“Odalon!” Robart called.

“I’m going to pray.” Odalon said, pronouncing each word with crisp exactness. “I’m going to pray for me, for this gathering, and most of all for you, and hope for mercy or we’ll all end up on the icy plains of Nothing.”

He walked out.

Lady Isur faced Robart. “Your passion does you credit, but take care. Do not permit your grief to blind you into being used.”

Robart shook his head and left.

Lady Isur looked at me. I looked back at her.

She exhaled. “He is a demon on the battle field.”

“Lord Robart?”

She nodded. “However, he badly needs a woman with a cool head to channel all that fire before it leads him astray.”

She walked away as well, leaving me standing by the exit. Well. I suppose it could’ve gone worse.

I left the Holy Anocracy’s quarters and paused to open a screen to George, mentally preparing myself for a no.

The Arbiter sat on the couch. My new cat sat next to him, looking very regal. I wonder how he got into George’s quarters.

“I find their terms agreeable,” George said.

What? “Why?”

That “why” slipped out before I could catch it.

“Because, as I suspected, the greatest impediment to these negotiations is the House Meer. I want to meet my opposition out in the open, assess them, and dismantle them before they can do further damage.”

For a soft-spoken, seemingly mild man, George could be chillingly cold-blooded I decided as I walked to the Clan Nuan’s quarters. The Merchant of Baha-char met me in his common room, where he reclined on a divan. As I outlined my proposal, the kitten ran out of the side room, followed by a group of Nuan Cee’s relatives in brightly colored clothes.

“Why do you think the summit is failing?” Nuan Cee asked me.

“It’s not my place to offer an opinion.”

“I insist.”

“It’s failing because among the three of you, none understands how the people from the other factions feel,” I told him honestly. “If you only knew the true price each of you is paying for the war, you would agree to end it.”

Nuan Cee sighed, watching as the kitten ran back and forth, while his clan collectively tripped over their feet in a comical fashion. “I fear you’re right. What concessions were made to the Holy Anocracy?”

“They asked to have guests for the banquet following the rite.”

The kitten stood up on her hind legs and batted her paws at the leading fox. He made a grab for it, and the tiny best dashed to the side and climbed the curtains. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t giggle. After being in the presence of four upset vampires roaring at the top of their lungs, this was almost too much to take.

“How many guests?”

“Three.”

“I am inclined to be generous.”

Out of the mouth of a Merchant, there were no more dangerous words.

Nuan Cee toyed with the tassel on the corner of his pillow. “I will also add a guest. Just one. An employee.”

“Is there anything else?” That was too easy.

“No.”

“I will relay your terms to the Arbiter.”

“Thank you.”

I carefully picked my way through the room, trying to avoid the kitten-chasing mob. After allowing three guests for the Holy Anocracy, George had no reason to deny what looked like a modest request from Nuan Cee. The Fall celebrations were going forward. The Khanum should be pleased. And if I could make just a little bit easier for her, I had to try.

Here is hoping I hadn’t completely ruined this peace summit by my meddling.

Chapter 11

Orro raised his head to the sky, opened his mouth, and let out what could only be described as a primal yell. Since he was holding a butcher knife in one hand and a sharpening stick in the other, the effect was very dramatic.

I waited.

“Is he always like this?” Gaston asked me quietly.

“I think so.”

Orro stood frozen, seemingly lost to his despair.

I counted in my head. One, two, three…

Orro turned to me, his eyes intense. “How long?”

“You have to delay the banquet for an hour to allow for the otrokari celebration,” I said.

“One? Hour?”

“Yes.”

Orro swung his stick and knife. “I have fish. Delicate fish. I have soufflé. I have… I can do one hour. But no more!” He waved the knife for emphasis. “No more. Not one minute, not one second, not one nanosecond, not one attosecond more.”

“Thank you.”

I walked into the front room, Gaston followed me.

The Arbiter’s delegation had, for some reason, decided to appropriate my front room despite the perfectly adequate space in their quarters. George was absorbed in his reader. Jack and Lark were playing chess. Given that I was terrible at chess, I had no idea who was winning. Her Grace had artfully arranged herself in a chair by the window and indulged in a cup of hibiscus tea and her tablet. Judging by the small smile on her lips, Caldenia was reading something with a lot of smut or a lot of murder.

“Attosecond?” Gaston asked.

“I’m guessing it’s a very, very small fraction of a second,” I said.

“One quintillionth of a second,” George said, without raising his head from his reader.

Jack pondered him. “Have you started memorizing random crap again to amuse yourself?”