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However many soldiers might remain around Orena, we saw none of them on our short journey to the town limits. Orena was not, properly speaking, a fortified town. It had neither wall nor palisade. It did, however, have four arched fortifications over the two roads which passed through the town. They were guarded, and had many torch holders to light the area around them by night. The arches, sensibly, were not gated. That would have been pointless, as one could walk around the arch. Efforts to dig ditches and place snares and traps to discourage that kind of tactic were visible by day. After dark, avoiding them would be difficult.
The brush had been stripped in wide swathes around the town, between the arches and the buildings of the town. It looked like a fire break, and closer inspection suggested that the guard could, if necessary, try to burn out infiltrators. The guard eyed us as we approached, and one of them hailed us as we passed under the arch. We craned our necks and looked up, announcing ourselves and our agreed upon purpose. She asked us to wait, and dispatched a messenger. We loitered, awaiting word on whether we would be allowed into town or not. After close to half an hour, the messenger returned. After listening to the runner, the woman of the watch told us we could enter, and directed us to follow the runner.
Having no particular plans after arriving, other than to investigate further, and find out what we could about the demon, the person or persons who had summoned the demon, and the current status of the town's populace, we followed the runner. We were led to a square near the center of the town, and up a stair to a second floor office space. It was not especially opulent. It was full of papers and cabinets and shelves of books, as one might expect of the office of a recorder of legal documents, a letter writer, a publisher of books and pamphlets or an account keeper for hire. We discovered shortly, however, that it was the office of a young lawyer, a woman who had returned to Orena after studying law in both Bolport and the Divarae. She was now the mayor of Orena, although I was not certain if she had been elected to that position, selected by a committee of some sort, or self-appointed.
Rivar explored the details of our story with some ingenuity. She started with Leroy, who had spoken to the watch. Leroy recounted at some length tales of his activities with Jack and Astrea, including, but by no means limited to, the tale we had heard from Jack about the plucky merchant and the foolish prince. She expressed an interest in how the rest of the group came to join the three, and Astrea expended an impressive amount of time recounting the comings and goings of a large number of people they had traveled with prior to my kidnapping. I still wonder whether any of those people ever existed, and, if so, whether they bore any particular resemblance to the descriptions supplied by Astrea. I know Vira didn't. Leroy and Astrea proved to be a match for Rivar, neatly turning questions directed at the rest of us back to themselves, and answering for us. We all paid very close attention.
In the end, however, Rivar wore out before either Leroy or Astrea wound down, and as Rivar flagged, Jack dived in. This was more than Rivar was prepared to deal with; she granted us an indefinite stay in the town, with strict injunctions not to have dealings with any representatives of the Divarae, Bolport, or anyone who had dealings with such representatives.
We went in search of lunch. A tavern supplied our needs, with a menu very similar to the tavern we had found the previous day, although with less game on the menu. The barkeeper, as taciturn as her compatriot, directed us to an inn across town where we could spend the night. She took our money, and displayed an interest in overhearing our conversation. We limited our discussion to innocuous matters, and speculation about what had actually occurred in Orena, hoping to draw her in. Our efforts failed. We departed for the inn.
The innkeeper was a dour fellow, who gave his name as Happy. We thought we had misheard, initially, but were immediately reassured that Happy was his name, and Happy was his nature. This revelation was immediately followed by a forced laugh, and a tear rolling down his cheek. I asked if we could help in any way, and he told us that until a few short months ago, his life had been one series of problems after another. His children had been adolescents, larking about the town, getting into one scrape after another, from boxing the watch to starting fires in the public squares. His wife had cheated on him, openly, with men and women and, rumor had it, large dogs. His business partner had gambled away his own money, and money from the business, and had borrowed to make it up from some very shady characters who charged exorbitant interest, and, when the money was not forthcoming, satisfied themselves with fingers and toes instead. He had been forced to move from a previous location, after one of his children set the building on fire. He had gotten behind on taxes, and spent his nights in jail for a week.
By this point in the story, our jaws had all dropped, and our host was openly crying. Despite it all, he said, he had maintained a sunny outlook on life, starting each day, sure it would be better than the one before, sure that in all things, this world was the best it could be.
