He nodded.

I led him to the left, past the apple trees to an old overgrown hedge. I made my way through a narrow gap and waited for him. A small pond sat in the horseshoe clearing bordered by the hedge. Lily pads floated on the surface, and two large koi, one orange, one white with red spots, gently moved through the shallow water. A small wooden bench waited by the pond. I sat on one end. He sat on the other.

We sat quietly and watched the koi.

“Did you make this?” he asked.

“Yes. When I was growing up, my job was to tend the gardens. It’s harder here, in Texas, because of the water restrictions, but the inn collects rainwater.”

“It’s nice,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m hoping to work on this more in the summer. Make it a little bigger. Maybe plant some flowers over there and put a hammock up so I can come here with my book and read…”

He jumped off the bench and left. One moment he was there, and the next I was alone. I felt him moving back to the inn, inhumanly fast. He had jumped up, scaled the wall, gotten up to his balcony and disappeared into his rooms.

What did I say?

I sat by myself for another minute or two. The serenity I was looking for refused to come.

The inn chimed. The otrokari were trying to get my attention from their quarters and something was happening in the stables.

I sighed, got up, and headed for the stables. Inside Nuan Sama, Nuan Cee’s niece, who had helped Hardwir to repair Officer Marais’ car, crouched by one of the donkey-camel beasts. Jack sat on the bench, watching her. At Nuan Cee’s request, I had given her clearance to come to the stables every day to tend to the animals. Usually either Jack or Gaston escorted her.

“What is it?” I asked her.

She brushed at her blue and cream fur with her paw. “Tan-tan is feeling poorly.”

The donkey-camel looked at her with big dark eyes.

“Is she sick?”

“No. She is just old.” Nuan Sama sighed. “This is her last trip, I think. I come and visit her when I can, but she is… Sometimes creatures just get old.”

“Is there anything I can do to make it easier on her?”

“Could you increase the oxygen in the stables?” Nuan Sama looked up at me.

I couldn’t fix anything else, but at the very least I could fix that. “Would twenty-three percent do?”

“That would be perfect. Thank you! It will let her breathe easier.”

“Done.” I made someone’s day better. Today wasn’t a complete loss.

The inn chimed again. The otrokari were really persistent. I called up a screen in the nearest wall. Dagorkun’s face filled it.

“The Khanum asks you to share her morning tea.”

I didn’t want to share tea. I didn’t want to play politics or be smart. I just wanted to go to the kitchen and get a cup of coffee. I would need backup. “Thank you. I will be right up.”

I waved at the screen, calling up the covered balcony where Caldenia liked to have her breakfast. Her Grace was in her favorite chair, impeccably dressed into a complicated cobalt hybrid of a dress and a kimono embroidered with gold and red flowers.

“Good morning, Your Grace. Would you mind accompanying me to Khanum’s morning tea?”

“Of course not. I will be right down.”

I dismissed the screen and went to meet Caldenia by the stairs.

***

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.