“Uncle Nuan Cee has one,” she said. “It’s very complicated. Very expensive. Far beyond my understanding.”

George smiled. “Perhaps I can prevail on esteemed Nuan Cee to let us use it.”

“I’m sure he would,” she said. “For the right price.”

“The right price?” Arland growled. “More like a lung and half a heart. I’ve dealt with him before. He’ll squeeze the last—”

“I’ll take care of it,” I told him.

George and I found the esteemed Nuan Cee in his quarters. He was lounging on the plush furniture by a small indoor fountain. George sketched out the situation.

Nuan Cee leaned forward, the glint in his eyes clearly predatory. “Age sequencer is a very delicate piece of equipment. Very expensive. I carry one because people sometimes try to sell me objects and I must ascertain their authenticity. Can you imagine if I sold something that might be a reproduction?” He chortled.

This was going to cost us, I could feel it. “We are in awe of your wisdom,” I said.

“And we count on your generosity,” George said.

“Generosity is a terrible vice,” Nuan Cee said. “But of course, even I am not infallible.”

He had us by the throat and he knew it. I smiled. “You have a vested interest in this summit succeeding. After all, if the war continues, your spaceport on Nexus will be overrun.”

Nuan Cee waved his paws. “We have Turan Adin. Even if the Holy Anocracy and the Hope-Crushing Horde united, we would have nothing to fear.”

Who or what was Turan Adin?

“Still, the war is bad for business. I find myself being inclined to do you this favor.”

I braced myself. There was a but coming.

“But I require a favor in return.”

“Name it,” George said.

“Not from you. From Dina.”

Of course. “How may I help the great Nuan Cee?”

Nuan Cee grinned, showing me small sharp teeth. “I do not know yet. I shall think about it. Normally I would ask for three favors, but out of respect for your parents and the friendship between us, I restrained myself. Do not tell anyone. I do not want to lose face.”

An unspecified favor to Nuan Cee. I would have to be insane to take it. There was no telling what he would ask.

The peace summit had to proceed at all costs. I had no choice. I held out my hand. “Done.”

Nuan Cee laughed, grapsed my fingers, and shook. “Delightful. I do so love this Earth custom. Talk to the Nuan Sama in the stables. She’s an expert in operating it.”

Of course she is.

We thanked Nuan Cee and made our exit.

“I take it, you can’t trust anything they say,” George said.

“It depends. All is fair while they are bargaining, but once they make a deal, they will honor it.” And I had just managed to get myself into a bigger mess.

Five minutes later Hardwir and Nuan Sama walked off toward Nuan’s camouflaged craft in the field. I pulled the dashboard camera out of the car. I’d need to attach it to my car and park it in front of the inn so we could fake the footage.

“What did you tell him?” Arland asked Edalon.

The Battle Chaplain sighed. “I reminded him that engineer’s oath also obligated him to give freely of his skill and knowledge for the public good if so required. I cannot think of a greater public good than ending a war that devours lives but brings neither honor, nor glory, nor land. This misery must end, whatever the cost.”

A soft beep echoed through the stables.

“The Marshall of House Vorga has three minutes left.” I grabbed my dashboard camera and hurried back to the front room. The vampires and George chased me. All this running around would be comical if lives and the Gertrude Hunt weren’t at stake.

I walked into the front room. The timer was down to fifteen seconds. The two vampires stood completely still, watching it.

Here is hoping he was still alive.

The numbers ran down to zero and flashed once. I melted the wall.

The Marshall of House Vorga walked into my front room. He was soaked. Blood dripped from a dozen cuts on his body suit. His right hand gripped his axe. His left carried a three foot long monstrous head. It was pale orange, covered with shimmering scales and looked like something that would be drawn on an antique map with a caption “Here be monsters” underneath.

With a grimace, the Marshall dropped the head and the five foot long stump of the neck in the middle of the floor, stepped over it, and looked at George.

“The Office of Arbitration is satisfied,” George said.

Lord Robart turned toward the hallway. The two vampires picked up his armor and followed him without a word.

“What do you want us to do with the head?” Orro asked behind me.

The Marshall paused. “Do whatever you will.”

They turned into the hallway leading to vampire quarters.

“I think it’s time I retired as well,” Lady Isur said. “Arbiter, Innkeeper, Marshal, Your Grace, please excuse me. I must make myself presentable before the opening ceremony.”

“Of course,” George said.

Arland grimaced. “I suppose it’s best I go as well. By your leave.”

The two Marshalls departed.

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. “May 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. They may not be the most tasty flesh the ocean has to offer, but I am not some short order cook.”

He tucked the severed head under his arm and took it to the kitchen.

“I shall have to make some preparations as well,” George said. He and Jack left the room.

My legs gave out and I landed into a chair. Beast leaped into my lap.

Caldenia looked at me across the room. “So much excitement and the peace talks haven’t even started.”

I groaned and put my hands over my face.

George wore soft charcoal trousers. Mid-calf high boots, made of supple dark grey leather with a hint of blue, hugged his feet. His shirt was pale cream and his vest, the blue-grey of a heron wing, was embroidered with a dazzling silver pattern too complicated to untangle at first glance. His long golden blond hair was brushed back from his face and caught at the nape of his neck into a horse tail. His walking stick was in his hand and his limp was back, but as he stood at the back of the grand ballroom, he looked like an ageless prince from some hopelessly romantic fairy tale.