Then the soldiers had arrived. His business had picked up, due to many staying at his inn. This surprised us. We wondered at his still being in Orena, after having had dealings with the soldiers. His inn, in particular, was popular with soldiers. His wife, son and a number of their friends had taken to whoring for the soldiers. He'd learned to hide the money as it came in, keeping it out of his business partner's hands. It no longer was gambled away, or immediately turned over to his partner's creditors. Shortly thereafter, his partner disappeared. When he was found again, it was in many very small pieces. His fortune was made. He caught up on his taxes. He resigned himself to the behavior of his wife and offspring, and chose to see the situation as beneficial for the family business.
More soldiers had arrived. This made no difference to him. He would happily supply room and board to any who asked, and his family was indifferent to political affiliation as well. They survived the disorder. They survived the arrival of the demon. They survived the ascendancy of Rivar. At every turn, he prospered. With the compulsion on Orena, his wife and son departed and did not return. He still had business, and as the only inn left operating in the town, he got all of it.
Happy broke down completely, then. We patted him on the back, and tried not to tell him all would be well. I was beginning to suspect that that might be the cause of his problems. He mopped up the tears with a bedraggled square of fabric, heaving a huge sigh. I asked him what the problem was now. He croaked out, "I have all the money and there's nothing to spend it on," before bawling hideously once more.
Leroy sat down in the parlor with a piece of paper, and started drawing a map on it. It was familiar; it was the same map he had drawn for the party of soldiers. Having had recent practice drawing it, he finished it quickly, around the same time that Happy got himself back under control again. He placed it in front of Happy, and suggested that perhaps a bit of travel would do him good, that Lytton could always use a new inn, if he chose to stay in the business. If not, it had some wonderful shops to spend all that gold in. Outside the functional reach of the Divarae and Bolport, he could make up whatever story he wanted to about where he was from and what he was doing in Lytton, and no one would ever gainsay him.
Happy, I was surprised to see, immediately brightened up. What a great idea, he shouted, about a dozen times. He abandoned us, scurrying about collecting gear and gold and packs. He told us, over his shoulder, we could stay as long as we liked. We asked what we should pay him, and he laughed at us. He tossed us a bag of gold, and said he owed us. Tzika plucked it out of the air, and asked for the deed to the inn. He dug it out of a pack, and dropped it in front of her. Happy was gone in an hour.
Tzika expressed a desire to run the inn. She felt that if her daughters had taken to inn keeping in such a thoroughgoing and successful way, she could hardly do less. We eyed her, and asked if she expected us to pay her to stay in the inn. She promptly replied of course. Leroy suggested she could deduct the bill from the contents of the bag of gold Happy had tossed towards us. She resisted, until Leroy pointed out that the payment and transfer of the inn had to have been in exchange for something of value, and the only thing we'd given Happy was a map and an idea, and both of those had come from Leroy. Tzika decided against further argument, and went to the office to have a look at the inn records, and investigate who the current guests were and what the state of the store rooms might be.
While Tzika was working on inventory, a messenger showed up, not the same one who had run from the town limits to Rivar. This one represented Rivar also, however, and asked whether it was true that Happy had left Orena with no intention of returning. We said as far as we knew, Happy was gone for good. Tzika would be running the inn for the indefinite future, as the new owner. The messenger was reluctant to return to Rivar with this story, and persisted in asking when we expected Happy to return. We said we didn't. He asked for evidence that Tzika now owned the inn, and Tzika produced the deed, and a rather convincing looking document showing signatures of both under a description of the transfer. Except for the minor detail that we knew he had signed no such thing, nothing about the document was untrue, and we were all quick to confirm it had been signed in our presence. I doubted that Happy would return to deny signing it.
The messenger, rather than being reassured by this evidence, became even more agitated. He divulged that many of the remaining citizens of Orena had been furtively departing over the last few weeks and Rivar was not taking it well. He added that Rivar had attempted to impose a compulsion preventing such departures, but that had prevented food from entering the city. She'd attempted another compulsion, but the effects of that one had been to increase the number of suicides, which was not what she had intended, either. The compulsion had come off, and no further attempts had been made, but she never received news of additional departures with equanimity. Of course, the messenger used other words, as one might expect. I almost suggested that he leave, without returning to deliver the message, but did not. It was not an idea that would endear us to the local power, should the messenger report the suggestion.
