The Ill-Fated Fortunes of a Steampunk Madam XI: Cryptic

So intense were my meditations on the deck in my mechanical left hand, that I was surprised to find the chair opposite my own across the side table in the library sliding out and being filled with....

A satyr.

I blinked with surprise, forgetting the cards as I simply stared. Rude or not, I simply could not help myself. Certainly, he was magically disguised to keep the mundane world from seeing him as I so casually did, but a satyr he was. Small goat-like horns peeked through his artful haircut, and while I could not see his lower half due to his seated pose, the infinity-shaped pupils of his eyes left no doubt.

Less surprising was the little orange kitten curled up into a neat and secure little bun on his shoulder. Which, at the very least, explained how he was able to move through the house without...irritating Caster. "He doesn't make friends lightly," I said, without greeting or preamble. "Tea?"

The satyr's eyes had been fixed with an intense and observant gaze upon me, but turned to look at the kitten. "Oi yeah? Well, I wouldn't have known. He joined me in my investigation of...Mrs. Leonard's steamcar. And yes, please, tea. Milk and honey, if you have it." He said all of this with a crooked grin on his lips that did nothing to hide the hitch in his voice when he said Mrs. Leonard's name.

I let it go. For now. Clearly he was here for information. As I had already told his associate -- the investigator who had initially questioned me -- everything I knew about the situation, in order to get something new out of me he would have to give me something new as well.

I signaled to Caster who slipped out of the library as silently as he had slipped in behind my curious visitor, then focused my attention on him again. "Now then, how can I help you, Detective...?" I trailed off, letting my eyebrows lift a bit with the query in my tone. It was that universal invitation for a new acquaintence to fill in their name.

He did not disappoint. "Chief Inspector Sharpe." I sat up a bit in surprise, which drew forth a quiet chuckle from this CI Sharpe. "After the events of last summer, it was decided that a special taskforce would be necessary to deal with any further...ah, disturbances?"

I nodded slightly at his choice of words, and noticed his slight relief. Clearly this Sharpe lived up to his name and did not wish to risk offending someone with my reputation, however ill-deserved or honestly earned it might be.

"Oi, yes. Well, to put it quite bluntly, I am the Old Hilltop House Taskforce." He said this with an almost sheepish tone, the irony of which left me slightly amused. His shoulders lifted in a bit of a shrug, and it was clear that he was determined to take the whole thing with a bit of good humor, if nothing else.

Importantly, he had noted not that he was the leader of the taskforce, but that he was the taskforce.

"In the village, they call me Old Witch Fiona. Here in the house, my clients call me Madam Fiona. You may simply call me Ona."

This drew a surprised start from him, as 'ona' meant 'the true one' in the ancient language of the sylvan peoples. It was my not-so-subtle way of telling him that I knew him for who he was. It was also a way of showing him that I could -- and would -- keep his secret.

At least, until he gave me a reason not to.

Caster came in with the tea, and poured for us both, then departed in his usual ghost-like way. When I was alone again with CI Sharpe and the marmalade kitten, I lifted my cup and inhaled, then looked at him in his goatish eyes. "What would you like to ask me, Chief Inspector Sharpe?"

My formality with his title and name was in direct contract to the informal I'd offered him, and he picked up on this immediately. "Please, Ajax." The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a look came over him as though perhaps he shouldn't be quite so informal in the midst of an investigation.

But then again, maybe he shouldn't have been wandering around with a little orange kitten on his shoulder, either. "Very well. What would you like to know, Ajax?" I took a long, slow sip of my tea.

"Oi, pass the milk, please?" He accepted the small potfrom me and continued as he poured, "Do you know anyone by the name of Sarah Weatherbank?"

"Sarah Weatherbank?!" I could only imagine the absolute shock on my face. "Only by name. Her contractual husband, Justice Leonard Weatherbank is the leader of the local witch-burning covenant."

"The what?"

No force in heaven or hell could have stopped my eyes from rolling in that moment. "My apologies. It is clear that you are not a man easily attracted by a cult. The local "church" presents a reformed and progressive face to the village, but all of the locals know that its leadership would be very happy to step society back to the dark ages, beginning with burning any woman with the audacity to rub two brain cells together."

Chief Inspector Ajax Sharpe chuckled into his teacup, and so I ventured a press. "I assume that is, at least in part, also why they chose...you?" And I gestured, waving him up and down with my hand to encompass, well, everything.

He met my gaze boldly across the table. "Me...or someone like me?"

"Both. It takes a certain sort of charisma to fend off the people who want to see me hanged over every fart in the night. And it takes a great deal of skill to be appointed as an entire taskforce to handle the sorts of problems that are prone to arise around this house." I leaned toward him slightly, making sure to empahsize this point. "And around me."

His head bobbed in a thoughtful nod, and we both took a moment to simply enjoy Caster's excellent tea.