We thought about it some more.
“I’m going to get him out,” he said.
I shook my head. “No, Sean. Not you. Us.”
“One of us will need to stay at the inn.”
“If they just wanted just you, they could have grabbed you during any of the outings you and Wilmos went on. They want me, or possibly both of us. We will go together. But first, we’ll have to pull off this nightmare event.”
“Nothing can ever be easy,” he said.
“Nope. We can’t even just walk into a trap like normal people. We have to work really hard first.”
He laughed, a quiet wolf chuckle.
I raised my hand. “One vote for yes. Any opposing?”
“We haven’t done anything dumb or dangerous for almost six months.” Sean pushed away from the wall on which he was leaning, walked over, and kissed me. “Let’s do this.”
“It’s a spouse selection,” I explained.
We sat in the kitchen, Sean and I on one side of the table, Caldenia and Marais on the other, with Orro on the end, on Sean’s right.
“It involves a powerful head of state,” I continued. “The spouse selection is very complex. The choice of the candidate depends on the genetic traits the spouse can offer, on what faction they represent, and on the political benefits that match will bring.”
Marais frowned. “But they are all the same species, right?”
“Not necessarily,” Sean said.
“It’s an old, established practice.” Caldenia waved her hand. “With the genetic science available to those with enough resources, gender and species don’t matter. As long as there is enough compatibility, you could marry a whale, Officer Marais. They would splice the DNA together into an offspring with the desired genetic traits and let the child mature to term in an artificial womb.”
Marais shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”
“It’s not about comfort but survival.” Caldenia bared her sharp teeth. “I carry the genetic roots of seven species in my body thanks to some long-term planning by my ancestors. They have served me very well.”
“The selection has been narrowed down to twelve candidates from one hundred and five,” I continued.
Caldenia’s eyes sparkled.
“Twelve is a lot,” Marais said.
“You have your two or three favorites but keep the others in the running for political considerations,” Caldenia explained. “And for the spectacle. There must be pageantry, after all. Spouse selections are greatly entertaining. A well-timed spouse selection followed by a lavish wedding can often quell civil unrest before it has a chance to explode in your face.”
“The ruler has an issue,” I said. “The prospective spouses-to-be keep killing each other.”
Caldenia leaned back and cackled. “This is absolutely delightful.”
“Apparently, it wouldn’t be problem under normal circumstances,” Sean said. “However, their religious leader is at the end of his life. He must find a suitable candidate to whom he can transfer his holy gift before he expires. Random murder interferes with that on a psychic level, and by law, he is required to be present for the entirety of the spouse selection.”
“I love it.” Caldenia grinned.
She would be a lot less happy in a minute.
Sean kept going. “They’ve tried everything to secure their premises, but each candidate has twenty retinue members, and they keep nuking each other in elaborate ways. They need a safe ground.”
Orro raised his hand and counted on his claws.
“We’re it,” I said. “If we can help him get to the altar, he will give us access to the special portal and their abandoned mining outpost on Karron, so we can go look for Wilmos.”
“What were they mining?” Caldenia asked.
“Fuel for a weapon,” Sean told her. We had done some research. “They mined a bunch of it and then decided the weapon was too inhumane to be used.”
Caldenia raised her eyebrows. “It broke.”
“Probably,” I said. “The point is, we have no other way of entering that planet.”
“How many?” Orro asked. “How many beings total?”
I tried to sound upbeat. “Three hundred. The ruler’s retinue, the candidates and their escorts, and the observers. A lot of powers in that region of space are sending diplomats to see what will happen, since the marriage will affect the balance of power.”
Orro blinked. “How many species?”
“At least fourteen. Probably more.”
He blinked again.
“Screen please,” I told the inn.
Gertrude Hunt sprouted a small screen on a tendril and held it up to Orro. He scrolled through the guest list.
“They are due to arrive in two days if we say yes,” I said.
“Of course, you must say yes.” Caldenia clapped her hands. “This will be marvelous.”
I had to do it now. “Your Grace, there is one tiny issue. The ruler is…”
“Don’t tell me!” She jumped up. “I want to be surprised.”
“Letere Olivione…” Sean started.
“Not another word! You will not ruin this for me.”
She swept out of the kitchen, the sleeves of her long green gown flaring from the wind of her passage.
“Well, shit,” Sean said.
I slumped onto the back of my chair.
“I take it there is a problem,” Marais said.
“Not yet,” Sean said. “But there will be one.”
I groaned. This was exactly what I was afraid of.
“I can get her. We can have the inn hold her and tell her,” Sean offered.
“She would be mortally offended.” I sighed. “Do you want to deal with her carrying a grudge for the next six months? Because I don’t.”
Orro had stopped scrolling and was staring at the screen, his eyes distant.
“Orro?” I asked gently. “Are three hundred guests too many?”
He raised his head. His eyes focused. “What are you implying? Are you implying my skills are not sufficient?”
Oh no, no, no, we’re not taking that scary road into Orro’s Offended Woods.
“She is asking if you need some assistance,” Sean said.
The chef frowned, pondered it for a second, and his eyes brightened. “Two!”
“What?” I asked.
“I will need two assistants! Maybe three. I need the species list. I need to go shopping. I need to go to Baha-char! I need things and money!”
He jumped up and ran at the pantry door. The inn helpfully slid it out of the way before Orro could collide with it head-on, and the chef vanished into the storage room.
Sean turned to Marais. “We would like to hire you for security to watch the place from the street. Just in case.”
“You don’t need to do that. I’ll help you anyway.”
“We absolutely have to pay you,” I told him. “It would be time away from your family.”
Marais thought about it. “I have to check regulations. There might be something in there that prevents me from taking a part-time job. Let me figure this out.”
“Thank you,” I told him.
He got up and left. It was just me and Sean now.
“Do you have any contacts who deal in bioweapons?” I asked.
“Wilmos has some nasty stuff in his shop. I can take it, I’m sure he won’t mind. Why?”
“One of the candidates is backed by the Dushegubs.”
Sean frowned. “I’ve read about those. They are sentient trees. Are they problematic?”
“They are not sentient. They are sapient, but unable to feel emotions. Dushegubs are calculating, homicidal, moving trees that feed on animal life. They know that other creatures have emotions and what those emotions are, and they don’t care. Their first option is murder, their second option is murder, and if that fails, they go straight to murder.”