One Fell Sweep

CHAPTER 11

I walked over to the edge of the property, to where Officer Marais had parked by my hedges, and waved at him. He gave my innkeeper robe a once-over and got out of the car. I dropped the void force field just long enough for him to pass and put it back up. Holding it up was getting harder and harder. Soon I’d have to drop it for a while to rest.

“I want to know what’s going on,” he said as we walked back to the house. “I want the whole story. All the details. Who and what and when and where. Even the parts that are too ugly and parts you don’t think are important. I want you to explain the robe. And if anyone comes near me with a syringe, you will regret it. I’ll rip this place apart brick by brick.”

“Technically, board by board,” I told him, opening the door in front of us. “We have siding, not brick.”

“Now isn’t a good time to be funny…” He stepped inside the inn and froze. The far wall of the front room had dissolved. A vast desert spread beyond, a sea of shallow sand waves littered with the massive skeletons of monsters long past. Despite the sunlight, a ghostly moon, huge and striped, took up a quarter of the pale green sky. A caravan approached, massive shaggy beasts that would dwarf Earth’s elephants moving ponderously through the sand, their spiked armor gleaming in the sun. Their handlers walked by the creatures’ feet, their bodies draped in a light shimmering fabric. Good timing.

Hot wind fanned our faces.

Officer Marais took a few shaky steps forward, reached through the rip in the fabric of space, picked up a handful of sand, and let the grains fall from his fingers.

I came to stand next to him and waved my hand. Two fifty-five-gallon containers filled with water surfaced from the floor. When the inn first opened this door six months ago, the caravan leader gave me a gift. I didn’t know what to give them back, so I shared my water with them. Predictably, the water was precious to them. They passed my way every couple of weeks, and I made it a point to have some water on hand. It cost me very little, but it meant a great deal to them.

The caravan drew closer. I could see the caravan leader now. He had skin the color of alligator hide, a long inhuman face, and big emerald-green eyes, like two jewels in the rough.

“Don’t shoot,” I told Marais.

He stared at the caravan open-mouthed.

The first beast approached, the metal spikes on the armor that shielded his forehead as big as a small tree. Its tusks curved outward, each tipped with gleaming metal stained with old, dried blood. We weren’t tall enough to even reach its knee. An animal smell bathed us, thick and pungent. Its handler, his light blue robe stirring from the hot wind, stopped in front of the rip and drew a circle in the air with his long elegant fingers, tipped with curved silver claws.

“Ahiar ahiar,” he said, his voice soft like the shifting of the sand, and bowed his head. Peace to you and yours.

“Ha ahiar.” I bowed back. Lasting peace. “Please accept my water.”

“Thank you, innkeeper. May you live a thousand years.”

The inn deposited the two containers into the sand. The handler picked them up as if they weighed nothing.

“I have a gift for you, innkeeper.”

The caravan leader waved his hand. Two other beings, one in a copper-colored robe and the other in rose-gold, came forth, bringing something long and wrapped in canvas. They set it into the sand and pulled back the tarp. A stasis pod. Familiar features looked back at me. An Archivarian.

How? Never mind. One didn’t look a gift Archivarian in the mouth.

“I’m in your debt.” I bowed my head.

“No. We’re still in yours.”

They pushed the stasis pod into the inn and Gertrude Hunt swallowed it, carrying it down to install it with the rest.

The caravan went on, the colossal creatures swaying. I let the door close. Marais stared at the newly formed wall.

“They come this way every few weeks,” I told him. “Water is very prized in that part of their planet. This way.”

He followed me into the kitchen, looked left, and did a double take. A large room stretched off the kitchen. Vines draped its walls, so dense it was hard to see the pale stone underneath. Tree limbs broke the stone, their bark rough and dark, and stretched up along the wall, supporting metal lanterns glowing with warm yellow light. Tiny white flowers bloomed on the vines. Here and there, a large yellow blossom reminiscent of a chrysanthemum somehow shaped into a lily sent a faint honey aroma into the air. The floor was moss, stone, and tree root. Turquoise flowers, five petals each, stretched from the floor on two-feet-tall stalks the color of sage. The blue blossoms were wide open, showing off the purple center. Excellent.

In the center of the room, in the large Jacuzzi tub, sat Arland. The wounds on his face had closed. The scent of mint floated to us, mixing with the aroma of the flowers.

Maud sat on a root next to the tub, her eyes closed, her face serene, her sword on her lap. Helen stood next to her, holding a stick with bells on it.

Arland reached over and flicked a few drops of water in Maud’s direction. Helen shook her stick at him, the bells tinkling.

