Sweep in Peace (Innkeeper Chronicles, #2)

by Ilona Andrews

Nobody told him what to do anymore. Nobody had the right to berate him. Not even the Crown. He had accomplished far too much to suffer any rebuke. In fact, if the current ruling family had any ambition, they would murder him out of principle, just to maintain power. Thankfully, they were far too civilized and complacent. At twenty-eight he had climbed the ladder of his chosen profession as high as he could. Life was no longer a challenge. He was so mercilessly bored.

Oo

“Dina, I’m bored,” Caldenia announced. Too bad. I guaranteed her safety, not entertainment. “What about your game?” Her Grace gave me a shrug. “I’ve beaten it five times on the Deity setting. I’ve reduced Paris to ashes because Napoleon annoyed me. I’ve eradicated Gandhi. I’ve crushed George Washington. Empress Wu had potential, so I eliminated her before we even cleared the Bronze Age. The Egyptians are my pawns. I dominate the planet. Oddly, I find myself mildly fascinated by Genghis Khan. A shrewd and savage warrior, possessing a certain magnetism. I left him with a single city, and I periodically make ridiculous demands that I know he can’t meet so I can watch him squirm.” She liked him, so she was torturing him. Her Grace in a nutshell. “What civilization did you choose?” “Rome, of course. Any title other than Empress would be unacceptable. That’s not the point.

oO

Magic chimed, a soft not-quite sound only I could hear—the inn letting me know we had guests. Visitors! Beast exploded into barks, zooming around the island in tight circles. I hopped on one foot to the kitchen sink, stuck my foot under the faucet, and washed my hands and my foot with soap. The floor under the puddle split, forming a narrow gap. Tile flowed, suddenly fluid, and the offending liquid disappeared.

*blinks* I mean why didn't the inn do that immediately? Oo

“Nexus is a temporal anomaly. Time flows faster there. A month on Earth is roughly equivalent to over three months on Nexus. However, biological aging proceeds at the same pace as on the planet of origin.” My brother, Klaus, had once explained the Nexus paradox to me, complete with formulas. We were trying to find our parents at the time, and the complex explanation had flown right over my head. I chalked it up to magic. The universe was full of wonders. Some of them would drive you insane if you thought about them too long.

point

Good God, who could hold the vampires of Krahr off for twenty years? They were one of the most ferocious sentient species in the galaxy. They were predators who lived to war. Their entire civilization was dedicated to it. “And the final faction?” George set his cup down. “The Otrokars.” I blinked. Silence stretched. “The Hope-Crushing Horde?” George looked slightly uncomfortable. “That’s the official name, yes.”

oO

“Let me guess: you’ve tried other inns and everyone turned you down. Am I your last stop?” George took a deep breath. “Yes.” “There was an attempt to broker peace between Otrokars and the Holy Cosmic Anocracy during their Ten-Year Conflict,” I said. “About fifty years ago.” He braided his long, elegant fingers into a single fist. “Yes, I’m familiar with it.” “Then you also know how it ended.” “I believe the patriarch of House Jero lunged at the Otrokar Khan, and the Khan beheaded him.” “He ripped the patriarch’s head off with his bare hands and then proceeded to beat the Marshal of House Jero to death with it.” “Well, the venture could be viewed as risky, when taking into account their history…” “It’s not risky, it’s suicidal.” “Should I take that as a no?” George asked. This was a really bad idea.

:)

“Well. This is quite a development.” I turned to see Caldenia standing in the doorway. “Your Grace.” The older woman slowly stepped into the ballroom. Her gaze slid over the marble floor, the columns, and the soaring white ceiling with golden flourishes. “What’s the occasion?” “We’re hosting a diplomatic summit.” She turned on her foot and looked at me, her eyes sharp. “My dear, don’t tease me.” “This roll of faux silk cost me six dollars per yard,” I told her. “Once I purchase food, I will be destitute.” Caldenia blinked. “Who are the attending parties?” “The Holy Anocracy, represented by House Krahr; the Hope-Crushing Horde; and the Merchants of Baha-char. They are coming here for the arbitration, and they will probably try to murder each other the moment they walk through the door.” Caldenia’s eyes widened. “Do you really think so? This is absolutely marvelous!” She would think so, wouldn’t she? “Tell me the plan.”

