wandering about if he could help with the search. He was in the house after all. “I guess the young master has finally snapped, eh?” Bitz said.

“Yes, do you know anything about it?” Fawn said. “We’re trying to help him.”

“If you ask me, the chap was always kind of a cuckoo. But I get you. He’s been sort of extra. He just wanders around the house and speaks nonsense. He did that before, but now it’s a different kind of nonsense.”

“So you can hear him? What does he say?”

“Oh yes I can hear through vibrations. I don’t know what he says because most of the time it’s gibberish but I believe he’s fighting with something inside him but it’s different from the usual demons he fights. I know his typical inner demons, they’re a logical bunch. They wouldn’t cause him such misery. This one is trying to make him do something and I feel he loses every time.”

“Does he do anything out of the ordinary? I mean using something, eating, or touching a new item?”

“Hmmm… I’m not sure. He’s always played with these toys he has. None of them are new though except that vibrator sex thing but he went out of the deep end before buying that. Oh, he goes to the kitchen everyday – which is weird as is – and opens some drawers there. It’s on the lower level so I can’t hear clearly but I feel some questionable vibrations when he does that.”

“Thanks, Bitz. This might be what we’re looking for.”

Fawn went down the stairs and joined Sir Senan in the kitchen. He was looking inside the furnace and was gray all over his clothes. Fawn explained what Bitz said and they started looking inside the cabinets. They didn’t find anything at first try but on second searching Fawn felt some vague aurora around a lentil box and opened it. Inside it was an orb buried deep in the lentil.

Fawn examined the item. It was a regular orb with a very faint magical field just like any other. It was so ordinary that she decided to put it aside and search for something else. But Sir Senan grabbed her hand. “Wait, what if there’s no magical curse but listening to it is the curse itself?”

“You mean like the musical orbs you mentioned?” Fawn asked. What he was suggesting wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. If there was some sort of course not on the orb, but in its musical sounds she wouldn’t detect it. It would only work on people listening to it.

“But he’s not fond of music,” Evieth said from the kitchen door. “Why would he buy such a thing?”

“And why he put it there? But these are question for later,” Sir Senan said. “Fawn, can you know what’s inside that without listening?”

Fawn shook her head. There was no way. And it would be risky to listen to it to find out. “Give it to me,” Evieth extended her hand. “My kind doesn’t get wooed so easily.”

“But it can be dangerous.” Fawn protested.

“Give it to her Fawn.” Sir Senan said. “She’s comfortable with risking for a friend.”

Evieth took the orb and went inside a room. After a few minutes she came out. “It’s catchy music in there but the singer is a Siren. Pretty neat if you ask me.”

“What the actual fu-” Sir Senan started.

“I know the spell,” Fawn shouted and stood up from the couch. “I can lift the Siren’s hex.” She started climbing up the stairs as fast as she could. When others joined her at the side of Buzz’s bed she was already reciting the long spell.

“So… she knows random spells on top of her head just like that?” Evieth asked, “It’s not like we’re near a sea.”

“She just has a… great memory,” Sir Senan said. “Let’s go prepare something to eat. This will probably take a while.”

& & &

Buzz opened his eyes after an hour of Fawn reciting the debuff above him. At a glance Fawn knew it had worked. His eyes looked different, as if there was some consciousness behind them. Fawn called out for the other two. Evieth came first.

“Well, well, rise and shine little demon price.” She said while petting Buzz’s head. Fawn was still surprised by the way Evieth was treating the warlock. Sir Senan was right, maybe she should rethink how she viewed succubi.

It took an hour for Buzz to completely become aware. The change in attitude was night and day. His true self was reserved and calculated. More like what would you expect a warlock should carry themselves. He thanked Fawn and Sir Senan for helping him. He had an aura of superiority which Fawn thought was suited for what he was.

Buzz started answering their questions. He didn’t clearly remember everything but he was sure he didn’t buy the orb himself. Like Evieth said he wasn’t really a “harmonized air vibrations” fan. The orb was a gift from a person with a ponytail. Buzz believed that the person should have been a powerful wizard because he wouldn’t fall for such a cheap trick. Probably a mind control spell. Fawn wasn’t convinced. Why would a powerful wizard with so much mind control power use a cheap orb? When she asked about what was the reason that the ponytail person gave Buzz the orb as a gift he just shrugged and said he was gambling and the person was impressed how well he plays.

“I think what I’m not getting is,” Fawn said. “How come you listened to the whole thing and did nothing to stop it? Even under a mind control spell that wouldn’t be easy.”

“Isn’t it hard to cast the dispel? It took you one hour.” Sir Senan said.

