Innkeeper Chronicles 3.5: Sweep of the Blade

by Ilona Andrews

  society. You have no rights, no purpose, and offer no benefit to House

  Krahr.”

  “Aside from sexual amusement for the Marshal,” Seveline added.

  “In other words, you are being kept around as a source of comfort, much

  like a dog.”

  “That’s not true,” Seveline said. “Dogs serve a purpose. They warn you

  of intruders and add to your safety.”

  “Very well, not a dog then.” Onda waved her arm. “A bird. A pretty,

  ornamental bird.”

  Maud raised her eyebrows. “So, what you are saying is, I am here for the

  Marshal’s sexual amusement like a pretty bird? Are members of House

  Kozor in the habit of copulating with their pet birds? I had no idea you

  had such exotic tastes.”

  The two women blinked, momentarily derailed.

  Seveline switched to Ancestor Vampiric. “I’m going to wring her neck.”

  The bride chose that moment to float by, all smiles. She smoothly

  turned, rested one hand on Seveline’s shoulder, and still smiling, said,

  “Do it and I will personally jab a knife in your eye. You will not ruin this

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  for us. You have a simple job – provoke this bitch. How hard could this

  be? The Hunt is about to start. Get on with it.”

  Interesting.

  The bride offered Maud a bright smile. “Are you enjoying

  yourself? These two aren’t bothering you, are they?”

  The temptation to answer in Ancestor Vampiric was almost too

  much. “Not at all. They’ve been the soul of courtesy.”

  Onda looked like she was about to have an aneurism.

  The bride’s smile sharpened. “So glad to hear it.”

  She floated away.

  “So, you’re content with being a bed warmer?” Onda asked. “How will

  this reflect on your daughter? Or do you expect her to learn by

  example?”

  “What a good question,” Seveline said. “Perhaps you have already

  selected a client for her?”

  Amateurs.

  “What a disturbing thought,” Maud said. “Sexual contact with a child is

  forbidden. It is incredibly damaging to the child. I am surprised that this

  is tolerated within House Kozor. This is turning out to be a very

  educational conversation. Birds, children… is anything off limits to your

  people?”

  Onda turned grey, shaking with rage. Seveline glared. “We do not have

  sex with children!”

  Vampires at other tables turned to look at them.

  “So, just birds, then?” Maud asked.

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  Seveline picked up the pitcher of coffee, jumped to her feet, and hurled

  the contents at her. There was no time to dodge. The coffee was barely

  warm, but it drenched her completely.

  Onda’s eyes were as big as saucers. The room went silent.

  Seveline stared straight at her, anticipation in her eyes.

  Maud looked back. It’s still your move, bitch.

  Seveline unhinged her jaws. “Coward.”

  Under the table, Maud sank her fingernails into her palm. In her mind,

  she flipped the table, gripped her sword, and drove her blade into

  Seveline’s gut.

  A moment passed.

  Another.

  The sticky coffee slid down her neck, dripping from her hair.

  Another.

  Seveline bared her fangs in a vicious grimace, spun on her heel, and

  stomped off. The door hissed shut behind her.

  Maud sat very still. This could still go bad. If they came at her now, her

  best bet would be to jump out the window. It was a thirty-foot fall to the

  ledge below, but she could survive it.

  The bride opened her mouth. Every pair of eyes watched her.

  “My Lady, we are dreadfully sorry. I do not know what came over her.”

  “Clearly,” Maud said, her tone dry, “some people just can’t handle their

  coffee.”

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  A light ripple of laughter spread through the gathering.

  “You are most gracious,” the bride said.

  Oh you have no idea. “I implore you, think nothing of it. Please excuse

  me, I must now change.”

  “We wouldn’t dream of keeping you.”

  Try it and you’ll regret it.

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  Chapter 15 part 3

  September 27, 2018 by Gordon 759 Comments

  Maud grit her teeth as the long elevator sped downwards, through a

  shaft carved in the heart of the mountain. Getting the sticky coffee mess

  out of her hair took forever. Getting it off her armor took even

  longer. She had no time to apply any cosmetics or make herself in any

  way presentable.

  She was never fond of caking makeup on her face, but she always loved

  the eye shadow and mascara. In exile, mascara became an unattainable

  luxury and often a hinderance. Having mascara bleed into your eyes

  while you sweated buckets trying to kill an opponent twice your size

  before she did you in wasn’t exactly a winning strategy. But as soon as

  Maud got to the Inn, Dina invited her to raid her makeup stash. Maud

  had worn eye shadow, mascara, and a light lipstick every day since

  landing on this planet. Now, her face was bare, her hair was wet, because

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  she didn’t dare to waste three minutes drying it, and she still, somehow,

  smelled of that damn coffee.

  Maud tapped her foot. The elevator refused to descend faster.