We settled our belongings at the inn and left to explore Orena and meet what remained of its citizens. Tzika declined our invitation to accompany us, choosing instead to continue her exploration of her new property. Pubs had once been open to either side of the inn, but they were now shuttered. Debris cluttered the minor streets, although the main avenues were clear. Most of the shops were also closed. One large corner shop had an odd mix of items for sale, new and old, of every kind. We inquired and learned that as people left, or after they had gone, the contents of their houses, shops and workplaces came to this shop and one other like it across town. Sometimes the shopkeepers paid; other times, the goods, abandoned, were "salvaged". Rivar had conveniently promulgated a law authorizing such transfer, without the owner's consent or knowledge, and without concern for the rights of heirs or, in the absence of heirs, the states of Bol or Divar. The whole operation struck me as a reasonable response to an unreasonable political situation, yet also profoundly underhanded.
Inquiries into the demon and its current location and status were rewarded. The emporium's current owner, Alicidae, told us a weird tale. After placing the first compulsion and experimenting with others, Rivar had directed the demon to restore order to Orena. The demon, Alvare, had protested, saying the task could not be accomplished while the town was controlled. Alicidae was not sure why. Rivar had either not asked, or not divulged the reason. Alicidae was sure that as long as the town was off limits to so many of those who knew and loved it, the town would wither and die, slowly or quickly, and not in an orderly fashion either way.
Others, however, according to Alicidae, thought Alvare was a young demon, not yet fully mature, nor yet come into her full powers. They were sure Alvare was unable to do much besides maintain the compulsion. Astrea and Jack thought that a plausible explanation.
Whatever the reason, the demon, despite being bound by Rivar, and commanded by her, was ineffectual at even basic tasks around Orena. As we had noted, some streets were clear, while others were not. Alvare could localize the disorder, but not eliminate it. We asked Alicidae what the populace was doing. She shrugged. Some were serving others, in the few shops that were left. Others were carting salvaged items to the shops. Some were working in the gardens around Orena. Others hunted. Some guarded. A lot were busy running around carrying messages and information to or from Rivar. Alicidae did not view them as contributing to the welfare of the rest. Most trades were at a standstill. Who needed glass or ceramic ware made, when so much stood unused? Or tools? Or houses and shops? Or clothing and household textiles? Tools did need to be sharpened, and the town fletchers were kept busy supplying amateur hunters. Everyone with children was gone.
We thanked Alicidae. With some difficulty and much delay, we extricated ourselves from her shop. Like Happy, she found her success pointless in the current local context. Unlike Happy, her wealth was not readily transported to another town.
We loitered on the corner. While we stood, Leroy pointed out a dust cloud several blocks down one road. We watched it, wondering among ourselves what could raise so much dust on a calm day. Astrea solved the mystery first: Alvare cleaning the streets.
The cloud stopped two blocks before reaching where we stood in front of the emporium. As it settled, another arose two blocks beyond us. Either Alvare left the shop alone during the day, or she had tactfully skipped over us. Before any of us could comment, much less protest, Jack had cupped his hands around his mouth and forcefully hailed the hypothetical demon, yelling, "Yo, Alvare! We'd like a word with you."
We stood paralyzed, variously, with shock, horror and surprise. Astrea reacted first, giggling with a touch of hysteria. Leroy patted the locations of weapons on his body. Marion trotted around to stand in front. Alvin backed away from us, to allow plenty of room, should he need to change into dragon form. I found Astrea's hilarity contagious. The cloud had stopped moving away from us and started settling, but before it resolved into anything more solid, Astrea and I were helplessly laughing, unable to stop, swaying from the paroxysms and clinging to each other for support.
Eventually, an eight foot or so tall, powerfully built, broad shouldered, narrow hipped form became visible. She stared down at us. She was particularly staring at Astrea and I. When I noticed, I stopped laughing. She approached halting a yard or so away from us. Extending an outstretched arm, finger pointing unequivocally at me, she said, "I recognize you." Shifting slightly, she pointed at Astrea, and repeated the statement. Lowering her arm, she looked everyone else over, and said, "I need your help. Orena needs your help. As victors over the tentacled upstart, you have the power to assist us." At a loss to respond, we waited. She said, "Follow me," and turned on her heel, striding purposefully down the road. We followed.
