“What happened?” Sean asked.
“He was marvelous until the rebels assassinated him.”
Of course.
Sean was looking at his phone. His face told me that he didn’t like what he saw.
“What are you looking at?” I asked.
“Rudolph Peterson. He has his own Wikipedia entry.”
“What does it say?”
“’Rudolph Peterson is the chairman and chief executive officer of the Peterson group, a diversified holding company with assets in oil, shipping, real estate development, and private equity.’ Wikipedia puts his worth between 50 and 100 million.”
“So a Drífan liege is coming here to meet a multi-millionaire who is an evil man and is not to be trusted and she wants a quarter pounder for dinner.” I exhaled, blowing the air out slowly.
“That sums it up.” Sean looked at me. “How secure are you in the real world, Dina?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you own the land the inn sits on?”
“I own the land and the twenty-three acres behind it. Everything behind the inn is mine.”
“Is it a mortgage?”
“No, Sean. The original six-acre parcel was an Assembly grant. It’s ironclad. I bought the eight acres directly behind us after Caldenia moved in, and the other nine acres, to the side and behind the inn after the peace summit. I own it outright; there is no mortgage.”
“Good.” His face didn’t seem any brighter. “I’m going to call Marais.”
He walked outside.
I drummed my fingers on the armrest of the chair. “The little creature spoke English like an American. Specifically, like a Southern American. Burgeh. Trahsted.”
“So you feel his liege also speaks that way.” Caldenia frowned. “How could an American end up as a Drífan liege?”
“I don’t know.” There were so many facets to this puzzle.
“What is this Grand Burger?” Orro demanded from the doorway.
I almost jumped. He’d been so quiet, I forgot he was there.
“It’s a hamburger from Burger Feast, a fast-food chain,” Sean told him, coming back inside. That was fast. He must’ve gotten voicemail.
“I have seen it on your TV. Bring it to me and I will make it.”
I sighed. “Orro, if this person comes from Earth, from our country, the Grand Burger likely has a sentimental value to her. She will want the entire experience, the burger, the fries, the Coke. It’s a cheap meal, unworthy of your talent. It’s best to just buy it for her.”
Orro drew himself to his full height. “You want to bring outside food into my kitchen?”
Oh no.
“Am I not a Red Cleaver chef?”
And here we go.
“Have I not cooked delicacies from a thousand planets?”
His quills stood straight up. He raised his right hand, his talons spread wide, appealing to heavens. “Am I not a master of my craft?”
He paused, glaring at me.
“Of course you are,” I said, trying to keep my voice soothing. This would end in disaster.
“Then you will bring this Grand Burger to me and I shall make it. You will taste it and you will weep, for it will be the best Grand Burger to ever grace a human mouth.”
He spun around dramatically and stalked off into the kitchen.
“We should get him a cape,” Sean said.
3
Ting. Ting.
A soft, insistent chime fought its way through my sleep. I was so warm and comfy. My pillow was soft, my blanket was like a cloud, and Sean’s strong hot arm was wrapped around my waist.
Ting. Ting.
Mmm. I scooted closer to Sean. So warm…
TING. TING.
I opened my eyes. A small screen hovered about four inches in front of my face. A small indicator blinked in the corner in pale green: 05:00. The back field, all dead grass and weeds; the sky still dark but beginning to lighten; the ripple in the fabric of existence hanging horizontally about three feet from the ground…
I jerked upright in the bed. Sean grabbed me, pulled me back, and vaulted over me to land on the carpet, a wicked green knife in his hand. He scanned the room, poised on his toes, keeping himself between me and the threat.
Wow.
“What is it?” Sean asked, his voice a low growl.
“The koo-ko!” I scrambled off the bed, sprinting for my robe hanging on a hook.
“They aren’t due until tonight.”
I pulled my robe on. “They’re fifteen hours early.”
Thirty seconds later, I tore out of the inn onto the back porch. Cold bit at my bare legs under the robe. I barely had time to pull the robe over my sleeping T-shirt. My nose was freezing. I wore small lavender crocs with fuzzy lining in them, which I used as house slippers, because that was all I could find on short notice. Next to me, Sean stood in his own copper robe.
The ripple had widened, pulsating, as if an invisible bobber was dancing on the air.
“Do you always sleep with a knife?” I murmured.
“Yes.”
Pointing out that he had nothing to fear inside Gertrude Hunt wouldn’t do any good. He knew it already. Another scar from Nexus. It would get better with time. At least I hoped it would.
A yellow light burst in the center of the ripple and a rotund feathered body popped up above it, as if shot out from an underground cannon. The koo-ko spread his russet wings, suspended for a fraction of a second, his big purple eyes opened wide, and landed on the ground with a squawk, his feathers erect, his leather apron slightly askew.
Sean swore.
Another koo-ko shot out, then another, and another, two at a time, as if a koo-ko geyser had sprouted in our backyard. The koo-ko sorted themselves into two roughly equal groups, those with mostly reddish and pink plumage and those with pale lavender and green. Finally, an older, almost completely white koo-ko popped free of the ripple and landed in front of the two groups. Two younger koo-ko’s, with turquoise feathers, flanked him on both sides. The left koo-ko handed him an elaborately carved cane. The right koo-ko held out a complex headdress of twisted metal wire, studded with gems, and plonked it on the elder’s head, buckling the chin strap in place.
The elder drew himself to his full height, which was about three feet, three and a half if you counted the hat, adjusted his headdress before it slid off his head, and strode toward us.
“Greetings, innkeeper. Greetings, tiercel.”
He must have used a term for a male in a military role, but his implant ended up mangling it. If Sean was surprised by being addressed as a male falcon, he didn’t show it.
I nodded. “Greetings, venerable First Scholar. We expected you this evening.”
The koo-ko elder cleared his throat. “Yes, well, ahem, we would have arrived this evening if certain boisterous members didn’t open a debate on the lack of virtue in those who arrive late.”
“If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late,” Sean said.
The elder pointed his wing at Sean. “Exactly! In this discussion of how early is early enough, nobody wanted to be later than their opponent, therefore when the debate reached its sixth hour, the discussion had to be cut short so everyone could transit before feathers started flying. I do apologize on behalf of my brethren. I trust our quarters are in order?”