:)

“That’s a well-planned layout,” Caldenia said. “But why pink marble?” She waved at the ceiling. “Pink marble, white ceiling, golden accents… With the electric lighting, it will turn into this ghastly orange.” “I had one chance to impress the Arbitrator, and I had to improvise.” Caldenia arched one eyebrow. “I saw it in a movie once,” I explained. “It was easy to visualize.” “Was it a movie for adults?” “It had a talking candelabra who was friends with a grumpy clock.” “I see. What about a ballroom from your parents’ inn?”

:)

I concentrated. The marble columns obligingly changed hue. “A little more gray. A little darker. Little more… Now, can we put lighter streaks through them? Can you fleck it with gold… Perfect.” I had to admit the columns did look beautiful. “Let’s take down the gold leaf,” Caldenia said. “Elegance is never ostentatious, and there is nothing more bourgeois than covering everything in gold. It screams that one has too much money and too little taste, and it infuriates peasants. A palace should convey a sense of power and grandeur. One should enter and be awestruck. I’ve found the awe tends to cut down on revolts.”

heh

Her Grace raised her arms. “This is your ballroom, dear. Your space. The heart of your small palace. The sky is the limit, as they say. Abandon conventions. Forget the palaces of your world. Forget your parents’ inn or any other inn. Use your imagination and make it your own. Make it glorious.” The sky is the limit… I closed my eyes and opened my mind. The inn shifted around me, its magic responding. My power flowed from me, and I let it expand and grow, unfurl like a flower. “Dina…,” Caldenia murmured next to me, her voice stunned.

:) she is an admirable mentor really -- aside from the tyranny & cannibalism.

“I’m here on behalf of my people to inspect the rooms.” “Very well. Would you like some tea as we walk?” He blinked. “Yes.” “It will only take a moment.” I stepped into the kitchen. Some things were constant in the universe. Two and two didn’t always equal four, but every water-based species at some point had heated water and thrown some plants into it.

:)

the arched windows were properly ornate, and the view of the orchard, which had required enough dimensional finagling to make an entire university of theoretical physicists beg for mercy, was stimulating enough. The orchard was visible from every new guest room I had built for the summit, which should’ve been impossible, but I never bothered too much with the laws of physics anyway.

:)

Arland stepped through and saw Dagorkun. The two of them froze. “Hello, Arland,” Dagorkun said. No traditional sun greeting, huh? “Hello, Dagorkun,” Arland said. The vampire and otrokar glared at each other. A moment passed. Another. If they kept this up, the floor between them would catch on fire. I sighed. “Would the two of you like some tea?”

;)

Dagorkun’s eyes narrowed. “And if I insisted on staying?” Thin, brilliant blue cracks formed in the handle of my broom. The floor in front of Dagorkun shifted, fluid as the sea. “Then I’ll seal your body in wood, so all you can do is breathe, and use you as a lawn ornament.” Dagorkun blinked. “This summit is very important to me,” I explained. The wall behind me creaked as the inn bent toward Dagorkun, responding to the tone of my voice.

Dude -- it's a semi-sentient building .... even if it's a light sabre equivalent ... no real point. ;)

“Ours is an old rivalry,” he said. “You can’t blame us. They are barbarians. Do you know how one becomes a Khan? One would expect a proper progression—a ruler’s son, learning statecraft at his father’s knee, studying with the best tutors, gaining experience under the guidance of talented generals on the battlefield, building alliances, until finally he takes his rightful place, supported by his power base. One would expect this, but no. They elect him. The army gathers and votes.” He spread his arms. “It’s ridiculous.” Of course hereditary aristocracy was much better. That never went wrong. How silly of them to try this thing called democracy. I wondered what he would say if I reminded him that the U.S. was a republic.

:)

Quillonians were a reclusive race, proud, prone to drama, and violent when cornered. A couple of them had stayed at my parents’ inn, and as long as everything went their way, they were perfectly cordial, but the moment any small problem appeared, they would start putting exclamation marks at the end of all their sentences. My mother didn’t like dealing with them. She was very practical. If you brought a problem to her, she’d take it apart and figure out how best to resolve it. From what I remembered, Quillonians didn’t always want their problems resolved. They wanted a chance to shake their clawed fists at the sky, invoke their gods, and act as if the world was ending. My father was brilliant at handling them. Before he became an innkeeper, he was a very good con man, excellent at reading his marks, and he finessed our more difficult guests.

oO

“So you didn’t actually poison anyone?” Why had they stripped him of his rank then? “That is not the point!” The Quillonian threw his hands up. “I have two million taste buds. I can taste a drop of syrup in a pool of water the size of this building. I know thousands of poisons by taste. Had I sampled

ah ... not keeping subordinates in check. :(

I finally remembered what my father told me about the Quillonians. It just popped into my head. Shakespeare said, All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances. So, Dina, let them have their monologue. My future chef was an oversized, hysterical hedgehog with a martyr complex. He obviously loved what he did. I had to lure him with work, and I had to let him play his part and show him that it was time to let the martyr go. There was a new role to be played, that of an underdog winning the race.

