“This is marvelous,” Caldenia said. “Press that lever and you can wrench her heart right out. You couldn’t ask for a better weakness. You should take me to all your talks. They are so entertaining.”
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.