Sweep in Peace

  “Have you heard of Nexus?” George asked.

  “Yes.” I had visited Nexus. It was one of those bizarre places in the Galaxy where reality bent into a pretzel. “But please continue. I would rather have all of the information I need than assume I know something I don’t.”

  “Very well. Nexus is a colloquial name for Onetrikvasth IV, a star system with a single habitable planet.”

  He didn’t stumble over the name. It must’ve taken some practice.

  “I understand that Nexus is what’s called a temporal anomaly. Time flows faster there. A month on Earth is roughly equivalent to over three months on Nexus. However, biological aging proceeds at the same pace.”

  My brother, Klaus, once explained the Nexus paradox to me, complete with formulas. We were trying to find our parents at the time, and the complex explanation had flown right over my head. I chucked it up to magic. The Universe was full of wonders. Some of them would drive you insane if you thought about it too long.

  “Nexus also contains large subterranean reserves of Kuyo, a naturally occurring viscous liquid, which, when refined, is used in production of what my background file calls “pharmaceutical assets of significant strategic value.’”

  “It’s used to manufacture military stimulants,” I said. “They affect a wide variety of species in slightly different ways, but typically they boost strength and speed, while suppressing fatigue and fear. They turn humans into berserkers, for example.”

  George smiled. “I should probably speak plainly.”

  “If you so choose. It would save us some time.”

  “Very well.” George sipped his tea. “Kuyo occurs throughout Galaxy but only in small quantities, which makes Nexus extremely valuable. Currently there are three factions fighting for the control of the planet. Each claims the rights to the entirety of Nexus’ mineral wealth and none are willing to compromise. They’re engaged in a bloody war. It’s been going on for roughly eight years in Earth’s terms and almost twenty years in Nexus’ time. The war is brutal and has cost all sides a great deal. The cooler minds on all sides agree it can’t continue. The matter has been referred for Arbitration by one of the interested factions, the other two agreed, and here we are.”

  “I’m guessing one of the factions are the Merchants?” When we had landed on Nexus, we ended up in a Merchant spaceport. Merchants facilitated trade throughout Galaxy and its many dimensions. When you needed rare goods or a large quantity of goods, you went to see the Merchant. They were motivated by profit and prestige.

  George nodded. “Yes. The war is cutting into their profits.”

  “Which family? The Ama?”

  “The Nuan. The Ama family cut their losses and sold its holdings on Nexus to Nuan two years ago.”

  Suddenly his presence here made a lot of sense. “Is Nuan Cee involved?”

  “Yes. In fact, he was the one who recommended your establishment.”

  Before my parents disappeared, they did a lot of business with Nuan Cee. Running an inn sometimes required exotic goods. Even I had done a deal with Nuan Cee. I’d bartered the world’s rarest honey for the eggs of the deadly giant spider.

  “Your tea is delicious,” George said.

  “Thank you. Who are the other two factions?”

  “House Krahr of Holy Cosmic Anocracy.”

  Six months ago I had sheltered a vampire of House Krahr, after he were injured trying to apprehend an alien assassin. His nephew had come to rescue him. The nephew’s name was Arland, he was the Marshal of his House, and he had flirted with me. At least flirted in vampire terms. He’d assured me that he would be ecstatic to be my shield and I shouldn’t hesitate to rely upon his warrior’s prowess. He also got drunk on coffee and ran through my orchard naked.

  Good God, who could hold the vampires of Krahr off for twenty years? They were one of the most ferocious sentient species in the Galaxy. They were predators, who lived to war. Their entire civilization was dedicated to it.

  “Who is the final faction?”

  George set his cup down. “Otrokar.”

  I blinked.

  Silence stretched.

  “Otrokar? The Hope-crushing Horde?”

  George looked slightly uncomfortable. “That’s the official name, yes.”

  Otrokar were the scourge of the Galaxy. They were huge and violent and they lived to conquer. They’d started with one planet and now they had nine. Their feud with Holy Anocracry was older than anyone cared to remember. Their name literally meant the Hope-crushing, because once you saw them, all of your hopes died.

