Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
“I don’t know. Maybe it expects us to die trying.”
“Why?” Sean frowned. “Seems too elaborate. Why is it even targeting us in the first place? Does it want revenge for Michael?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s chancy. If it were me, I would just wait and ambush us at the shop. We fought one of these assholes, and it almost kicked our asses. Two or three could finish us. Why not take Wilmos out of the equation, wait for us to show up, and then...” He hit his left palm with his right fist.
“I don’t know.” I got up. I was tired of not knowing. “A communication screen, please.”
The inn helpfully sprouted one for me on the wall.
“Who are you calling?”
“Someone who knows more about Karron than I do.”
“Another innkeeper?” Sean frowned.
“No.” Innkeepers didn’t care about Karron. There was absolutely no chance that one of its residents would ever make a stop at an inn. No, I needed someone with an in-depth understanding of the galaxy. I knew just the person.
Now we just had to figure out what it would cost us.
The galaxy was full of nations. Some were republics, some were empires, others were democracies, anocracies, autocracies and other forms of government not found in human dictionaries. At any given time, many of them were in conflict with each other. Interstellar battles were expensive and required a prohibitive amount of resources, and most nations recognized the need for peaceful adjudication, which was where the Arbitrators came in. They tried to resolve disputes between cosmic powers before they flared into devastating wars.
The Office of Arbitration was an ancient and mysterious entity, and the Arbitrators themselves were beings of unprecedented power, carefully chosen from a variety of species. They possessed encyclopedic knowledge of the galaxy and commanded great respect, and they were to be treated with the utmost courtesy at all times.
“You look like one of your corpses,” I said.
On the huge screen George dragged his hand over his face. Normally he resembled one of Tolkien’s elven princes, tall, lean, golden-haired, and elegant in an ethereal way. He liked when people underestimated him, so he often pretended to have a limp and walked with a cane. I had it on very good authority that he was a superb swordsman. He was an even better necromancer. That, I had witnessed personally. Seeing thousands of undead claw their way out of the barren soil of Nexus was something I would never forget.
The George I saw today was entirely different. His long blond hair had broken free of his ponytail and hung around his face in greasy strands. Dark bags clutched at his eyes. He looked haggard, and his silk doublet, which must have been as white as fresh snow at some point, now resembled snow after a week had passed and most of it melted into mud.
He stared at me, his blue eyes distracted. “Hello.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
The Arbitrator pondered the question. “Some time ago.”
He didn’t seem like he was altogether there. He must’ve been extremely sleep deprived. Judging by the blue tint in the white of his eyes, he had taken a lot of boosters to keep himself awake, probably one after another. Whatever the problem he was facing, he’d smashed his computer-like brain against it, and it left him stumped.
“You should shower, George. And then sleep.”
He raised his finger. “Not yet.”
“Why?”
He thought about it. It was almost as if his brain was on a five-second delay. “Valkkinians.”
Ah. Valkkinians were exceptionally difficult.
“Light or dark?”
“Dark.”
That man had the best luck. “They refuse to see you?”
“Yes.”
“You offered fire?”
“Yes.”
“And rubies?”
“Yes.”
“Record what I’m about to say so you will remember.”
He obediently waved his fingers at the display.
“You’re going to take a shower. You must be clean. Don’t use anything with perfume in it. Don’t tie your hair, don’t shave. Then you are going to land near Oharak Mountain, by a stone stele. It’s 900 feet tall, you can’t miss it. You are going to take your shoes off and walk barefoot up the mountain path. Every 67 steps you will stop and kneel. Do this five times, then wait. An elderly Valkkinian will come to see you. Tell him you are my friend. He will help you.”
George struggled with it for a few seconds. “How do you know him?”
“He stayed at the inn.”
“Valkkinians have never stayed at Gertrude Hunt. I checked.”
“Not my inn. My parents’ inn.”
George frowned. “That can’t be right.”
“Why not?”
“Because I asked your brother, and he said your parents never hosted them.”
My heart made a valiant effort to leap out of my chest. Klaus was alive.
I kept my expression calm. “Klaus didn’t encounter them. It was right after he and Michael turned twenty-one. They went on a month-long trip to Japan. Michael was a Toyotomi Hideyoshi fan, and he really wanted to see Osaka Castle.”