Anya at the Inn

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An interlude at the Inn of Winterhaven
The Elfmaid scanned the common room of the crowded tavern. She may have been a stranger to the town of Winterhaven, but even to her the feeling of unrest was nearly palpable. Like the town proper the tavern was packed with a motley assortment: tables were crowded with farmers and townsfolk uprooted from the outlying districts, the retainers and minor nobility of house Valfarren (her own kinfolk) had lain claim to one corner of the inn's greatroom and huddled around their few tables. The maid acknowledged them in passing, bending to look among the legs of tables and tavern-goers for her wayward charge. She spared a weary and apologetic smile for the townspeople she surprised and was relieved to have it returned in amused cheer.

She felt less good cheer as she approached the other group crowding the room; a rough company of mercenary men from the nearby city. Clad in black under well worn armor, they seemed to relish living down to the dark reputation of their city. The maid skirted their tables, avoiding eye contact and the occasional grasping hand, but then caught sight of her charge. A tiny slip of tow-headed elven girl only just over knee high slipped, giggling, from beneath a crowded table. Fixing a stern look the maid slipped between tables towards the scampering child but found her path suddenly blocked.

“Have a care now girl,” the interposing figure stank of the inn's ale and that wretched clear spirit the mercenaries never seemed to be without, “trying to steal a child under my watchin' eye are ya?”

She tried to push past as casually as she could but the mercenary grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. The child had stopped laughing. Indeed, it seemed to the maid's ears that at that moment there was not a sound in the inn save the crackling of logs on the fire and the rasping breath of the mercenary. Between the packed tables she was hemmed in and if the other mercenaries weren't helping their comrade, neither were they helping her. She looked the man full in the face, taking in the wine glazed eyes and feeling his breath wash over her, hot and foul. Suddenly, there was a sound of a chair scraping as it was pushed back from a table, the whole inn seemed to hold its breath.

“Pardon my intrusion, may I be of assistance?” From behind the maid the voice came, with a ring of command to it, a practiced tone to match smooth and cultured cadence.

The mercenary turned to from the maid to the speaker, and she saw his face go slack and all the wine drain from his eyes. She slipped her wrist from his suddenly nerveless grasp and turned to her deliverer. A woman stood before her; tall for a human, well formed and clothed in fine leather armor, with a slender rod of metal on her belt by a dagger. It was not her garments that stilled the maid's thanks in her throat though, but that this woman had skin as white as salt beneath her fine clothes and blank eyes that seemed illuminated from within by the faintest of blue glows.

The man's mouth opened and closed without sound, and all around them the other tavern-goers seemed to find their own ale steins intensely interesting. The woman turned to the now still and goggling child and crouched down besides her.

“I bet that there is a fascinating story to why you are here, my lady,” warmth seemed to fill her words, and she took the child's hand gently between in her own, “would you like to come and tell me your story?” The child smiled a tiny smile and as the woman leaned into her, she bundled her up. Standing the woman motioned for the made to follow and she led her to a tiny table in the corner farthest from the inn's fire, almost lost in shadow. The maid sat in the chair motioned to and gratefully received the warm bundle of clinging child, clutching her close.

“It is small compensation for such indignities, but you would do me honor if you would share my meal.” The woman pulled the little table closer to them, and the maid noticed a handkerchief covering something on the table. The maid felt equal parts fear and curiosity at what such a being would consider dinner, but as the pale woman drew the cloth aside she revealed a one of the inn's wooden chargers, crowded with fare clearly not gathered in Winterhaven. A hunk of dense black bread was nearly crowded off the charger by a cluster of small earthenware pots; olives glossy their in brine, smokey almonds, an ominously spiced mixture of some type of meat and lemons, a tall jar of honey and finally a hunk of creamy, salted cheese. It reminded the maid of a summer's picnic for a noble guest and she looked at the stranger in surprise.

“You expected a severed head, perhaps?” The woman smiled and produced a long gold fork, with a bone handle. As delicate as a quill pen, she speared an olive and offered it to the maid, then followed that with a rough piece of bread, torn from the main and drizzled with honey. So they ate, a few tiny morsels of spice or salt followed by bread and honey or the refreshing cheese. The maid even partook of a tiny glass of spirits, little more then a thimbleful but that was more then enough to force her to clutch the table for support. And with food of course, comes conversation.

“Anya, Anya Romanov,” accompanied a proffered hand.

“Lissaura, of the House of Valfarren,” the maid answered, “Lissa to my friends... so Lissa.” She smiled and took Anya's hand. It was not as she suspected: only a slight warmth, like sun-touched stone long after evening comes, and soft as finest sand.

Anya nodded, and simply smiled at Lissa as thy passed the fork between them.

“You won't embarrass me, you know”

“What?”