“It is only when you’re fully under the Siren’s hex. But you’ve plenty of time to stop it while listening. You can just throw the orb outside the window. Even under mind control a warlock can do simple things like that.”

“My first reaction would be to curse myself deaf,” Buzz said. “But throwing it away is also a good strategy. You ask a good question, why didn’t I stop it?”

“Maybe you were asleep?” Sir Senan said. Fawn wanted to say how unlikely that was given Buzz’s story but Evieth talked first.

“He has very light sleep. Almost dog-like. Don’t you, you little hellhound?” She started making a mess of the warlock’s hair. Buzz didn’t protest and just gazed at the succubus. Fawn felt she was looking at something she shouldn’t.

“I tell you,” Buzz said eventually. “Nothing other than a powerful mind bending magic can make me listen to a Siren’s song.”

“Drunk, maybe?”

“I don’t get drunk,” Buzz puffed his chest forward. “I have extremely high tolerance. Unless it’s one of those-”

Buzz froze mid-sentence. Fawn tried to finish his sentence with the information she’d learned today. “Troll beers?”

“Motherfucker.” Buzz ran for the door and the other three followed suit.

& & &

The bar-skessa of Troll’s Den kept her mouth shut until Sir Senan bribed her with two gold coins. She knew Buzz as a regular and recalled the last time he was gambling there roughly two weeks ago. According to the skessa the other person was a lean fellow with a hoodie. She didn’t know if they were regular because their face was cloaked at all times.

Sir Senan put another gold coin on the counter. She mentioned the other person was the one ordering all the drinks and in the end, they were the one who lost the last shot. She didn’t know what was the prize of the gambling but it seemed whatever it was, the other person had it on them. Another coin from Sir Senan, Fawn wondered if he’s going to compensate for all the gold later. The skessa said, “I guess the fellow walked funny as if the shoes weren’t fit,” she grabbed Sir Senan’s hand that was reaching for another coin, “hey man, more of this and I start to invent random shit.”

When the group came out of the bar, Sir Senan suggested they ask the orb vendor. “It might give us a clue. Maybe the fellow who lost it to Buzz is the same person who sold the defective orbs.” Fawn noticed he’s no longer dragging his feet.

They found the vendor at the same spot he was a few hours ago. None of the orbs on his dirty rug were sold. Sir Senan inquired about a short person who sold an orb to him two weeks ago.

“That bloody bastard, eh? He gave me all the orbs at half price but them were possessed. The report just came. Causes people shit themselves, it says. Haven’t seen him around. He sometimes hang at the troll bar.”

“Who is he?” Sir Senan asked. “Do you know his name?”

“Nah, not the name,” the vendor said while mindlessly rubbing an orb with a dirty cloth. “I sometimes see him at the bar. Haven’t seen him for a while though.”

“You already said that,” Sir Senan said, already frustrated. “Details man. Details! What does he look like?”

“He’s the fucking midget that drinks like a horse and doesn’t bomb. My pops always said to be aware of someone who doesn’t get hammered from troll alcohol. I never -”

“Midget? Is he a halfling?” Sir Senan was so interested in the information that he didn’t care about the racist remark. Fawn wondered what race would a gnome call midget.

“Nah man, he’s a satyr.”

“Couldn’t you say that from the beginning?” Buzz shouted.

“Hey brother, I acknowledge people not their race. You’re the racist one.”

“No one called you racist,” Fawn protested. “Stop proj-”

“Enough! We haven’t got the time,” Sir Senan said. “Let’s go.”

Buzz argued that they should gather more information but Sir Senan said he knows the vendor and this is as much information they can get from him. When they got to a quiet place under the Valor Bridge he explains the one who gave the orb to Buzz was the same satyr.

“Nah he’s just the original seller,” Buzz said. “The one playing with me wasn’t a satyr.”

“How do you know?” Sir Senan asked. “You were hammered that night.”

“But the bar-skessa didn’t say he was a satyr,” Evieth said. “Surely she would’ve noticed.”

“She said the fellow was thin and walked funny. I bet he walked as funny as a satyr wearing long woods to make himself taller. And he wore a cloak so as not to give the horns out.”

“I’m telling you it was a person with a ponytail,” Buzz said with an annoyed voice. “I can clearly recall the scene when we parted he had his cloak on but I could see the pony-” he froze.

“Because he got on a small pony?”

“Motherfucker!”

“Right?” Sir Senan said. “He probably gave you the orb somewhere in the back alley and figured you’ll be drunk enough to not remember him.”

“The orb seller said he doesn’t get drunk,” Evieth said excitedly. “It all makes sense.”

“Not yet,” Sir Senan said. “We don’t know the motive. Evieth, do you remember the satyr who bumped into you today?”

