Sweep in Peace

Chapter Ten

George’s hair, normally perfectly brushed and gathered into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, was haphazardly tied, with loose strands spilling around his handsome face. A trace of stubble graced his jaw. His cream shirt was slightly damp. When he met me at the door of his room, he looked slightly disheveled and mournful, like a man who had surrendered to his fate. Surprisingly, losing his elegant perfection catapulted him from merely shockingly handsome into outrageously seductive territory. I briefly wondered if I could find some excuse to send Sophie up here. I had a feeling she would really appreciate it.

I told him about the Khanum’s request for autumn celebrations, and George did everything except listen to me. He tugged on his sleeve. He brushed his hair back. He scratched his stubbled jaw. He appeared generally to be distracted, but years of being an innkeeper’s kid had taught me to watch the guests. George paid careful attention to everything I said.

“I attempted to shave and the faucet sprayed me with water,” George reported when I finished. “Icy water. It’s been three, no four, days since I’ve been able to take a hot shower. No, maybe three…”

Very well. “If you are asking whether you’ve been punished enough for cutting down my thirty-year-old apple trees, I’m sure we can work something out.” I snapped my fingers for emphasis. Every faucet and shower head in the bathroom came on, spilling out powerful currents of steaming water. I let it run for three seconds and turned it off. “Also, if you could stop pretending to not listen to me, I would really appreciate it.”

George abandoned his martyred expression. “There is a certain protocol when it comes to these things. A certain amount of back-and-forth that most people engage in. You simply bypass all the preliminaries. I can’t decide if your directness is refreshing or frustrating.”

“The more verbal dancing I do around a subject, the more opportunity I give you to argue,” I explained. “Some guests tend to be very…”

“Manipulative?”

“Difficult,” I said.

“But having a longer conversation also gives you the opportunity to learn more about the person,” he said. “What buttons to push. What levers to pull.”

“I’m not here to press buttons. I’m neutral by definition. My purpose is to provide shelter and comfort to my guests and see to their needs. I’m here to solve their problems while they are staying under my roof, and right now I would like to talk about the Khanum’s request.”

“Very well. Let’s abandon the verbal gymnastics. It will go faster.” George invited me to a sofa with a sweep of his hand. I sat, and he took a plush chair across from me. “Did the Khanum explain that the Horde signed a waiver prior to negotiations, indicating they were willing to suspend celebrations and religious holidays for the duration of the summit?”

“No.”

“In fact, every participant of the summit has signed this waver.” George’s blue eyes were hard and crystal clear, their gaze focused. There was something sharp in the way he held himself now. He reminded me of a falcon watching a bird in a distant sky just before he launched himself into the air currents for the lethal dive, his talons poised for the kill. So that’s what he really looked like. “The balance of power within the summit is very tenuous, and neither of the three participants is willing to relinquish any of it. If they see any opening at all, they will press their advantage. So if we now honor the Khanum’s request, concessions will have to be made to appease the Holy Anocracy and the Merchants.”

“In other words, they’ll want a bribe,” I said. Of course. “And whatever they ask for will result in additiona1 complications.”

“Furthermore, once we bring the celebration to the table, we can’t back down. If the vampires, for example, make some outrageous demand in return for agreeing to the celebration, and we are unable to reach an agreement, in the otrokars’ eyes, the Holy Anocracy will become the people who prevented the observation of a beloved ritual. One would think that given their history of mutual hatred, this one more small occurrence wouldn’t matter. In reality, that hypothetical transgression will overshadow whatever bad blood they already have.”

“They killed my brother, stole our planet, but most of all, they wouldn’t let us have the autumn festival?”

“Yes. That’s a peculiar quirk of the psychology of small isolated gatherings, which is why I chose this format and an Earth inn in the first place. When you take sworn enemies and put them together in a cloistered environment, provided the group is small enough, they experience the same events and develop similar attitudes, which gives them some common ground where previously there was none. It creates a ‘we’re all in this together’ mentality, a camaraderie. The vampires and the otrokars recognize their own emotions in their enemy: boredom while the proceedings take place, relief when they’re over for the day, joy at the simple pleasure of a well-cooked meal. This commonality of circumstances and reactions fosters empathy, which is a precursor of any consensus. Right now this empathy is very fragile, and a conflict over the autumn celebrations has the potential to rip it apart beyond all repair.”

“But if everyone makes a concession and consents to the celebration, wouldn’t that show respect and tolerance of each other’s religion and traditions? If the vampires and the Merchants show respect for the festival and observe it as guests, wouldn’t it promote the feeling of empathy?”

“Assuming that celebration will happen, yes. But that’s a big assumption. It carries a lot of risk.”

I leaned back. “Unless I’ve gotten the wrong impression, the peace negotiations have stalled.”

“You’re not wrong.” George grimaced.

“This could give them a boost.”

