“Might I trouble you for those coordinates?” George asked.
She raised her hand. A small display ignited on the inside of her wrist. Alien marks dashed across it in pale red.
“Thank you, Lady Isur,” George said. “Let the record show that Arland of Krahr presented the correct set of coordinates to the Houses. Lord Robart, did you enter incorrect coordinates by mistake?”
“We are the knights of the Holy Anocracy,” Lord Robart answered. “We do not slink through the back door. We do not follow the otrokar.”
“I see,” George said. “And you’ve made this decision on your own?”
“I am a Marshall of a Vampire House,” Lord Robart snarled. “I don’t answer to the likes of you.”
George smiled. “Fair enough, although you have already answered my first question, so the impact of your gesture is somewhat diluted. Very well then.” He raised his hand. A scroll appeared in it as if by magic. He let it unroll. A brilliant red symbol of the Holy Pyramid blazed in the middle of it. The vampires knelt as one and I saw Caldenia sitting in a chair, sipping her cup of tea, a small amused smile bending her lips.
“This is a Holy Writ granted to me by His Brilliance, the Hierophant,” George said.
He had a holy writ from the religious leader of the Holy Cosmic Anocracy. Wow. He just unleashed the equivalent of a nuclear bomb.
“This writ grants me the power of life and death over every single one of you,” George said. “I may kill any of you at any time without reason or fear of retribution. To defy me is to defy the Hierophant. Should you choose to do so, you will be excommunicated. Upon your death, your soul will be turned away from Paradise, forced to wander the lifeless icy plains of Nothing, where no sun shines upon you, no animal crosses your path, and no sound interrupts the silence. Have I made myself clear?”
“Crystal clear,” Lady Isur said, her head still bowed.
George rolled the scroll and slid it into his sleeve. “Rise.”
The vampires rose.
George looked at me. “Dina, you may release the Marshalls.”
I let both vampire rise from the floor. Neither of them spoke. The room was absolutely silent. You could hear a pin drop. George had their complete attention.
“This Galaxy’s interactions with Earth are governed by a Treaty of the Cosmic Senate,” George said. “Lady Dina, what is the most important provision in it?”
“The existence of other intelligent life in the Galaxy must remain secret,” I answered.
“What is the punishment for breaking this provision?”
“Banishment,” I said.
Lord Robart locked his teeth.
“Would House Vorga suffer consequences if Lord Robart’s transgression became public?”
“Yes. His House would be dishonored and banned from Earth.”
A couple of vampires winced. Earth was a vital waypoint. Losing access to it meant House Vorga would be severely impaired in their travel. Other Houses would happily take advantage of that.
“Lord Robart of House Vorga,” George said. “I don’t believe in starting these peace negotiations with blood. Nor do I feel House Vorga should suffer penalties for what was likely a transgression resulting from pride rather than malice. However, your actions nearly compromised this summit and atonement must be made for us to proceed. Lady Dina, do you recall the demonstration you provided earlier? If you could open that door one more time, please.”
Making George angry was a really, really bad idea. I pushed with my magic. The back wall dissolved. I faced the far wall and pushed with my magic. The wood fell apart, melting into nothing, revealing the endless orange sea under the grey sky. In the distance ragged dark crags pierced the water under the broken necklace of red planets glowing gently in the sky. The salty breeze washed over us and the planet exhaled in my face.
A body sliced through the orange water, thick, scaly, and crowned with a long ridged fin. Its coils kept going and going, sliding and coiling under the surface.
George looked at Lord Robart. “One hour, Marshall. We will postpone formal introductions until your return.”
The vampire raised his head.
If he stepped into that water, his armor would be too heavy. He would be too slow. He would drown. To go into that water at all was suicide.
Lord Robart bared his fangs.
They wore their armor as if it were their second skin. He would never…
Lord Robart unsheathed a short brutal axe and clasped the House crest on his armor. The black metal fractured, falling off him, leaving him standing in a plain black bodysuit. He stepped out of his boots, primed his axe with a flick of his wrist, and jumped into the water. It came up to his chest.
“Seal the doorway, please,” George said.