“What can I do for you?” Stop sizing up my dog, please.
“My name is Dagorkun.” The otrokar raised his hand. A golden medallion studded with jewels hung from a leather cord clasped in his fingers. A stylized sun with stabbing rays, the symbol of the Khan, the leader of the Horde.
I inclined my head. “I’m honored.”
“I’m here on behalf of my people to inspect the rooms.”
“Very well. Would you like some tea as we walk?”
He blinked. “Yes.”
“It will only take a moment.” I stepped into the kitchen. Some things were constant in the universe. Two and two didn’t always equal four, but every water-based species at some point had heated water and thrown some plants into it.
Dagorkun followed me into the kitchen. I took two mugs from the cupboard, one with strawberries on it and the other with a small black cat, filled them with hot water from the Keurig, and put two bags of chai in to soak. Dagorkun watched me like a hawk. Clearly he expected to be poisoned.
“Is this your first time on Earth?”
He waited for a long moment, obviously deciding if it was wise to answer. “Yes.”
“You are now a guest of my inn. Your safety is my utmost priority.” I fished the tea bags out, opened a sugar canister made of thick blue glass, and put a spoonful of the sugar into my chai. “Neither my dog nor my inn will hurt you unless you attempt to harm another guest.”
“The vampires recommend you,” Dagorkun said.
I spooned sugar into his cup. One, two… “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’ll treat them any differently than your people. I’m a neutral party.”
Three… Four ought to do it. He looked like a northerner to me. The southern Otrokars had a greener undertone to their skin. I offered him the cup. He picked it up carefully.
“What if you stopped being neutral?”
“The rating of my inn would be downgraded. It would become known that this was an unsafe place to stay. No guests would visit, and without guests, the inn would wither, fall into hibernation, and die.”
“And the witch?”
“Which witch?”
“The old witch who stays with you.”
Most people would’ve taken “witch” as a slur, but for an otrokar a witch meant someone of great dark power. He was simply giving Her Grace the respect she had earned.
“Caldenia won’t interfere with the peace talks. This inn and I are the only reason she is still alive. She’ll do nothing to jeopardize that.”
Dagorkun mulled it over, raised the cup to his lips, and sipped. His eyes lit up. “Good.”
“Shall we see to the rooms?”
He nodded. I led him through the front room to a simple hallway. It matched the front of the house perfectly: wooden floor and plain beige walls. And the portrait of my parents in the dead center, in a small alcove just as you walk through the doorway. I’d moved it there just for this occasion. Dagorkun glanced at them. I scrutinized his face. No reaction.
One day someone would walk through this doorway, see my parents, and recognize them. When that happened, I would be ready. I just needed a faint trail, a crumb, some drop of information that told me where to start looking for them. I would not stop until I found them.
We turned right, walked a few feet to another plain doorway, and stepped through it. Dagorkun stopped. A curving stairway of dark wood led up, its rail decorated with carved, stylized animals: the long-legged three-horned stag; the kair, a wolflike predator; the massive armor-plated garuz that looked like a three-horned rhino on steroids… I’d gone right down the list of the otrokar heraldry in the traditional order. Light fixtures imitating torches glowed in their sconces on the dark walls streaked with red and gold. Colorful banners of the Hope-Crushing Horde hung between them.
“Does the stairway meet with your approval?” I asked.
“It will suffice,” Dagorkun said carefully.
“Please.” I pointed to the stairs.
He started up the steps. Here’s hoping the pits were deep enough.
Twenty minutes later, we established that the pits were perfectly proportioned, the faux-silk pillows were sufficiently soft and in the correct array of colors, the arched windows were properly ornate, and the view of the orchard, which had required enough dimensional finagling to make an entire university of theoretical physicists beg for mercy, was stimulating enough. The orchard was visible from every new guest room I had built for the summit, which should’ve been impossible, but I never bothered too much with the laws of physics anyway. If they decided to jump out of their windows, they would end up in my orchard behind the house and out of sight of the main road and subdivision. Not that I had any intention of letting anyone exit the inn without my knowledge.
By the end of the tour, Dagorkun had relaxed enough to stop continuously checking corners for hidden assassins. We were almost back to my front room when the inn chimed. I glanced out the window just in time to catch the last glimpse of a familiar red flash. Oh no.
“We have company,” I told Dagorkun. “Excuse me, please.”
I walked to the front door and opened it. A massive figure filled the doorway, broad-shouldered and clad in black armor shot through with blood-red, which made him look enormous. His blond hair spilled onto his back like a lion’s mane. His face, masculine with a heavy, square jaw, was handsome enough to make you pause.
