Sweep in Peace
Page 46

“But if everyone makes a concession and consents to the celebration, wouldn’t that show respect and tolerance of each other’s religion and traditions? If the vampires and the merchants show respect for the festival and observe it as guests, wouldn’t it promote the feeling of empathy?”
“Assuming that celebration will happen, yes. But that’s a big assumption. It carries a lot of risk.”
I leaned back. “Unless I have gotten a wrong impression, the peace negotiations have stalled.”
“You’re not wrong.” George grimaced.
“This could give them a boost.”
“Or destroy any chance of peace.”
“You are the Arbiter. The decision is yours, but I would be willing to speak to all interested parties to see if I could get them to agree.”
George studied me for a long moment. “What is your interest in all of this?”
“The Khanum and her people are my guests. They are stressed and I want them to be comfortable. The autumn celebration will help.”
“Is that all?”
That and the masked desperation in the Khanum’s eyes, which made me wince every time I remembered it. Remembering her on the couch, brushing at her son’s hair, holding all her worry and sorrow in a steel grip haunted me. I couldn’t help with peace negotiations. I could do nothing to keep her son from going to war. But I could do this one small thing for her, and I would try to accomplish.
“That’s enough, isn’t it?”
He thought about it for a moment. “You win. We’ll take this risk. If you want to bargain with the vampires and the merchants, you have my permission. But I want to be kept aware of everything.”
“I will record our meetings and send the feed to your screen.”
“Good. Do not agree to anything, Dina, before consulting with me. Make no promises. They will be held against you.”
“I understand.” I rose. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, although I’m not sure exactly what I’m being thanked for.” George grinned and his smile had a mordant edge to it. “This ought to be exciting. It’s good to have some fun once in a while.”
“You said yourself, this fun carries risk,” I reminded him.
His smile got wider. “That’s the best kind of fun.”
“Absolutely not.” If vampires had fur, Odalon’s would’ve stood on its end like the coat of an angry cat, so the Battle Chaplain would’ve doubled in size from the sheer outrage. “No, they can’t have their pagan rite here, on this ground, where we must remain after it has been befouled.”
I had gone to the knights first, because getting them to agree to the otrokari festival would be much harder than bargaining with Nuan Cee.
“They have the same right to practice their religion as you do.” I stood my ground. “You are all guests here and are on equal footing.”
“Do you know what is involved in this heresy?” Odalon leaned toward me, all six feet and a few inches of him, his crimson vestments flaring. “They consecrate the ground. They dedicate it to their pagan deities. When I walk upon their unholy ground, it is with a battle hammer in my hand dripping with the lifeblood of the otrokari.”
And here I thought he was the sensible one out of that whole delegation. “Would it help if I gave them a specific area to consecrate? Then you wouldn’t have to walk on it and we could avoid bloody hammers.”
Odalon sputtered. “How in the world would you do that? Do you intend to lift a section of the ground and float it in the empty air?”
“That is an option,” I said. It really wasn’t, but there was no reason to discuss the limits of my powers. “However, I was going to suggest digging a trench and filling it with running water. They are planning on calling specific earth spirits, and the running water would provide a boundary.”
“This is blasphemy!” Odalon declared in the same way Gerard Butler had once roared “This is Sparta.” Sadly, Odalon had nobody to kick into a bottomless hole for emphasis, so he settled for looking extremely put out.
“Let’s not be hasty,” Arland said. “So they want to celebrate. What’s the harm?”
“So you don’t object?” I asked.
“I do object,” Arland said. “In the strongest words possible, but in the interest of peace, I’m willing to set aside my objections.”
“Lady Isur?” I turned to the Marshal.
She frowned, tapping one finger against her lips. “I consent as well.”
“What?” Odalon turned to her.
“I’m tired. My people are tired. These talks must conclude at some point. If this pagan dance helps the Horde to get in line, so be it.”
“I will not stand for this,” Odalon announced.
“That’s okay,” Robart said. “We can outvote you.”
Uh-oh. Out of the three Marshals, I had expected him to put up the biggest fight.
Lady Isur reached over and touched his cheek with her long fingers. “Strange, my lord. You don’t seem to have a fever.”
He glanced at her, surprised, almost shocked. For a moment he struggled with it, then recovered. “Let the savages have their celebration. But I want something in return.”
Here it comes.
“I want to add guests to the banquet,” Lord Robart said.
“Guests? What guests?” Arland’s eyebrows furrowed.
“How many guests and of what sort?” I asked.
“I think three should suffice,” Robart said. “They will be members of an old respected House.”
Vampires, then. “Very well, I will bring this to the Arbiter’s attention. The final word is his.” And he would likely say no. Increasing the number of vampires would just complicate the negotiations, especially if they were vampires Robart decided to invite..
“We shouldn’t even be having this discussion,” Odalon thundered.
“Robart, this is foolhardy at best.” Lady Isur sighed.
Arland turned to her. “What House?”
“He means to invite House Meer,” Lady Isur explained, as if to a child.
“Are you out of your mind?” Arland roared.
“Don’t tell me my business, Krahr!” Robart stepped forward, baring his fangs. Arland’s teeth were already out on display.