  Having vampires and Otrokar together in close proximity was like mixing glycerin with nitric acid and then hitting it with a sledgehammer. They would explode. It would be a slaughter.

  I leaned forward. “So you need a neutral venue to hold the Arbitration?”

  “Yes. An inn on Earth is ideal. It is defined as neutral ground and we can rely on an innkeeper’s power to keep the participants in check.”

  “Let me guess: you’ve tried other inns and everyone turned you down. Am I your last stop?”

  George took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  “There was an attempt to broker peace between Otrokar and Holy Cosmic Anocracy,” I said. “About fifty years ago.”

  He braided his long elegant fingers into a single. “Yes, I’m familiar with it.”

  “Then you also know how it ended.”

  “I believe the Patriarch of House Jero lunged at the Otrokar Korum, and Korum beheaded him.”

  “He ripped the Patrirach’s head off with his bare hands and then proceed to beat the Marshall of House Jero to death with it.”

  “Well, it does sound risky when you put it that way…”

  “It’s not risky, it’s suicidal.”

  “Should I take it as a no?” George asked.

  This was a really bad idea.

  “How many people do you expect?”

  “At least twelve from each party.”

  Thirty six guests. My heart sped up. Thirty six guests, each with robust magic. This would sustain the inn for years to come. Not to mention that if I managed to pull it off, it would raise the inn’s standing.

  No, what was I thinking? It would be crazy. I would have to keep peace between thirty six individuals, each dying to kill the other. It would be terrible. The risk… The gamble was too great.

  What did I have to lose?

  George reached into his pocket, produced a small tablet about the size of a playing car and just as thin and showed it to me. Two numbers: $500,000 and $1,000,000.

  “The first is your payment in the event the arbitration fails. The second is payment if we succeed.”

  Five hundred thousand. We needed the money. I could finally upgrade my books. I could buy the additional building materials for the inn.

  No. I might as well set Gertrude Hunt on fire.

  My gaze fell on the portrait of my parents. They were looking at me. Demilles never backed down from a challenge. Neither did they take unnecessary risks.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I could simply sit here and continue to wait for a chance traveler to happen my way…

  “If I do this, I would need you to meet my conditions,” I said.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I want agreements of reimbursement to be drawn up and signed by all parties. I want a sum of money to be set aside in escrow from each faction and placed under Arbiter’s control. If they damage the inn, I want them to pay for the damages.”

  “I find it reasonable.”

  “I need each party to review and sign Earth’s no-disclosure policy. Ordinary citizens of this planet can’t know of their existence. For example, we may experience visits from local law enforcement and I want it expressly understood that nobody will be crushing their necks or ripping off their heads.”

  “Also reasonable.”

  “I may think of some additional restrictions. Do you have any concerns?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” Ge
orge turned and glanced at the modest room. “I mean no disrespect, but your establishment is considerably smaller than I was led to believe. I’m don’t believe we have enough room.”

  I rose. “Have you visited many inns?”

  “No. I haven’t had the pleasure. Yours is my first.”

  I pulled the magic to me. What I was about to do would likely drain most of the inn’s resources and mine. If he walked away from our deal after, it would take us a very long time to recover. But we could get guests, it would be all worth it.

  I picked up my broom. The magic vibrated within me, building and building, held so tight, like a giant spring compressed to its limit. George rose and stood next to me.

  I raised the broom, bristles up, pictured the interior of the inn in my mind, and brought the broom down. Wood connected with floor boards with a dry knock.

  Magic rolled through the inn like an avalanche, the wood and stone suddenly elastic and flowing. The interior of the inn opened, like a blossoming flower. The walls moved apart. The ceiling soared. The magic kept streaming out of me, so fast, I felt light-headed. Polished pink marble, rolled over the floor, sheathed the walls, and surged up, forming stately columns.

  Next to me George stood very still.

  Two story tall windows opened in the marble. I leaned on the broom for support. Vaulted ceiling turned pure white. Crystal chandeliers sprouted like bunches of exquisite blossoms. Golden flourishes spiraled and curved on the floor. Lights flared among the crystal.

