I took a step forward. “Greetings, Children of the Silver Star. Gertrude Hunt welcomes you.”
The leading Donkamin opened his mouth, a bright red, wet cavity studded with conical teeth. The ridges in his chest slid, elongating, and his neck stretched forward in an arc, covering the eight feet between us until we were eye to eye. His owl eyes stared at me unblinking.
Yep, that was the worst part.
“Greetings, innkeeper,” the Donkamin said. “We are pleased.”
I led them to their rooms. Technically, it was Sean’s turn, but he was still standing still, and I took one for the team.
The Kai were next. Short beings from a high-gravity world, they were covered in a natural armor of bony plates. They had six limbs and strange, snake-like faces with three protruding bottom fangs and pretty pink eyes. They were the first of the nonhumans to have brought a human-like candidate, a lean, beautiful male with silky blue hair, golden skin, and pink-colored irises. Clearly some genetic fiddling had taken place. The candidate’s name was Prysen Ol, and he spoke all three languages of the Dominion flawlessly.
Strictly speaking, a human-like candidate wasn’t required for spousal selection. Only the potential genetic compatibility mattered, and the economic and diplomatic benefits the union would bring. However, having a human-like spouse helped, something the oomboles and Donkamins had yet to figure out.
The Kai were a very formal species. They inquired about my health, Sean’s health, the health of our respective parents and siblings, and informed us about their health and their relatives’ medical issues. Sean barely had a chance to settle them into their quarters and get back in time.
The Dushegubs were next.
The portal swirled with light. A mass of dark tree roots slithered out of it.
I tapped my broom.
A gaping hole yawned in front of the portal. Two thick branches shot out of the ceiling, grasped the wriggling root ball and yanked it out of the swirling light and down into the hole. Tree limbs, trunks, and foliage plunged into the gap and the floor reformed itself. The Dushegubs were safely in their underground pit.
A lone human walked out of the portal. She was statuesque and very pale, with long golden hair that fell in ringlets around her shoulders, and big violet eyes. An elegant gown sheathed her frame, showcasing all the right things.
On the edge of my vision, Gaston raised his eyebrows.
“Greetings, candidate Unessa,” Sean said. “Your delegation is already in their quarters. I will show you to your room.”
She gave him a soft smile, the two of them went off, her high heels clicking softly on the floor.
“Trust is a wonderful thing,” Tony said when they were out of ear shot.
I nodded. “It is. Since she is the Dushegub candidate, she will eventually try something, and he can neutralize her faster than me.”
The portal flashed again. So soon?
Two beings emerged from the churning light. The one on the left was an otrokar, and a familiar one at that. Tall and lean, he held himself with the ease of a predator in a familiar territory. His skin was deep bronze, his hair dark, coarse, and short, and when it caught the light, it shone with vivid red. He surveyed the scene with sharp eyes, startlingly light green against his sun-scorched skin.
The last time I saw him, he had worn the full armor of the Hope Crushing Horde, a combination of braided leather and chitinous bony plates embedded with complex circuitry. Today he’d traded it for a lighter spacer armor woven of ballistic material that looked like leather but shielded like reinforced steel. A belt with pockets hugged his waist, supporting an array of wooden and bone charms dangling from it. A golden medallion, a sharp-rayed sun studded with jewels, hung from a leather cord around his neck, identifying him as the emissary of the Khan.
Now it made sense. These were the observers. Miralitt did say that they would pop through in batches between the formal delegations. One of the delegations was from a Southern otrokar clan. The Khan and Khanum were both Northerners and there were always tensions between North and South within the Horde. They had sent their son to see what happens.
Envoy or not, his knife was still with him, a long slender blade riding in a sheath on his thigh. He was deadly with it. Sean would just love this.
The other being was clearly a vampire. Vampire knights lived in their syn-armor, removing it only for the most private moments in the safety of their rooms, and she wore hers like a challenge. It was in excellent condition, so black it swallowed the light, and her long red cloak took it over the edge right into drama. She carried a blood sword in a sheath on her hip. A mane of brown hair dripped over her shoulders, inconveniently obscuring the house crest on her chest. Her face was beautiful and familiar somehow, although I was sure I had never seen her before.
The otrokar and the vampire stared at each other, and I saw the precise moment they both realized that whoever spoke first would get greeted first. The Horde and the Holy Anocracy were at peace, but their rivalry was alive and well. They opened their mouths at the same time.
“Greetings, honored guests!” I said before they decided to get offended and start a brawl.
The otrokar got there half a second earlier. “Winter sun to you. So good to see you again, Dina.”
The vampire knight clamped her mouth shut. He shot her a triumphant glance.
Yes, we have met before and know each other. No need to rub it in.
“Winter sun to you also, Under-Khan Dagorkun. How are your mother and father?”
“The Khan and Khanum are well,” Dagorkun told me. “My mother recalls you fondly and has tasked me with delivering this tea to you.” He produced a small ornate box.
“I’m deeply honored.” I bowed my head and let a tendril rise out of the floor and swipe the box from his hands.
The vampire knight rolled her eyes.
I turned to her. “Greetings…”
“No need for formalities,” the vampire knight said. “My name is Alvina, Lady Renadra, Commander of the Krahr Vanguard, Daughter of Soren and Alamide.”
Lord Soren? Oh. Oh!
“You may call me Karat,” she said, hammering every word in like it was a nail in Dagorkun’s coffin. “I am Arland’s cousin. His favorite cousin. And I am your sister’s best friend.”
She pulled a small packet from the inside of her cloak. “Lady Helen sent these treats for the feline creature. She also sent you a hug and a kiss, but you will have to imagine it. I do not go around kissing random humans.”
Karat tossed her hair back and triumphantly strode toward me, leaving Dagorkun behind.
The Throne Room was full. The guests murmured to each other in a dozen languages and traded dirty looks. Gertrude Hunt was on high alert, ready to snatch anyone who stepped out of line.
If I were to draw the Throne Room, it would look like a narrow rectangle. At the top of the rectangle was the massive door through which everyone had entered. Sean stood by it, wearing his innkeeper robe and holding his spear. At the bottom of the rectangle was the throne platform, where I now waited.
Large screens ran along the perimeter of the room, placed where the walls met the ceiling and tilted toward the audience. A swarm of small mobile cameras, ranging in size between a walnut and a plum, zipped above the crowd. The event would be broadcast across the Dominion. The Sovereign’s PR chief had installed a tight beam transmitter that actually shot the data from the inn through the portal to the Dominion to avoid any delay. I had no idea that kind of technology even existed. The cost had to be staggering.