Rustic modern. I had no idea why I went that way, but it felt right.
I turned to Sophie and almost stepped back. She looked shocked.
Damn it, she hated it. What was I thinking? Mixing pine and cypress, it didn’t even make sense…
“Would you like a different room?”
“No,” Sophie said quietly. “No, this is perfect.”
The floor parted and her bag surfaced.
“As part of the Arbiter’s personnel, you have access to most of the inn,” I said. “If you would like to join us on the main floor, turn right and go down two flights of stairs. If you would prefer to join Her Grace, turn left, make another left at the next hallway and keep walking until you reach a large grey door.”
“Thank you.”
“If you need any information, just ask the inn. Gertrude Hunt will extend you every possible courtesy.”
Five minutes until summit. I badly needed to go to the bathroom before I got down there.
Sophie brushed the wood of the sword stand with her fingertips. “It all comes full circle, doesn’t it?”
I had no idea what she meant by that, so I listened.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Sophie said. “Do you believe in destiny, Dina?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because six years ago something took my parents. It ripped them out of my life and made them disappear. I can’t believe that after everything they’ve gone through and everything they have done, that would be their destiny. I refuse to let their existence be erased. We make our own choices in life. Our actions shape our lives and we alone are responsible for them.”
“I hope you find them,” Sophie said.
“I will.”
A wallop of magic resonated through the inn and my head. I turned to the wall. “Outer perimeter.”
A container the size of a house sat in the field on the edge of my orchard. A stylized symbol of the Arbitration, the scales with two weights in the balance glowing gently with white, marked it. What now?
“Excuse me,” I said.
“Of course.”
I left Sophie to her own devices and went downstairs.
George met me at the foot of the stairs.
“What are you planning?” I asked, as we turned toward the grand ballroom.
“Just a small demonstration for the public good,” he said. “I am so sorry.”
“You’re apologizing in advance.”
“Yes.”
Never a good sign.
***
We were three hours into the session. The vampires looked mercilessly bored. The merchants gathered in a circle around one of the older foxes, who was explaining something that required waving of paws and twitching of ears. Some of the otrokari abandoned all pretense at politeness and stretched out on the floor. One of the larger older otrokar warriors was snoring. A couple of younger ones watched him, exchanging speculative glances. If they pulled out the interstellar equivalent of a magic marker and started drawing penises on his forehead, I would have to step in.
I should’ve brought a book, except I wouldn’t be able to read it. I had to watch the lot of them. I glanced up to the balcony where Caldenia and Sophie seemed engaged in some entertaining discussion. I wished I could be up there. Anything was better than this boredom.
Magic wailed in my head, emanating from the far side of the orchard. Here we go.
The opaque partition separating the leaders of the factions slid down and George stepped out, his face concerned, the top of his cane glowing. “My sincerest apologies!”
Everyone dropped what they were doing and turned to him.
“Would you care to explain this?” I asked.
“I’m afraid one of our Sentinel guard units is malfunctioning.” George’s face was the definition of apologetic regret.
“You brought a Sentinel unit here?” The Khanum’s eyebrows crept up.
“Only for emergencies, I assure you.” George turned to me. “Could I trouble you for a visual?”
I turned to the left wall. “Visual of the orchard, please.”
The wall glowed, presenting the image of the orchard. The Arbiter’s container lay shattered. A wide strip of plowed earth cut through the field, veering to the brush, where trees lay snapped. The sound of wood snapping echoed through the ballroom. A dark blur dashed behind the trees, dirt flew, and a huge metal contraption shot into the open. It looked like three complex frames of black metal, each a foot thick and bearing armored panels revolving over each other, all anchored by a glowing blue ball in the center about six feet wide. The Sentinel hovered in place for a brief second. Bladed chains shot out of it. The Sentinel spun like a dervish, the blades barely three feet from the nearest apple trees.
No. He wouldn’t dare.
Two feet. George gave me an apologetic smile.
The blade chipped the bark. No, no, no…
The Sentinel veered left. The blade passed cleanly through the apple trunk.
He didn’t.
The tree collapsed with an ear-splitting crack.
He was out of his mind. “Lord Camarine,” I growled.