  This was not the way she intended to appear at the hunt. If the hunts

  she’d attended were anything to go by, this would be an almost

  ceremonial occasion. Everyone would look their best, as they rode in a

  procession. Armor polished, weapons ready, hair styled. When they

  finally tracked down whatever they were hunting, the strikers would

  move forward and close in for the kill. The strikers were determined in

  advance. To be chosen was an honor, and she was sure the strikers for

  this hunt would be the groom, the bride, possibly Arland, Otubar, Ilemina

  or Karat. Whoever was chosen from House Krahr would be there solely

  to make sure the bride and groom got the kill. Everyone would cheer

  and record the event, so later it could be shown to family and

  friends. Then, the whole party would turn around and go home.

  All she had to do was get to the stables on time, ride in the middle of the

  procession, exchanging pleasantries and looking well put together,

  express admiration at the strategic moment, then ride back. She couldn’t

  even manage that. She was at least ten minutes late. More like

  fifteen. And that’s if they left on time.

  Maud tapped her foot again. The elevator kept going with a soft

  whisper. She’d checked the message from Helen again. Her daughter’s

  excited face flashed before her, projected from her personal

  unit. “Hurry up, mommy. We’re going on a hunt.”

  A message from Ilemina had followed. “I have your child with

  me.” Which didn’t sound ominous at all. Maud heaved a sigh. Damn

  vampires.

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  The elevator finally stopped. The doors parted, revealing a tunnel

  leading to wide open doors. Daylight flooded the doorway. Maud broke

  into a jog and emerged into the sunshine.

  A wide pathway, completely straight and paved with flat stones, rolled

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nbsp; out before her, leading to a gate. On both sides of her, large corrals lined

  the path, secured by massive fences. Behind each rows of corrals, lay a

  large stable.

  The corrals were empty.

  The vihr, the big-boned massive mounts that vampires preferred, were

  gone.

  She spun around and saw the Stablemaster off to the side. Middle aged,

  huge, grizzled, with a mane of reddish hair going to grey, he scowled,

  checking something on his personal unit. A younger male vampire with

  greyish skin and jet-black hair stood next to him with a long-suffering

  expression. Maud strode to them.

  “Salutations,” Maud said. “Where is the hunting party?”

  The Stablemaster didn’t look up. “Gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  He stopped and gave her a flat look. “Hunting.”

  “In which direction?”

  “North.”

  “I need a mount.”

  The chatty Cathy of the vampire world favored her with another look. “I

  don’t have any.”

  “You were supposed to hold a vihr for me.”

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  “Someone took it. Hunting. North.”

  Maud summoned the last reserves of her will power and kept her voice

  calm. “Do you have any other mounts that I could ride?”

  “No.”

  Okay. “Do you have any mounts at all here? Anything that can run fast?”

  The young stable hand glanced at her. “We have savoks. But you can’t

  ride the damn things.” He looked at the Stablemaster. “Why do we even

  have them?”

  “They were a gift from the Horde, after Nexus,” the Stablemaster said.

  Maud’s heart sped up. The otrokar of the Hope Crushing Horde lived in

  the saddle. They prized mounts like treasure. They wouldn’t offer a gift

  of anything less than spectacular.

  “I’ll take a savok,” she said.

  “The hell you will,” the Stablemaster growled. “They will throw you,

  trample you, gut you with those claws, and bite your head off. And then

  I’ll never hear the end of it from the Marshal.”

  That did it. She didn’t have time to argue this. “You had orders to

  provide me with a mount. Bring the savoks or I’ll get them myself.”

  “Fine.” The Stablemaster flicked his fingers at his personal unit. The

  closest gate in the stable on their left opened. Metal clanged and three

  savoks galloped into the corral. Two were the typical rust red and one

  was white, an albino. Incredibly rare. The sun caught the velvety, short

  hair of their pelts, and they almost shone as they ran. If they were

  horses, they would be at least eighteen hands at the withers. Muscular,

  with four sturdy but lean legs, they moved with agility and speed. Their

  hind legs ended in hoofs, their front had three fused fingers and a raptor

  like dew claw. Their thick, short necks supported long heads armed with

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  powerful jaws that were not seen on Earth since the extinction of bear

  dogs and hell pigs.

  They thundered past her, the white male flashing her a vicious look from

  its emerald green eyes, and kept running along the fence, testing the

  boundaries of the enclosure, their narrow long tails whipping behind

  them.

  They took her breath away. Growing up in her parents’ inn, all three of

  the Demille children had their own chores. Klaus, with his encyclopedic

  knowledge of thousands of species, served as the concierge, Dina

  oversaw the gardens, and she was responsible for the stables. Maud had

  seen hundreds of otrokar mounts, but none quite like these three.

  The savoks came around again, snapping their fangs at them as they

  passed. The big male drove his shoulder into the fence and bounced

  off. They galloped on.