“Or destroy any chance of peace.”

“You are the Arbitrator. The decision is yours, but I would be willing to speak to all interested parties to see if I could get them to agree.”

George studied me for a long moment. “What is your interest in all this?”

“Khanum and her people are my guests. They are stressed, and I want them to be comfortable. The autumn celebration will help.”

“Is that all?”

That and the masked desperation in the Khanum’s eyes that made me wince every time I recalled it. Remembering her on the couch, brushing at her son’s hair and holding all her worry and sorrow in a steel grip, haunted me. I couldn’t help with peace negotiations. I could do nothing to keep her son from going to war. But I could do this one small thing for her, and I would try to accomplish it.

“That’s enough, isn’t it?”

He thought about it for a moment. “You win. We’ll take this risk. If you want to bargain with the vampires and the Merchants, you have my permission. But I want to be kept aware of everything.”

“I will record our meetings and send the feed to your screen.”

“Good. Do not agree to anything, Dina, before consulting with me. Make no promises. They will be held against you.”

“I understand.” I rose. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, although I’m not sure exactly what I’m being thanked for.” George grinned, and his smile had a mordant edge to it. “This ought to be exciting. It’s good to have some fun once in a while.”

“You said yourself, this fun carries risk,” I reminded him.

His smile got wider. “That’s the best kind of fun.”

“Absolutely not.” If vampires had fur, Odalon’s would’ve stood on end like the coat of an angry cat, so the Battle Chaplain would’ve doubled in size from the sheer outrage. “No, they can’t have their pagan rite here, on this ground, where we must remain after it has been befouled.”

I had gone to the knights first, because getting them to agree to the otrokars’ festival would be much harder than bargaining with Nuan Cee.

“They have the same right to practice their religion as you do.” I stood my ground. “You are all guests here and are on equal footing.”

“Do you know what is involved in this heresy?” Odalon leaned toward me, all six feet and a few inches of him, his crimson vestments flaring. “They consecrate the ground. They dedicate it to their pagan deities. When I walk upon their unholy ground, it is with a battle hammer in my hand dripping with the lifeblood of the otrokars.”

And here I’d thought he was the sensible one out of the whole delegation. “Would it help if I gave them a specific area to consecrate? Then you wouldn’t have to walk on it and we could avoid bloody hammers.”

Odalon sputtered. “How in the world would you do that? Do you intend to lift a section of the ground and float it in the empty air?”

“That is an option,” I said. It really wasn’t, but there was no reason to discuss the limits of my powers. “However, I was going to suggest digging a trench and filling it with running water. They are planning on calling specific earth spirits, and the running water would provide a boundary.”

“This is blasphemy!” Odalon declared in the same way Gerard Butler had once roared “This is Sparta.” Sadly, Odalon had nobody to kick into a bottomless hole for emphasis, so he settled for looking extremely put out.

“Let’s not be hasty,” Arland said. “So they want to celebrate. What’s the harm?”

“So you don’t object?” I asked.

“I do object,” Arland said. “In the strongest words possible, but in the interest of peace, I’m willing to set aside my objections.”

“Lady Isur?” I turned to the Marshal.

She frowned, tapping one finger against her lips. “I consent as well.”

“What?” Odalon turned to her.

“I’m tired. My people are tired. These talks must conclude at some point. If this pagan dance helps the Horde get in line, so be it.”

“I will not stand for this,” Odalon announced.

“That’s okay,” Robart said. “We can outvote you.”

Uh-oh. Out of the three Marshals, I had expected him to put up the biggest fight.

Lady Isur reached over and touched his cheek with her long fingers. “Strange, my lord. You don’t seem to have a fever.”

He glanced at her, surprised, almost shocked at her touch. For a moment he struggled with it, then recovered. “Let the savages have their celebration. But I want something in return.”

Here it comes.

“I want to add guests to the banquet,” Lord Robart said.

“Guests? What guests?” Arland’s eyebrows furrowed.

“How many guests and of what sort?” I asked.

“I think three should suffice,” Robart said. “They will be members of an old, respected House.”

Vampires then. “Very well, I will bring this to the Arbitrator’s attention. The final word is his.” And he would likely say no. Increasing the number of vampires would just complicate the negotiations, especially if they were vampires Robart decided to invite.

“We shouldn’t even be having this discussion,” Odalon thundered.

“Robart, this is foolhardy at best.” Lady Isur sighed.

Arland turned to her. “What House?”

“He means to invite House Meer,” Lady Isur explained, as if to a child.

“Are you out of your mind?” Arland roared.

“Don’t tell me my business, Krahr!” Robart stepped forward, baring his fangs.

Arland’s teeth were already out on display. “How can you invite House Meer? They seek destruction of my House!” Arland snarled. “Of both of our Houses!”

“They are the true patriots!” Robart shot back.

