“Turan Adin,” Lord Robart whispered to my right.
A torturous moment of silence stretched.
“Oh for the love of all that is holy,” Lord Beneger roared. “He is but one man! You sniveling cowards, I’ll do it myself!”
He leapt over the table as if he weighed nothing. Turan Adin halted, waiting.
Oh no, I don’t think so. The walls of the inn erupted with its smooth roots.
“No!” George barked at me. “Let it happen!”
Damn it, I was getting sick of being yelled at in my own inn.
Beneger’s two knights charged after him. The huge vampire lord got there first. His blood axe whined, primed, and came down in a devastating blow, so fast I barely saw it. Turan Adin sidestepped. It shouldn’t have been possible, but somehow he dodged the axe that should’ve annihilated him, and struck out with his right hand. His claws punched straight through the reinforced neck collar of Lord Beneger’s ornate armor. The vampire lord froze, all of his powerful kinetic momentum checked, broken on the slimmer form of Turan Adin like the rage of an ocean shattering on a wave breaker. A faint gurgle broke free of the huge vampire’s mouth. Turan Adin tore his hand free, a clump of Lord Beneger’s esophagus and flesh caught in his claws, opened his hand, and let the bloody chunk fall to the floor. The vampire lord took a step forward and collapsed onto the floor, facedown. Blood spread on the mosaic image of Gertrude Hunt.
With a vicious roar, the two remaining vampires of House Meer fell onto Turan Adin. He danced between them as if he were vapor. A short black blade appeared in his hand. He hammered it into the back of the left vampire’s head, right where the neck joined the skull, let go, spun around his victim to avoid the other knight’s blow, pulled the blade free as the injured vampire crumpled to his knees, and sank it into the remaining vampire’s left side, slicing through the armor between the ribs and up.
Ruah, the otrokars’ swordsman, jumped onto the table and dashed along it toward Turan Adin. Sophie sprinted across the floor toward him, her gown split apart on one side as the secret seam had come open. The swordsman saw her. His eyes narrowed. He changed the angle of his charge, running straight for her. His blade flashed with orange and Ruah shot past Sophie, his sword a blur, and halted five steps behind her. If Sophie had moved, I missed it.
Ruah took another step. The top half of him slid off and landed on the floor.
The banquet hall erupted as the vampires and otrokars charged at each other. The Nuan clansmen pulled out razor-sharp daggers and formed a protective circle around the grandmother.
I tapped my broom to the floor.
Suddenly the grand ballroom was calm and quiet. Everyone who had managed to jump over their table and land had sunk into the floor up to their noses. Everyone who had been in midair was stuck to the wall, held there by the inn’s roots. Only the leaders, Turan Adin, and Sophie remained standing.
“This is good,” I said. “I like this. Nice and quiet.” I turned to George. “This is the last order I will tolerate from you. Tell me no again and you will join them.”
#
It took me twenty minutes to sort the guests into their respective quarters and confine them there until everyone calmed down. That left me with leaders and corpses.
I turned to the Khanum first and pointed at Ruah’s pieces. “You’ve spat on my hospitality,” I said quietly. She could’ve ordered Ruah to stop and didn’t.
The Khanum’s face took on a dark red tint as blood rushed to her skin.
“Under normal circumstances I would force you to leave this house, but I’m bound by my agreement with the Office of Arbitration.”
“Think of a boon,” the Khanum said. “We will atone.”
“I will,” I promised her and turned to Robart. “Are you satisfied?”
He drew back. “I didn’t…”
“You invited them here. They came like bandits, without their standard, without declaring the honor of their House. They came with one purpose: to do violence and cripple the negotiations beyond repair. You knew this and you did nothing to stop them.”
Robart winced.
“Now four people are dead. Elderly and children have been put in danger.”
Robart took a step back. I was so angry my voice cut like a knife. I should’ve stopped—this was beyond the limit of my duties, but I was furious.
“Congratulations. You did it. You let House Meer pull your strings like a puppet. Now your people will keep dying on Nexus while House Meer attacks House Krahr. Every vampire who is killed there, every spouse who weeps alone, every child who is robbed of a parent, all of that is on your soul. Enjoy.”
Robart opened his mouth.
“We will make amends,” Lady Isur promised.
I ignored her. I was going to let everyone have a piece of my mind. “Mr. Camarine.”
George snapped into a coldly regal stance. A few days ago I would’ve cared. Right now, not so much.