“Lord Marshal,” Maud said, her eyes still closed. “I’m trying to accelerate your healing. Do take this seriously.”

Marais turned to me and noticed Sean leaning against the wall, like a dark shadow. Next to him, on a windowsill, Wing was whittling something out of a piece of wood. Marais shifted his stance. Sean’s tattoos expanded, spiraling up his neck as his subcutaneous armor moved to shield him against a perceived threat.

“Hey,” Marais said.

Sean nodded. Wing continued his whittling.

I pulled a chair out at the table. “Please sit down.”

Marais sat. Orro appeared from the depths of the pantry and advanced on Marais. Marais put his hand on his Taser. Orro swept by the table with a dramatic flourish. A covered plate landed in front of Marais. Orro reached with his long claws, plucked the white cover off and sped away.

A single golden doughnut, flecked with chocolate flakes and translucent sparkles of sugar, sat in the middle of the plate. I had to talk to Orro about his literal interpretation of our TV programming.

Marais looked at me. “Is it po-”

“No!” Sean and I hissed at the same time.

Sean leaned over Marais and said with quiet menace, “Don’t say the ʽp’ word. Eat the doughnut. It’s the best you’ll ever try.”

Marais picked up the doughnut and took a speculative bite. His eyes widened. He took another bite. “So,” he said, chewing. “Aliens?”

“Aliens.”

“Why?”

“We’re a way station on the path to somewhere else,” I explained. “A safe, comfortable place to stop for the night and catch your breath, before you reach your destination.”

“A galactic bed and breakfast?” Marais took another bite.

“An inn,” Sean said.

“And you’re…”

“An innkeeper,” I told him. “I keep my guests safe and their existence secret at all costs.”

“Who else knows?” he asked.

“Other innkeepers like me.”

“Does the President know?”

“I have no idea,” I told him honestly. “Probably not.”

Marais pondered the doughnut. He was taking all of this rather calmly. But then he’d had a lot of clues along the way.

“Why?” Marais asked.

“It’s a bargain we made hundreds of years ago. Have you gassed up your car yet?”

“Not yet. Waiting until it gets below a quarter of a tank.”

“We made the bargain, so civilizations like his-” I pointed at Arland, whose engineer had modified the car, “-don’t conquer us. They have numbers and superior technology. Without the treaty that designated Earth as safe neutral ground, we’d be purged, eaten, or enslaved. The galaxy is a big and vicious place.”

“So what happens when people find out?” Marais asked. “Because they will find out.”

“It’s been well over a thousand years and they haven’t found out yet,” I said. “If we break the treaty and expose the existence of our guests or fail to prevent that exposure, the consequences will be severe.”

“What will happen?” Marais asked.

“Innkeepers will either kill you or leave you in some hellhole,” Sean said. “You’ll never get home.”

I could tell by his face that Marais didn’t like it.

“It wouldn’t be good for people to find out,” I said. “We’re a young civilization. People would panic. They would lose their faith. They would want to go to war with the universe. You have police codes, because you don’t want bystanders showing up to every crime scene. You restrict public access. So do we.”

Marais mulled it over. “What about the pale-haired punk? What’s his deal?”

It took about ten minutes to explain the Hiru and the Draziri. I had to go into detail on innkeeper’s powers and inn’s grounds.

“So they are in violation of the treaty and nothing happened so far. This doesn’t fill me with confidence as to the effectiveness of your internal law enforcement.”

“I’ve reported it,” I explained. “It takes time.”

“Is there any way I can look at this treaty?” Marais asked.

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes.”

I opened a screen in the wall and brought the treaty up on it. Marais took out a notepad and a pen and began taking notes. We waited. Fifteen minutes later, he stood up.

“So?” I asked. “What now?”

“Now I’ll have to think about it. No more acts of violence outside of the inn,” he said. “At least try to keep it to a minimum. I’ll let you know what I decide. I can tell you that so far you are in the clear. I sat in the cruiser after the fight and nobody came out to check with me and no emergency calls had been made. It’s the morning after a holiday. Most people slept in.”

He turned to leave. Orro blocked his way and thrust a paper box into his hands. “For your captain. I hope it will lessen the screaming and keep you from giving up your badge.”

Marais glanced at me.

“He’s been binge-watching Lethal Weapon movies,” I explained.

“Thank you,” Marais said and walked out.

“You think he’ll keep quiet?” Maud asked.

“He’s had a magic space car for several weeks now and, so far, hasn’t said anything,” I said.

“If not, I know where he lives,” Sean said.

I turned to him. “How?”

“I followed him home one night when we were hunting the dahaka.”

