Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles #4) - Ilona Andrews Page 0,47

sagged against the parapet.

The child disappeared from view behind a forest of towers.

It was too late to do anything about it. She tapped her harbinger. Helen’s life signs read normal, except for elevated heartbeat. She would just have to hope her daughter survived the vampire zipline.

It took Maud a full thirty seconds to haul herself off the stone wall and start walking. If they were in the inn, she would’ve sworn her sister stretched the distance between Maud and her quarters, artificially elongating it into a never-ending trek. But they were in House Krahr, so she just had to keep moving. She would get there eventually.

Finally, the door of her suite loomed before Maud. She waved at it and it slid open. She went straight into the bathroom. A square tub big enough to comfortably soak six vampires sat in the middle of the room, a dozen different bottles and canisters waiting on the shelf for her selection.

“Water at 105 degrees Fahrenheit, fill to six inches from the rim”

Jets opened along the tub’s rim, gushing water. She sorted through the bottles. Mint, mint, more mint. There. Soothing blend. The scent reminded her of lavender.

She tossed a couple handfuls of the powder and dried herbs into the tub, stripped off her armor, bodysuit, and underwear, and slid into the water; positioning herself on a shelf, she submerged all the way up to her neck. The hot water swirled around her.

Water. Wonderful hot water. All the water she ever wanted.

She could grow her hair out again and then she could wash it with every shampoo available.

A small sound escaped her mouth, before she could catch it, and Maud wasn’t sure if it was a giggle or a sob.

She was about to close her eyes when she saw it, a small transparent sphere sitting on the edge of the sink. It wasn’t there when she and Helen had left the bathroom this morning.

Maud slipped out of the tub and padded to the sink. The sphere was barely a quarter of an inch across. On Earth it would’ve passed for a tiny glass marble or a stray bead.

A high-storage datacore, likely encrypted to her. Someone left her a present.

She picked it up, leaned forward, and blew on the mirror. Faint words appeared, written in the glyphs of the Merchant clans.

With compliments from the Great Nuan Cee.

The lees. Of course. And so sleek, too. A little message to her—we can slip into your quarters anytime we want.

Father always said dealing with the lees was like juggling fire. You never knew when you would get burned.

Maud returned to the tub and sat back on the shelf, rolling the datacore between her fingers. To look or not to look? She wasn’t sure she could take bad news right this second. But then if it was bad news, the sooner she found out, the better. Maud set the bead on the tub’s rim.

“Access,” she whispered.

A light flared within the bead, the silver glow sweeping her. The light shot out in a new direction. An open window framed by long gauzy curtains. Whoever was filming this had to be hanging just outside of it. Knowing lees, they were probably upside down.

The recording zoomed in through the window. Lady Ilemina reclined on a sofa.

Ha!

Arland’s mother was out of her armor and wearing a long blue tunic. Her arms were bare and covered with swollen patches of red. Maud smiled. She had worked Ilemina over more than she realized. A portable med unit that looked like some nightmarish robotic spider shone green light at the largest bruise. Ilemina grimaced.

Her quarters were beautiful. The furniture was soft, carved from some cream-colored wood, and upholstered in deep blue that verged on turquoise. Two crystal vases dripped flowers. It was an elegant, uncluttered space, simple, peaceful, and surprisingly feminine.

The door in the far wall slid open and Arland marched through, his face battered, his eyes blazing, looking like he couldn’t wait to rip something with his bare hands.

“Hello, Mother,” he growled.

Ilemina sighed. “Took you long enough.”

Arland shrugged his massive shoulders. “I was detained.”

“By whom?”

“Lord Consort.”

Ilemina raised her eyebrows.

“He approached me at Communal,” Arland said. “We had some words.”

“What kind of words?”

“He said, ‘You’re upsetting your mother.’ I asked him if he was planning on doing something about it, and here we are.”

“Is Otubar alive?” Ilemina asked, her voice flat.

“Yes. Although I did dislocate his shoulder. I expect he’ll make a full recovery by evening.”

“I wish you would reach an understanding,” Ilemina said.

“We understand each

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