Chapter Thirteen
"How amusing." Caldenia arched her eyebrows. "Usually it ends with a wedding."
"Who was getting married?" I asked, turning the wall behind me opaque and opening the exits. I'd made my point and keeping the gateway open was draining the inn's resources.
Arland shrugged his shoulders, settling into his chair. "My second cousin. I was in the middle of it due to my rank, and it was a nightmare. Small things go wrong and normally sensible people become prone to hysterics over it. The issue of flowers alone... When I get married, I fully intend to pass all preparations on to someone else. As long as they tell me where to show up, I couldn't care less about how the ribbons are folded and whether they are the right shade of red."
Arland nodded toward the door to the kitchen. "You opened the doorways. Does this mean you've decided I'm trustworthy?"
"No, I just want a cup of tea." I rose and walked over to the kitchen. "Would anyone like anything?"
They shook their heads. I made myself a cup of Earl Grey and came back to my seat.
"A number of our friends and allies had been invited to the wedding, including House Gron," Arland continued. "Our Houses had been on peaceful terms for a long time, and three years ago we signed the Pact of Brotherhood."
"Pacts of Brotherhood are rare," I said for Sean's benefit.
"Yes," the vampire confirmed. "Treaties are forged and broken all the time. A Pact of Brotherhood is a binding thing. We swore to the alliance in a Cathedral of Chains and Light. This isn't something that can be dismissed with a casual stab in the back."
"Why would you bind yourself in this manner?" Caldenia asked. "Attachments of this sort tend to drag you down."
Arland sighed. "It's a complicated matter involving trade routes, mutual enemies, and an illegitimate child. I could detail it for you, but suffice to say that an alliance was in our best interests. We are involved in an operation that hinges on a great deal of joint planning. The wedding was meant to underscore our Houses' continued commitment to one another."
"Let me guess," Sean said, his face dark. "Someone was murdered."
"The Band Bearer," Arland said.
"They use armbands and bracelets instead of rings," I told Sean. "The Band Bearer safeguards the bands during the ceremony. It is an honor to be one."
"The Band Bearer was a knight of significant renown and extremely difficult to kill," Arland said. "Someone ambushed and murdered her in a rather gruesome way. We found her on the morning of the wedding. When the Cathedral Gates were opened, the entire wedding party saw her bloody corpse hanging from the ceiling, the sacred chains wrapped around her throat." His eyebrows came together, his face hard. "She was my youngest aunt. Our House was dishonored, our Holy Place desecrated, and the DNA and blood of a member of House Gron was found on her body."
The insult had been monumental. Not only had someone slipped into the heart of House Krahr territory, but they had murdered a knight at a wedding in a church. The House of Krahr had to deliver swift vengeance or lose their reputation within the Anocracy.
"What did you do?" Caldenia asked.
"We kept the results of the molecular analysis to ourselves or we would've had an immediate bloodbath on our hands. Only a handful of people know. Privately we met with House Gron and they denied all charges. They couldn't explain the presence of the foreign blood on Olinia's body, but I've known Sulindar Gron since we were four. We are the best of friends and brothers-in-arms. He swore his people didn't do this and I'm inclined to believe him."
Caldenia narrowed her eyes. "Why, because of sentimental childhood attachment?"
"No, because Sulindar is an insidious, conniving bastard. It was too obvious for him."
Vampires. "Did you ever find the primary crime scene?" I asked.
Arland shook his head. "No. But my aunt did draw blood from her attacker. He'd used a vaporizer to hide it; however, we found traces of an unfamiliar fluid on her teeth. It took three precious days before we identified it as belonging to the dahaka. Their species is rare and he would have been noticed, so he hadn't come through by normal channels. We don't know how he got in or how he got out."
"The plot thickens," Caldenia said.
"It was an assassination." Arland bared his fangs. "That in itself is weak. What vampire needs to hire an assassin? But more importantly, it was designed to create a rift between Krahr and Gron. You have no idea how long we had worked on that joint offensive. This entire situation is a hissot."
"What does that mean?" Sean asked.
"A knot of poisonous snakes that is epic in its vileness." Frustration vibrated in Arland's voice. "Two seasons of planning, gone. There are fifty thousand Krahr followers demanding the guilty be punished, whoever they are, and about as many Gron cohorts placed on alert because their leadership thinks we are preparing to invade them in retaliation. It isn't enough for the dahaka to die. We must find who hired him. He could be working for our enemies, for some third party, perhaps even for Gron. This is the reason my uncle was injured. He wasn't trying to kill the dahaka. He was trying to capture him."