“That’s creepy.”

He shrugged.

“Sean, you’re not killing Officer Marais.”

Sean smiled a long wolf smile, reached out, and patted my hand.

“I’ll help you kill him,” Arland said.

“Sean Evans!” I put my hands on my hips.

“I’m trying to meditate,” Maud ground out. “Can you take your lover’s spat somewhere else?”

“Relax,” Sean told me. “I’m pulling your leg. Marais is a good guy. I’ll see him out. I’ve got an errand to run anyway.”

He went outside. I dropped the void field, felt him and Marais pass over the boundary, and pulled it up again.

Well, one of my guests was almost murdered and the inn was pretty much exposed. This wasn’t a good day so far.

Arland’s crest, which he’d put on the corner of the tub, came alive with red light. Arland reached over to check it. His eyes went wide. He swore, scrambled up, and fell all the way into the tub, splashing.

Oh no.

Arland surfaced, his long blond hair stuck to his head.

“What is it?” I asked.

“What?” Maud jumped to her feet.

“Is it war?” Helen’s eyes shone, catching the light.

“It’s worse.” Arland groaned. “My uncle is coming. Someone get me a robe. I have to get out of this tub.”

It was late afternoon and a delectable scent floated through the kitchen. Orro was in the throes of preparing dinner. Her Grace sat at the table, delicately sipping a Mello Yello. A large straw hat lay next to her. After Arland escaped the tub, she put on her hat and announced that she would be gardening. I kept an eye on her, and her gardening mostly consisted of snipping some small branches with garden shears and talking. I couldn’t see who she was talking to, but considering our situation, she was probably having discussions with the Draziri. She didn’t share anything she learned, and knowing her, asking about it would do no good.

Sean sat across from her, scrolling through a personal datapad, which I had no idea he owned. His errand took almost two hours. I knew exactly when he came back because he called to let me know he was about to enter, so I would let him in. He showed no signs of telling me what the errand was about. Wing still perched on the windowsill working on his whittling project.

On the wall, on an eight-foot-wide screen, Maud and Arland sparred in the Grand Ballroom, both in armor. Once he got out of the tub and donned a robe, Arland walked to his rooms where he collapsed on the bed and passed out. Maud checked on him to make sure he didn’t fall asleep facedown and suffocate. He slept like a log for five hours, then fifteen minutes ago, he came down in full armor, his hair brushed, his jaw shaved, looking like he was about to attend a parade, and announced that in half an hour his uncle would be arriving.

Maud asked him exactly how many stimulants he pumped into himself, and he told her enough to make her lower her sword in surrender. My sister did that narrow thing with her eyes that used to make me run yelling for Mom and asked him if he was willing to test his theory. Now they were beating on each other with practice weapons.

This was extremely unwise. I told him so. I told Maud so. My sister patted my shoulder and told me that he had to observe certain proprieties when he met his uncle. Meeting him while exhausted and naked in a tub of mint tea wouldn’t be appropriate and a little exercise would help the stimulants spread through his system faster.

Helen and the cat sat on the dais in the ballroom and watched the fight. The dais would be a perfect place for the Christmas tree.

“I want to celebrate Christmas,” I said.

“Isn’t it a little late for Christmas?” Caldenia asked.

“I know, but I still want to celebrate it. I want the tree and decorations. I want gifts and Christmas music. I don’t care how many Draziri are out there. They won’t take Christmas from me.”

“Yes, but we don’t have a suitable male,” Orro said. “And only one dog.”

I looked at him.

“What is this Christmas?” Wing asked.

Orro turned from the stove. “It’s the rite of passage during which the young males of the human species learn to display aggression and use weapons.”

Sean stopped what he was doing and looked at Orro.

“The young men go out in small packs,” Orro continued. “They brave the cold and come into conflict with other packs and they have to prove their dominance through physical combat. Their fathers teach them lessons in the proper use of swear words, and the young men have to undergo tests of endurance, like holding soap in their mouths and licking cold metal objects.”

Sean made a strangled noise.

“At the end of their trials, they go to see a wise elder in a red suit to prove their worth. If they are judged worthy, the family erects a ceremonial tree and presents them with gifts of weapons.”

Sean was clearly struggling, because his head was shaking.

“Also,” Orro added, “a sacrificial poultry is prepared and then given to the wild animals, probably to appease the nature spirits.”

Sean roared with laughter.

I grinned at him.

He leaned back, shaking, laughter exploding out of him.

“Your culture is so complicated,” Wing said. “On my world, we just go on a quest to kill something big.”

“I suppose small Helen could substitute for a male,” Orro said thoughtfully. “I’m sure we can get her a proper gun.”