“My lady Dina.” His voice was rich and resonant, the kind of voice that would overpower the roar of battle, which was fitting since he was the Marshal of House Krahr and had to snarl orders in the middle of battle quite frequently.
“Lord Arland,” I said. “Please enter.”
Arland stepped through and saw Dagorkun. The two of them froze.
“Hello, Arland,” Dagorkun said. No traditional sun greeting, huh?
“Hello, Dagorkun,” Arland said.
The vampire and otrokar glared at each other. A moment passed. Another. If they kept this up, the floor between them would catch on fire.
I sighed. “Would the two of you like some tea?”
#
The vampire and the otrokar stared at each other over the rims of their cups. Arland was built like a saber-toothed tiger: huge, powerful, and strong. Dagorkun was taller than him by a couple of inches, and while his build was not quite as massive, he was corded with muscle. Neither of them seemed especially worried. They were just sitting there politely, drinking tea and trying to strangle each other with pure will.
“How is your father?” Arland asked, his voice nonchalant, each word precise.
“The Khan is well,” Dagorkun answered. “How is Lady Ilemina?”
“She’s well also.”
“That’s good to hear. Will she be joining us?”
Arland raised his thick eyebrows. “No, she must attend to matters elsewhere. Will the Khan grace us with his presence?”
“Likewise, the Khan has many responsibilities,” Dagorkun answered. “He sends the Khanum in his stead.”
So, Arland’s mother wasn’t coming but Dagorkun’s was. The Guide to Major Powers, which I had purchased during the summer and which had cost me an arm and a leg, listed Lady Ilemina as the Preceptor of House Krahr together with two pages of her titles and decorations, some of which included words like “Slaughterer of” and “Supreme Predator of.” The Khanum had an equally long list of titles studded with gems like “Spinebreaker” and “Gut Ripper.” All things considered, I was glad only one of them was coming.
Having their sons sitting across from each other, sipping tea and wishing they could drop all pretense and just tear each other’s head off was difficult enough. I finally realized the full extent of the mess I’d gotten into. When there were twelve or more individuals from each side, keeping them from violence was going to be almost impossible. This is exactly why Caldenia thought these peace talks were going to be great. My imagination painted a huge brawl in the ballroom and Her Grace quietly sneaking off with a bloody body.
“The Khanum?” Arland coughed. The last sip of tea must’ve gone down wrong.
“Are you unwell?” Dagorkun inquired.
“Healthy as a Krahr,” Arland said.
“That’s such a relief. I would hate for some illness to interfere and spoil the grand celebration I have planned for when I send you to your afterlife.”
“Really?” Arland’s eyes narrowed. “I’d think my succumbing to an illness would be a blessing, as that is the only way you could manage such a feat. I daresay, it would have to be a severe illness, and even then I fear the chances of your victory would be remote.”
The otrokar clicked his tongue. “Such hubris, Marshal.”
“I detest false modesty.”
“Perhaps we can test this theory?” Dagorkun offered.
Okay, that’s just enough of that. “I am glad the rooms were to your liking, Under-Khan. Unfortunately, I must ask you to depart, so the Marshal of House Krahr can inspect the quarters of his people.”
Dagorkun’s eyes narrowed. “And if I insisted on staying?”
Thin, brilliant blue cracks formed in the handle of my broom. The floor in front of Dagorkun shifted, fluid as the sea. “Then I’ll seal your body in wood, so all you can do is breathe, and use you as a lawn ornament.”
Dagorkun blinked.
“This summit is very important to me,” I explained.
The wall behind me creaked as the inn bent toward Dagorkun, responding to the tone of my voice. The otrokar’s hand went to his knife.
I waved my fingers and the wall snapped back to its normal state. “I won’t let anyone or anything interfere with the peace talks in my domain.”
Arland set his cup on the table. “You should test her, Dagorkun. She couldn’t possibly be that powerful.”
I pointed the handle of my broom at him. The vampire grinned, flashing his fangs, and chuckled.
“I see.” Dagorkun rose. “Thank you for the tea, Innkeeper.”
I solidified the floor and led him to the door. He pulled on his cloak and walked into the night. I waited until the inn announced his departure and turned to Arland.
“Ours is an old rivalry,” he said. “You can’t blame us. They are barbarians. Do you know how one becomes a Khan? One would expect a proper progression—a ruler’s son, learning statecraft at his father’s knee, studying with the best tutors, gaining experience under the guidance of talented generals on the battlefield, building alliances, until finally he takes his rightful place, supported by his power base. One would expect this, but no. They elect him. The army gathers and votes.” He spread his arms. “It’s ridiculous.”