“The questions you have, they won't embarrass me.” Anya speared a bit of preserved lemon peel and savored it for a moment. “I've met every manner of elf, those that would call themselves High, those that would call themselves Wood, country elves, city elves, noble elves and... elves that seem to find trouble. But I would guess you have never met someone like me. So ask.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“I guess... what, err, what are you?” Lissa blushed with her own forwardness.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">Anya smiled, “I am an Oprachni, of Ivograd. Which probably doesn't mean a great deal to you, eh?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“I thought... I have heard that the guard of Ivograd are the Operaki... err...”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“The Oprichnina are the guardians of the Law in Ivograd, an organization but also a race, and we who are of it are Oprachni, the Other. To anticipate your next question, what that means is...” Anya tilted her head, and the light in her eyes dimmed as her thoughts roamed elsewhere. “It is said that every city has a mood, a feeling, a kind of attitude. Well, the Oprachni are that mood, that spirit of the city, made manifest. Most of my brethren literally spring from the living stone of the city, as much a part of it as the air and water.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“Most of you brethren?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“My own origins are... complicated, but that's for later. If I may be so bold, it is the Oprichnina that make Ivograd the greatest city of this world.” She paused, for Lissa's incredulity showed plain on her face. “I'll admit some little biase, but you don't believe me?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">Lissa considered her words, then with a shrug decided to simply be honest, “Even in the halls of the great houses of my Lord and his peers, there are those whispers of this great city of yours. Dark whispers. Whispers that find no small support...” she inclined her head towards the mercenaries' tables, where everyone was rather pointedly ignoring Lissa and Anya's corner of the room.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“Ah, yes that...” Anya grimaced as she regarded the men, “scarcely the ambassadors that the city deserves.” As she regarded the tables the mercenaries grew noticeably hunched and sullen, until Anya turned her attention back to Lissa. “I understand completely...” she sighed, “outside the walls, these who are used to the enforcement of the Law get a bit... mmmm, out of hand it seems.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">Anya was clearly apologetic so Lissa did not press and Anya continued.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“You must understand, the Oprichnina does not enforce the Prince's law, nor the law of the Boyars or the people themselves, but a true law, a law inherent in the nature of the world and civilization itself.” Anya's enthusiasm was almost palpable, and she checked herself as she noticed Lissa's eyebrows steadily climbing higher. “Within the walls, there are certain fundamental rights; property, liberty of movement, life and health itself, but above all, there is the right to bargain.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“Bargain?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“It is no coincidence that Ivograd is a great center of commerce, for it is a place where almost anything may be had... for the right price.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“That does little to dispel dark whispers.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“Ah, but you mistake me; everything has a price, it is just a matter of negotiation to determine it.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“So... if one wished to purchase slaves in Ivograd, might one find them?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“Of course.” Lissa nearly scowled now. “That is, in Ivograd there are two kinds of slaves: those persons condemned to slavery because they have committed a crime which requires compensation, but have no means to pay. These persons are slaves to the city itself, for their victims are compensated out of the watch coffers, and the labor of the criminal is sold until their debt is repaid.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">Lissa shrugged, “And the other kind?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“The other is one who sells themselves into slavery.” Doubt was writ over Lissa's face at this. “Ivograd is a great city, but even there people fall into hardship. Their businesses fail, they are ruined by drink or lotus blossom or simply having no money sense. They find themselves with nothing to sell but themselves. They become bondsmen, or bondswomen, negotiating a contract with a great house, the offices of the Prince, a temple, anyone. Their contracts may be as obscure or as mundane as they like. A man may go to one of the houses of pleasure and offer a contract wherein he will service as many comely lasses as they can find... but may find few takers.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“Sorry, houses of pleasure?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“Do you not have such things in your city?” It was Anya's turn to be perplexed as Lissa shook her head in the negative. “How bizarre. Well, the houses of pleasure are where a young man (at least, typically) will go seeking to trade coin for pleasurable company.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“Ironically, we are much to be found there. Not indulging,” she answered Lissa's glance imperiously, “we show our presence there, lest those caught up in the moment forget themselves and force themselves on another. One may buy and sell freely... but to take, that is a most serious crime.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“But, how in the world can you do justice in such a setting?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">“Ahh... do you remember how I said we are of the city itself? Our bodies are of the bones of the earth, and out spirits...” Anya leaned back into her chair, and in her mind Lissa felt, rather then heard words form. Our spirits are the very substance of thought itself. Lissa gasped as the words came to her, but Anya held up her hand. Just think of what you want to say.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">You can read my mind? Lissa wondered if the sudden panic she felt transferred to the words she formed unsaid.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%">Not as you are probably imagining, Anya smiled silently, ''it is a great gift of my people that we can speak in this manner with any creature... well, any creature that organizes its thoughts as men or elves or dwarves. But I cannot pry thoughts from your head as I might pry open a box. At least, the glimmer in Anya's eyes flicked to the table of mercenaries and back, not without due cause and effort.''

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">''So you see, it truly is the Oprichnina that makes Ivograd what it is: for an Oprachni, the Law is like the air is to you. Hold your breath and feel that burning need, and that is how it is for us, the urge to justice.''

