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We sat in my comfortable chairs and sipped our tea. George frowned, obviously collecting his thoughts. He seemed so… pleasant. Cultured and genteel. But in my line of work, you quickly learned that appearances were often deceiving. I clicked my tongue, and Beast jumped on my lap and positioned herself so she could lunge off my knees in an instant. Being cautious never hurt.
“Have you heard of Nexus?” George asked.
“Yes.” I had visited Nexus. It was one of those bizarre places in the galaxy where reality bent into a pretzel. “But please continue. I would rather have all the information I need than assume I know something I don’t.”
“Very well. Nexus is a colloquial name for Onetrikvasth IV, a star system with a single habitable planet.”
He didn’t stumble over the name. That must’ve taken some practice.
“Nexus is a temporal anomaly. Time flows faster there. A month on Earth is roughly equivalent to over three months on Nexus. However, biological aging proceeds at the same pace as on the planet of origin.”
My brother, Klaus, had once explained the Nexus paradox to me, complete with formulas. We were trying to find our parents at the time, and the complex explanation had flown right over my head. I chalked it up to magic. The universe was full of wonders. Some of them would drive you insane if you thought about them too long.
“Nexus also contains large subterranean reserves of kuyo, a naturally occurring viscous liquid that, when refined, is used in production of what my background file calls ‘pharmaceutical assets of significant strategic value.’”
“It’s used to manufacture military stimulants,” I said. “They affect a wide variety of species in slightly different ways, but typically they boost strength and speed while suppressing fatigue and fear. They turn humans into berserkers, for example.”
George smiled. “I should probably speak plainly.”
I smiled back. “It would save us some time.”
“Very well.” George sipped his tea. “Kuyo occurs throughout the galaxy but only in small quantities, which makes Nexus extremely valuable. Currently there are three factions fighting for control of the planet. Each claims the rights to the entirety of Nexus’s mineral wealth, and none are willing to compromise. They’re engaged in a bloody war. It’s been going on for a little over seven Earth years and almost twenty years in Nexus’s time. The war is brutal and has cost everyone involved a great deal. Cooler minds on all sides agree it can’t continue. The matter has been referred for arbitration by one of the interested factions, the other two agreed, and here we are.”
“I’m guessing one of the factions is the Merchants?” When we landed on Nexus, we’d ended up in a Merchant spaceport. Merchants facilitated interstellar trade through the known galaxy and its many dimensions. When you needed rare goods or a large quantity of goods, you went to see a Merchant. They were motivated by profit and prestige.
George nodded. “Yes. The war is cutting into their profits.”
“Which family? The Ama?”
“The Nuan. The Ama family cut their losses and sold its holdings on Nexus to Nuan two years ago.”
Suddenly his presence here made a lot of sense. “Is Nuan Cee involved?”
“Yes. In fact, he was the one who recommended your establishment.”
Before my parents disappeared, they did a lot of business with Nuan Cee. Running an inn sometimes required exotic goods, and he procured the rarest items. Even I had done a deal with Nuan Cee. I’d bartered the world’s rarest honey for the eggs of a deadly giant spider.
“Your tea is delicious,” George said.
“Thank you. Which are the other two factions?”
“House Krahr of the Holy Cosmic Anocracy.”
Six months ago I had sheltered a vampire of House Krahr after he was injured trying to apprehend an alien assassin. His nephew had come to rescue him. The nephew’s name was Arland, he was the Marshal of his House, and he had flirted with me. At least flirted in vampire terms. He’d assured me that he would be ecstatic to be my shield, and I shouldn’t hesitate to rely upon his warrior prowess. He’d also gotten drunk on coffee and run through my orchard naked.
Good God, who could hold the vampires of Krahr off for twenty years? They were one of the most ferocious sentient species in the galaxy. They were predators who lived to war. Their entire civilization was dedicated to it.
“And the final faction?”
George set his cup down. “The Otrokars.”
I blinked.
Silence stretched.
“The Hope-Crushing Horde?”
George looked slightly uncomfortable. “That’s the official name, yes.”
The Otrokars were the scourge of the galaxy. They were huge and violent, and they lived to conquer. They’d started with one planet and grown their holdings to nine. Their name literally meant Hope-Crushing, because once you saw them, all your hopes died. The Holy Anocracy and the Horde had collided several times over the past three centuries, always with disastrous results. The two species hated each other so much their feud had become legendary. Half the jokes in the galaxy started with “a vampire and an otrokar walk into a bar….”
Having vampires and Otrokars together in close proximity was like mixing glycerin with nitric acid and then hitting it with a sledgehammer. They would explode. It would be a slaughter.
I leaned forward. “So you need a neutral venue to hold the arbitration?”
“Yes. An inn on Earth is ideal. It is defined as neutral ground, and we can rely on an innkeeper’s power to keep the participants in check.”
“Let me guess: you’ve tried other inns and everyone turned you down. Am I your last stop?”
George took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“There was an attempt to broker peace between Otrokars and the Holy Cosmic Anocracy during their Ten-Year Conflict,” I said. “About fifty years ago.”
He braided his long, elegant fingers into a single fist. “Yes, I’m familiar with it.”