“They are cowards. They refused to fight on Nexus so we would be weakened and they could pick over our bleeding carcasses. How can you consort with cowards? As of last night, they have been excommunicated.”

“This is just getting better and better.” Odalon shook his head in horror. “One wants to have a pagan ceremony, the other invites the excommunicated to it. Has everyone lost their mind?”

Robart stood his ground. “House Meer sacrificed their honor for all our sake.”

“So help me, I will strangle him.” Arland clenched his fists.

Lady Isur stepped between them.

“Explain it to me,” Arland shot over her. “Explain to me how those sniveling worms have our best interests at heart while we are getting ready to spill our blood in their place.”

“This rotation does nothing except drain our blood,” Robart said, emotion clear on his face. “I wish I could make you see. Only a concerted offensive can end this war. We must throw all our might into it.”

Arland shook his head. “And you suppose the Kair, Dui La Kingdoms, and the Harat will just stand by and wait at our borders patiently, like docile livestock, while we do this? Or have you signed some peace treaties on behalf of the Anocracy when I wasn’t looking?”

“How can you be so dense?” Robart growled. “Do you not understand that we must reject the Hierophant’s directive and abandon the Warlor—”

“Stop!” Odalon thrust his hammer against Robart’s chest. “Stop, Lord Marshal, before you add treason to your heresy.”

“I withdraw my consent to the celebration,” Arland said, his eyes dark.

“You can’t. You’ve given your word.” Robart smiled at Arland and Isur. “You both have given your word.”

Arland bared his teeth.

“Anytime!” Robart pushed forward.

“Enough!” Lady Isur barked. “You may be Marshals, but I’m the Bitch of Eskar. Do not make me show you how I earned my name.”

Robart took a step back.

Arland turned and stormed out of the room.

The Battle Chaplain turned to leave as well.

“Odalon!” Robart called.

“I’m going to pray,” Odalon said, pronouncing each word with crisp exactness. “I’m going to pray for me, for this gathering, and most of all for you, and hope for divine mercy or we’ll all end up on the icy plains of Nothing.”

He walked out.

Lady Isur faced Robart. “Your passion does you credit, but take care. Do not permit your grief to allow you to be used.”

Robart shook his head and left.

Lady Isur looked at me. I looked back at her.

She exhaled. “He is a demon on the battlefield.”

“Lord Robart?”

She nodded. “However, he badly needs a woman with a cool head to channel all that fire before it leads him astray.”

She walked away as well, leaving me standing by the exit. Well. I suppose it could’ve gone worse.

I left the Holy Anocracy’s quarters and paused to open a screen to George, mentally preparing myself for a no.

The Arbitrator sat on the couch. My new cat sat next to him, looking very regal. I wondered how he got into George’s quarters.

“I find their terms agreeable,” George said.

What? “Why?”

That “why” slipped out before I could catch it.

“Because, as I suspected, the greatest impediment to these negotiations is House Meer. I want to meet my opposition out in the open, assess them, and dismantle them before they can do further damage.”

For a soft-spoken, seemingly mild man, George could be chillingly cold-blooded I decided as I walked to the Clan Nuan’s quarters. The Merchant of Baha-char met me in his common room where he reclined on a divan. As I outlined my proposal, the kitten ran out of the side room, followed by a group of Nuan Cee’s relatives in brightly colored clothes.

“Why do you think the summit is failing?” Nuan Cee asked me.

“It’s not my place to offer an opinion.”

“I insist.”

“It’s failing because among the three of you, none understands how the people from the other factions feel,” I told him honestly. “If you only knew the true price each of you is paying for the war, you would agree to end it.”

Nuan Cee sighed, watching as the kitten ran back and forth while his clan collectively tripped over their feet in a comical fashion. “I fear you’re right. What concessions were made to the Holy Anocracy?”

“They asked to have guests for the banquet following the rite.”

The kitten stood up on her hind legs and batted her paws at the leading fox. He made a grab for her, and the tiny beast dashed to the side and climbed the curtains. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t giggle. After being in the presence of four upset vampires roaring at the top of their lungs, this was almost too much to take.

“How many guests?”

“Three.”

“I’m inclined to be generous.”

Out of the mouth of a Merchant, there were no more dangerous words.

Nuan Cee toyed with the tassel on the corner of his pillow. “I will also add a guest. Just one. An employee.”

“Is there anything else?” That was too easy.

“No.”

“I will relay your terms to the Arbitrator.”

“Thank you.”

I carefully picked my way through the room, trying to avoid the kitten-chasing mob. After allowing three guests for the Holy Anocracy, George had no reason to deny what looked like a modest request from Nuan Cee. The autumn celebrations were going forward. The Khanum should be pleased. And if I could make this a little bit easier for her, I had to try.

I just hoped I hadn’t completely ruined the peace summit by my meddling.