We soon arrived in a high-ceilinged hall. Alvare stooped to pass through the door, but straightened once inside. We filed in after, halting abruptly as those in front of us took in the contents of the hall. Three demons, identical to Alvare, stood, sat, or reclined on furniture scattered about the single, large room. Alvare, that is, the Alvare who had led us into the building, gestured at the empty chairs and couches, inviting us to make ourselves comfortable. The Alvare who was standing went to a huge chest at the side of the hall and served us ale and skewers with vegetables and meat. We munched quietly, eying the four demons, wondering what would happen next. Alvin stationed himself near the door. Marion trotted up to each of the Alvares in turn, sniffing. They patted her on the head, and scratched behind the ears. She did not object, but she didn't stay any longer on account of the attention. Upon returning to sit next to Leroy, I saw her signal him that she could not tell the Alvares apart, by which I concluded her investigations had been an attempt to sniff a difference none of us had been able to see. I closed my eyes, in an effort to "see" Alvare. All four were hazy, reddish flames in my mind, but they were not of the same intensity. Was the brightest the original? I could not tell. When I asked Tzika later, she was unsure herself, but felt that was a reasonable conclusion.
The Alvare which had escorted us in sat down, and started to talk. She had been summoned, she said, by Rivar. During her entire discussion, she used singular pronouns, I and me, not plurals like we and us. Rivar had directed her first to stop the conflict, which she had accomplished by executing the only parties desirous of continuing the conflict. Alvare had hoped that with the end of the conflict, Rivar would release Alvare, to return to her own native plane, there to continue her education and maturation. Rivar, however, had summoned Alvare using an open-ended, rather than goal-directed, request. The effect was to bind her tightly to Rivar personally. Only two things would release Alvare: the demise of Rivar, or her willing, conscious release of Alvare. Because Rivar and Alvare were tightly bound, the death of one would also kill the other. Alvare was not yet that desperate to escape.
It had been Rivar's love of Orena which had prompted her to the extremity of summoning a demon, and tying their souls together. Rivar's love of Orena had also sent her to Bol and Divar to study the law of the neighboring lands, hoping to find a niche in which Orena could flourish. She had hoped to rule Orena, leading it into a prosperous future characterized by well-tended lands and shrewd trade. While Alvare, newly summoned, had primarily wanted to return, the connection to Rivar was strong enough to transmit those long-standing desires to Alvare. It was also strong enough to slowly transmit to Alvare some of Rivar's knowledge of magic.
While Rivar attempted to use Alvare to accomplish her plans for Orena, Alvare was able to twist commands and divert requests, not entirely, nor even particularly effectively, but enough to exasperate Rivar. She had reduced Alvare to garbage-collection duties, and taken to using more mundane means to accomplishing her ends. This had left Alvare free to pursue some investigations of her own, one obvious result being the three additional copies of Alvare which shared the room with us. Thus one Alvare was visible on the streets, another immersed in the study of magic, another preparing food, and another in monitoring activities in and around Orena. Unfortunately, the copy process, while it allowed all to act and think at once, slowed them all down. Additional copies were not tenable, as none could function effectively.
At approximately this point in the exposition, Jack yawned conspicuously, and asked where we came in. Alvare looked at him blankly, and Jack asked, "What exactly do you want us to do?"
Alvare answered after a brief pause, "I want you to remove the compulsion over Orena, and convince Rivar to let people move back into town."
Jack was stopped short by this request. I don't think any of us were expecting it. We had been thinking, perhaps the elimination of Rivar, or a conversion of her to some more docile state, or otherwise returning Alvare to her own plane. We understood the compulsion to be placed on Orena by Alvare, at the command of Rivar. For Alvare to ask us to remove that compulsion confirmed that we did not understand what was afoot in Orena. I asked Alvare if she was the source of the compulsion. Alvare confirmed that she was, pointing to one of the other Alvares as the actual source. I asked Alvare why she didn't just stop supporting it. Alvare said she couldn't; it had been a direct command from Rivar, with the end of the compulsion being stated as subject to the will of Rivar. Alvare said we would have to make Rivar want to remove the compulsion.