Sean leaned forward. "I saw what it did to your uncle's men. Trust me, we don't have the resources to hold it."
"Spoken like a sergeant," Arland said.
Sean gave him a flat stare.
"Don't get me wrong, sergeants are the backbone of the army. A good one is worth his weight in gold. But they do not concern themselves with the bigger picture. It's not just about revenge. It's about the stability of two Houses. The dahaka must be taken alive."
Sean crossed his arms.
"By myself, I'm outmatched," Arland said. "However, we share common interests. You want the dahaka gone from your planet and so do I. Together we have a fighting chance."
"We don't have enough people to capture it," Sean said. "This is a simple fact. If you think about it for a moment, you'll come to the same conclusion."
"We could lure it onto the inn grounds."
"It won't work," I said.
"What makes you so sure, my lady?" Arland asked.
"I spoke to it."
The vampire stared at me. I'd seen this precise expression on Sean's face before.
"When was this?" Arland asked quietly.
"When Sean brought Lord Soren in. I felt a disturbance, went outside, and saw it on the lamppost. We had a conversation."
"And you didn't feel the need to tell me?" Arland asked.
"No."
Sean already knew --he'd seen the dahaka running away. But since the vampires hadn't been forthcoming with information, I'd kept it to myself.
Arland opened his mouth, but no words came out. Some sort of monumental struggle seemed to take place. Finally some words emerged. "That was extremely unwise."
"Not telling me your purpose on this planet was even more so."
Sean smiled his handsome-devil smile.
Arland considered it. "Very well. That I deserved."
Sean looked at me. "I've been meaning to ask you, what did it want?"
"Lord Soren."
Sean frowned. "Why?"
"Bonus," Caldenia murmured.
We looked at her. She waved her hand with an elegant flourish. "Ignore me."
"The dahaka struck me as smart and vicious. It holds us in complete contempt --it called me meat. But it didn't attack and none of its stalkers made a serious effort to rush the inn. It knows what I am, and it's very careful not to enter the grounds."
"Could you restrain it if it did?" Arland asked.
"On the grounds, possibly. In the house, definitely. But it's not likely to let itself be lured to the inn."
Arland rocked back and exhaled, venting frustration. "There has to be a way to trap it. With all due respect, you are just an innkeeper, my lady. You have no experience with hunting prey."
Okay, then. Glad we decided to clear that up.
"Perhaps we could flush him out," Arland said.
"Not without attracting attention," Sean said. "Attention is the last thing we need."
"Agreed." The vampire bared his fangs.
They stared at each other, then looked at me.
I shrugged. "I'm not a mighty hunter. I'm just a Southern belle who stays home, bakes cookies, and possibly serves mighty hunters iced tea if they happen to drop by."
Arland blinked.
"You broke it, you fix it," Sean said.
The vampire leaned forward and focused on me. His eyes turned warm, and a charming, self-deprecating smile lit his face.
Wow.
"I didn't choose my words tactfully, my lady. I'm only a man, after all, and a solider, unskilled in the way of polite society. I've dedicated myself to the service of my House. My business is that of blood and slaughter, and I haven't been fortunate enough to be refined by a woman's gentle touch."
Sean coughed into his fist. One of the coughs sounded suspiciously like "bullshit."
"I ask humbly for your forgiveness. I neither deserve nor expect it and therefore appeal only to your compassion. Should I be fortunate enough to be forgiven, I promise to never repeat my transgression."
Unfortunately for Arland, I had encountered a few vampires before. "A vampire of a different House once told me something very similar. He even knelt on one knee while he said it."
"Did you forgive him?" Arland hit me with another smile. Vampire smiles should really be outlawed.
"While I was busy thinking it over, he leapt at me and tried to break my neck with his teeth, so no." I'd been fifteen years old at the time and it was an excellent lesson in vampire manners. Despite their beautiful faces, their religion, their ceremonies, their charm, vampires were predators. If you forgot it even for a second, you risked your life, because they always remembered.
Arland opened his mouth.
"I'm not upset with you, my lord. I just have no ideas on how to trap the dahaka. Or how to kill it."
"May I have some tea?" Caldenia asked.
"Of course." I went in the kitchen and took her favorite mug from the cabinet.
"Would a high-power rifle do it?" Sean asked.
"What sort of rifle?" Arland asked.
"Stealth Recon Scout," Sean said.
"Does it fire a metal projectile?"
"Yes."
"How fast?"