“People died in my inn because you stopped me. The reputation of Gertrude Hunt is irrevocably damaged.”
George opened his mouth.
“Guests are dead on the floor!” I snapped. “In my inn! Everything I worked for, everything I stand for, is ruined. No amount of money will make this right. My professional integrity is compromised. I allowed this to happen because you wanted to play games.”
George opened his mouth.
“Do not speak to me,” I told him. “You may be the Arbitrator, but I am still the innkeeper.”
I pivoted to the shaman and the Battle Chaplain. “You will conduct the rights to appease the spirits of the fallen and to shepherd their souls into the afterlife. Cleanse this main hall of the stain of their deaths. Then you will take the bodies of your dead. Bury them, set them on fire, deliver them to their families, do whatever it is that must be done. You have tonight.”
The shaman and the Battle Chaplain looked at each other.
“At the same time?” Odalon asked.
“Yes. No special provisions will be made. I’m done tiptoeing around your customs. I have honored your people’s wishes, and they spat in my face. Deal with it.”
I turned to Turan Adin. “My apologies for the poor reception. Please follow me. I have quarters prepared for you.”
I led him out of the hall. My future was in shambles. It would be really difficult to come back from this disaster.
We passed the kitchen, and through the doorway I saw Orro curled into a ball on the floor. Oh no.
I rushed into the kitchen and dropped by him. I couldn’t see head or feet. He was just a ball of spikes.
“Are you injured? Orro?”
No response.
“Orro?”
A muffled voice came from somewhere within the ball. “What is the point of my existence?”
Not wounded. At least not physically. I breathed a sigh of relief, sat on the floor, and gently patted the dark fur between his spikes. “Don’t talk like that.”
“This was to be my comeback.”
“It still is. That chicken smelled like nirvana. I never saw so many beings eat so fast. Caldenia was licking her fork. You even got sworn enemies to forget their revenge for a few moments.”
“I didn’t even get to the dessert. I had a whole cavalcade of desserts. I didn’t even serve the palate cleanser after the main course. I am a failure.” His voice quivered with real despair.
I glanced at Turan Adin. He waited by the wall, a silent shadow.
“No, you’re not. You’re the best chef I’ve ever met. Years from now nobody will remember that some people got killed, but they will remember that chicken.”
“You think so?” he asked softly.
“I know so. People push aside unpleasant memories and remember the good things. Your food makes people happy, Orro.” I glanced at the wall by me and held out my hand to the inn. “I need the gift now.”
The wall parted and spat a gift bag at me. I caught it and rustled the gold foil decorated with a bright red ribbon bow, wishing curiosity would get the better of him. I had bought this gift during my grocery trip and had the inn hide it. I’d planned to give it to him after the banquet.
“I bought these for you. They will help.”
“Nothing can help.”
I carefully plucked the tape holding the edges of the bag together. I had sealed it, hoping the contents would be a surprise. The tape came off on one side and I pried the edges of the bag open.
The sound of sniffing emanated from the ball. “What is that scent?”
“It’s a gift for you.” I held the bag up to him and waved it around, letting the smell drift. “Delicious fruit.”
“I don’t want it.”
“I bought it special for you. I’ve been through so much today already. You don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you?”
The ball shifted and unrolled into Orro sitting on the floor. I handed him the gift bag. He looked at it cautiously, sniffed the gap between the bag’s edges, pulled it apart, and extracted a mango. The red-and-green fruit lay on his palm. He pricked the mango with his claw, peeled back a thin ribbon of the fruit’s skin, and licked the bright yellow inside.
His needles stood on end with a quiet rustling.
“What is this?” he whispered.
“Mangoes.” My father always said mangoes with a Quillonian were a sure bet. I hadn’t realized how much of a sure bet.
Orro licked the fruit again, looked at it, and suddenly bit into it, shredding the yellow pulp. He’d wolfed down half a mango before he realized I was still there and froze, pieces of mango on his whiskers. “Don’t see me.”
“I won’t,” I promised. I reached out and gently patted his furry cheek. “You are the best chef in the galaxy.”
He blinked.
I got up and left the kitchen, motioning to Turan Adin to follow.
#
I climbed the staircase, aware of Turan Adin walking silently behind me. His presence prickled the skin on my neck, as if he were woven together of high-voltage wires humming with live current. I had screwed up his room. It didn’t fit him at all.
“I apologize for the delay,” I murmured.
“It’s fine.”
