Sweep in Peace
Page 34
Sophie smiled. “For now.”
“Are you going to view the summit?” Caldenia asked.
“I was considering it.”
“You absolutely must visit me. I have an entire balcony to myself.”
“I would be delighted,” Sophie said.
“It is settled then.” Her Grace smiled and proceeded down the hallway, her gown flaring behind her with regal majesty.
I paused before the door. Normally I would have offered her some refreshments and spoken with her in the front room, slowly building her room based on her responses. There was no time. I had to guess. Argh. What would Sophie like? She held herself with a kind of measured poise that seemed natural but was probably the result of years of etiquette training and education. Caldenia had picked up on it immediately. They were from different worlds but they likely moved in similar circles, those of aristocratic educated women. When I looked at her, I pictured her in a Southern mansion, all white colonnades and plush furniture, but something didn’t seem quite right. So, clean and elegantly muted furnishings in a traditional style or tastefully elaborate pattern medley of English countryside?
“She isn’t human, is she?” Sophie asked.
“No.”
“Her teeth are sharp and pointed.”
“She is very dangerous,” I said. There was something about Sophie behind all of that polish and refinement, a kind of hidden fragility. Perhaps fragility was the wrong word. Brittleness, like a blade that was too sharp. No, neither clean and elegant nor elaborate. Damn it, George. I had to commit to something. I couldn’t just stand there before the door.
Go with your gut feeling. That’s what Mom always said.
“Caldenia will do nothing to harm you, because the inn is her refuge and she knows that attacking another guest, unless it was done in self-defense, would violate our agreement. She is very manipulative, however.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Sophie said.
I opened the door. Golden pine floors stretched to the wooden walls painted with a gentle beige. I left the wall framing exposed, as if all of the insulation had been stripped out. A simple but comfortable bed, built with rough Louisiana cypress, offered a thick mattress in a sturdy frame, plush white covers, and plump pillows. A beige woven rug, none too new, shielded the floor. Pale green curtains framed two wide windows, offering a view of the orchard. Between them a door permitted access to a long wooden balcony. A roughly hewn bookshelf in the corner held several paperbacks. A weapon rack waited next to the bookshelf, ready to receive swords.
Rustic modern. I had no idea why I went that way, but it felt right.
I turned to Sophie and almost stepped back. She looked shocked.
Damn it, she hated it. What was I thinking? Mixing pine and cypress, it didn’t even make sense…
“Would you like a different room?”
“No,” Sophie said quietly. “No, this is perfect.”
The floor parted and her bag surfaced.
“As part of the Arbiter’s personnel, you have access to most of the inn,” I said. “If you would like to join us on the main floor, turn right and go down two flights of stairs. If you would prefer to join Her Grace, turn left, make another left at the next hallway and keep walking until you reach a large grey door.”
“Thank you.”
“If you need any information, just ask the inn. Gertrude Hunt will extend you every possible courtesy.”
Five minutes until summit. I badly needed to go to the bathroom before I got down there.
Sophie brushed the wood of the sword stand with her fingertips. “It all comes full circle, doesn’t it?”
I had no idea what she meant by that, so I listened.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Sophie said. “Do you believe in destiny, Dina?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because six years ago something took my parents. It ripped them out of my life and made them disappear. I can’t believe that after everything they’ve gone through and everything they have done, that would be their destiny. I refuse to let their existence be erased. We make our own choices in life. Our actions shape our lives and we alone are responsible for them.”
“I hope you find them,” Sophie said.
“I will.”
A wallop of magic resonated through the inn and my head. I turned to the wall. “Outer perimeter.”
A container the size of a house sat in the field on the edge of my orchard. A stylized symbol of the Arbitration, the scales with two weights in the balance glowing gently with white, marked it. What now?
“Excuse me,” I said.
“Of course.”
I left Sophie to her own devices and went downstairs.
George met me at the foot of the stairs.
“What are you planning?” I asked, as we turned toward the grand ballroom.
“Just a small demonstration for the public good,” he said. “I am so sorry.”
“You’re apologizing in advance.”
“Yes.”
Never a good sign.
***
We were three hours into the session. The vampires looked mercilessly bored. The merchants gathered in a circle around one of the older foxes, who was explaining something that required waving of paws and twitching of ears. Some of the otrokari abandoned all pretense at politeness and stretched out on the floor. One of the larger older otrokar warriors was snoring. A couple of younger ones watched him, exchanging speculative glances. If they pulled out the interstellar equivalent of a magic marker and started drawing penises on his forehead, I would have to step in.
I should’ve brought a book, except I wouldn’t be able to read it. I had to watch the lot of them. I glanced up to the balcony where Caldenia and Sophie seemed engaged in some entertaining discussion. I wished I could be up there. Anything was better than this boredom.
Magic wailed in my head, emanating from the far side of the orchard. Here we go.
The opaque partition separating the leaders of the factions slid down and George stepped out, his face concerned, the top of his cane glowing. “My sincerest apologies!”
Everyone dropped what they were doing and turned to him.
“Would you care to explain this?” I asked.
“I’m afraid one of our Sentinel guard units is malfunctioning.” George’s face was the definition of apologetic regret.
“You brought a Sentinel unit here?” The Khanum’s eyebrows crept up.
