We finished the first cup in silence and the Khanum poured us another.

“The blond vampire wants you. Can your kind and his mate?”

Thank you, Arland, for putting me into this lovely position. “It is possible, but I have no interest in such a relationship.”

“Why not?” Dagorkun asked.

I smiled at him. “Because I have no intention of leaving my home, and Lord Arland would make a terrible innkeeper.”

“You could go with him,” the Khanum suggested.

“My place is here.” I sipped my tea. “His place is with his House. His attention is flattering but it doesn’t interfere with my mission.”

“And what is that?” Dagorkun asked.

“To keep you and them from killing each other.”

An otrokari dashed onto the balcony, running backward, jumped and caught a football sewn from rough leather. He saw the Khanum. His eyes widened and he ran back inside. Dagorkun rolled his eyes.

“Should I purchase some helmets?” I asked.

“No,” the Khanum said. “A few concussions would be good for them. It will settle them down.”

The big woman leaned back. “I do not understand you, Innkeeper. I understand the merchants. They are driven by profit. I understand the vampires. They are our mortal enemy and they seek the same things we seek: glory in battle, victory, and land. I even understand the Arbiter. There is power and satisfaction in shifting the balance of relations between many nations. What drives you, Innkeeper?”

“I want my inn to prosper. The more guests I have, the healthier and stronger is the inn. If the summit succeeds, it will be known that my home served you well.”

“We know the Arbitrator had approached other innkeepers to host this summit,” Dagorkun stated. “They turned him down.”

“My inn was uniquely suited for the summit,” I said. “It’s small and mostly empty at the moment. We specialize in dangerous guests.”

“To take a job like this, one must have a strong motivation,” the Khanum said. “What is yours?”

“I lost my family,” I said. “They were taken from me. I’ve searched for them on my own and I failed. I want my inn to thrive and be full of guests, because sooner or later someone will walk through my door and I will see recognition on their face when they see the portrait of my parents downstairs.”

The Khanum nodded. “Family. This I understand.”

We drank more tea.

“It is the third of autumn,” the Khanum said. “On our home world, summer is the time of drought and heat. Winter is a welcome respite; it is the time of mild weather and rains, when the grasses grow. The third of autumn is the day we commune with our ancestors to celebrate surviving yet another year.”

I didn’t know much about the Horde’s celebrations except that almost all of them were conducted outside.

“Do you wish to have an autumn celebration?” I asked.

“My people are restless,” the Khanum said. “It would do us good.”

I waited.

“The Arbiter has denied my request.”

Here it is. “He must’ve had valid reasons.”

“He believes we are deliberately dragging our feet in negotiations,” Dagorkun said. “He means to use our culture to pressure us.”

“May I ask a question about the negotiations?” I asked.

The Khanum raised her eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You control a large territory on Nexus. The Anocracy controls an equally large territory. Both of you may have to work with the merchants to get shipments off planet. Why not agree to peace?”

The Khanum reached into her robe and pulled out a small disk carved of something that looked like bone. She squeezed the sides and an image of an otrokari male appeared above it. He wore full battle armor. His face echoed both Dagorkun and the Khanum.

“Kordugan,” she said. “My third son. He lies dead on Nexus. We never recovered the body.”

Dagorkun looked down on his hands.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Children die,” the Khanum said, her voice resigned. “It is a fact of life. I’ve learned this again and again. It hurts every time.”

“Then why not stop the dying on Nexus?” I asked.

“Because we do not negotiate,” the Khanum said. “We conquer. When I look at the Anocracy’s half of the continent, I see land. I see homesteads. I see families, our families, raising children, building lives, breeding cattle.”

Dagorkun glanced at his mother. “Mother, cattle won’t survive on Nexus. It’s a barren rock. There isn’t enough feed.”

She waved at him. “That is beside the point. We expand, or like my son, we die. This is our way. This is the Anocracy’s way. They stand in the way of our expansion. We must check them on Nexus. We must bloody them, break their spirit, and then launch an offensive. They hold seven planets. Seven fat wealthy planets. That’s enough land to support my children, and Dagorkun’s children, and their children’ children. Children must be born on the planet, with the earth under their feet and they will be born on Nexus. That’s what my son died for.”

Right. Neither side was willing to see reason. I could understand why Nuan Cee was in despair.

“But if you oppose the peace so strongly, why agree to the summit at all?” I asked.

“Who says I oppose the peace?” The Khanum sighed, reached over, and ran her hand through Dagorkun’s hair. For a second the seasoned warrior looked just like an eight year old human boy whose mother kissed him in front of everybody as she dropped him off in front of the school.

“I told you what the Horde’s policy dictates,” the Khanum said. “My views are not relevant. My people wish to commune with our ancestors. We have long memories. Will you speak to the Arbitrator for us?”

The bargain was clear: if I intervened on their behalf, they would owe me a favor. They didn’t need to promise me one. It was my duty to see to the comfort of my guests.

“I’ll talk to George,” I said. “I don’t know how much influence I have with him, but I will try. Even if he is receptive, we may have to talk the vampires and merchants into going along with it, which means we may have to make some concessions.”

“We understand,” Dagorkun said.