“What is it?” I asked her.
She brushed at her blue and-cream-fur with her paw. “Tan-tan is feeling poorly.”
The donkey-camel looked at her with big dark eyes.
“Is she sick?”
“No. She is just old.” Nuan Sama sighed. “This is her last trip I think. I come and visit her when I can, but she is… Sometimes creatures just get old.”
“Is there anything I can do to make it easier on her?”
“Could you increase the oxygen in the stables?” Nuan Sama looked up at me.
I couldn’t fix anything else, but at the very least I could fix that. “Would twenty-three percent do?”
“That would be perfect. Thank you! It will let her breathe easier.”
“Done.” I made someone’s day better. Today wasn’t a complete loss.
The inn chimed again. The otrokars were really persistent. I called up a screen in the nearest wall. Dagorkun’s face filled it.
“The Khanum asks you to share her morning tea.”
I didn’t want to share tea. I didn’t want to play politics or be smart. I just wanted to go to the kitchen and get a cup of coffee. I would need backup. “Thank you. I will be right up.”
I waved at the screen, calling up the covered balcony where Caldenia liked to have her breakfast. Her Grace was in her favorite chair, impeccably dressed in a complicated cobalt hybrid of a dress and a kimono embroidered with gold and red flowers.
“Good morning, Your Grace. Would you mind accompanying me to Khanum’s morning tea?”
“Of course not. I will be right down.”
I dismissed the screen and left the stables to meet Caldenia by the stairs.
The otrokars’ quarters were unusually quiet. A somber-faced Dagorkun led Caldenia and me to the balcony once again and stood behind his mother, who sat in her robe on the bright pillows. This time a flame burned in the circular fire pit, sending up a cloud of spicy smoke. I recognized the scent—jeva grass. The otrokars burned it for good luck before a long journey. The Khanum stared into the flames, her eyebrows furrowed. She didn’t acknowledge Caldenia’s presence.
I took a seat on the circular couch. “Are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow evening,”
“Why?”
“The peace negotiations have failed.” The Khanum narrowed her eyes. “There can be no peace now.”
“I don’t understand,” I said gently. “What changed?”
“We were embarrassed and humiliated.”
So were the vampires, but pointing it out in quite those words wouldn’t be the best strategy. “The Holy Anocracy struck the first blow.”
The Khanum sighed. “Yes, but now we are both in a position of weakness. We are here.” She raised her hand, holding her palm parallel to the ground. “The Merchants are here.” She raised her other palm a few inches higher.
“The Merchants want peace. Without peace, there is no profit.”
“It’s not that simple,” Dagorkun said.
“We are a democracy,” the Khanum said. “The men and women who are here are all distinguished warriors. They are the best seeds of the crop, and they lead specific factions within the Horde. Had the peace treaty been ratified, each otrokar would’ve added the weight and value of his or her reputation to it. It is their reputations and their honor that would’ve made our agreement binding. My people were given a simple order: to never initiate violence while they are under your roof. Ruah disobeyed it. It reflects badly on his commanding officer. On me.”
Dagorkun winced.
“I came here to negotiate, and I was unable to control the people under my command. Because of this happening, we, as a delegation, are no longer united. A decision of peace, a decision of great gravity and significance, must be unanimously approved. And now, since my honor has been tarnished, I would need that unanimous vote more than ever. Without a united vote, the treaty will hold no weight with the rest of the Horde.”
A male otrokar approached us, carrying a platter with a pot of tea and four cups. He placed it on the table, inclined his head, and left. Dagorkun poured the dark red liquid into the cups. The Khanum watched him, her face impassive. She had wanted the peace treaty to succeed so much. My heart was breaking for her.
“Is there any hope for peace? Any at all?” I asked softly.
She shook her head.
“I don’t like debts,” the Khanum stated, her voice flat. “So before we go, I would ask that you name the price of our restitution for our transgression.”
I sipped my tea.
A puff of mist erupted from the floor of the balcony and within it for a briefest of moments I saw the faint outline of the phantom thief’s body.
My muscles locked. My body turned hard, as if I’d suddenly become steel, and I crashed onto the floor. The air vanished. I struggled to inhale and couldn’t. My lungs sat in my chest like two boulders, unable to expand.
“Dina!” Caldenia lunged to me.
I couldn’t look at her. My eyes wouldn’t move.
Poison… I’ve been poisoned.
The inn screamed, its wood creaking and groaning, reaching for me. I shoved at it with my magic. No! If it touched me, the poison would spread. I couldn’t kill Gertrude Hunt.
“You poisoned her!” Caldenia snarled, her sharp teeth rending the air.
Breathe, breathe, breathe… My body refused to respond.
I’m dying…
The balcony parted under me. I fell through it, down, and landed on the table in the kitchen, right between George, Sophie, and Jack. Pain slapped my rigid back. Above me, through the hole in the fabric of existence, Caldenia screamed, “She’s been poisoned!”
“Dina!” Sophie cried out.
I saw Turan Adin. He was there and then he vanished.
I couldn’t even gasp. My mouth wouldn’t move.
George’s face, pale, his eyes wide open, swung into my view. The tip of his cane was glowing, projecting information in front of it, scrolling with dizzying speed.
Not enough air…
“Not again!” Orro howled. “No, no, no…”
“Fix this,” Sophie ground out through her teeth. “Fix it now, George. This is going too far.”
“I can’t. This wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Do something!”
“I’m trying,” George growled. “The database doesn’t know this poison.”
This is it, flashed in my head. This is how I am going to die.
The inn wavered around me, warping, its roots stretching to me.
No!
“The inn can heal,” Caldenia called out. “Let it heal her!”
“No,” George barked. “If the inn forges a connection with her, the poison can spread.”
Thank you. Thank you for looking out for Gertrude Hunt.
I sent my magic out, letting it brush the walls. I love you. You are the best. You will be okay.
Wood snapped, cracking, as if something within the inn tore itself apart.
Shhhh. It will be okay. You will be okay.
I wish I could’ve found my parents. I wish I could have seen Sean one last time…
The light was fading. I couldn’t even close my eyes. I would die with them open.
Turan Adin filled my view. Nuan Cee’s furry muzzle appeared near me.
“I have your word?” the Merchant said.
All went black.
Chapter Fourteen
I opened my eyes.
The room was dim, the light soft and muted, coming from the setting sun. The ceiling looked familiar. I was lying on the couch in the front room. And I was still alive.
I inhaled deeply and felt my chest rise, then fall. The air flooded my lungs, so sweet. Such an easy, small movement. I would never again take it for granted. I sent my magic out. It whispered through the rooms, testing the connection, and Gertrude Hunt sighed in relief.