Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles #4) - Ilona Andrews Page 0,15

to vampires. No major ritual took place in vampire society without the vala tree to witness it.

As if all of this wasn’t enough, a two-foot wide stream meandered through the smooth stream bed, crossing the deck, winding around the tree in a perfect circle, and disappearing beneath the roots. Maud could’ve understood if it was part of the water supply that would be later recycled, but there were bright sparkly fish in it. The stream served as a decoration, nothing more. The luxury boggled the mind.

There had to be some way to close it off, if the ship had to maneuver, Maud reflected. Otherwise they would have a mess on their hands. There was nothing more fun than unsecured water in zero-G.

“Can I?” Helen whispered.

“Yes,” Maud told her.

Helen ran to the tree, little heels flashing.

Maud followed slowly. She’d walked across stones just like these countless times before when she was married. If she let it, her memory would change their pale gray to a warm travertine beige; the crimson banners to Carolina-blue; and the dark ceiling of the ship to an orange-tinted sky.

She stopped before the vala tree. Every vampire planet had them. If the climate couldn’t support them, the vampires built hothouses just to plant them. A vala tree was the heart of the clan, the core of the family, a sacred place. The blossoms of the vala tree had decorated her bridal crown. It was a great honor, appropriate to the bride of the second son of the Marshal of House Ervan.

A hot pain pinched her chest. It’s in the past, she told herself. It is over and done with. Let it go.

Careful footsteps approached from behind, trying to sneak up on her. She hid a smile.

“Greetings, Lord Soren.”

The footsteps stopped, then resumed, and Lord Soren halted next to her. Vampires aged like their castles—growing bigger and sturdier, as if time itself reinforced them. Lord Soren was the perfect example of a middle-aged vampire: wide in the shoulders, muscled like a grizzled tiger, with a spectacular mane of dark-brown hair and a short but thick beard, both touched with gray. His syn-armor, midnight black with red marks denoting his rank of Knight Sergeant, and the small round crest of House Krahr, bore a few scars here and there, much like Lord Soren himself. A testament to life spent in battle. He looked like a humanoid tank.

He was also Arland’s uncle. She had worked hard to get him to like her. Lord Soren wasn’t complicated. His worldview came down to three things: honor, tradition, and family. He dedicated his life to upholding all three, and they were never in conflict. He viewed her favorably, but how far exactly his good will extended remained to be seen.

He pondered Helen, who had dropped her bag and was dipping her fingers into the stream. “The child loves the water.”

“There is little water on Karhari, my lord.” There was nothing on Karhari except miles of dry, hard dirt, and it desiccated those sent there until they hardened and dried as well.

“It’s a new experience for her.”

“It is.”

They watched her in comfortable silence.

“It’s good that you joined us,” he said.

She hoped he was right.

“Perhaps, with your presence, my nephew will stay put for longer than five minutes before running off on another fool’s errand halfway across the galaxy.”

The arrival deck was slowly filling up with people waiting to go planetside.

If he does, I’ll run off with him. “I understand Lady Ilemina is in residence?”

“She is.”

Sooner or later she would have to meet Arland’s mother. It wouldn’t be a pleasant meeting.

“Has my nephew told you why I had to come to the inn to fetch him?” Lord Soren asked.

“No.”

“What do you know of House Serak?”

She raked her memory. “One of the larger Houses. They control most of their planet, which is also named Serak, if I recall correctly. They’ve never produced a Warlord, but they did come close twice in the past five centuries. After suffering defeat in the Seven Star War, their influence diminished, but they’re still formidable. They’re also hungry to regain what they’ve lost and that makes them dangerous.”

Lord Soren nodded in approval. “And their sworn enemy?”

It took her a second. “House Kozor. A slightly smaller House, but a great deal more aggressive. They control the second habitable planet in the Serak system.”

“They’ve decided to bury the bones of their fallen,” he said.

Interesting. “An alliance?”

“A wedding.”

Maud blinked. “Even so?”

“Yes. The son of the Serak’s Preceptor will marry the daughter of the Kozor’s