Jack asked why we should do this for Alvare. Alvare pointed out that Tzika's inn would be worth a lot more to her and, presumably, therefore, to us if the town thrived, than if it fell into a ruin. Jack shrugged, and asked what was wrong with Alvare, a demon summoned by a novice magic practitioner. Couldn't Alvare weasel out of the deal? In a tone dripping with condescension, Alvare said that Rivar was a lawyer. From this, we conclude that a good lawyer is better at closing loopholes than a junior demon is at opening them. I suppose one could imagine good advice for demon summoners: make sure you hire a lawyer to help you make the deal with the devil. On the other hand, anyone desperate enough to summon a demon is probably beyond practical advice, in my limited experience. Certainly studying law in advance of summoning the demon would require a great deal of lead time.
We considered the problem, first in silence, then in conversation, then in debate, and eventually in heated argument. Other than finding a loophole ourselves, or finding a lawyer who to help us do so, the obvious solution was to apply pressure to Rivar until Rivar decided the compulsion wasn't worth the trouble.
Leroy and Astrea were confident that Rivar, or even Rivar with the assistance of Alvare, would be unable to break the protection I readily supplied the party as a whole. The question was, how could we pressure Rivar without unintentionally killing her, and therefore Alvare. Their demise would likely solve Orena's problem, but I thought it unjust to help Alvare by killing her. Or them. Or whoever. Marion was confident she could cause Rivar a lot of physical pain without killing her. Alvin said that his breath control of fire was not good enough to use directly, but the fumes produced by the combustion would cause illness, but not death, if directed at a person in a well-ventilated room. Astrea pointed out that we'd all be in the area too, and making all of us sick might limit our effectiveness. I muttered that torture by halitosis would not add anything to the glory or reputation of the party. Jack looked at me and asked if that was why I was still sticking around. I asked if he would prefer if I left, and Leroy hastily intervened, saying that novel weapons and approaches also added to a party's reputation. I think his exact words were, "If it's stupid, but it works, it isn't stupid." Astrea, distracted by the side conversation, suggested we all shut up unless we had something useful to contribute.
The debate continued. Alvin could maul Rivar. Alvin could pick her up, fly upward, drop her, dive and catch her before she hit the ground. Everyone agreed this would be a stylish, deeply disturbing and likely very convincing tactic. I asked if Alvin could be sure he wouldn't slice her up, or fail to catch her as she fell. Alvin said he'd done it with rabbits and lambs. I said that Rivar looked to weigh more than a lamb. He scratched the back of his neck and stared at his feet. After shuffling a moment or two, he said he dropped the sheep the second time he'd tried it. We collectively sighed, and continued to search for a better approach.
After a few more hours, and several more plates of snacks, we decided we didn't know what Rivar would do if confronted, but that she was accustomed to getting her way. I thought she might cave if we just resisted effectively and prevented her from doing anything for long enough to frustrate her. If we were fortunate, she might give into our demands without us having to offer any violence at all. Alvin was with us. Elvina said Alvin was congenitally lucky. We decided it was worth a try.
With this plan of inaction, we returned to the inn. Tzika was waiting up for us, and we established a watch after telling her our intentions for the following day. She rolled her eyes when she heard, but had no better ideas of her own, at least, none that she was inclined to share.
The night passed without any occurrence which interfered with our sleep, which we were all still a little short on from listening to soldiers snore. I'm more and more reluctant to say that any time period passed uneventfully, as all too often, we learn later that something happened while we were blissfully going about our daily business, managing the mundane details of life, eating, sleeping, debating our next move, attempting to convince attractive others to have sex with us. We ate a leisurely breakfast, prepared by Tzika from a well-stocked pantry. She kept bubbling on about how nice it was to have a hearth and as many hooks as one could want, not to mention pots, pans and crockery in every size and shape imaginable. I suppose one could prefer to cook over something other than a cook fire. I, personally, prefer not to cook. However, the results of Tzika's enthusiasm were impressive. She'd started bread rising the night before; we had hot, fresh bread for breakfast, along with sizzling strips of fatty meat, fried eggs and potatoes and some sweet, preserved fruit.
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Copyright Rebecca Allen, 1999.
Created: July 8, 2012 Updated: July 8, 2012