:)

“I came here to find a chef,” I said. “I’m not leaving without one.” “My spirit is broken.” I held my hands up. “This kitchen says otherwise.” He looked around as if seeing the kitchen for the first time. “It may not be the Blue Jewel, but it is the kitchen of a chef who takes pride in his work. You can come with me and triumph against impossible odds, or you can reject the challenge of the gods and stay here. Would you rather be a hero in charge of your own destiny or a martyr wallowing in self-pity? What will it be?”

:)

“Caldenia?” His spikes stood up. “Caldenia ka ret Magren? Letere Olivione?” “Yes. Will that be a problem?” “I have never had the pleasure to serve her, but I certainly know of her. She’s one of the most renowned gastronomes in the galaxy. Her palate is the definition of refinement.” I wondered what he would say if he knew the owner of that refined palate frequently indulged in bingeing on Mello Yello and Funyuns.

:)

The Quillonian rocked back and stared at the ceiling. “The gods are mocking me.” Not again. “It’s a challenge.” He flexed his arms, his elbows bent, his clawed arms pointing to the sky. “Very well. Like a primitive savage who sets out to tame the wilderness armed with nothing but a knife and his indomitable will, I will persevere. I will wrestle victory from the greedy jaws of defeat.

:D

Caldenia frowned. “Wait, if you are here, who is in the kitchen?” “Daniel Boone, cooking with his talons.” “I love your sense of humor. Who is it really?” “A Quillonian former Red Cleaver chef. His name is Orro, and he’ll be handling the food for the banquet.” Caldenia smiled. “A Quillonian chef. My dear, you shouldn’t have. Well, you should have months ago, but one mustn’t be petty.

:)

“You’re probably wondering why there is such discrepancy in size,” George told me. Actually, no. I wasn’t wondering. I sighed and pretended to look bored. “At puberty, otrokar bodies begin producing a certain hormone that has the ability to greatly reshape their bodies. If they begin lifting weights, the hormone bulks them up and makes them larger. If they train in gymnastics, it makes them more compact and lean. This hormone has evolved as a part of their evolutionary adaptation, allowing them to survive in a wide variety of climates. Children who mature during the times of drought are smaller, children who mature in cold climates are larger, and so on.

George my dude -- expect some competency in others in their own vocations please.

“Are you a professional soldier?” I asked. “I was for a while,” Jack said. Aha. “And I assume you’re fast and deadly?” Jack furrowed his eyebrows. “Sure.” I glanced at Gaston. “Are you also a professional soldier? He grinned. “I’m more of a gentleman of adventure.” George laughed under his breath. “I save these two from themselves,” Gaston continued. “Occasionally I do a bit of skulduggery.” What? “Skulduggery?” “Scale a ten-foot wall, jump out of the shadows, break a diplomat’s neck, plant false documents on his body, and prevent an international incident type of thing to keep the war from breaking out,” Gaston said helpfully. “Dreadful stuff, but quite necessary.” That was a really specific description of skullduggery. I smiled at the two of them. “Since you’re both men of action, this should be an easy challenge. Take my broom away from me.”

:) and thwap goes the rolled up newspaper. ;)

Yes, this would do nicely. Ripples troubled the surface. An enormous triangular fin with long spikes carved the water like a knife, speeding toward us. “The inn is my domain,” I said. “Here, I am supreme. If you keep making yourself into a nuisance, I’ll banish you to that ocean and leave you in there overnight.” The fin was barely twenty-five yards away. Twenty. Fifteen. A glistening blue hide rose out of the water. The wall rebuilt itself just before an enormous mouth studded with dagger teeth thrust out of the ocean. Caldenia descended the stairs. “Ooh. Bondage so early in the morning, dear?”