“Are you going to view the summit?” Caldenia asked.
“I was considering it.”
“You absolutely must visit me. I have an entire balcony to myself.”
“I would be delighted,” Sophie said.
“It is settled then.” Her Grace smiled and proceeded down the hallway, her gown flaring behind her with regal majesty.
I paused before the door. Normally I would have offered her some refreshments and spoken with her in the front room, slowly building her room based on her responses. There was no time. I had to guess. Argh. What would Sophie like? She held herself with a kind of measured poise that seemed natural but was probably the result of years of etiquette training and education. Caldenia had picked up on it immediately. They were from different worlds but they likely moved in similar circles, those of aristocratic educated women. When I looked at her, I pictured her in a Southern mansion, all white colonnades and plush furniture, but something didn’t seem quite right. So, clean and elegantly muted furnishings in a traditional style or tastefully elaborate pattern medley of English countryside?
“She isn’t human, is she?” Sophie asked.
“No.”
“Her teeth are sharp and pointed.”
“She is very dangerous,” I said. There was something about Sophie behind all of that polish and refinement, a kind of hidden fragility. Perhaps fragility was the wrong word. Brittleness, like a blade that was too sharp. No, neither clean and elegant nor elaborate. Damn it, George. I had to commit to something. I couldn’t just stand there before the door.
Go with your gut feeling. That’s what Mom always said.
“Caldenia will do nothing to harm you, because the inn is her refuge and she knows that attacking another guest, unless it was done in self-defense, would violate our agreement. She is very manipulative, however.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Sophie said.
I opened the door. Golden pine floors stretched to the wooden walls painted with a gentle beige. I left the wall framing exposed, as if all of the insulation had been stripped out. A simple but comfortable bed, built with rough Louisiana cypress, offered a thick mattress in a sturdy frame, plush white covers, and plump pillows. A beige woven rug, none too new, shielded the floor. Pale green curtains framed two wide windows, offering a view of the orchard. Between them a door permitted access to a long wooden balcony. A roughly hewn bookshelf in the corner held several paperbacks. A weapon rack waited next to the bookshelf, ready to receive swords.
Rustic modern. I had no idea why I went that way, but it felt right.
I turned to Sophie and almost stepped back. She looked shocked.
Damn it, she hated it. What was I thinking? Mixing pine and cypress, it didn’t even make sense…
“Would you like a different room?”
“No,” Sophie said quietly. “No, this is perfect.”
The floor parted and her bag surfaced.
“As part of the Arbiter’s personnel, you have access to most of the inn,” I said. “If you would like to join us on the main floor, turn right and go down two flights of stairs. If you would prefer to join Her Grace, turn left, make another left at the next hallway and keep walking until you reach a large grey door.”
“Thank you.”
“If you need any information, just ask the inn. Gertrude Hunt will extend you every possible courtesy.”
Five minutes until summit. I badly needed to go to the bathroom before I got down there.
Sophie brushed the wood of the sword stand with her fingertips. “It all comes full circle, doesn’t it?”
I had no idea what she meant by that, so I listened.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Sophie said. “Do you believe in destiny, Dina?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because six years ago something took my parents. It ripped them out of my life and made them disappear. I can’t believe that after everything they’ve gone through and everything they have done, that would be their destiny. I refuse to let their existence be erased. We make our own choices in life. Our actions shape our lives and we alone are responsible for them.”
“I hope you find them,” Sophie said.
“I will.”
A wallop of magic resonated through the inn and my head. I turned to the wall. “Outer perimeter.”
A container the size of a house sat in the field on the edge of my orchard. A stylized symbol of the Arbitration, the scales with two weights in the balance glowing gently with white, marked it. What now?
“Excuse me,” I said.
“Of course.”
I left Sophie to her own devices and went downstairs.
George met me at the foot of the stairs.
“What are you planning?” I asked, as we turned toward the grand ballroom.
“Just a small demonstration for the public good,” he said. “I am so sorry.”
“You’re apologizing in advance.”
“Yes.”
Never a good sign.
***
We were three hours into the session. The vampires looked mercilessly bored. The merchants gathered in a circle around one of the older foxes, who was explaining something that required waving of paws and twitching of ears. Some of the otrokari abandoned all pretense at politeness and stretched out on the floor. One of the larger older otrokar warriors was snoring. A couple of younger ones watched him, exchanging speculative glances. If they pulled out the interstellar equivalent of a magic marker and started drawing penises on his forehead, I would have to step in.
I should’ve brought a book, except I wouldn’t be able to read it. I had to watch the lot of them. I glanced up to the balcony where Caldenia and Sophie seemed engaged in some entertaining discussion. I wished I could be up there. Anything was better than this boredom.
Magic wailed in my head, emanating from the far side of the orchard. Here we go.
The opaque partition separating the leaders of the factions slid down and George stepped out, his face concerned, the top of his cane glowing. “My sincerest apologies!”
Everyone dropped what they were doing and turned to him.
“Would you care to explain this?” I asked.
“I’m afraid one of our Sentinel guard units is malfunctioning.” George’s face was the definition of apologetic regret.
“You brought a Sentinel unit here?” The Khanum’s eyebrows crept up.