“We can’t,” Sean managed between gulps of laughter. “She’ll put her eye out.”

“That does seem to be a prevalent concern among parents,” Orro said. “Perhaps we could employ some sort of protective eye wear.”

“Orro, you and I must watch Christmas Story together, so I can explain that movie to you.” I opened another screen. “Images, Christmas feast.”

Orro stared at the wall of food filling the screen.

I crossed my arms on my chest. “Officially Christmas is a religious holiday when Christians, members of one of our most popular religions, celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. They believe that he was the son of God who sacrificed himself to absolve them of sin. Unofficially, it’s the time we get together as a family and celebrate our friends. We decorate our houses, we share a meal, we give each other gifts, and we take a break from the world. Christmas is magic. It’s the time of kindness when normal people allow themselves to almost believe that miracles can happen. I want to have a Christmas, Orro. And I want you to make an incredible feast for it.”

The big Quillonian bowed his head. “As you wish, innkeeper.”

Wing set the object he had whittled onto the table. “Done.”

He’d carved a remarkably lifelike version of Kiran Mrak. It was only a foot tall, but the face was unmistakable, and the detail in the feathers and even the folds of his tunic was exquisite.

“Wing, that is beautiful. You have talent.”

The small Ku regarded the statue and held out his hand. “I’m ready.”

Orro put a long metal skewer into Wing’s hand. The tip of the skewer glowed bright red.

“What is that for?” I asked. Wing was the last person I would trust with a heated skewer.

Wing focused, chanted something under his breath, and stabbed the statue.

Aaaa!

“Wing!”

He stabbed it again and again in a frenzy. “This is old magic. My planet’s magic. My ancestors are greater than his ancestors. They will rip him apart. You will see.”

I slapped my hand over my face.

He picked up the scarred statue and smashed it against the table. He jumped on it, bounced up and down, and clawed it with his foot.

“Is it working?” he asked. “Is he dead?”

“I didn’t hear a scream,” Orro said.

Wing’s eyes shone with determination. He reached for his tunic.

“If you’re going to urinate on it, go outside!” I pointed to the door. “Outside!”

Wing took his statue and went out to the back.

A chime echoed through the inn, the alarm I had set to let me know when Lord Soren was about to drop in from orbit.

“Lord Soren is inbound,” I announced.

“Then I shall change.” Her Grace rose and floated off. “One must observe the proprieties.”

On the screen my sister and Arland were still pummeling each other.

“Everybody is so concerned with proprieties, they might just spar themselves to death,” I muttered.

Sean glanced at me. “Would you like me to slip into something more comfortable?”

I pointed my broom at him. “Don’t push me, Sean Evans.”

He laughed.

I stepped into the backyard and dropped the void field. Around me the Texas evening was burning down, the sky a deep purple, the trees dark. A figure appeared in the branches of the trees just past the inn’s grounds, as if by magic. Most likely Kiran Mrak just took off his camouflage cloak. He was letting me see him. How nice. A little reminder for me that he was always there and always watching.

A red star appeared in the sky, streaked down, flared, and released a knight of the Holy Anocracy. I raised the void field.

Vampires tended to become wider with age. Not fatter but bulkier, more muscled, more grizzled. Lord Soren was a fine example of a middle-aged vampire. Hulking, with a mane of brown hair liberally shot through with gray and a short beard, he looked as big as a tank in his armor. I had a feeling that if he planted himself and a semi rammed him at full speed, the truck would just crumple around him. Considering his serious expression, he was in no mood for nonsense.

“Lord Soren,” I said, turning my back to the woods. “I wish we were meeting under different circumstances. Please come inside.”

He stomped into my kitchen and I shut the door behind us.

“I apologize for the intrusion, but I have come for my nephew.”

Lord Soren had two sound settings: roar and thunder. He was trying to be polite and so he confined himself to a moderate roar.

“These little vacations and excursions when he disappears without warning are becoming legendary. People are whispering. The Marshal of House Krahr is gone again. Where is he?”

I opened my mouth to tell him.

“It’s time to grow up. It’s time to join the House when matters of importance and state are to be discussed, in which his opinion as Marshal is required. Is there not enough at home to occupy his mind?”

I started walking toward the ballroom. Lord Soren followed me.

“He took his destroyer to Karhari for no reason. He was attacked.”

“He won,” I said.

“Of course he won!” Lord Soren’s eyes bulged. “He is my nephew! He took them on seven at once, and he tore through them like they were children. His recording has been shared across the Anocracy.”

Oh no. Arland had gone viral.

