“If you were welcomed once, what changed?” I asked Vanya, gesturing at the smoke-filled streets. “Why did this happen?”

“Like I said back at the temple, we used to serve as guards. We protected noble estates when there were still different kingdoms. It’s never talked about now, but over the years, all the nonmagical noble houses were destroyed. Wiped out entirely by the bogatyri, or integrated by marriage if they were lucky. Strannik guards were considered obsolete, traitors, a threat to the new order. And that’s followed us. For hundreds of years, it’s followed.” Underneath his voice’s harsh staccato, there rolled an undercurrent of profound sorrow. “We’re not people to the bogatyri, just heretics and the enemy. They kill us...and it means nothing. We mean nothing.”

Vanya strode into the street, his boots’ hobnails clacking on the cobblestones. As I trailed behind him, his words lingered in my head. I remembered that after all the Stranniki had left my village, people had blamed their problems on suspected kolduny. It was never the wealthy landowners who were accused of being witches, but the elderly peasants, or workers crippled in mining accidents, or young women. There had been many executions in that year alone.

Vanya and I stopped in front of a two-story building with a red terra-cotta roof. A sign hung above the door, depicting a raven in flaking shades of blue and indigo.

“Those two men you talked about, whether they’re on their way to the capital or any other major city, they would have passed through here,” Vanya said. “If they spent the night, they’d want somewhere discreet, and the only other inn is in the New Quarter. It’s crawling with bogatyri.”

He opened the inn’s door, releasing the savory aroma of roasted meat. People sat at tables, in deep, solemn conversations over pipes and drinks. I recognized a few from the temple, but the rest were strangers. Their talking stilled when we entered. They looked at us coldly as we passed, and more than a few touched the amulets around their throats or slipped their hands beneath their hooded tent-cloaks, reaching for concealed weapons no doubt.

“Lovely as usual, Annushka,” Vanya said, offering the chestnut-haired girl behind the counter a charming smile.

She rolled her eyes. “Admirable effort, but flattery won’t make me come back to you, Vanya.”

“You mustn’t hate me too much,” he said, resting his elbows on the counter. “You’re still wearing that hat I made for you, and indoors, no less! Too cold in here for you?”

“Thank you for reminding me to throw this old, fraying thing away.” Annushka flushed, tugging off the low velvet cap embroidered around its crown with a bold geometrical border in burnished copper. Her hair was so thick and glossy that I found my fingers straying to my own lank, dark locks.

Vanya groaned as she shoved the cap beneath the counter, pressing a hand over his heart. “You injure me. There’s nothing lower than insulting a man’s hard work.”