Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles Book 4) Page 9

  Arland had abandoned her the first chance he got.

  What did you expect? Did you expect he would come and take you by the hand and lead you to a seat at the host table?

  Yes. The answer was yes. Maud didn’t expect it, but she wanted it.

  Stupid.

  It was stupid to hope for something that wouldn’t happen. It was stupid to come here.

  “Mama?” Helen asked.

  They could just go home right now. Go back to Dina. Helen would never be able to join a human school or play with human children, because there was no way to hide the fangs, but all three of them, Klaus, Maud, and Dina, had been homeschooled in the inn, and none of them turned out badly.

  They could just go home, where nobody would belittle them or punch them in the face. Home to the familiar weird of her childhood, before Melizard. Before Karhari.

  But they had come all this way. She had dragged Helen here, because Arland had offered hope for something deeper than Maud had ever hoped for. A part of her rebelled at giving up without a fight. But was this even a fight worth fighting?

  I’ll do one more day. One more day. If it’s all shit at the end of tomorrow, then I’m done.

  “We have some things to do here first.”

  “I liked it at Aunt Dina’s,” Helen said. “I like my room.”

  A short figure turned the corner and was coming toward them, walking upright on furry paws. She was only three and a half feet tall, counting the nearly six-inch lynx ears tipped with tufts. Her fur, full and long like the coat of a mink or a fox, was the color of sand and marked with tiny blue rosettes. Her face was a meld of cat and fox, with a long muzzle and big emerald green eyes that shone slightly when the light caught them just right. She wore a diaphanous apron of pale pink, decorated with black embroidery. Two thin gold hoops twinkled in her left ear.

  “A kitty,” Helen whispered.

  Ha! The universe provided a teaching moment. “No, my flower. That’s a lees. Remember how I told you about hiding your strength? The lees hide their strength. They look cute, but they are dangerous and very cunning.”

  They were also excellent assassins and they would poison their enemies in a heartbeat, but that was a lesson she would deliver a few years down the road.

  “See her little apron? She’s from a Merchant clan. The markings tell you which one. This one is from Clan Nuan. Remember how I told you that Grandpa and Grandma were innkeepers? They would buy things from Clan Nuan, and sometimes they would take me with them. Your grandpa told me to never bargain with a lees unless I absolutely had to. He was right.”

  Helen craned her neck, trying to see better. “At Baha-char?”

  “Yes, my flower. And every time I visited, Nuan Cee, the great Merchant, would give me candy. It was the best candy ever and it wasn’t for sale. He gave me candy because he liked me, but also because he wanted to make a good deal with my parents. It’s hard to bargain with someone who made your child happy.”

  They reached the lees. The little fox glanced at them.

  “Greetings,” Maud said.

  “Greetings,” the fox answered.

  “Please pass our respects to the Honorable Nuan Cee,” Maud said.

  “You know our clan?” the fox asked.

  “Our family has done business with Clan Nuan. My parents were innkeepers. You may know my sister, Dina. She is an innkeeper also.”

  The little fox froze.

  Maud tensed.

  “Dina? We know Dina!”

  The little fox grinned, showing all of her tiny teeth, and hopped in place, bouncing like a balloon filled with excitement. “We know Dina! You come. Come with me now. My uncle twice removed will be so happy. Come, come!”

  “We are—”

  The fox grabbed Helen by her hand. “Come with me now!” She ran down the hallway and Helen dashed with her.

  Just what they needed. Maud sprinted after them. They turned right, then left, then right again, and the fox jumped into the doorway, pulling Helen with her. Maud lunged through and slid to a halt.

  Veils in pastel colors draped the stone of the vampire walls. Soft, luxurious rugs hid the cold floor. Plush furniture, carved from pale wood and so ornate, Louis XIV would’ve turned green with jealousy, offered seating by little tables. Glass and metal bowls sat on the tables, offering fruit, sweets, and little pieces of spicy jerky. A dozen lees chatted, snacked, and played games. In the center of it all, on a six-foot-wide floor pillow stuffed to a three-foot thickness sat Nuan Cee. His silver-blue fur darkened on his back, dappled with golden rosettes, and faded to white on his chest and stomach. He wore a beautiful apron of ethereal silver silk embroidered with Clan Nuan’s sigils, and a necklace of sapphires, each as big as a walnut.

