Expect Flurries

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Etaski
Etaski
2,946 Followers

The driver's thoughts became sunnier as he took the coin, rather like the light peeking through the grey clouds, and he nodded, tightening down his warmest clothing and waiting until the three of them had climbed aboard. Then he snapped the reins and nudging his pair of shaggy, cold-weather horses forward.

It took some time to get out of the mix of trees and better homes in the northern part of the city and into the tighter clusters of population. It was farther still before the twists of cobbled roads lined with simpler one- and two-story cottages packed cheek and jowl together gave way to grander buildings, inns, taverns, and shops.

"Trade Ward," the driver called out over the noise of the carriage and the people moving about their late-morning business. "If you can think of it, you can buy it here. Wine, the company of women and men, games of chance, song, stories, and dance. Home to all manner of taverns are festhalls, inns, guildhalls, merchants and a fair decent place to settle down in if you're looking for such a home and don't mind a little noise. Most of the city's guilds are quartered in this ward, and if you ever want to do business, you should check with them first."

Indra was looking out windows on both sides, drinking in the details as she alternated leaning over Tamton's and William's laps in turn. She grinned and winked at Tamton at the mention that "company" could be purchased, but thought the rest of the man's spiel sounded practiced. Whether it applied to her directly or not, the driver had said this before.

She knew she wanted to stop at a tavern and watch some of the entertainment he claimed, as well as just watch the other patrons, but they were moving by quickly enough and there were enough of them that Indra had trouble deciding.

"Do you recommend a particular tavern for newcomers?" she asked, leaning somewhat out her window to call up to him, and he nodded to show he'd heard her.

"If you don't mind me suggesting," he answered, "you could do far, far worse than the Orc's Bane Inn. Food's good, security's better, the beds are warm and the dwarf who runs it caters to those who are new to town as well as those who've been 'just passing through' for the last few years."

Again, his speech sounded very practiced, and as she focused again on him, Indra could pick up additional thoughts of coin on top of hers. The man was paid a commission to recommend the Orc's Bane to his travelers...except perhaps to those with orc blood, she was guessing.

*Hm.* She wasn't sure what to think about that. "Tell me about the proprietor."

"Glain's a retired adventurer, struck it rich in the caves of Ice Heart," the driver said. "Got a few good stories and always has decent entertainment. He doesn't water down his drinks, makes and drinks his own ales, and the location's also good. Got a Registry office not two buildings down, and all manner of ways to spend your money in the area."

Still she kept listening in on his thoughts, and she could determine at least that he believed what he was saying. He wasn't knowingly lying, and he even liked Glain. Or at least respected him.

So the security was better than the food, even, and the dwarf made—more importantly—drank his own ales... She had to admit those were two qualities in favor of the place. And if one establishment was as good as another at this point...why not?

"Very well, please drop us off at the Orc's Bane, but take the long way around. I'd like more of a tour first."

"Yes, Miss," he said, sounding pleased.

Indra paid him the additional gold coin she'd promised when they arrived at the intended inn a good two hours later. It was just in time for lunch and her stomach was growling—as no doubt were the men's.

"If ye'd be so kind as to tell Master Glain that Master Smithee says hello, I'd be obliged," their driver said.

With a narrowing of her eyes, Indra picked-up his other method if she didn't mention him at all. He would be by later after his shift and hand detailed descriptions of "guests" that he'd dropped off that day to Glain. Indra figured if that worked for the dwarf and he paid out, then the proprietor likely was one of the more lawful ones, following through on his agreements.

"Certainly, Master Smithee," she said with a lovely smile. "I'll do so. Thank you for the tour."

The trio entered quickly so as to get out of the wind which had picked up, and they walked over rough hardwood floors to enter a grand common room.

The inside of the Orc's Bane was astonishingly warm with the very large fire within the stone hearth in the center of the room. A dwarven-made smoke-catch collected and funneled all the smoke up through a metal pipe and out through the high roof while leaving the heat to radiate out on all sides. To their right was a large bar as well as a place to check cloaks and coats. The far wall contained a small stage, and the remaining floor space was filled with sturdy, wooden tables and chairs of mostly uniform sizes. Stairs led up to a second floor and what she was assuming were the "warm beds" that were offered. She would not be surprised if that huge hearth somehow heated some of the upper rooms as well.

