Flash Fiction: Cards and Coins

I've been gone for a little while, sorry about that. Progress on my novel has been going well at least.

This flash fiction is so indulgent for me and was so much fun to write. It really gave me the kick I needed.

Cards and Coins

Year 6513 AC
Heartfair, Kingdom of Aiova
Immeral’s House

Sybil set her ale down with a clack that echoed through the sandstone walls of Immeral's home. "I've told you all I have no clue who the Harlequin is, let alone if there's someone new in the position."

"Your sister is the Prophet and works with the Harlequin; how could she not know?" Immeral scoffed, throwing his last two cards onto the table, defeated again. The cards scattered and one slipped onto the floor.

"She might know," Sybil said, setting her cards down as well. "But I do not. You think she tells me everything?"

Siminar chuckled, displayed a winning hand, and slid the small pile of coins towards himself. "I think she tells you more than you should know and I think you know more than you let on." He held one of the eies, a coin from Traemid with a hole through the center, up to stare at her through it.

His sister, Menande, shoved him hard, almost sending him tumbling to the stone floor; his grip on the coin slipped and clattered to the ground, joining the card. "Leave her alone. Just because you seem to have an insatiable need to gossip doesn't mean we all do."

Sybil leaned forward in her chair and tapped a blunt fingertip on the table. "I'm starting to think you all only invite me when you want information."

She felt her husband sit down beside her and rest his arm across the top of her chair. "Nah," Tomir said, "They don't like to invite you because you clean them out." He gestured with a lazy hand toward her substantial pile of winnings.

"She doesn't even need mortal money," Ryfon scoffed.

"And you do?" Sybil shot back.

Menande laughed and said, "He has to leave it where that mortal playwright will find it."

Ryfon straightened in his chair as if a string had just been pulled taut from the low ceiling. "Fuck you."

Menande just smiled at him and started collecting the cards to reshuffle. "Sorry to inform you darling, but that was off the table years ago."

Sybil sighed and leaned back into her husband's arm, fixing her eyes on Siminar. "What was the real reason for calling us all here?"

"Do I need a reason to want to spend time with my friends?" He replied with an odd gleam to his eyes that Sybil was, unfortunately, all too familiar with.

"Cut the shit," Menande said, her red eyes catching Sybil's. "We want to end this war."

Sybil felt her heart stop for a moment. "I think that's something we all want," she replied carefully. She'd never been more aware that she was the only one in their group that was still a caeles. All the others had been cursed when their gods had rebelled against the Creator.

Ryfon spoke, never looking up from where he was sorting his small winnings into piles based on which place in the mortal world they came from, "It's becoming obvious that more and more of the caeles and relicti don't want to be fighting anymore. Both sides have had heavy losses. Fuck, half of us aren't even really fighting anymore. We're all playing a giant game of pretending to make the gods think we care."

"So what do you propose we do?" Sybil asked, "None of us can just stop fighting entirely. We have no say in any of this."

Siminar let out a breath. "We think your sister can help. She knows how to end this. She must."

Sybil stood up sharply, her chair scraping against the stone floor in a shriek. "You will not bring Leta into this. She would've told me if she knew how to end this war. I won't have you harassing her, especially not now." Her mind flashed to her panicked sister on her doorstep in the middle of the night, the package handed over in hushed tones, the tears on her face.

Tomir stood as well, a gentle hand stroked down her arm. "We all know Leta wants this war to be over. If she hasn't said anything, I think we can assume she hasn't had a vision and leave it at that." His voice was firm, and Sybil wanted to sag against him in relief. He continued, "If we're looking at who we could get to help us form some kind of plan, I suggest we bring in Shael and Canaan. Their god has been neutral through this whole thing, and they stand at least a small chance of having him step in."

Menande scoffed, "Just because the Headtaker inexplicably likes you doesn't mean he'll do anything you ask of him."

"He wants the war to end, I guarantee you that," Tomir shot back.

"Shael might be a hard sell, though," Sybil said.

"Why the fuck-" he cut himself off as he seemed to come to the same conclusion Sybil had. His face dropped. "Her brother," he muttered.

A moment of silence enveloped the group, and Sybil saw Menande rub her shoulder, old memories flickering across her face.

Sybil sat back down in her chair. "Hemi won't stop until Thoen agrees, but I can at least try to mitigate the damage." Of course, despite being Hemi's Butcher, the chances of her being able to actually curb any of the more bloody attacks were slim, and Sybil knew everyone at the table was well-aware of that fact. They'd all seen her fail enough times in that regard already.

Tomir sat back down as well. "I'll get Canaan to help. The rest of you should start looking for allies too. Maybe if enough of us are unwilling to fight, something will change."

Sybil closed her eyes. For everything he claimed to be, her husband seemed to be more optimistic than she was. This was all going to end in bloodshed, unlike what they'd ever seen. Leta had told her that much.

~~~

Cover image made with Heroforge.