The air smells like old whiskey and burnt incense.
I don’t like it. This place. This room.
Every instinct in me is telling me to turn around, but Ryder walks in like he has done this hundreds of times. Not a tremble claims his lips, which slows my heartbeat a tad.
Psy tucks himself in at the furthest end and gestures for us to take a seat. My eyes trail upwards as I examine all sides of the room we are in.
Cardboard boxes stack clumsily around the edge of the room, thick dust muddies their brown tinge and a bookcase lines the back wall, filled with books of all different shapes, sizes, and colours. Some of the rows meant to contain books store a bunch of oddities and colourful stones. Ryder walks up to it and stares at the collection intensely.
To the right of us, there is another room, the archway lined with another beaded curtain, so I can’t see in with just a glance.
Finally, an armchair lounges in the corner of the room with a coffee table adjacent to it. A pot of hot liquid is brewed on a silver tray with two mugs placed opposite it. My eyes fall back on Psy, and he points to the chair opposite him, his arm audibly clanking.
“Take a seat.” He offers, and I do as he says, but Ryder doesn’t. He stands with his arms crossed in the corner of the room.
Psy clears his throat. “So what brings ye to the shadow realm?” He questions, holding his spectacle between his thumb and forefinger and glancing at me through it. I shuffle in my seat. How do I know we can trust him?
I look over at Ryder, who nods his head at me as if to say it is safe to talk with him.
“We need to know what this means.” I take a crumpled piece of paper out of my pocket, unfold it, then straighten it out with my palm across the wooden surface before sliding it over to him. I made sure to write the riddle out before we came; there was no way I was going to bring the Soldark to here of all places. Psy takes the paper and extends his spectacle out over each letter, reading the words aloud.
“Within the dark where silence grows,
A crescent sleeps where no light shows.
To hearts unspoiled, I give the skies,
The strength of Gods behind their eyes.
But grasp me wrong, with soul unclean,
And feel your breath turn still, unseen.
What you seek will heal his pain,
but greater still, it breaks the chain.
For what you search no book contains,
an object waits for you to claim.”
“Very interesting.” He comments and places the paper back down on the table. “You’re lookin’ for somethin’.” He looks directly at me, then Ryder, who nods his head.
“Do you know what it is?” Ryder asks, taking a step closer towards us.
“The writing is unusual. Not somethin I see all too much of round ere. Where ye get it?” Psy’s eye flashes with intrigue, making my throat go dry.
“It doesn’t matter where we got it.” Ryder snatches the riddle off the table. “Can you help us or not?” He leans in next to Psy’s face, making him appear visibly startled.
“Always were quick to lose ye temper.” Psy exhales. “Need I remind ye of the muscle standin just outside that door?” He points to the beaded doorway, and I tug at Ryder’s robe. He backs up and raises his hands in a surrendering motion with a smirk on his face.
“I think what he meant to say was—can you please help us decipher it?” I say, and Psy’s cheekbones rise with a grin.
“I can… for a price.” He leans back in his chair; it creaks with his weight.
Ryder’s eyes narrow in on him. He rifles through his pocket and dumps a handful of silver coins on the table. The coins clink together as they meet the wooden surface, some spread out and roll along on their sides before eventually toppling over. Psy inspects them closely, bringing one or two to his eye and reading the symbols carved on their shiny faces. He puts them down.
“And the rest.” He holds out his bionic arm with a small smirk on his face.
