“How can you invite House Meer? The seek destruction of my House!” Arland snarled. “Of both of our Houses!”

“They are the true patriots!” Robart shot back.

“They are cowards. They refused to fight on Nexus, so we would be weakened and they could pick over our bleeding carcasses. How can you consort with cowards? They have been excommunicated.”

“This is just getting better and better.” Odalon shook his head in horror. “One wants to have a pagan ceremony, the other invites the excommunicated to it. Has everyone lost their minds?”

Robart stood his ground. “House Meer sacrificed their honor for all of our sake.”

“So help me, I will strangle him.” Arland clenched his fists.

Lady Isur stepped between them.

“Explain it to me,” Arland shot over her. “Explain to me how those sniveling worms have our best interests at heart while we are getting ready to spill our blood in their place.”

“This rotation does nothing except drain our blood,” Robart said, emotion clear on his face. “I wish I could make you see. Only a concerted offensive can end this war. We must throw all our might into it.”

Arland shook his head. “And you suppose our Kair, Dui La Kingdoms, and the Harat will just stand by and wait at our borders patiently, like docile livestock, while we do this? Or have you signed some peace treaties on behalf of the Anocracy when I wasn’t looking?”

“How can you be so dense?” Robart growled. “Do you not understand that we must reject the Hierophant’s directive and abandon the Warlor…”

“Stop!” Odalon thrust his hammer against Robart’s chest. “Stop, Lord Marshal, before you add treason to your heresy.”

“I withdraw my consent to the celebration,” Arland said, his eyes dark.

“You can’t. You’ve given your word.” Robart smiled at Arland and Isur. “You both have given your word.”

Arland bared his teeth.

“Any time!” Robart pushed forward.

“Enough!” Lady Isur barked. “You may be Marshals but I’m the Bitch of Eskar. Do not make me show you how I earned my name.”

Robart took a step back.

Arland turned and stormed out of the room.

The Battle Chaplain turned to leave as well.

“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.