I almost jumped. His voice was low-pitched, more of a deep snarl than any kind of voice a human throat could make.
“I’m sorry I had to kill within your inn.”
“It’s fine.” Wait, what? It wasn’t fine. Why did I say that? “It’s been a long day for all of us. You must be tired. Our accommodations are probably more modest than what you have been used to.”
Oh yes, that was so subtle. Here, let me insult my own inn because I can’t figure out any other way to get you to tell me your room preferences.
“I’m used to war,” he said quietly. “Anything you offer me is better than what I have now.”
Said in a different tone of voice it might have sounded like grandstanding or an attempt to gain sympathy, but coming from him it was a simple, factual statement. I heard so much in those words: weariness, regret, grief, acceptance of inevitable violence, and an urgent need for distance. He was tired, bone-weary, and he wanted to be far away from the death he caused. The need to step away from it rolled off him. No innkeeper worth her salt could’ve missed it. He needed a retreat, and I would make one for him. That’s why I was the innkeeper.
He was definitely male. He was also Nuan Cee’s employee and a vital one, so he would be used to luxury, but more than that he wanted to be at peace. To be clean.
I feverishly moved things around in his room. We were almost to the door.
“Is the reputation of your inn irreparably damaged?” he asked.
“How much do you know of Earth’s inns?”
“I have been a guest before.”
“Then you know that our first priority is to keep the guests safe. I have allowed the Arbitrator’s orders to direct my actions because I believed his goal was peace between these people. I know these people now. I understand how much the war hurts them. I became emotionally involved, and it compromised my ability to think clearly. Now some guests are dead. I don’t trust George anymore, but worse, I don’t trust myself. The fault is mine. I bear the ultimate responsibility.”
And right after I was done here, I would go to the lab and throw myself into work, because if I stopped to consider all the ramifications of tonight, I would explode.
The door to his room swung open. I stepped aside.
Panels of rough fabric the color of beech wood sheathed the walls, framed by narrow polished wooden planks. The top of the wall was painted a soothing sage, the same color as the vaulted ceiling, with the kind of finish that put one in mind of parchment. A polished bamboo floor echoed the wooden accents on the walls, its boards the color of amber honey. A large platform bed stood against the left wall, simple and modern, yet retaining strong square lines. The bedspread was gray, the slew of pillows white edged with sage and gold. The fabric panels ended on both sides of the bed, letting the sage finish of the ceiling flow down to the floor, and an elaborate square Celtic knot formed from varnished bamboo decorated the wall. Two bedside tables flanked the bed, simple rectangles of nine square drawers, stained nearly black, then distressed so the pale golden grain of acacia wood showed through. The door to a private balcony stood wide open, offering a hot tub and a view of the orchard.
It was a tranquil room, high-end yet masculine, peaceful and clean without being sterile. Stepping into it was like entering a refreshing lake after a hard sweaty run.
“My deepest apologies,” I told him. “I’m sorry you were attacked in my inn. I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
The wall parted and a tray slid out, offering a plethora of food from the banquet: the starters, the drinks, the desserts in tiny cups, and in the center, the pan-seared chicken. Orro must’ve recovered enough to put a plate together.
“The best chicken in the galaxy,” Turan Adin said, a hint of something suspiciously resembling amusement in his voice.
“Of course,” I told him. “We only serve the best to our honored guests.”
I stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind me.
#
The trick to finding an invisible thief is making him or her visible, which sounds like the most obvious conclusion in the world. Teaching the inn to recognize the faint blur of the thief’s presence and target it was a lot harder.
I raised my head from the screen. I was sitting in my lab under the main floor of the inn. In front of me, the inn had formed a niche in its wall—five feet wide, five feet deep, and roughly nine feet tall.
“And go,” I murmured.
A holographic projector in the wall of the niche conjured up the close approximation of the blur. The wall split and a jet of mist erupted over the blur. The niche’s walls looked exactly the same.
“Lights,” I murmured.
The light died. A black UV lamp came on, rotating slowly. Its beam swept the niche. Once-sterile walls glowed with bright blue.
“Perfect.”
My screen blinked and changed into an image of my front room. George and Sophie were looking around as if they had lost something.
“What is it?”
The two of them spun around, back to back, identical neutral expressions on their faces. My voice had emanated from the walls. Usually I didn’t do this because it was bad manners and guests tended to react badly to disembodied voices echoing through their living spaces, but I was still annoyed.