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">Lissa held her hands in front of her as if to grab the words she needed. She shook her head and simply asked “But... if that's the case...?” She simply motioned towards the mercenaries.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“Ah yes,” Anya sighed. “In Ivograd, such men would know that they abused or menaced others at their great peril. But also, they would find work with the various houses. As I said, everyone is free to bargain... but not all bargains are contained within contracts.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“The Boyars of the great houses, they call it the great game; many choose to compete not only in business and influence, but by force of arms. A man may not be assaulted on the street in Ivograd without the Oprichnina knowing... but when an agent of the great houses have agents of another house ambushed, or goods stolen or businesses menaced, it is a circle of reciprocity. For in Ivograd, one may say that they will be a fortress unto themselves, their Kapel a citidel against the other houses. In so doing they may act beyond the law with regard to the other houses... but in return, the other houses will so act with them. So it is that men like these may find employment, in the service of these private wars. The Oprichnina endures them so long as they do not involve those that are not party to the intrigues of the great houses. A man may burn down the house of his enemy without reproach, but be given the lash if he strike a baker who has no party to the houses.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“But... why would anyone forsake the law, if it is fairly administered?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">Anya shrugged. “Why ever do people do so? Money? Advantage? Pleasure? There are as many reasons for doing so as there are people that do so.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">Lissa leaned back in her chair, stroking the golden head of the soundly sleeping child on her lap.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“Now, I have a question for you,” Lissa looked at Anya, curious as to what insight she could possibly provide, “I have taken leave from my fellows to come here, in search of someone. Someone very dear to me.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“If I can help in any way...”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“There is a woman, traveling with strange companions. She is a woman of great skill with a blade and... strange of appearance.” Anya looked Lissa, and for the first time Lissa felt something other then confidence from the strange creature.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“You would be surprised how many people that description would seem to fit... but,” Lissa cocked her head, going through the strangers she had met since coming here. “Did she have... a bird's hands?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“Yes, that's what I have been told, have you seen her here?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“Yes, she was with the company that brought us here from the fey grove, and through the Orc infested abbey after that.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“The what?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">Lissa quickly disgorged the events of the last few weeks, the sudden appearance of the long forgotten orcs at the Abbey, the peacemaking of the adventuring group and the perilous state of affairs. When she was done Anya looked as if she had been poleaxed, and simply sat back, stunned.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“I... did not see that coming.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">After a few moment of Anya looking into space, as if trying to gather her thoughts, Lissa interjected; “If I may ask... why are you looking for this... Molly?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“Milli, Ludmilla to be precise.” Anya snapped back to the present, and waved at the foodstuffs. “I do not need to eat as you do, food is not fuel for my body... these foods I eat to remember, remember someone very dear to me. I told you that most of my brethren spring from the stone, but some of us are born of man and woman. So it was for me, and Ludmilla is my cousin... as dear to me as a sister. She has had a hard road since last we saw each other, and I mean to give her what ease I can.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“I see.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“So you say she is in the abbey... surounded by hundreds of warlike orcs?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“Warlike yes but... you see, they seem to think Mo-” she caught herself, ”Ludmilla, and her companions are... orcs themselves.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“What?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“It's complicated, they didn't really make it clear to me. There was a young elf girl with them who seemed to be married to an orc... it was all very strange.” Anya sat very still, but the child on Lissa's lap began to stir. “I think the time has come for me to thank you, for sharing you meal,” Lissa smiled broadly, “and much more. If you come back this way before we find our way home I beg that you allow me to return the favor. And if you should find yourself in Elfheim, I may try and convince you of the virtues of another great city!”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">Anya retuned Lissa's broad smile and began to stow the remaining foodstuffs. As Lissa stood, Anya turned and took the maid's free hand in hers.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“Lissa, I don't know if you plan to travel to Ivograd, but the road is safe enough... if you travel in force. It is several leagues of wild country, and you may find...” the glint in her eyes flicked to the mercenaries, “obstacles in your way. If you find yourself in need, there are tall watchtowers in the countryside. These are the Towers of the Teeth, the very outermost boundaries of theCity farmlands and the limit of authority of the ''Oprichnina. ''Go to one of them and you will find men in the Prince's service and always one of my brethren. Once you have reached those towers you are within the grasp of the city; tell the Oprachni there that you have business in the city proper. If your need is very great, tell them you were sent by Praetor Romanov, and that you wish to see Rebbitzen Mazel. She is my teacher, the head of my order, and my friend.”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“How can I prove that I know you?”

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">Anya smiled. “Just tell her the truth, she's well equipped to tell truth from lies. She will see that you avoid any entanglements, and knows how to call on me if need arises.” She rose and embraced Lissa, and patted the child on the head, her hand lingering for a moment.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%">“Thank you again, and I wish you luck in your search.” Clutching the child tight, Lissa navigated her way to the part of the inn her people laid claim to. She watched as Anya stowed her remaining food in her pack and settled with the barkeep. Then, with a final nodded farewell between the two women, Anya slipped out the door into the night.