“We’ve received four – four! – offers of a potential match in the last two days.”

I couldn’t tell if he was proud or upset or both.

“The boy has potential. He has talent. But does he apply himself? No. It is time to take a wife. It’s time to produce children. He isn’t going to live forever and he is far too young to retire. He can’t just take off whenever he wants like some sort of cosmic vagabond without a family or duty. There are certain responsibilities. If he didn’t want these responsibilities, he should’ve thought about it before he fought the other eligibles for the post of the Marshal. Do you know what he told his aide?”

Lord Soren stared at me for a second.

“I-”

“He said to tell me that taking this holiday would make him happy. I don’t want him to be happy.” Lord Soren pounded his gauntleted fist into his other palm. “I want him to be an adult! I want him to deal with his duties. I want him to get a wife and make children so our House doesn’t wither. He was doing so well until he visited Earth. Really, this fascination with Earth women has to end.”

The ballroom door opened in front of us and I led him into the cavernous room.

“I understand the appeal. However, no Earth woman would ever make a suitable spouse for a Marshal. For one thing, they’re not familiar with any of our customs. They do not understand our society. They don’t grasp the significance of family ties or our politics. They are not even equipped to defend their offspring…”

Maud chose this moment to jump up and wallop the side of Arland’s head with her sword. He snarled and swung his mace. She rolled out of the way and grinned at him. “Try harder, my lord.”

Helen laughed like a little bell ringing.

Lord Soren closed his jaw. “Who is that?”

I gave him a sweet smile. “It’s an Earth woman.”

We watched Arland and Maud dance across the ballroom, Arland delivering devastating blows and Maud dancing out of the way, agile like a cat. Finally, Arland managed to slam her into the column. My sister shook her head a couple of times and said something, I couldn’t tell what, since he was still pinning her to the column. He said something back. She raised her eyebrows and tapped his bicep with her hand. He let her go.

Maud started toward us. Helen jumped off the dais and snarled at Arland. Arland raised his arms to the sides and roared dramatically. They ran toward each other. Arland picked Helen up and threw her in the air about twenty feet high. I gasped. He caught Helen. She squealed.

“Lord Soren,” I said. “My sister, Maud, and her daughter, Helen. Maud, this is Lord Soren, Lord Marshal’s uncle and Knight Sergeant of House Krahr.”

Maud smiled and bowed her head. “I believe I’ve met your second cousin, my lord. Lord Cherush on Karhari.”

Lord Soren finally recovered. “My lady. How is my, arhm… cousin?”

“Fair as usual. He still meets with Kaylin of House Setor every fall. They talk of raiding the Karim to the south, but never do. It’s not profitable. The cost in fuel alone would be higher than whatever they would get from the tribes. Lord Kaylin’s ward, Eren of House Phis, is of a marriageable age and your cousin’s second son is still unmarried and has expressed his interest, so I believe it is all for the best.”

Lord Soren puffed his chest. “Phis? My second nephew wants to marry into the House of those cowards?”

“Not the Southern Phis, my lord. Give the poor boy some credit. Eren is from the Northern branch. Her mother was of House Toran, daughter of their Knight Sergeant. There is good blood there, and as you know, the Torans still hold the northern port. The alliance would benefit Lord Cherush in his fur trade.”

Lord Soren heaved a heavy sigh. “Does she have all of her fingers and teeth, at least?”

“She is a lovely girl. Very good with an energy rifle.”

“I shall have to write to my cousin,” Lord Soren said. “It’s been ages, after all.”

“Indeed. He mentions you fondly. If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I must refresh myself. Your nephew is quite vigorous. One would think that a man who had taken the full onslaught of a World Killer would be in his bed, moaning in pain, yet here he is.”

“World Killer?” Lord Soren blinked.

“He has saved us all,” Maud said.

Lord Soren puffed out his chest.

“A lesser knight would’ve died. Truly, Lord Arland is proof that an exceptional bloodline bears an exceptional fruit.”

Lord Soren puffed himself even bigger. “He is the pride of our House.”

“Without a doubt.” Maud bowed her head. “Good day, my lord.”

“Good day, my lady.”

Arland turned, holding Helen while she was pretending to slice his neck with her dagger and pretended to finally notice his uncle. “Uncle! There you are.”

Lord Soren pondered the two of them for a long moment and walked toward them.

“You have no shame,” I murmured to Maud.

“No,” she said. “Also, as vampires go, Arland isn’t altogether terrible. I simply smoothed the way. That was the least I could do. He saved my baby.”

My sister walked away. Lord Soren puzzled over Helen, then turned to his nephew. “Tell me of the World Killer.”