  I cut off the magic. The power snapped inside me like an elastic rubber band. I reeled from the impact.

  The Grand Ballroom spread before us, grandiose, elegant, and glowing.

  The Arbiter closed his mouth with a click. “I stand corrected.”

  Chapter 2

  The enormous bolt of faux silk unrolled slowly at my feet, its end disappearing into the marble floor. Beast had barked at it out of principle for about five minutes, until she finally decided that it wasn’t that exciting and went off to explore the vastness of the ballroom. She sniffed at the corners, found a quiet spot, and lay down.

  I would’ve loved nothing more than to join her, except not on the floor but in my nice soft bed. Opening the ballroom drained me. I felt like I had run several miles, but the time line for the peace summit was tight. The Arbiter wanted to get started within forty eight hours, which meant that instead of taking a nap, I stole one of Caldenia’s Mello Yello cans to stay awake, jumped into my car and drove through the rain to rent a truck. I drove the truck to Austin to the largest regional fabric distributor. There I bought the enormous roll of faux silk and another of cotton. That cost me a third of my emergency fund. Next I stopped at a stone and landscaping place and purchased bulk stone. They helped me load it and when I came back, I dumped it in the back yard, where the inn promptly ate it.

  The inn continued to consume the faux silk inch by inch. I valiantly did my best to stay on my feet.

  “Well. This is quite a development.”

  I turned to see Caldenia standing in the doorway. “Your Grace.”

  The older woman slowly stepped into the ballroom. Her gaze slid over the marble floor, columns, and the soaring white ceiling with golden flourishes on it.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “We’re hosting a diplomatic summit.”

  She turned on her foot and looked at me, her eyes sharp. “My dear, don’t tease me.”

  “This roll of faux silk cost me six dollars per yard,” I told her. “Once I purchase food, I will be destitute.

  Caldenia blinked. “Who are the attending parties?”

  “The Holy Anocracy represented by House Krahr, the Hope-crushing Horde, and the Merchants of Baha-char. They coming here for Arbitration and they will probably try to murder each other the moment they walk through the door.”

  Caldenia’s eyes widened. “Do you really think so? This is absolutely marvelous!”

  She would think so, wouldn’t she?

  “Tell me the plan.”

  I sighed and pointed at the eastern wall. I had formed a balcony along the east, west, and south sides of the room. Each balcony terminated too far from its neighbors and was too high to jump from. At least too high in human terms.

  “The otrokar rooms will be up there. They give prayers to sunrise, so they require a view of the morning sun.” I turned and pointed at the opposite wall. “The vampires go there. Their time of reflection begins as sunset ends, so they are in the west.” I pointed at the south wall. “The merchants will reside there. They are a forest species and prefer shady rooms and muted light. Everyone has their separate stairwell. Nobody can enter each other’s quarters. The inn won’t permit it.” I pointed under the north wall, where long windows sliced the wall into sections. “I’m going to put a table there for the leaders to conduct their negotiations.”

  “That’s a well-thought out layout,” Caldenia said. “But why pink marble?” She waved at the ceiling. “Pink marble, white ceiling, golden accents… With the electric lighting it will turn into this ghastly orange.”

  “I had one chance to impress the Arbiter and I had to improvise.”

  Caldenia arched one eyebrow.

  “I saw it in a movie once,” I explained. “It was easy to visualize.”

  “Was it a movie for adults?”

  “It had a talking candelabra who was friends with a grumpy clock.”

  “I see. What about a ballroom from your parents’ inn?”

  I shook my head. I remembered it in excruciating detail, but when I thought about recreating it, my heart squeezed itself into a painful clump. I sighed. “I can make it completely white, if you would prefer.”

  Caldenia’s eyes narrowed. “So the color can be altered?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, not white. White is the safest of choices. Also is memory serves, House Krahr builds their castles with grey stone and you don’t want to show favoritism.”

  “Otrokar favor vibrant colors and ornate decoration,” I said. “They tend toward reds and yellows.”