"Fast enough to kill a man from two thousand yards away."
"I don't believe so." Arland grimaced. "The dahaka is likely to have magnetic disrupters in addition to armor, helmet, and an extremely thick skull."
I brought a cup of Lemon Zinger to Caldenia. She accepted it with a nod.
"We could try an armor-piercing round," Sean said.
"If I may." Caldenia stirred her tea. "You're asking the wrong questions."
"And what would be the right question, Your Grace?" Arland asked.
"Have any of you ever hired an assassin?" Caldenia raised her teacup to her lips, holding it with her long fingers. Her nails, manicured and carefully shaped, still resembled claws.
"No," Arland said.
Sean shook his head.
"A messy business. If you do hire one for something sensitive, then you have to have him killed, and then you have to get someone else to kill the killer... It's like dominoes. There is no end to it." Caldenia shrugged. "A good assassin always keeps insurance. Some sort of token, some evidence that will permit him to threaten his employer should he find himself in danger of being eliminated, which aforementioned employer, if he is smart, should definitely attempt."
"It's a Catch-22," Sean said.
"A dilemma," Caldenia said. "Most employers seek to eliminate the assassin after the job is completed, and most assassins, predictably, wish to remain alive. With that in mind, ask yourself why is the dahaka here?"
"I don't follow." Arland frowned.
"Why hasn't he returned to his planet, filled with other dahakas?"
"We don't know if it's a he," I murmured.
"Always assign a gender to an adversary," Caldenia said. "It keeps you from thinking you're dealing with a dumb animal. Why does he remain here on a neutral world, risking discovery, when he could be enjoying the fruits of his labor on his own planet where he is untouchable?"
Good question. "Perhaps he can't go home? Maybe he's banished, but even then, he should be moving on, not hanging around."
Caldenia nodded and glanced at Arland. "Remind me, what happens when a craft enters the atmosphere of your particular planet?"
"The procedure is the same for all six planets in the Holy Anocracy," Arland said. "The orbital defenses challenge the craft, which then transmits a passcode by means of a House crest. As the craft descends into the territory of a particular House, the air defenses challenge it in turn. Again, the crest transmits a passcode. For example, we temporarily permitted members of House Gron to enter our atmosphere for the week it took to attend the wedding festivities."
Oh no. "Can the House crest be duplicated?" I asked.
"No. It's genetically coded to each ranking member of the House and it evolves with the deeds of the bearer. It's a communication unit, an emergency power supply, and many other things. A vampire would never part with..."
Caldenia smiled at her tea.
Arland fell silent. "I'm an idiot."
"The dahaka has a House crest," Sean guessed.
"That's the only way he could have passed through the House air defenses. We thought he was smuggled in, but we couldn't find any record of a ship returning or taking off in the specific window of the murder. Of course, if he had a crest, we wouldn't know. The transmissions from House crests work like a key: they unlock the safe passage, but there is no record of which ones are activated when."
"Seems like a security oversight," Sean said.
"We don't like to be tracked. If the dahaka has a crest, he could've dropped into the wilderness, walked out, killed my aunt, and taken off again."
Muscles flexed along Arland's frame. He looked like a cat about to pounce. His eyes shone with red. "To sink so low as to let an outsider have possession of your crest. It is akin to a violation of the House. Whoever did it had to be desperate."
"That's right," Caldenia said. "You are finally thinking in the right direction."
"He still has it," Arland snarled. "He still has the crest or he couldn't have left the planet."
"If you get ahold of it, would you know who it belongs to?" Sean asked.
"Yes."
Arland flashed his fangs and I felt an urge to move back. Beast snarled under my chair. There it was, the real vampire. An unstoppable, furious killer. That's what made them so good at war. If they didn't fight between themselves so much, they could've conquered their corner of the galaxy a long time ago.
"On Earth when we hire contractors, we pay them half up front," I said. "And half later, when the job is done."
"We have the same practice," Arland said.
"So if he still has the House crest...," I began.
"He's waiting for the owner to come and pick it up," Sean said. "The crest is his insurance. He trades it for the rest of the money and departs. That's why he's hanging around here. He can't go home because the vampires won't follow him there and he wants his money."
"And he can't stay in the Holy Anocracy, because any dahaka sighted would be instantly detained," Arland said. "Whose crest does he have, that is the question. Is it Gron or is it Krahr?"
Caldenia leaned forward, her face suddenly sharp. "Think. Think about your uncle."
