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.
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 a faint outline of a body.
My muscles locked. My body turned hard, as if I suddenly became steel and I crashed on 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 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.