“Then you also know how it ended.”
“I believe the patriarch of House Jero lunged at the Otrokar Khan, and the Khan beheaded him.”
“He ripped the patriarch’s head off with his bare hands and then proceeded to beat the Marshal of House Jero to death with it.”
“Well, the venture could be viewed as risky, when taking into account their history…”
“It’s not risky, it’s suicidal.”
“Should I take that as a no?” George asked.
This was a really bad idea.
“How many people do you expect?”
“At least twelve from each party.”
Thirty-six guests. My heart sped up. Thirty-six guests, each with robust magic. This would sustain the inn for years to come. Not to mention that if I managed to pull this impossible thing off, it would raise the inn’s standing.
No. What was I thinking? It would be crazy. I would have to keep the peace between thirty-six individuals, each dying to kill the other. It would be terrible. The risk… The gamble was too great.
What did I have to lose?
George reached into his pocket, produced a small tablet about the size of a playing card and just as thin, and showed it to me. Two numbers: $500,000 and $1,000,000.
“The first is your payment in the event the arbitration fails. The second is payment if we succeed.”
Five hundred thousand. We needed the money. I could finally upgrade my books. I could buy the additional building materials for the inn.
No. I might as well set Gertrude Hunt on fire.
My gaze fell on the portrait of my parents. They were looking at me. Demilles never backed down from a challenge. But then, we didn’t take unnecessary risks either.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I could simply sit here and continue to wait for a chance traveler to happen my way…
“If I do this, I would need you to meet my conditions,” I said.
“Absolutely.”
“I want agreements of reimbursement to be drawn up and signed by all parties. I want a sum of money to be set aside in escrow from each faction and placed under your control. If they damage the inn, I want them to pay for the damages.”
“I find that reasonable.”
“I need each party to review and sign Earth’s nondisclosure policy. Ordinary citizens of this planet can’t know of their existence. For example, we may experience visits from local law enforcement, and I want it expressly understood that nobody will be crushing necks or ripping off heads.”
“Also reasonable.”
“I may think of some additional restrictions. Do you have any concerns?”
“A couple.” George leaned forward. “The nature of the relationship between the inn and its guests isn’t quite clear to me. Why does the inn require guests?”
“It’s a symbiotic relationship,” I explained. “The inn provides the guests with shelter and food. It sees to their every need. In return, it feeds on the natural energy all living beings emit. The more varied and powerful that energy, the more magic the inn is able to generate and the stronger it becomes.”
George narrowed his eyes. “So is the inn empathic?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Can it influence the mood of its guests?”
“Only in as much as we are all influenced by our surroundings.”
George frowned. “I’ve read of some cases that suggested a link can be forged between an inn and its guests.”
Oh. That’s what he was getting at. “That’s not exactly accurate. It's possible for the inn to forge a mental link between an innkeeper and a guest, but the inn can’t influence the guest’s mental state. The linking ritual has been done only a handful of times, in rare cases when the inn or guests were in danger, for example, when a murder had occurred and discovering the identity of the killer was paramount. The guest has to be a willing participant in the process and try to forge the link. So if you’re asking me whether the inn can magically make the guests more agreeable and likely to sign the peace treaty, then no. I can make sure the peace delegates have the softest linens and the most tranquil of rooms, but I have no power to influence them. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. The privacy of my guests is sacred, and I am meant to remain as a neutral party. It would be a breach of ethics.”
“Oh well,” he said. “It was a thought.”
Considering the enormity of the task at hand, I could understand why he would reach for any possibility that could influence the outcome. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” George turned and glanced at the modest room. “I mean no disrespect, but your establishment is considerably smaller than I was led to believe. I don’t believe we have enough room.”
I rose. “Have you stayed at many inns?”
“No. I’ve visited several in connection with this summit, but I haven’t had the pleasure of being a guest. Yours is my first.”
I pulled the magic to me. What I was about to do would likely drain most of the inn’s resources and mine. If he walked away from our deal after I was done, it would take us a very long time to recover. But if we could get guests, it would all be worth it.
I picked up my broom. The magic vibrated within me, building and building, held so tight, like a giant spring compressed to its limit. George rose and stood next to me.
I raised the broom, bristles up, pictured the interior of the inn in my mind, and brought the broom down. Wood connected with floorboards with a dry knock.
Magic rolled through the inn like an avalanche, the wood and stone suddenly elastic and flowing. The interior of the inn opened like a blossoming flower. The walls moved apart. The ceiling soared. The magic kept streaming out of me, so fast I felt light-headed. Polished pink marble rolled over the floor, sheathed the walls, and surged up, forming stately columns.
Next to me, George stood very still.
Two-story-tall windows opened in the marble. I leaned on the broom for support. Vaulted ceilings turned pure white. Crystal chandeliers sprouted like bunches of exquisite blooms. Golden flourishes spiraled and curved on the floor. Lights flared among the crystal.
I cut off the magic. The power snapped inside me like a rubber band. I reeled from the impact.
The grand ballroom spread before us, grandiose, elegant, and glowing.
The Arbitrator closed his mouth with a click. “I stand corrected.”