“We came to check on you,” Sophie said.
Wasn’t that sweet? I could tell them to piss off. Unfortunately, I was still an innkeeper and they were my guests to whom I would afford every courtesy even if it made my insides explode from the strain of containing my rage.
I waved at the inn. A set of stairs formed in the wall and I walked up into the front room. The floor flowed closed behind me.
George and Sophie looked at me.
“I’ll get us some tea,” Sophie said and went into the kitchen.
“She made you come down here to talk to me.” I took a seat on the sofa.
“Yes.” He lowered himself onto a chair opposite me.
“And you humored her. Her feelings are important to you, so you weighed the odds and decided that whatever plan you have wouldn’t be injured too much by having this conversation with me, and here we are.”
“Yes.” He leaned back, his handsome face somber. She must’ve told him he had to be honest.
“Everything you have done since you arrived here, every word, every expression and every action, has been carefully calculated. You’ve destroyed the alliance between Robart and House Meer, isolating him from his peers. To Arland and Isur, he is damaged goods and to House Meer he is no longer an asset. He’s an embarrassment, a witness and facilitator of their dishonor. He will be desperate to make peace now. House Meer is huge and House Vorga is one-fifth of its size. If the knights of Meer choose to set aside the shame of Beneger’s failure and pursue House Vorga, Meer will swallow Robart’s House whole and barely notice. Robart has no choice but to throw his lot in with Arland and Isur now and pray for a strategic alliance. On the flip side, House Meer is dishonored. They sent three of their better fighters and they couldn’t take one man. They look weak and pathetic. Together with their excommunication, this will make them hard-pressed to form any alliances at all.”
“The region will be more stable for it,” George said, matter-of-fact.
“Then you’ve murdered the pride of the Horde in front of the otrokars. I saw Sophie’s face. She lives for the challenge. You knew that the moment you showed her Ruah’s image, she would target him and kill him. You didn’t check the Horde’s hubris, you annihilated it.”
“Yes,” George said.
“Now the vampires are desperate, and the Horde is desperate. Both are humiliated. Both are indebted to me and the peace talks are in shambles. All part of the plan?”
“Yes.”
If he said yes one more time, I would brain him with something heavy.
“And my inn is an unfortunate casualty of this process?”
“Perhaps.”
“Are you done?”
“Not quite.”
“What else is there? You could also make the Merchants desperate. Is that next?”
“Yes,” he said.
“George, stop with single-word answers. You came into my inn and you used me and Gertrude Hunt in the worst way possible. I deserve to at least know the final objective of this terrible mess.”
“It’s not a mess,” he said. “It’s a carefully steered ride. And the objective has always remained the same: to do the impossible and broker peace on Nexus.”
I leaned forward. “Where is my place in this?”
“You’re in the very center of it,” he said. “You and the inn. Everything that happened has been designed for its impact on you.”
“To what end?”
“I can’t tell you that. You have to trust me.”
“That is the one thing I will never do again. You can’t just play with people’s lives.”
“I never play.” A hint of frustration twisted George’s face. “I examine my objective very carefully and I weigh everything I do against the benefits attaining that objective will bring. I’m intimately familiar with death. It’s been a constant companion since childhood. I take no one’s life for granted—not yours, not Ruah’s, not even Beneger’s. To avoid murder, I will go so far as to endanger myself and my objective, provided that the level of risk to my goal is acceptable, and my threshold of acceptability is a lot higher than you might believe. I resort to killing only when it becomes absolutely necessary, and you can be sure that when I take a life, it is because I have examined all my options and had no choice. But some events are greater than the people who bring them about, and so I will do what I must to set them in motion. It’s almost over, Dina. You will understand soon. I promise I won’t drag it out.”
He rose and walked away.
Who the hell had I let into my inn?
Sophie glided over from the kitchen and set a cup of steaming tea in front of me. I tasted it. Chamomile.
She sat in the same chair as George.
“Do you know what he is planning?” I asked.
“No. I know he is conflicted about it. He calls me his conscience even though, of the two of us, I’m more violent, at least at first glance.”
“No,” I told her. “You kill quickly and with mercy. George is merciless.”
“If one can be compassionate and merciless at once, he is that. George was always a contradiction.” Sophie drank her tea. “What will you do?”
“I’ll do what I was hired to do. I gave my word. I won’t back out now, but I will no longer let myself be used.”
Sophie smiled. “I bet he’s counting on that.”