  It was like stepping into a Merchant’s shop. Maud almost pinched herself.

  The little lees ran into the room, pulling Helen with her. “Dina’s sister! And her young!”

  Helen froze.

  Nuan Cee raised his paw-hands in surprise. “Matilda!”

  He remembered her.

  The memories came flooding back. Walking with Mom and Dad through the sunlit streets of Baha-char within a current of shoppers from all over the galaxy, while the galactic bazaar hummed with a million voices. Reaching Nuan Cee’s shop, a cool oasis in the middle of the desert heat, and hearing Nuan Cee’s singsong voice bargaining and chuckling. The taste of ru candy in her mouth. Suddenly she was twelve again. Maud almost cried.

  She started moving before she even realized it.

  Nuan Cee pushed off his pillow and took three steps toward Maud. She barely registered the honor. She reached him and they hugged.

  “There you are, Matilda,” the Merchant said.

  Somehow, she found her voice. “Yes.”

  They broke apart.

  “And who is this?” Nuan Cee widened his turquoise eyes.

  “This is my daughter, Helen.”

  The lees let out a collective squee.

  “She is so cute!”

  “Look at her hair!”

  “Look at her little boots!”

  Helen stood in the whirlwind of lees, looking slightly freaked out, like a cat greeted by a pack of overly enthusiastic little dogs.

  “I am Nuan Nana,” the lees who found them announced. “Come with me. We have the best sweets.”

  Maud hid a smile as the lees dragged Helen to the nearest table and thrust a dish of candy under her nose.

  “Have you seen your sister?” Nuan Cee asked.

  “Yes. She is all grown up.”

  “And an innkeeper!” Nuan Cee raised his hands. “Who would have thought?”

  Maud laughed. It was that or crying.

  “What are you doing here?” Nuan Cee asked.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Come, come.” He led her to a divan by his pillow.

  Someone brought her a glass of sweet wine. Someone else delivered a dish of ru candy. She ate one, savoring the taste melting on her tongue, sweet with a slight touch of sour, but so refreshing; it was as if her whole mouth sang.

  “Tell me all about it,” Nuan Cee said.

  6

  Tell me all about it.

  Oh you clever, clever lees. Maud leaned back and laughed.

  Clan Nuan watched her. For some reason it cracked her up even more. She laughed until she snorted.

  “Did I say something funny?” Nuan Cee inquired.

  Maud managed to get the giggles under control, enough to squeeze out a few words. “How long was Nuan Nana waiting in that hallway for me?”

  The room was suddenly quiet.

  “I mean, it had to be since the beginning of the dinner, since you had no way of knowing if or when I would throw a hissy fit and storm out in a huff. I’ve been wondering since I came through the door why a Merchant of Baha-char, a distinguished guest, wasn’t at dinner. This is so well done, Honorable Nuan Cee. The pillows, the veils, even the candy. Here I am, all alone, a stranger in a strange land, and you’re br
inging back all of my childhood memories. Such a clever, manipulative trap. I’m primed and ready to spill all of my secrets.”

  For a moment the Merchant just stared at her. Then Nuan Cee raised his paw-hands and dramatically rolled his eyes. “You can’t win them all.”

  The lees around them giggled.

  “You’re as ruthless as ever,” Maud said.

  “You flatter me, Matilda,” Nuan Cee said.

  “Are there jammers active in here?” she asked.

  “Please.” Nuan Cee waved his left hand. “Of course there are. We jam the audio, but we do give them the video feed. We have to give them something or they will throw us out.”

  They were being watched, but not heard. Just what she expected. “Did you bug the feast hall?” Maud asked.

  Nuan Cee rocked his head side to side, then grinned. “Yes.”

  Maud chuckled and popped another piece of candy into her mouth.