“If I see him again I guess I can.” Evieth said.

“Umm,” Fawn tried to get Sir Senan’s attention. “I think I know something that can be useful.” All three looked at her which made her nervous. “When I was, um, helping satyr gather his things I saw a fairy ticket.”

“To the docks then,” Sir Senan shouted suddenly. He started walking down the street with an outstanding speed for a halfling. Others followed suit. “It all makes sense,” he explained to no one in particular. “Lady Evieth posted the request this morning. Our fellow saw it and panicked, that’s why he was in so much of a hurry. The orb seller saw him running down the street which leads to the docks. I think he wants to cut and run.”

Fawn thought there were lots of things that didn’t make sense. For example, why did Satyr go into so much trouble just to give the orb to Buzz. And more importantly, why an otherwise diarrhea inducing orb had so powerful of an impact on the warlock? But she decided to wait and go with the flow. Maybe she’ll get some answers when they find the satyr.

& & &

They caught the satyr just before getting into a fairy that was departing. He was noticeably taller than the gnome orb vendor. Surprisingly, he seemed angrier with them than they were with him.

“Remember me you charlatan?!” he yelled at Buzz.

“Um, no?” Buzz answered. “Wasn’t I drunk that night? And I’ve been told you were in disguise.”

“Not that you bastard.” The satyr yelled while spitting all over the place. “You won everything I had two weeks before that. I’ve lost my wife, my children, my house. Life’s been a living hell.”

“Oh,” Buzz said. He looked both angry and confused. Loss for words. But the satyr broke down and threw himself on the pavement. It seemed not being remembered was more than he could handle. He lay on his back and started throwing his hand and legs. Crying his eyes out and making a beaten-dog-like noises.

Everyone was looking at one another uncomfortably. Evieth sat down beside the satyr and tried patting his head. “There, there. It’s gonna be alright.”

“No it’s not.” the satyr cried. “The fuckers at orb manufacturing plant want their money back. They don’t do a single quantity. I had to buy 100. Sold them at half price. But the bastard’s not giving my money back. Says all of em are defected. Make people shit themselves. The hex was supposed to only work on this bastard.”

 “Maybe you can talk to the guild?” Fawn tried to be helpful. So that was it. The hex was individually targeted at Buzz. That was why it had so much impact on him. The side effects were not intentional. She was impressed by satyr’s plan.

“The numpty can’t without outing himself as the one who sold the prank orbs in the first place.”

“Hey!” Buzz exclaimed. “Aren’t we forgetting something here?”

“Oh yeah!” Evieth said, turning upright with her hands on her sides. “What you did was very rude Mr. Satyr. You can’t go and hex people like that. You played a game and lost. You better start working on yourself before turning to blame others.”

Evieth looked back at Buzz. Checking if he was satisfied with the scolding.

“Stop it, you’re going to kill him,” Sir Senan said while chuckling. He went toward the docks exit while stretching his arms. “I guess our job is done here. Will send someone to get the payment. Fawn,” he turned back and looked at her still standing with the others. “Aren’t you-”

“Just a sec,” Fawn said and turned to the others. “So… what are you guys going to do?”

Buzz just sat there beside the satyr who was still crying albeit more quiet. He didn’t say anything. Evieth went between them and put one hand on Buzz’s shoulder and the other on satyr’s head.

“I think we might have a position for him,” She said proudly. “You know, helping with the magic research and stuff.”

“We do?” Buzz asked. His tone was devoid of any surprise.

“Of course we do. It’s always good to have help around. And isn’t he someone who succeeded in hexing you? Don’t you want to have that talent under your disposal?”

“When you put it like that…” Buzz stopped for a few seconds. “I’ll think about it”

“There you go,” Evieth shook the hand on his shoulder Fawn couldn’t help but notice a faint smile on Buzz’s face. Maybe all the hex had done was to break down the walls and show what was already there. Fawn smiled also. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be happy to help.” She shook Buzz’s hand. Evieth hugged her.

“Glad to know you sugar bunny. Hit me up if you want to have fun, eh?” she teased. After Fawn felt her ears getting warmer she added. “I’m just joking, hon.”

When Fawn shook the satyrs hand she asked his name. “It’s Boàs.”

Fawn ran up toward Sir Senan who was waiting at the exit gate. “I might help Mr. Boàs to get back on his hoofs.”

“Is that what he’s called?” Sir Senan said. “But that’s not an excuse to half ass your duties, you hear me, miss?” “Of course.” Fawn said. But when she looked at Sir Senan smiling widely she understood he was just joking. Fawn felt a sudden feeling of proudness. Maybe the halfling was not so hard to understand after all.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Shant Khodadadian 2024