Arland's eyes narrowed. "The dahaka wanted to kill him. Why...? It couldn't be a kill of conquest. The dahaka had already bested my uncle and had nothing to prove. It couldn't be a trophy hunt, because being an assassin requires discipline beyond collecting trophies and nothing was taken from my aunt's body. The dahaka kills for money."
The pieces clicked in my head. I glanced at Caldenia. "Bonus."
She nodded.
Arland paced. "The dahaka would be paid extra for my uncle. Soren was a specific target. If a third party wanted to drive a wedge between Krahr and Gron, they had already succeeded. Why pay extra for my uncle? For the same reason, if Gron was responsible for the murder, killing Soren makes no sense. He is pro-Gron and he stands firmly with me and the leadership of the House, but he isn't the main policy maker. If someone from Gron wanted Soren eliminated for personal reasons, they would've challenged him directly. There is no honor in assassination."
Arland stared into space. I could almost feel his brain straining.
"If Soren is removed, his assets and control of his troops pass to Renadra. She's young and doesn't have the seniority, so under normal circumstances she would likely support whatever decision the leadership of the House makes, but she also adores her father, so if he were killed and Gron were blamed, she would seek retribution. Her maternal grandmother is the Blood Archimandrite of the Crimson Abbey. Before the war between Gron and Krahr could begin, the Pact has to be broken. It takes a dispensation from a high knight of the church to dissolve a Pact of Brotherhood. Renadra's grandmother would qualify. Renadra is the only female grandchild she has and she is very fond of her. She would grant her this favor. The Archimandrite would bless this war."
"Would Gron know this?" Sean asked.
"No." Arland's voice was quiet and vicious. "They wouldn't."
"You know who it is," Caldenia said, her voice confidential, persuasive. "You've avoided the answer because it's painful to contemplate. The person is a relative, a friend. But you've seen the signs, the small things, the whispers of discontent, the wrong expression on someone's face. Let it come to you. You can't prove it, but this isn't about proving it, it's about knowing it."
Arland stared at her. His eyes glowed with pure, intense red, like the eyes of a nightmarish jungle cat staring from the gloom at the intruder into his territory. The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
"The dahaka is expecting to be paid," Arland said. "The traitor won't have his crest, but he can send a code that would make the crest respond. So can I. That's how we find our dead."
Caldenia nodded. "There is hope for you yet, my boy."
"What if I am wrong?"
She shrugged. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. But do be right."
"It's still only the two of us against him and his stalkers," Sean said.
"Three," I told him.
The vampire and werewolf stared at me with an identical expression on their faces.
"No," Sean said.
"Absolutely not," Arland agreed. "You are at your weakest away from the inn."
"Then don't let him lure you too far from the inn," I said. "You will need me."
"Dina, it will take the two of us to keep him occupied," Sean said quietly. "The stalkers will be swarming us. Arland's wearing armor and I have enhanced regeneration. You have neither. They will key on you and there is not a lot I can do about it."
"I might have something that will help with stalkers," I said. "Depending on how much money I can pool together."
"House Krahr is not without means," Arland said.
"I'll let you know if I exhaust my own."
Arland nodded. "If we are to lure the dahaka, we'll need someplace secluded, away from witnesses and with room to move, but not too far from the inn."
"There's a field behind her orchard." Sean said. "It's secluded and hidden by the trees from all sides."
"Yes, it used to be a horse pasture a long time ago. The fence is gone, but I keep the grass mowed," I said. "How do you know about it?"
"I've mapped your entire property," Sean said. "It's in my territory."
Of course.
Arland rose. "I would like to examine this pasture."
"I'll come with you," Sean said.
Good idea. There was no telling where Arland would end up if left to his own devices.
The vampire headed to the door. Sean stopped by my chair. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"I appreciate your concern."
He frowned. "We need to talk about this. In private."
"I'm going shopping in half an hour or so. You're welcome to join me."
He nodded and went after Arland.
I drank the last of my now-cold tea.
"Going shopping?" Caldenia asked.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Would you like a few names?"
"No, thank you." I got up. I'd need to put on something more than just a robe for the trip. If I was lucky, this trip would only wipe out my savings and leave my legs and arms intact.
"Dina?"
I turned.
The older woman smiled. "Why are you helping them?"
"Because the safety of the inn and its guests is now in jeopardy."
"And the fact that both of them are heartbreakers has nothing to do with it?"
"They are very nice to look at. But the dahaka threatened me in my own house. That I will not tolerate." The vicious edge in my voice was kind of surprising.
Caldenia laughed quietly.
I went to get dressed. I'd need good boots for this.