  “You can’t blame me, though,” Nuan Cee said. “You wield great influence over the Marshal.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Oh please. Arland is besotted with you.”

  “Besotted?”

  “Yes. I’ve used that word correctly. If there was a river of fire and you were on the other side of it, he would strip off his ridiculous armor and swim through the flames to get to you.”

  Maud laughed. “First, the tachi, then you. What is this really about?”

  “I doubt the tachi know about your relationship. They are academics,” Nuan Cee said. “Which does not mean they won’t pounce on you once they know.”

  “What is this about?”

  “Business.” Nuan Cee bared a mouth full of sharp teeth. “And a great deal of money.”

  “I’m listening.”

  He reached over, took a tall glass of some pink liquid from a side table and sipped it. “You have seen the battle station?”

  “I have.”

  “The battle station changed everything. This is now the safest area of space within this quadrant. There are many trade routes that intersect here, or they could, provided there was a safe haven. A place where a spaceship could dock easily without worrying about burning fuel in orbit. A place of trade and commerce.”

  The light went on in Maud’s head. “You want House Krahr to build a space station.”

  “Yes. And I’m trying to give them money for it.”

  “A space station in vampire territory giving access to other species? Dozens of foreign vessels docking in the Holy Anocracy’s system? That has never been done.”

  Maud sipped her pink wine. It tasted like watermelon, strawberry, and sweet grapes rolled into one.

  Nuan Cee groaned. “How can a spacefaring species be so close-minded? They already built the battle station. They have made this expensive thing that can guard the whole of the system. It is sitting there and costing them money. I am proposing something that would bring a huge profit for everyone. There is not a docking station for the non-vampire species anywhere within the quadrant.”

  “Anywhere within the Holy Anocracy’s territory, except for the diplomatic space station near the capital star system, as I recall.”

  “Exactly. Dozens of species desperate for a port facility. They’re hanging there like ripe fruit. All I am asking House Krahr to do is to stand under the tree, open their mouths, and let the bounty fall into them. They could recoup the cost of the battle station within two years.”

  He was right. The space station would earn House Krahr a fortune.

  Nuan Cee moaned in genuine distress. “I do not understand. Do they not want to make money?”

  “Is that why the tachi are here?”

  “Yes. They have an archaeological dig on On-Toru. They have to travel hundreds of light years out of their way around vampire space to get there. A space station here would give them a nearly straight shot to that colony. They’re willing to pay top prices.”

  Maud leaned back. Getting the vampires out of their “by vampires for vampires” mindset would be next to impossible.

  “You know vampires,” Nuan Cee said. “And you have influence with the Marshal.”

  “As I said, my influence doesn’t go that far. Dina told me that you and House Krahr have reached a settlement on Nexus that made all of you rich. You should be the natural ally for the Krahr. If they are resisting you despite all of your shared history, nothing I say would matter. I am a nobody here.”

  “You are Matilda Demille.”

  The family name slashed across her memory.

  How would Mom go about this?

  “Have you noticed how obsessed with defenses they are?” she asked. “As a species, vampires spend more time in armor than out of it. Take this castle, for example. A smaller structure would’ve sufficed, yet here it is, a monstrous castle with impossibly thick walls and enough defenses to hold off an assault by an overwhelming force. I haven’t been under the castle, but I would bet that below us is a network of tunnels burrowing into the mountain, so deep, it would withstand an orbital bombardment. The chances of such an attack happening are exactly zero. You’ve seen their fleet. Arland’s destroyer alone can hold off a small armada. The system is already as protected as it could be, yet they built a battle station on top of it. You’re asking them to allow outsiders into their space, many different outsiders, not just a select few trusted allies. You are forcing them to go against their nature.”

  “I’m offering to make them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams.”

  “They don’t care. It’s not about money.” Maud swirled the wine in her glass and took another sip. “It’s about the Mukama.”

  “I have heard about the Mukama,” Nuan Cee said, his face thoughtful. “But never from a vampire. You are almost a vampire.”

  Maud smiled. “Would you like me to tell you about the Mukama?”