  “So we must strike a balance between the two. Blue is a soothing color most species find conductive to contemplation. Why don’t we try turquoise?”

  I concentrated. The marble columns turned a deep turquoise.

  “A little more grey. A little darker. Little more… Now can we put lighter streaks through them. Can you fleck it with gold… Perfect.”

  I had to admit, the columns did look beautiful.

  “Let’s take down the gold leaf,” Caldenia instructed. “Elegance is never ostentatious, and there is nothing more bourgeois than covering everything in gold. It screams that one has too much money and too little taste and it infuriates peasants. A palace should convey a sense of power and grandeur. One should enter and be awestruck. I found the awe tends to cut down on revolts.”

  I seriously doubt I’d face any revolts, but if it cut down on the slaughter, I would be quite happy.

  “Gold has its uses but always in moderation,” Caldenia continued. “Did I ever tell you about the Cai Pa? It’s a water world. The entire planet is an ocean and the population lives on giant artificial floating islands. It’s amazing how many people you can stuff into a few square miles. Each of these is ruled by a noble grown rich on pharmaceutical trade and underwater mining. Space is at a premium, so of course, the fools build elaborate palaces. I had a cause to attend a meeting in one of those monstrosities. They have these underwater algae forests, quite beautiful, actually, if you are into that sort of thing. The entirety of the palace walls was covered in algae cast in gold. There was not a single clear spot on the walls or the ceiling that didn’t have some sort of flourish or a flower in gold or some other garish color like scarlet. And between the algae there were portraits of the host and his family with jewels instead of eyes.”

  “Jewels?”

  Caldenia paused and looked at me. “Jewels, Dina. It looked ghastly. After ten minutes in the place, I felt like my eyes were u
nder assault by an interstellar dreadnought. It was making me physically ill.”

  “Some people simply live to prove to the others that they have more,” I said.

  “Indeed. I lasted a single day and when I departed, the host had the audacity to claim I had insulted his family. I would’ve poisoned the lot, but I couldn’t stand to be in the building for another moment.”

  Her Grace raised her arms. “This is your ballroom, dear. Your space. The heart of your small palace. The sky is the limit, as they say. Abandon conventions. Forget the palaces of your world. Forget your parents’ inn or any other inn. Use your imagination and make it your own. Make it glorious.”

  The sky is the limit… I closed my eyes and opened my mind. The inn shifted around me, its magic responding. My power flowed from me and I let it expand and grow, unfurl like a flower.

  “Dina…” Caldenia murmured next to me, her voice stunned.

  I opened my eyes. Gone was pink marble, the gold leaf, and the crystal chandeliers. Only three windows, all in north wall, remained. A glorious night sky spread across the dark walls and the ceiling, endless and beautiful, the light patina of lavender, green and blue forming gossamer nebulae dotted with tiny flecks of stars. It was the kind of sky that called space pirates to their ships. Long vines spiraled around the turquoise columns that supported the balconies and delicate glass flowers glowed with white and yellow. The floor was polished white marble, inlaid with a rich mosaic in a dozen shades from black and indigo to an electric blue and gold, stretching to the center, where a stylized image of Gertrude Hunt decorated the floor, circled by a depiction of my broom.

  I looked up. Above it all three enormous light fixtures came on, each a complex constellation of glowing orbs bathing the room in bright light. I smiled.

  “Now that is what I call awe,” Caldenia quietly said next to me.

  The magic chimed in my head. I opened my eyes. Ten past midnight. A little early for the summit, which was supposed to start tomorrow evening.

  I swung my feet out of the bed. I’d gotten an hour of sleep. My head felt too heavy for my neck. I couldn’t remember the last time I worked so hard. I still wasn’t sure if the pits in the otrokar rooms were low enough. There was some sort of sacred proportion between the central “pit” area and the height of the plush circular couches around it. I’d consulted my guides and made them to the exact specifications listed, but my gut told me the height was off. It just didn’t look right, so I spent the last thirty minutes of my day lowering and raising the wooden makeshift couches before I had the inn make them in stone. It would all be worth it.