:)

The magic of the inn connected with mine, restless. The inn was nervous too. The posts and the roof were a new addition the inn had grown on its own. I hadn’t realized it, but I had developed a habit of walking out onto the back patio, which used to be a concrete slab, and watching the trees. Sometimes I would bring a folding chair out and read. The Texas sun knew no mercy, and after I burned for the second time by staying out a minute or two too long, the inn took the matters into its own hands and sprouted stone and wood porch posts and a roof. It also replaced the concrete slab with pretty flagstone, and I wasn’t sure where the inn had gotten it. “It will be fine,” I murmured to the house, stroking the wood with the tips of my fingers. The inn’s magic leaned against me, reassured. “It will,” George said. He stood next to me wearing the same outfit as this morning, but now he also held a cane with an ornate top, a dark wood inlaid with twisted swirls of silver. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a knife in it. He’d also developed a mysterious limp. It appeared the Arbitrator liked to be underestimated.

:)

“Say, George?” Gaston asked. I glanced at him and he winked at me. “Why forty?” “Because it’s a sufficiently large number to make the odds of finding a garden snake improbable,” George said, his voice flat. “Yes, but why not fifty or a hundred? Why such an odd number? Forty? Snakes aren’t commonly measured in forties.” George pivoted on his foot and looked at Gaston. The big man flashed a grin. Jack chuckled to himself. “When he concentrates like that,” Gaston told me, “if you’re really quiet, you can hear the gears in his head turning. Sometimes you catch a faint puff of smoke coming out of his ears…”

I'm so glad the author's resurrected my favorite trio from the Edge series.

My beds are soft and my knives are sharp. Spit on my hospitality and I’ll slit your throat.” There. Nice and traditional. Next to me Jack became very still. He didn’t tense; he just became utterly at peace. Khanum smiled. “I feel at home already. Winter sun to you. We will honor this house and those who own it. Our knives are sharp and our sleep is light. Betray the honor of your fire, and I’ll carve out your heart.”

well good to get things out in front ...

“So let me get this straight,” Jack murmured. “They fly around on spaceships, but they load donkeys in them?” “They like donkeys,” George told him. The fifth donkey made its way out of the ship, loaded like all the others. My parents had hosted Nuan Cee before. I mentally patted myself on the back for assigning them enough rooms to house a party three times their number and for pulling the stables out of storage. “How long do they expect this to last?” Gaston whistled. “A year?” “They love their luxuries,” I explained. “The worst thing you can do to one of them is to force them to go without.

oO ... well at least they are individually half the size/width of an Otrakar

I turned to the vampires. I was so furious I couldn’t even speak. The knight with the axe saw my face. A second later he also realized I was wearing an innkeeper’s robe and that he had done something really, really bad.

Oo ... well at least he didn't try to hide his axe behind him.

He nodded at the dark-haired knight. His voice was light and cheerful. “Whose idea was it to come through the front door?” “Where is my knight?” the Marshal of House Vorga snarled. I sank him another six inches into the floor. “I demand…” Another six inches. He was almost up to his armpits. The Marshal of House Vorga opened his mouth and clicked it shut.

He can learn!

A body sliced through the orange water, thick, scaly, and crowned with a long ridged fin. Its coils kept going and going, sliding and bulging under the surface. George looked at Lord Robart. “One hour, Marshal. We will postpone formal introductions until your return.” The vampire raised his head. If he stepped into that water, his armor would be too heavy. He would be too slow. He would drown. To go into that water at all was suicide. Lord Robart bared his fangs. They wore their armor as if it were their second skin. He would never… Lord Robart unsheathed a short, brutal axe and clasped the House crest on his armor. The black metal fractured, falling off him, leaving him standing in a plain black bodysuit. He stepped out of his boots, primed his axe with a flick of his wrist, and jumped into the water. It came up to his waist.

well ... at least it has shallows to retreat to

“Yes,” I told her. “It has worked many times for many different innkeepers. Sometimes simple plans are the best.” I turned to Arland’s engineer. “Please fix it.” Hardwir stared at the cruiser. “You want me to fix that?” “Yes. It must be restored to its original condition, exactly as it was before the blow.” The dark-haired knight frowned, approached the cruiser, glanced through the gap, and wrenched the hood up. “This is an internal combustion engine.” “Yes,” I agreed. “This is an abomination against nature.” Hardwir let go of the mangled hood. It fell, broke off, and crashed to the ground. “I won’t do it.” Arland’s eyes blazed. He gathered himself, somehow turning larger. “What do you mean, you won’t do it?” “I won’t do it! I swore an engineer’s oath. I owe obligations to my profession, obligations which bind me to practice my craft with integrity and to preserve the precious nature of the universe.” Hardwir stabbed his gauntleted finger in the direction of the engine. “It poisons the environment, it’s horribly inefficient, and it runs on fossil fuels. It requires a finite, high-pollutant resource to function. What idiot would build an engine based on a nonrenewable resource?”

heh ... another artiste

Orro stalked out of the kitchen and grabbed the head with his long claws. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to cook that,” I said. “Of course I’m going to cook it.” He waved the head around for emphasis. “Might I remind you that you’re on a limited budget?” “What if it’s poisonous?” Jack asked. “Preposterous!” Orro growled. “This is clearly a Morean water drake.” He tucked the severed head under his arm and walked into the kitchen, dragging the neck across the floor behind him.

the five feet of neck ... oO ... well the neck & cheeks are supposed to be the tenderest ... not that I will every try that.