  “Yes. There is a piece missing that I do not understand.”

  “Very well. It goes back to the Law of Bronwyn.” The galaxy had very few universal laws, but the Law of Bronwyn had proven true again and again, so often that it was simply accepted.

  “Once a species is introduced to interstellar spaceflight, it will advance technologically but not socially,” Nuan Cee said.

  Maud nodded. “Yes. Their individual standard of living may drastically improve, their technological progress will continue, but their social construct mostly stays the same. The ability to travel between the stars removes some of the pressure factors known to drive societal change. Once you get interstellar spaceflight, suddenly population density is no longer an issue. Geographical limitations are gone. The competition for natural resources is largely gone, at least in the initial stages. Different splinter groups within the society no longer have to learn to coexist; they can simply move apart from each other.”

  Nuan Cee nodded.

  “Societal change is hard, because a society is made up of individuals. These individuals learn how to be successful in that particular social construct, and they resist change because it threatens their survival. To really implement a change, one must convince the population that their survival as a whole is in doubt unless they alter their course. Because interstellar flight removes a lot of these survival factors, the society in question generally stays as it is once the ability to traverse the stars is achieved. If they were hunter-gatherers, they remain so. If they were a republic, they remain a republic, and so on.”

  “Yes. It is a known fact,” Nuan Cee said.

  “The Mukama invaded the Holy Anocracy when the vampires were in a feudal period. The vampiric society, at that point, consisted of powerful clans led by warrior aristocracy and were bound together by a strong religion. The Mukama must’ve thought the vampires, so technologically behind them, were easy pickings. What do you know of the Mukama?”

  “Not much,” Nuan Cee said. “They were a secretive species and this conflict happened a long time ago.”

  “They were a predatory species,” Maud said. “They didn’t want
the planet. They wanted the vampires themselves, particularly the children. The adults were used as the workforce and the children as a food source. The Mukama found children to be tender and delicious.”

  Nuan Cee grimaced.

  “The vampires retreated to their castles. Reducing castles to rubble would have destroyed all of the lovely meat inside, so the Mukama had to commit to ground assault. It was discovered that the Mukama didn’t do well in narrow enclosed spaces. They were an aerial species. They hunted from above. It was also found that the Mukama’s mass stun weapons didn’t work against a vampire in armor. It was a long war.”

  “How long?” Nuan Cee asked.

  “Almost two decades. At some point, about eight years into the conflict, the main Mukama flotilla lost contact with the orbital fleet dispatched to the vampire planet. It took them another decade or so to wrap up their previous engagements. Finally, they bestirred themselves and went to find out what happened. When they arrived, they found the orbital fleet exactly where it was supposed to be, in the system. The ships were intact and filled with vampires.”

  Maud swirled her wine in her glass and smiled. “Nobody has ever met a Mukama.”

  “No,” Nuan Cee admitted.

  “But here we are, enjoying the fresh air of their home world.”

  Nuan Cee startled.

  “House Krahr was one of the original greater houses,” Maud told him. “They were entrusted with the planet of Daesyn to make sure no Mukama ever breathed its air again.”

  She set her empty glass on the table. A little lees ran up and refilled it.

  “When we started this story, I told you that a stable society is resistant to change. The Holy Anocracy is stable, Honorable Nuan Cee. They won. Why would they change? Their way of life has worked for them for thousands of years. They never stopped building castles or wearing armor; they just make them stronger. They never abandoned their faith, because it sustained them in their darkest hour. They cherish their children, they guard them like their greatest treasure, and they teach them to fight from a young age, because history taught them that children are both precious and vulnerable. Without children, the Holy Anocracy has no future. Above all, the vampires distrust outsiders. Nothing good ever came to them from beyond the stars. You are an outsider fighting against thousands of years of inertia. A single strange bird flying at a massive flock, trying to change its direction. The kind of change you are seeking can only come from within, from someone deeply respected, someone rooted in their society. Neither you nor I have that kind of clout. But I will speak to Arland the next time I see him. If I see him.”