The most startling thing for Indra, however, was the enormous and seemingly random collection of weapons decorating the walls and even the ceiling. All kinds were present: one- and two-handed swords and axes, daggers, flintlocks, fencing blades, barbed wire, wooden staffs, hand-held scythes, even a pitchfork or two...

The most curious thing about it all was that nothing seemed to be holding the weapons to the wall; not one sword was supported by any physical frame or tie or hook.

Indra spared a moment to listen to her other senses and nodded to herself; there was magic in this place.

Tamton had been standing in front of her with William guarding her back, and she'd been staring when a gruff voice called out to them.

"Well? Ye gonna pick a seat or no?"

The healthy handful of patrons already sitting at tables looked up from their food or their ponderings to glance at them, maybe smirk, but otherwise had little reaction. Indra knew that would not have been the case without her illusion; at this tavern, she only saw humans and dwarves so far.

Indra walked out from behind Tamton and started leading them toward the bar and the elderly, grisly-bearded dwarf who'd yelled across the inn at them. Now more of the patrons took notice—seeing her dress, her gait, and the fact that both men followed her—and stared a little harder. Indra picked up a smattering of thoughts among them.

*Rich girl. What's she doing here?*

*Lovely lady. I'm glad she has protectors.*

*Damn, there goes the quiet. Should be men-only in here...*

*Like tah aim right fer those tits...*

She passed through them and approached the bar. The dwarf behind it had been a fiery red-head in his youth, though now it was streaked through with grey, his beard well-groomed with a few braids in place. The mixed coloring did nothing to diminish the powerful personality staring at her through steel blue eyes, however. His hair had been cut into a two-pronged mohawk, his head shaved bald on either side above his ears, and her eyes quickly noted the blue-ink runic tattoos: one on the left side of his scalp and several more hinted at beneath his leather shirt, probably covering his enormously muscled shoulders and arms, if not more.

She also saw a scar running down almost vertical across his left eye, from forehead to cheek, and had the feeling that this dwarf could still toss even orcs out of his tavern with his bare hands, despite his age— which was hard to determine even with the grey.

She smiled. "Master Glain?"

"Aye, so I'm told. An' ye, young lady?"

"Miss Bennett. These are my escorts. One Master Smithee recommended your establishment."

Glain grunted with a half-smile, his eyes glancing at her men and taking their measure in an instant. He more or less dismissed them. "Smithee always did have it in for me. So whatter ye here for? Food? Bed?"

"Both, and do you have any entertainment today?" She gestured at the currently empty stage.

"Aye. Shane Bahgell, a traveling storyteller. Be here in another two hours, takes requests sometimes. Ingrid Kahlner, a fine wood piper, on after. Also a new veil dancer later on this eve, half-elf, probably more to the liking of yer companions, though."

"Mmm," Indra smiled at the dwarf, her gaze warming. "No, I think I'd like that as much as them. Her name?"

"Calls herself Chantel." He quirked a shaggy eyebrow at her. "An' it's dance only, no stark reveal, if you get my meaning. So, two rooms?"

Indra shook her head. "One."

"Oh-kay," the dwarf drawled. "We don't do guards outside doors. They get bored and cause raucous with the passersby, 'specially the drunk ones."

"Not to worry. They'll guard the inside of the door."

Glain smirked. "As ye wish, then. Six meals? Or nine, includin' breakfast?"

Indra smiled slowly. "Nine."

Glain nodded, reaching for a quill and flipping open a stained, leather-bound ledger. He scribbled something before giving her a sum, asking for payment in advance. "Ye can always come down for extra, just have a few copper on ye."

She nodded and paid his sum. Then the dwarf looked back up at her, staring hard at her.

"Ye saw the weapons on the walls, right?"

The Fey'ri nodded. "Yes, I was wondering about those. There are no hooks or braces holding them up."

"There's a reason fer that." Glain brushed his beard with one hand. "This is neutral territory. I dinnae tolerate fights or plots in my place, troublemakers can take their diff'rences into the snow, an' anyone only draws their weapon once." The dwarf held up his stubby index finger for emphasis, holding it in front of her face. "Once. Then they dinnae get them back."

