The auroch looked like she couldn’t hurt a fly. Looks could be very deceiving.
Chef Adri also sent a plating specialist from his personal restaurant, a Vaskebiorn, who, contrary to the innkeeper nickname for their species, didn’t look like a raccoon except for her hands. She looked like an odd, yet devastatingly adorable hybrid of a fox, squirrel, and monkey with short golden fur, and her dexterity was off the charts. Her name was Droplet, and she and Orro had already clashed twice. He tried to bully her by raising his quills, and she smacked him on the nose with a pastry bag.
We passed the kitchen and came to one of the dining areas. Sean and I had built three in total, and this one was called the Ocean Dining Hall. It was a large rectangular room. Three of its walls were pale cream stone, tastefully decorated with a carved relief along the ceiling. The fourth wall opened onto a terrace that overlooked an alien sea, an endless shallow ocean with water the color of deep orange honey under a purple sky.
“Kolinda?” Mr. Rodriguez said, studying the jagged dark mountains in the distance that thrust from the water like the fins of some massive beast. “An interesting choice.”
“It’s a reminder,” Sean said. “We can throw them into that sea at any time.”
Tony smiled.
I picked the nearest table, and we took our seats. The chair molded to my body as it accepted the weight. Taking a nap would be so nice right now.
The nearest wall split, and the inn deposited a platter of small colorful snacks and four glasses and a pitcher of iced tea onto the table. Orro would never let a visitor go hungry.
Tony helped himself to a tiny emerald-green doughnut and chewed with obvious enjoyment.
“Are you here to deliver a cease and desist?” I asked.
Mr. Rodriguez heaved a deep parental sigh. “No.”
Oh good.
“If Wilmos wasn’t a factor, would you still hold this event?” Mr. Rodriguez asked.
“No,” Sean and I said at the same time.
“Good,” Mr. Rodriguez said.
We had told them about Wilmos and the corrupted ad-hal. I showed Mr. Rodriguez the security footage when I filed for the permits.
“We’re not trying to make a name for ourselves,” I said. “No sane innkeeper would want to host this.”
“You don’t know how right you are,” Mr. Rodriguez said. “The Assembly is very uncomfortable with this entire thing.”
“It’s not ambition,” Sean said. “It’s necessity.” He looked at Tony. “Can you survive on Karron?”
Tony paused his chewing and thought about it. “Possibly.”
“There is your answer,” Sean said. “If they are so uncomfortable, they can send some ad-hal to Karron to figure out why corrupted versions of them are running around kidnapping people.”
“You know we can’t do that,” Mr. Rodriguez said. “Our sphere of influence is limited to Earth.”
The Treaty that guaranteed Earth’s special status was very specific. The ad-hal jurisdiction stopped just outside the solar system. In very rare cases, they would hunt an offender down, but most of the time, even if you went on a killing spree inside an inn, as long as you fled into the greater galaxy, they wouldn’t chase you. If you dared to return, however, there would be no escape.
“This entire thing has the Arbitrators’ fingerprints all over it,” Mr. Rodriguez said. “Is an Arbitrator involved?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Is it George Camarine?”
“Yes,” I said again.
“That man is a menace.” Mr. Rodriguez shook his head. “No other inn on Earth is willing to host this mess. Are you two sure you have to do this? Especially considering your permanent guest.”
“We are sure,” Sean said.
“The Dominion knows about Caldenia,” I told them. “They don’t see an issue.”
“Your permits are approved in their entirety,” Mr. Rodriguez said.
“Nobody wants to offend the Dominion,” Sean said.
Tony nodded. “You got it.”
“We are raising your rating to 3.5 stars,” Mr. Rodriguez continued.
I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. It had to be nerves.
Sean glanced at me.
“They are too embarrassed to let the Sovereign stay at a 2.5 star inn,” Tony told him.
“We hosted a Drifan Liege during a Treaty stay and they did not raise our rating,” I managed between the giggles.
“Yes, but the two of you also allowed a guest and a staff member to make a giant scene at a taping of a TV show and nearly exposed the fact that your chef is a seven-foot-tall alien covered in quills,” Mr. Rodriguez said. “The Assembly takes everything into account.”
I laughed harder.
“The Assembly has two conditions,” Mr. Rodriguez said. “If you stop giggling for a moment, I will explain them to you. First, Tony will stay here in his official capacity to back you up.”
Tony grinned, raised his arm, and flexed.
“And second, if the Sovereign comes to any harm during this event, your inn is forfeit.”
All the laughter went out of me at once.
Mr. Rodriguez leaned forward. “Think about this very carefully. There is no room for negotiation. Every innkeeper loses a guest once in a while, no matter how good they are or how many precautions they take. You cannot lose this one. The two of you don’t even know if Wilmos is still alive.”
I straightened in my chair. Around me the inn creaked, reacting to the change in my mood. The room leaned in slightly, as the entirety of Gertrude Hunt waited like a dog sighting an intruder and waiting for a command.
Tony stopped chewing.
“This isn’t about Wilmos,” I said, each word resonating with magic. “The inn is our domain. If we cannot keep our guests safe, we do not deserve it.”
Mr. Rodriguez smiled. “And that’s exactly the answer I expected.”
8
When we last left the inn, extensive renovations were afoot, permits for banned species obtained, the Assembly (finally!) deigned to increase Gertrude Hunt’s rating and our gracious hosts were preparing for an inspection.
Let’s take a peek inside.
The Seven Star Dominion spread across nine star systems, five of which had more than one habitable planet. The Dominion was a powerful force. Their economy was robust, their scientific research and development was well-funded, and their military was disciplined, trained, and equipped with the latest weaponry. If they ever took over our solar system, within three hundred years Mars would be terraformed, Mercury and Venus would be on the way, and the Moon would sport a massive colony.
The Dominion incorporated four main species, with the human-like sislaf holding a 67% majority. The sislaf ran taller than humans and leaner, with square faces that had wide cheekbones, hollow cheeks, and defined jawlines. Human skin started losing elasticity after we reached our 20s, but that loss was slight. We developed wrinkles and discoloration due to other factors – sun exposure, pollution, tobacco use. The sislaf had long ago conquered that extrinsic damage. They aged more slowly, and they didn’t look anywhere as worn as we did.
The man who strode out of the portal was likely in his eighties, middle aged for a sislaf, but he could’ve passed for a forty-year-old human who had been taking good care of himself. His hooded eyes were too green, the line of his jaw was too sharp, and his features were too symmetrical, but overall, the differences between our two species were minute. If you met him in passing, you’d think he was a celebrity who’d gone a bit overboard with plastic surgery. Except for his skin, which was an even taupe with too much gray undertone to allow him to pass for a local.
He stepped onto the polished floor of the arrival chamber and paused. He was seven feet tall and made even taller by an asymmetric gray headdress that jutted half a foot above his left ear. A gray and white robe hugged his lean frame, cinched at the waist with a wide black belt. His hair was black and cut short.