It sounded like hell.
“That was good,” Ruga said.
“Thank you,” Odalon said.
“We’ve become hopelessly civilized,” Ruga said. “We are not suited for that kind of war. I don’t think our ancestors were even suited for it. They died much easier than we do, so a single long battle could decide the course of war. It takes a lot more damage to kill one of us now, so every evening all those who are still breathing end up in recuperative tanks, and a few days later, they are back out again. Endless battle. Endless war.”
“Endless suffering.” Now I understood why Arland’s face changed when he mentioned it.
“Yes,” Ruga said. “And now there is no hope for peace.”
“I wouldn’t say no hope,” Odalon said. “That is rather bleak.”
“Your people attacked the Merchants and my people attacked the Arbitrator.” Ruga sighed. “Mark my words: this is the beginning of the end.”
We were walking back from the landing field, when Turan Adin jumped off his balcony. He did it very casually, as if clearing the thirty foot drop was like stepping down the stairs. The vampire and the otrokar at my side went for their weapons.
“May I walk with you?” he asked me in his quiet, snarl-tinted voice.
“Of course.” I looked at the two clergymen. “Please excuse us.”
Odalon and Ruga hesitated for a long moment. “As you wish,” Odalon said finally. “We will go on ahead.”
They walked on. I waited until they were a short distance ahead and turned to Turan Adin. “Was there something specific you wanted to discuss?”
“No.”
Maybe he just wanted some company. “I was going to take a few minutes and sit in my favorite spot to collect myself. Would you like to join me?”
He nodded.
I led him to the left, past the apple trees to an old overgrown hedge. I made my way through a narrow gap and waited for him. A small pond sat in the horseshoe clearing bordered by the hedge. Lily pads floated on the surface, and two large koi, one orange, one white with red spots, gently moved through the shallow water. A small wooden bench waited by the pond. I sat on one end. He sat on the other.
We sat quietly and watched the koi.
“Did you make this?” he asked.
“Yes. When I was growing up, my job was to tend the gardens. It’s harder here, in Texas, because of the water restrictions, but the inn collects rainwater.”
“It’s nice,” he said.
“Thank you. I’m hoping to work on this more in the summer. Make it a little bigger. Maybe plant some flowers over there and put a hammock up so I can come here with my book and read…”
He jumped off the bench and left. One moment he was there, and the next I was alone. I felt him moving back to the inn, inhumanly fast. He had jumped up, scaled the wall, gotten up to his balcony and disappeared into his rooms.
What did I say?
I sat by myself for another minute or two. The serenity I was looking for refused to come.
The inn chimed. The otrokari were trying to get my attention from their quarters and something was happening in the stables.
I sighed, got up, and headed for the stables. Inside Nuan Sama, Nuan Cee’s niece, who had helped Hardwir to repair Officer Marais’ car, crouched by one of the donkey-camel beasts. Jack sat on the bench, watching her. At Nuan Cee’s request, I had given her clearance to come to the stables every day to tend to the animals. Usually either Jack or Gaston escorted her.
“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 otrokari 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 into 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 went to meet Caldenia by the stairs.
***
The otrokari 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 otrokari 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.