Indra looked around her again at the array of weapons, probably a good two hundred of them, if she counted all the tiny steak knives. "How long have you been running your place?"

The dwarf smiled almost as slowly as she had earlier. "The Orc's Bane has been here for hundreds o' years, Miss. The weapons bein' part o' the wall forever has been a good deterrent, as well as the source o' some damn good stories. Only the occasional idiot draws a weapon here."

Indra had to agree with the driver; the security was indeed good. "What about fistfights?"

"Ain't lethal, but still getcha tossed to the snow."

The Fey'ri thought about it some more. "What about the walls in the rooms?"

Glain frowned and didn't answer for a beat. Then he leaned forward slightly. "Ye get to draw once in this inn, an' it catches. All. Weapons."

Indra somehow thought that an unclear answer—he was trying hard to intimidate her— but she wasn't going to argue. She was just curious.

"Had enough answers, then, Miss Bennett?" Glain asked, and she nodded.

"Thank you. I'm sure I'll enjoy my day, and my evening. And your stew." She pointed toward another patron at the bar. "I'll have what he's having."

*****

The Lady of House Rousse wore out her bodyguards as she traipsed about Trade Ward that day, visiting merchant after merchant and seeing many of the same wares that ended up at House Rousse, but now it was in person, within their own establishments. She could smell unique spices and scents of industry even in the cold air as she passed by doors briefly opened by an entering or exiting patron.

Fortunately for her guards, she bought only a few small items, things easily carried in a pouch or pocket: a bloodstone, ornate silver pin, a bag of red sand from the South Lands, several bags of herbs, a simple gold pinky ring, two small red candles, and pure salt sealed in a hand-sized cedar box. She also indulged herself in purchasing a new pendant of deep garnet and gold to wear around her neck; it happily rested just above her cleavage.

By the time they returned early in the evening, the storyteller was already gone and the pipist had been playing for a while at the Orc's Bane Inn. The common room was more crowded as people sat to eat, drink, and listen. Occasionally they'd toss a coin the entertainer's way or shout a request or a comment. It was not so much rowdy in the place, she didn't think, just lively.

She moved through the tavern with Tamton and William still following, walking around the edge to block fewer views, although there were more casual thoughts like those from before as eyes trailed her. She went directly upstairs to her room and asked the men to set down her things and lock the door.

She felt so excited; her body felt tight and hot. Five times she'd sensed a pair coupling in some furtive place as she'd shopped; twice in the room above the shop, once in a closet vulnerable to discovery, another quickie in an alleyway and once in a passing coach.

Indra couldn't help but recognize the energy on which her magic was based; she was very sensitive to those mental spikes in pleasure. It had been a sort of agony not being able to step in and begin manipulating that pleasure...

She took off her cloak, hung it, and started tugging at the laces of her bodice. "Tamton, help me."

Her blonde companion heard her unspoken order and moved forward, going down on one knee so his head was near her backside. He reached beneath her skirts to slide his hands up to her hips. She was wearing smallclothes today, originally to try to help with tempting opportunities, but now she wanted them off. Immediately.

He unlaced the ribbon at her hips and gently tugged her underclothing down her legs, reaching again to pull at the closer satin slip, pooling them both at her ankles and helping her step out of them, one boot at a time. He took a moment to smell her scent on the smallclothes before setting them aside.

"William," she beckoned the older brunette after fully opening her bodice to expose her human-looking breasts, her new garnet hanging between them. She may have worn the smallclothes beneath her skirt but definitely hadn't gone for the much more restraining chemise or corset.

The second guard actually hesitated as Tamton's head disappeared beneath her dress and the young man started touching and kissing his Mistress's tender parts with practiced familiarity. She sighed and gestured for William again and he heard her mental command.