Music blasted from hidden speakers, an epic march, relentless, unhurried, and unstoppable. Images slid along the walls of the ballroom: an armored vampire tearing into a centipede-like creature five times her size; two vampires locked in mortal combat, fangs bared; a vampire with a House standard atop a mountain of corpses, bellowing in rage. This was the Holy Anocracy’s “We Are Scary Badasses” reel. The same images were being streamed to the otrokar and Merchant quarters. The terrifying footage kept coming.

Oo

Three faces appeared against the starry expanse of space, one per each wall: the severe face of the Warlord, a middle-aged vampire with jet-black hair on the right; the serene face of the female Hierophant on the left; and an old vampire in the middle. His hair was pure white, his skin wrinkled, and his eyes probing. He looked ancient, like the space behind him. It had to be Justice, the chief judge of the Holy Anocracy’s highest court. The vampires roared in unison. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The vampire delegation turned as one and formed a line on the left side of the grand ballroom, the three Marshals and the standard-bearer closest to us.

oO

A group of otrokars rode through yellow grass on odd mounts with reddish fur, hoofed feet, and canid heads. The image fractured and exploded into a mountain landscape filled with crags and fissures. The hard ground bristled with metal spikes, each supporting a severed vampire head. The faces of the knights to my left were completely blank. The puddles of vampire blood at the bases of the metal spikes trembled. The ground shuddered. A dull roar, like the sound of a distant waterfall, filled the air. The camera panned upward, showing a glimpse of a valley beyond the heads. An ocean of otrokars filled it, too many to count, a horde running at full speed, howling like wolves, the impact of their steps shaking the ground.

oh well then .... just as bad as the vampires really

She picked one and hurled it at the swordsman. He moved at the last second, catching the fruit on the flat of his left blade, tossed it to his right then back again with superhuman dexterity. The otrokars kept clapping. The swordsman tossed the fruit up. His sword flashed and the fruit fell to the floor, cut in half. “Nothing we can’t handle,” Jack said quietly. The Khanum took a handful of fruit and passed the basket to her left. Dagorkun grabbed several and handed the basket to the next person. The Khanum gave a short whistle and the otrokars pelted the swordsman with apples. He spun like a dervish, dancing across the floor and slicing. The apples dropped to the ground, cut. Not a single fruit hit him. “He might be a challenge,” George said. His lips barely moved. If I weren’t standing next to him, I wouldn’t know he had spoken. “One on one, I can take care of it.” The swordsman spun, faster and faster, lithe, flexible, strong. A faint orange luminescence coated his blades. They began to glow. George’s eyes narrowed.

heh

Almost instantly both of them realized they were going to the same place. Arland glowered at Robart and sped up. The Marshal of House Vorga glowered back, matched Arland’s pace, and then went faster. Arland accelerated to keep up. The sight of them rapidly marching in full armor was like standing on train tracks and watching a locomotive barrel toward me at full speed. I wondered if they would sprint if the distance was great enough.

oO

The past couple of days and the lack of sleep had taken their toll, and the broom felt comfortable and familiar. The floor stretched slightly, then more and more, rising at a slight incline and flowing toward the vampires like one of those moving sidewalks that transports people at airports. Except my sidewalk was moving in the opposite direction. Neither vampire noticed that they were now going uphill and sliding backward with each step. They were still neck and neck and not getting any closer. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. At the wall Jack chuckled into his fist. I put a little more speed into the floor. They had to notice now.

heh

“My lords! I’m not a castle. You don’t have to storm me.” Both vampires stopped in their tracks. The floor stopped as well. Normal people would have lost their balance, stumbled, and possibly landed on their faces. The two vampires leapt up simultaneously, like two great jungle cats, and landed on their respective sides of what was once a moving sidewalk. The floor thudded, accepting the full weight of their armor. Jack dissolved into a coughing fit. Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh… The two vampires strode toward me and said in one voice, “Lady Dina…” Oh no. The Marshals clamped their mouths shut and tried to kill each other with their stares. I squeezed my left hand into a fist. If I guffawed in their faces, I could kiss any further business from the Holy Anocracy good-bye.