  “Told you,” the Stablemaster said. “Unrideable.”

  They had no idea of these animals’ value. By otrokar standards, these

  were priceless.

  The vampires, with their crushing physical power, evolved on a planet

  rich in woods. They were ambush predators. They hid and sprang at

  their prey, overpowering it. They were not great runners or great riders,

  and their mounts, huge, sturdy vihr, who had more in common with bulls

  and rhinos then racing horses, served their purpose perfectly. They

  could be loaded with staggering weight, carry it for hours, and they were

  guaranteed to deliver you from point A to B. They wouldn’t do it quickly

  or gracefully, but they would get you where you needed to go.

  The otrokar home world was a place of endless plains. The otrokar were

  lean and tireless, and they could run for miles to exhaust their

  prey. Their mounts were like them, fast, agile, and tireless. They would

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  eat anything, grass, leftovers, prey they could run to ground, and they

  were as smart as they were savage.

  The savoks kicked the fence. They seemed stir crazy. “When was the

  last time they were even out?”

  “We let them out once a week,” the stable hand said.

  Maud resisted the urge to scream. She had to resist very hard.

  “Did they provide you with saddles?”

  “Yes,” the stable hand said.

  “Bring me one. The one that came with the white one.”

  “How will I know which one it is?”

  She closed her eyes for a few painful seconds. “The one that has white

  embroidery.”

  The stable hand looked at the Stablemaster. The older vampire

  shrugged. “Go get it.”

  She didn’t wait for the saddle. The savoks had halted at the far end of

  the corral. Maud climbed the heavy metal fence.

  “Hey!” The Stablemaster roared.

  The white savok saw her and pawed the ground, preparing for a charge.

  Maud inhaled and stuck two fingers into her mouth. A shrill whistle cut

  through the air.

  The savoks froze.

  The Stablemaster had lumbered over to the fence and was obviously

  trying to decide if he should grab Maud and pull her back.

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  When Dina told Maud about brokering a peace on Nexus, she’d

  mentioned the Khanum, the wife of the Khan and her children. They

  were northerners; they would train their savoks in the northern

  way. Maud whistled again, changing the pitch.

  The savoks dashed to her. The Stablemaster made a lunge for her, but

  she jumped off the fence, down into the corral.

  The white savok reached her and reared, pawing the air with

  forelegs. Behind her, the Stablemaster swore.

  “So beautiful,” Maud told the savok. “Such sharp claws. Such a pretty

  boy.” He wouldn’t know what she said but he would recognize and

  respond to the tone of voice.

  She whistled again, a soft ululating sound, and the savoks pranced

  around her, nudging her with their muzzles and showing off impressive

  sharp teeth. The white male hopped in place like a wolf dancing in the

  snow to scare the mice out of hiding.

  “So good. So, imposing.”

  She whistled again. The white savok bent his knees, laid his head down,

  and waited. She vaulted onto his back and hugged his neck. He leaped

  up and took off in a dizzying gallop circling the corral. It took all of her

 
strength to stay on his back. Finally, she whistled him to a slow trot.

  The Stablemaster and his helper, a traditional otrokar saddle in his

  hands, stared at her, open mouthed. She rode the savok and

  dismounted. “The saddle.”

  The stable hand passed it to her through the fence.

  “Does the white one have a name?”

  “Attura.”

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  Ghost.

  Let’s hope he can fly like one. She was so late.

  Chapter 15 part 4

  October 8, 2018 by Gordon 922 Comments

  The green plain flew by as Attura dashed through the grass. The savok

  hadn’t run for a while, because the moment she gave him free reign, he

  burst into a gallop. For a few happy breaths, after they had started off

  from the stables, Maud let all of her anxiety go and lost herself to the

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  exhilaration of the wind, speed, and the power of the beast below

  her. Attura ran, fueled by the pure joy of it, and she felt that joy, and,

  swept up in his need to run free, she let him do it and shared in it.

  Eventually reality came back like a heavy blanket wrapping around

  her. She checked her personal unit. They had swung to far to the west,

  nearing the mesas rising on her left. The hunting party rode through the

  center of the plain, to the east and just about four miles

  ahead. Reluctantly, she shifted in the saddle, whistling softly. Attura

  whined, slowing.

  “I know, I know.” She promised herself that the next time she had a few

  hours, she would bring Attura back out here and let him run himself

  out. But now they had a hunting party to catch.

  The savok settled into a fast canter, which wasn’t really the best

  term. The canter of Earth horses was a three-beat gait, while the savok

  launched himself forward with his powerful hind legs and pawed at the

  ground with his forelimbs. It was a stride more reminiscent of a wolf or

  a greyhound. But it was one rung slower than his sprint, so she called it

  canter. Maud steered her mount on an intercept course and soon they

  found a comfortable rhythm.

  She checked her personal unit. It obediently projected the target of the