*Suck on them. Kiss them. Squeeze them.*

*I am...on guard, my Lady.*

*We are safe here, no one knows who I am, I've been discrete.*

William shook his head once. *A merchant could have had an object to see through your illusion, my Lady. We could have been followed. All the items you bought today are for magical rituals. If I know that, then who else—?*

Indra's eyes flashed with impatience and anger, even as Tamton's fingers moved wetly between her legs. *They were each purchased separately and you only know that because you live with us! Also, Glain's inn is neutral ground anyway. Now do as I command, William.*

At last her second escort came forward, bending his head to start suckling at her breasts. She reached to cup his male package as well, stroking and coaxing through his breeches for a response. It was slower than with Tamton—he'd been conditioned to become erect almost as soon as he realized his Mistress wanted sex—but inevitable as he kept exploring her pale, naked skin and submitting to her exploration.

No sort of mounting had yet occurred, nor were any of them even close to climaxing, when there was a polite but firm knock on her door. Glain's voice came through.

"Miss Bennett, as ye seemed interested, Chantel'll be dancing on stage in ten minutes, if ye'd like to grab a seat."

Indra hesitated, thinking at first that she'd already missed two of the three entertainers tonight, what was one more in favor of getting release....?

Although... her aura was absolutely humming right now, and as long as her two escorts also remained frustrated it would only extend her area of influence. She began to get a truly wicked idea as she wondered what effect this might have on the performance of a veil dancer...?

It was her first opportunity to see firsthand whether she could do herself what she'd seen her Father do before, whether her magic and her control had the potential to match his in time. She'd once witnessed a performer do some truly creative things to herself in public for her audience... Lord Indrath had only purred that low chuckle, yet she knew it had been him. His influence somehow.

Indra shuddered and firmly pushed William back from her, giving Tamton the mental command to stop fingering her and get out from under her skirts.

"Master Glain...thank you," she said with a soft gasp. "I'd have slept right through it! I'll be right down."

She listened to the dwarf walk away as she began re-fastening her bodice.

"Do you want your smallclothes, Mistress?" Tamton asked huskily, his voice strained although she knew he would not complain about the delay.

She laughed and shook her head. "No. Let us go downstairs. But first don your cloaks. You both need the added concealment."

*****

The audience hadn't moved much since she'd last seen it, though she noticed a tighter cluster around an extra stage extension that had been placed front and center, allowing viewers to see the dancer from three sides instead of all eyes only from the front.

It only took a mental trick to gain seats closest to the stage on the left side; curiously, three of the men had an urgent need to visit the privy and had to abandon their seats shortly before "Miss Bennett" and her escorts chose to sit in their warm seats.

Indra could feel her nipples straining against her bodice, tight and sensitive against the fabric, and her sex was still moist and hot and fragrant beneath her dress. More than a few of the men noticed her, looked at her without truly understanding why; she was seated between her escorts but those closest to her still seemed to drawn in the air through their nose as if enjoying a garden in full bloom.

She needed time to make herself sit still, to try to focus the sensations and scents and very naughty thoughts rampaging through her mind. She succeeded for the most part, waiting on a blade's edge of excitement for the show to begin.

Chantel finally appeared to a slow, sensuous note played by Ingrid the wood piper, joined immediately by a brown-skinned man tapping a drum with his palms. She stepped out from behind the curtain on silent, delicate, feet, wrapped in bright red satin slippers. Her long legs her toned and smooth, the cinnamon color of her skin masked by the brightly colored veils that shimmered about her body from her waist. Her flat belly was exposed, however, as were her long, graceful arms, a half-length, sleeveless bodice cupping lovingly to her curves and pushing up her breasts.

The colors of her costume seemed to change between orange and red and yellow, her long, ebony curls down her back following as a shadow follows a flame. Her face was partially covered with a matching veil that draped across her fine nose to cover her full mouth, but her eyes were exotic, tilted further upward, large and deep black like a well. Only when Indra saw the slightly-pointed shape of the woman's ears did she recall Glain saying that she was half-elf, half-human.

The performer began her dance, encouraging applause as she shimmied and undulated her hips, her arms completing poses and helping her maintain her balance for some of the more difficult positions.

*Ohh, she's beautiful, isn't she, Tamton?* Indra thought, genuinely impressed and thrilled with the sensuality of the woman. She had also never seen a human this color, much less one of elf-blood, and the style of dance was unknown to her.

Tamton shifted, physically uncomfortable, but answered her. *Yes, Mistress.*

*Would you want to see more of her?*

Etaski
Etaski
2,946 Followers