Of course hereditary aristocracy was much better. That never went wrong. How silly of them to try this thing called democracy. I wondered what he would say if I reminded him that the U.S. was a republic. “Shall we see to the rooms?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Arland rose, and I led him to the hallway. We turned left this time. The hallway brought us to the formal stairway of pale gray stone. Crimson banners of the Holy Cosmic Anocracy hung on the walls, illuminated by delicate glass ornaments that glowed with gentle, pale light.
Arland raised his thick eyebrows. “Just like home.”
Perfect. We started up the stairway.
“Six months ago, House Krahr was going stale from the lack of war,” I said. “Now suddenly you’re involved in the Nexus Conflict? What happened?”
Arland grimaced. “House Meer happened. What is taking place on Nexus isn’t a war; it’s hell. It’s been going on for almost a decade, and it’s too much for any one House. About a year into this war, the Holy Anocracy divided the Houses into seven Orders to share the burden of the conflict. Each Order takes the responsibility for Nexus for a year. House Krahr is the House of the First Order. We already fought on Nexus five years ago. We didn't expect to return so soon.”
Every time he said Nexus, he paused for a tiny second the way one would before saying Hell in the true sense of that word. Five standard years ago he would’ve been a seasoned knight. It must’ve been terrible, because the memories of it still haunted him.
The stairs ended in a stone arch. The walls there rose to a dizzying height and the bloodred banner of the Holy Anocracy hung from the ceiling with the Holy Fangs and the eight-point star emblazoned in silver on it. The star commemorating the vampire progress to interstellar flight wasn’t above or below the stylized fangs but sat between them. The symbolism was clear: the Holy Anocracy would bite the galaxy with its fangs and swallow it. Without a word, Arland lowered himself on one knee and bowed his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, then rose, as if the heavy armor he wore was light as silk. We stepped through the arch.
“Two months ago the Sixth Order was scheduled to take over, but the two major Houses of the Sixth Order had been decimated, one by a war and the other by a planetwide natural disaster. They had neither the means nor the power to mount a suitable defense against the otrokar offensive. They were willing, but it was determined that we would lose our hold on Nexus if they bore the sole responsibility for it. The duty should’ve passed to the Seventh Order. The Seventh Order consists of four Houses, with House Meer being by far the most powerful. House Meer dishonored itself and refused to fight. Given that the other three houses in the Order are small, and two of them are also warring with each other at the moment, the responsibility for Nexus passed on to us.”
I frowned. “House Meer can do that?”
“Not without repercussions. The Anocracy will excommunicate them and level economic sanctions, but they are willing to risk it. They’ve been eyeing our holdings for years. When we come off the Nexus rotation, our House will be exhausted. It will take us years to recover. House Meer will attack us when we’re at our weakest, and the riches they rip from our corpse will more than offset any economic sanctions. The Anocracy embraces victory and shuns defeat. The Preceptor of Meer may sacrifice his eternal soul on the altar of betrayal, but his descendants will be welcomed back into the fold of the Holy Church.”
Yes, they would be too powerful and too rich to remain ostracized. “On Earth we say that history is written by the winners.”
Arland nodded. “I’ve spent the past two months on that cursed planet. I’ve lost men, I’ve lost family, and I don’t intend to lose anyone else. If I have to make peace with the Horde, so be it. It would be infinitely easier if the Khan were coming himself instead of the Khanum. The Khan is a great warrior and a great leader; he understands diplomacy and he is the man the Horde wants to follow into the slaughter. The Khanum is a great general; she plans their wars and their battles, which the Khan then leads. I do not relish dealing with Dagorkun’s mother.”
He stopped. Bright rooms of pale stone spread before us, the lines elegant and powerful. Green vines drooped from the tall ledges, cascading to the floor of polished stone. Massive dark wood furniture, sturdy and simple, offered a place to rest, its upholstery and linens crimson and white. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto narrow stone balconies. It was a serene place, elegant and beautiful to behold the way a honed, functional blade was beautiful.
Arland turned around, his face puzzled. “This is Zamak, our House’s coastal castle.”
“It’s a duplicate,” I said. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t reproduce the sea, but I was told the view of the orchard is soothing. Does it meet with your approval?”
“It’s perfect.”
Yes. Great. Wonderful. Fantastic.
“How will the meal orders be handled?”
My stomach tried to pirouette out of me. Somehow I made my lips move. “Should any of your party have special dietary needs, please list them for me, and I will do my best to meet them.”
“Absolutely.”
Ten minutes later, I watched Arland step into a bright red glow, turn into a star, and shoot up to the night sky. The inn chimed in my head, informing me of his departure, and I sagged against the doorframe.
The food. I had forgotten about the food.
What was I going to do?