:)

Robart nodded. His gaze narrowed. “Perhaps if you were less heavy-handed in your treatment of the guests you claim to honor and protect, your inn would have a higher rating.” He did not. Oh yes, yes he did. “Perhaps if you trained the knights under your command to follow simple orders, your House would’ve reached greater prominence within your empire.” Robart locked his jaw. If my smile were any sweeter, you could pour it on pancakes and call it syrup.

:)

“I will stay as well,” Nuan Cee’s niece said. “I’m weak and helpless, and I don’t want to be punished.” Weak and helpless, sure. Next thing she would try to sell me a lovely coastal villa in Kansas.

:)

The bell rang again. Beast barked in the other room. I grabbed the coffee, dumped a whole bunch of creamer into it to cool it enough to drink, and went to the door. The bell rang, insistent. I swung the door open and stared at Officer Marais’s furious face. “Officer Marais! Good morning. What can I do for you? What’s happened now? Has a chupacabra been spotted in the neighborhood? Or was it a Bigfoot? Maybe someone saw a UFO? I can’t wait to hear how it’s all my fault.” I sipped my coffee to appear extra casual. “You…” Officer Marais pulled himself together through an obviously huge effort of will. “I know what happened.” “What happened when? Where?” “Here.” He stabbed his finger toward the floor. I glanced at the floor. “I don’t follow…” “I saw a group of men appear on the road.” “What do you mean, appear?” George said behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. He was wearing loose gray slacks and a fisherman’s sweater of natural beige wool. Officer Marais looked at him for a long moment, no doubt committing his face to memory.

oO

Officer Marais clenched his teeth together again. “I think that you work very long hours,” I said. “I saw you this morning sleeping in your cruiser. I think you had a very vivid dream. Your dreams do not give you the right to come here and harass me and my business. I don’t know what I have done to make you dislike me, but this isn’t right and it’s not fair. You are now interfering with my ability to make a living. I didn’t break any laws. I’m not a criminal. Does it seem okay to you that you are continuously coming here and accusing me of random things just because you don’t like me?” He looked taken aback.

Honestly she has a point.

“So you want me to endanger my guests by leaving the inn and escort you on a mission that could potentially cause you to be sanctioned, derailing the peace talks and my payment and ruining the reputation of this inn. Could you help me understand why I should do that?” Gaston laughed under his breath. George sighed. “I’m just as invested in the success of the peace summit as you are. As matters stand now, I do not believe the peace talks will succeed. The problem is Ruah, the bulletproof swordsman.” Aha. Was he implying that Gertrude Hunt couldn’t handle one otrokar? “Do you doubt my ability to suppress him?” George grimaced. “That’s not the issue. I know that you can subdue Ruah. The problem is the otrokar mindset.

Besides we get to see our girl!

The trader rose off his haunches. George stood up and dropped a small pouch into the trader’s hand. The shopkeeper handed a ball of blue yarn to George, tied the end of it to a shelf, walked to the back of the store, and pulled a carpet aside. Morning daylight filled the shop. The shopkeeper waved at us. Great. Here’s a magic thread. Hold on to it so you don’t get lost and hope there isn’t a minotaur waiting to meet you.

oO

“It’s part of a job,” he said. She simply looked at him. “I was not permitted to say good-bye. The note was the best I could do.” “But here you are.” Her eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you tell me that once you accepted this job, you could not come back? Are you breaking the rules again?” “Of course I am.” “So you have no problems breaking the rules when it suits you. Are you telling me that you couldn’t find any way to personally soften that blow for your family?” “I’m a selfish bastard,” George said. “I didn’t want the pain of saying good-bye, so I avoided it.”

oO

Sophie brushed the wood of the sword stand with her fingertips. “It all comes full circle, doesn’t it?” I had no idea what she meant by that, so I listened. “I shouldn’t have come,” Sophie said. “Do you believe in destiny, Dina?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because six years ago something took my parents. It ripped them out of my life and made them disappear. I can’t believe that after everything they’ve gone through and everything they have done, that would be their destiny. I refuse to let their existence be erased. We make our own choices in life. Our actions shape our lives, and we alone are responsible for them.”

point

George met me at the foot of the stairs. “What are you planning?” I asked as we turned toward the grand ballroom. “Just a small demonstration for the public good,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” “You’re apologizing in advance.” “Yes.” Never a good sign.

oO