“Does he do this kind of thing a lot?” Tony asked.
“Define ‘a lot.’”
“I’m sorry,” Tony said. “This must be very stressful.”
“Not as stressful at it is for the pirates inside. He is slaughtering them in there.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Tony said.
“I know. Thank you for caring. It is stressful, but I picked him, and I have no regrets.”
We sat quietly for a few moments. The cruiser was almost completely submerged now. Only a corner of the hull protruded above the waves. The sea around the wreck churned, as the local wildlife realized there were delicious meaty bits inside.
Sean was a good swimmer. I held on to that thought like a life preserver.
“I spoke to my dad,” Tony said. “We are more popular than the Super Bowl. Everyone is watching.”
There would be more excitement tomorrow. “Did he have any advice?”
“He says we’re doing great. He’s surprised we haven’t killed a Dushegub yet.”
It had become my personal goal to get through this mess without losing any of the guests while they were on the inn’s grounds, Dushegubs included.
“Two more challenges left,” Tony said.
“Yes.” The talent challenge was next. “Do you think he will hand out roses tomorrow at the elimination ceremony?”
Tony cracked a smile. “We can only hope.”
A bright red flash announced another explosion. I sighed.
“Do you want me to go help him?” Tony asked.
I shook my head. “It’s a matter of trust. I have to trust that Sean wouldn’t take on anything he couldn’t handle.”
Tony nodded, rose, patted my shoulder, and walked away.
Five minutes later I dropped the void field and watched human Sean climb up onto the balcony. He was wet from head to toe, but otherwise uninjured. He straightened and grinned. I put my arms around his dripping body and kissed him. His face was cold, but his lips were warm, and he tasted just as I remembered. He squeezed me to him. Gorvar whined, circling around us.
“Sorry,” Sean breathed into my ear.
“That wasn’t cool.”
“It was a little bit cool.”
“No.”
“Admit it, you were impressed.”
I shook my head.
He laughed and there was no better sound.
19
When we last left our fearsome innkeeper duo, Sean had taken down the pirate vessel that attacked the inn’s branch reaching out to the planet of Kolinda. But mysteries remain: how did they know that Gertrude Hunt had a door leading to the planet and where it was? What was their motive? Who is the pirate prince masquerading as one of the candidates? Stay tuned to find out. Maybe.
I opened my eyes. The slanted ceiling above me was shrouded in gloom except for a narrow rectangle of moonlight coming through the top of the window. The clock on the wall told me it was just past one. We’d gone to bed thirty minutes ago, after locking everyone in.
“What is it?” Sean asked.
“Caldenia.”
There was a tiny pause as he checked where she was. “How the hell…？”
“Gaston or Tony.”
My money was on Gaston. I had given both of them temporary privileges to open doors to guest quarters, because we needed all of the manpower we could get, and they ended up escorting various groups of guests back and forth. As the first, the longest, and the most special guest of the inn, Caldenia had access to all common areas and could roam freely, but it would have taken either Gaston or Tony to unlock the doors to the otrokar delegation’s quarters and let her in there.
I got up. “She’s been in there for twenty minutes. I’m going to get her.”
“I’ll go.”
“I’ve got it.” I leaned over and kissed him. “Rest. You’ve done plenty. I need to talk to her anyway.”
“We should lock her in,” he grumbled.
“She would be mortally offended.”
I got up, took my robe off the hook, and slipped it on. Nobody needed to know that I was wearing only underwear and a tank top underneath. Finding my sandals seemed too hard, so I stuck my feet into a pair of flowery Crocs Sean kept making fun of, took my broom, and headed to the otrokar section.
I had made the otrokar quarters for the peace summit that freed Sean from being Turan Adin. At the time, it housed the Khanum, who was Dagorkun’s mother, and her delegation. All otrokar tribes had similar requirements: private bedrooms for the leaders and the shaman, communal bedrooms for the warriors, a large common area with a sunken fire pit, and a secondary meeting area with another fire pit, where the leaders could hold private meetings. Tailoring the rooms to the current otrokar delegation took ten minutes. I had adjusted the colors to reflect the Southern sensibilities, added another bedroom, and called it a day.
At this time of night most of the otrokars would be in the common area, probably playing dice or telling stories before going to sleep. The Hope Crushing Horde had robust oral traditions, born at the time when their nomadic tribes traversed their homeworld following the seasonal rains. They would ride their vicious savok mounts all day and then camp, cook their food by the fire, and recount stories of heroes from long-gone ages.
The modern Horde warriors rarely grilled their meals over an open flame, although they tried to do it every chance they got, and the skies above them usually shone with unfamiliar stars, but some traditions remained sacred. The same stories that had once echoed over the plains of the ancestral planet were now told in the hulls of massive spaceships on the way to their next interstellar conquest.
I swept the quarters with my senses. As expected, most of the group was in the common area, but two beings chose a more private setting, on the balcony overlooking the orchard. One of them was Caldenia. The other was…Surkar, the otrokar’s spousal candidate.
I approached from the orchard side. I had put a barrier in place, so the otrokars could view the orchard, but they couldn’t jump down into it. I had no such limitations. The barrier slid over me like it wasn’t even there, and I paused in the shadows, directly under the stone balcony. I had gotten poisoned on this balcony and almost died, and then Sean had sold himself into eternal servitude to the Merchants to save me. Fun times.
A fire burned in the pit above me. The inn had a strained relationship with fire, and it was acutely aware of the small knot of heat and flames. The night breeze brought a faint scent of red tea. The Khanum preferred wanla, a stronger, coarser version she’d called “poor people’s tea,” but this smelled like a more refined, expensive variety.
Caldenia was talking in a low voice. The last time she had used that tone, a Draziri warrior betrayed his commander and tried to murder him in the middle of the battle.
Gertrude Hunt offered me a branch. I stepped on it and the inn lifted me up, dissolving the seemingly solid stone above my head. I rose out of the balcony like a wraith.
The balcony had no lamps. The illumination came from the fire pit and the soft light of the common room behind it. Her Grace sat half in shadow, flames dancing over her face, and sipped her tea from an ornate clay cup. She had abandoned the elaborate evening gowns in favor of her Earth clothes: a pair of gray jeans, white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket, which was entirely too warm considering the lingering heat.