George bowed. “Greetings, Khanum. I’m sorry we have to keep our voices down. Local law enforcement is nearby. I trust the trip went well?”

“We survived.” Her voice was deep for a woman. The kind of voice that could roar. “I hate void travel. It feels like my stomach is turned inside out.” Khanum grimaced. “I suppose we’ll have to do the formal entrance once everyone is here.”

“That is the custom,” George said.

The otrokar at her side pulled off his cloak. He didn’t wear armor, only the kilt, and his torso was exposed. He was lean and hard, his muscles light but crisply defined under the bronze skin tinted with green, as if life had chiseled all softness off him. If he was human, I would put him in his thirties, but with the otrokar age was difficult to tell. His hair, long and so black, it shone with purple highlights, fell on his back. Thin leather belts and chains wrapped his waist and dozens of charms, pouches, and bottles hung from them. The Khanum looked like a powerful predatory cat. Next to her he looked like a weathered tree, or perhaps a serpent: nothing but dry muscle. His face matched him: harsh, chiseled with rough strokes, with green eyes so light they seemed to glow with some eerie radiance. If he wasn’t a shaman, I’d eat my broom.

He surveyed the inn. “Is there a fire pit?”

“There is a room set out specifically for spirits,” I told him. “With the fire ring.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “Good. I will ask the spirits to show me the omens for these peace talks.”

“The omens better be good,” Khanum said quietly, her voice laced with steel.

The shaman didn’t even blink. “The omens will be what the omens will be.”

The Khanum took a deep breath. “I suppose I have to get on with it.” She raised her voice slightly. “Greetings, Arbiter. Greetings, Innkeeper.”

“Gertrude Hunt welcomes you, Khanum,” I bowed my head. “Winter sun to you and your warriors. My water is your water. My fire is your fire. My beds are soft and my knives are sharp. Spit on my hospitality and I’ll slit your throat.” There. Nice and traditional.

Next to me Jack became very still. He didn’t tense; he just became utterly at peace.

Khanum smiled. “I feel at home already. Winter sun to you. We will honor this house and those who own it. Our knives are sharp and our sleep is light. Betray the honor of your fire, and I’ll carve out your heart.”

The door swung open, obeying the push of my magic. I stepped through. “Please follow me, Khanum.”

Ten minutes later I was back at my post on the porch. The inn had sealed the entrance behind the last otrokar. The only way they could exit would be through the main dining room.

At seven thirty the area above the field shimmered, as if a ring of hot air suddenly rose above the grass. The shimmer solidified into a giant ship, with sleek curving lines that made you think of a manta ray gliding through the water. The elegant craft sank to the ground, landing like a feather, a hatch opened, and Nuan Cee stepped out. Four feet tall, he resembled a fox with the eyes of a cat and ears of a lynx. Soft luxurious fur, silver-blue and perfectly combed, sheathed him from head to toe, turning white on his stomach and darkening to an almost turquoise dappled with golden rosettes on his back He wore a beautiful silky apron and a necklace studded with blue jewels.

Nuan Cee saw me, waved, and called over his shoulder. “This is the right place. Bring all the things.”

He started toward me. Four foxes emerged, carrying a palanquin with rose curtains. Behind them five other foxes, their fur ranging from white to deepest blue, walked, hopping lightly over the grass, all five adorned with silks and jewelry. A low braying sound came out of the belly of the ship. A moment and a small fox emerged, tugging on the reins of what looked like a furry cross between a camel and a donkey. A precarious stack of bags, packs, and chests sat on top of the beast, piled almost twice as tall as the creature itself. The fox tugged on reins again and the donkey-camel stepped into the grass. Behind him another beast appeared, led by a different fox.

“So let me get this straight,” Jack murmured. “They fly around on spaceships, but they load donkeys in them?”

“They like donkeys,” George told him.

The fifth donkey made its way out of the ship, loaded like all the others. My parents had hosted Nuan Cee before. I mentally patted myself on the back for assigning them enough rooms to house a party three times their number.

“How long do they expect this to last?” Gaston whistled. “A year?”

“They love their luxuries,” I explained. “The worst thing you can do to one of them is to force them to go without. Once we get them all inside would you mind showing them to their rooms?” I would follow behind to make sure nobody wandered off the beaten path and then I’d settle all of the donkeys into the stables.

“No problem,” Gaston said.

Nuan Cee finally reached us, flanked by a grey skinned woman dressed in high tech armor. Her long hair fell to below her waist in long thin dreads. Her eyes were gold and her teeth were sharp. She served as Nuan Cee’s saar ah and fighting her was a very dangerous idea.

“Diiina!” Nuan Cee stretched the word.

“Shhh,” I whispered. “Honorable Nuan Cee, we have a policeman watching the house outside.”

“Oh.” Nuan Cee lowered his voice. “Right. I am so happy to visit your inn, so happy. Allow me to present to you my family.” He waves his hand-paw, and foxes lined up, with palanquin in the lead. “My grandmother, Nuan Re.” The palanquin passed by us. “My sister Nuan Kuo. My sisters’ cousin by marriage Nuan Oler. My second brother in law…”