Sweep in Peace (online draft) (complete)

by Ilona Andrews

  “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 and almost predatory 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 further 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 otrokari’s 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 your inn in the first place. When you take sworn enemies and put them together into an isolated 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 otrokari recognize their own emotions in their enemy: boredom while the proceedings take place, relief when they’re over the day, joy at 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 the 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 have gotten a 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 Arbiter. 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 of this?”

  “The 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, which made me wince every time I remembered it. Remembering her on the couch, brushing at her son’s hair, 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.

  “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 its 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 otrokari 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 otrokari.”

  And here I thought he was the sensible one out of that 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 to 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. 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 Arbiter’s attention. The final word is his.” And he would likely say no. Increasing the number of vampires would just complicate the negot
iations, 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? The 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? 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 minds?”

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

  “Any time!” 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 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 blind you into being 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 battle field.”

  “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 Arbiter sat on the couch. My new cat sat next to him, looking very regal. I wonder 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 the 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 it, and the tiny best 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 am 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 Arbiter.”

  “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 Fall celebrations were going forward. The Khanum should be pleased. And if I could make just a little bit easier for her, I had to try.

  Here is hoping I hadn’t completely ruined this peace summit by my meddling.

  Chapter 11

  Orro raised his head to the sky, opened his mouth, and let out what could only be described as a primal yell. Since he was holding a butcher knife in one hand and a sharpening stick in the other, the effect was very dramatic.

  I waited.

  “Is he always like this?” Gaston asked me quietly.

  “I think so.”

  Orro stood frozen, seemingly lost to his despair.

  I counted in my head. One, two, three…

  Orro turned to me, his eyes intense. “How long?”

  “You have to delay the banquet for an hour to allow for the otrokari celebration,” I said.

  “One? Hour?”

  “Yes.”

  Orro swung his stick and knife. “I have fish. Delicate fish. I have soufflé. I have… I can do one hour. But no more!” He waved the knife for emphasis. “No more. Not one minute, not one second, not one nanosecond, not one attosecond more.”

  “Thank you.”

  I walked into the front room, Gaston followed me.

  The Arbiter’s delegation had, for some reason, decided to appropriate my front room despite the perfectly adequate space in their quarters. George was absorbed in his reader. Jack and Lark were playing chess. Given that I was terrible at chess, I had no idea who was winning. Her Grace had artfully arranged herself in a chair by the window and indulged in a cup of hibiscus tea and her tablet. Judging by the small smile on her lips, Caldenia was reading something with a lot of sm
ut or a lot of murder.

  “Attosecond?” Gaston asked.

  “I’m guessing it’s a very, very small fraction of a second,” I said.

  “One quintillionth of a second,” George said, without raising his head from his reader.

  Jack pondered him. “Have you started memorizing random crap again to amuse yourself?”

  “No, I’m connected to the wireless,” George said. “I googled it.”

  The otrokari shaman emerged from the hallway, wearing a tattered black cloak. His long black hair, tinted with a hint of purple, spilled over it. Combined with his skin, a deep bronze with an almost green undertone, the hair made his pale green eyes startling on his harsh, angular face.

  “Ruga,” I inclined my head. “Are you ready to inspect the site?”

  He nodded.

  I stepped outside, Gaston and the shaman in tow. I had a feeling George had assigned Gaston to me, because he’d been trailing me for the past half an hour.

  Dagorkun had informed me that they would need a clearing that was at least five akra long and wide, which roughly translated to a square with a side of thirty five point two yards. I would have to appropriate part of the new land for it. After we took down the alien assassin last summer, I had used part of the money I had earned from House Krahr to purchase another acre. It sat in the back of the property, past the orchard, on the north side, securely cushioned from view by dense oaks and cedars. Fueled by the boost of Arland’s, Sean’s, and Caldenia’s presence, the inn had rooted through the new land almost overnight and spent the last seven months or so making it its own. That provided me with a large enough area for the otrokari festival.

  The new land had cost me fifteen thousand dollars, primarily because the acre housed a bat cave and couldn’t be zoned for building. The cave itself opened a few hundred yards to the east, outside of my property, and if the peace summit succeeded, I would buy it. The bats could prove very useful.

  I stopped and surveyed the lot. Small gnarled cedars rose above the grass, flanked by some bushes. I had never liked the Texas cedars. They always looked really dry and starved of water with their rough trunks and, just to add insult to injury, every winter they spat out clouds of yellow pollen so thick it blanketed the hoods of the cars in fine powder overnight.