Inspector Sapor turned and glanced at the muffled figure of the Witchfinder. The man held up his dual wands, checking for magical auras. "Clean," he said, his voice a robotic buzz through his mask.
Sapor frowned and stroked his mustaches. "All is... in order, Mister Rapqi. But we'll keep our eye on you. No normal herbal brew has had the... stimulating effects your 'soft drink' claims."
"Of course, sir," said Rapqi. And thank the gods they didn't think to check the bottlecaps, he thought, more sweat trickling down his brow than could be explained by the heat of the brewery.
Ray Bradbury Award Nominees 2015
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