And here I thought he was the sensible one out of that whole delegation. “Would it help if I gave them a specific area to consecrate? Then you wouldn’t have to walk on it and we could avoid bloody hammers.”

Odalon sputtered. “How in the world would you do that? Do you intend to lift a section of the ground and float it in the empty air?”

“That is an option,” I said. It really wasn’t, but there was no reason to discuss the limits of my powers. “However, I was going to suggest digging a trench and filling it with running water. They are planning on calling specific earth spirits, and the running water would provide a boundary.”

“This is blasphemy!” Odalon declared in the same way Gerard Butler had once roared “This is Sparta.” Sadly, Odalon had nobody to kick into a bottomless hole for emphasis, so he settled for looking extremely put out.

“Let’s not be hasty,” Arland said. “So they want to celebrate. What’s the harm?”

“So you don’t object?” I asked.

“I do object,” Arland said. “In the strongest words possible, but in the interest of peace, I’m willing to set aside my objections.”

“Lady Isur?” I turned to the Marshal.

She frowned, tapping one finger against her lips. “I consent as well.”

“What?” Odalon turned to her.

“I’m tired. My people are tired. These talks must conclude at some point. If this pagan dance helps the Horde to get in line, so be it.”

“I will not stand for this,” Odalon announced.

“That’s okay,” Robart said. “We can outvote you.”

Uh-oh. Out of the three Marshals, I had expected him to put up the biggest fight.

Lady Isur reached over and touched his cheek with her long fingers. “Strange, my lord. You don’t seem to have a fever.”

He glanced at her, surprised, almost shocked. For a moment he struggled with it, then recovered. “Let the savages have their celebration. But I want something in return.”

Here it comes.

“I want to add guests to the banquet,” Lord Robart said.

“Guests? What guests?” Arland’s eyebrows furrowed.

“How many guests and of what sort?” I asked.

“I think three should suffice,” Robart said. “They will be members of an old respected House.”

Vampires, then. “Very well, I will bring this to the Arbiter’s attention. The final word is his.” And he would likely say no. Increasing the number of vampires would just complicate the negotiations, especially if they were vampires Robart decided to invite..

“We shouldn’t even be having this discussion,” Odalon thundered.

“Robart, this is foolhardy at best.” Lady Isur sighed.

Arland turned to her. “What House?”

“He means to invite House Meer,” Lady Isur explained, as if to a child.

“Are you out of your mind?” Arland roared.

“Don’t tell me my business, Krahr!” Robart stepped forward, baring his fangs. Arland’s teeth were already out on display.

“How can you invite House Meer? The seek destruction of my House!” Arland snarled. “Of both of our Houses!”

“They are the true patriots!” Robart shot back.

“They are cowards. They refused to fight on Nexus, so we would be weakened and they could pick over our bleeding carcasses. How can you consort with cowards? They have been excommunicated.”

“This is just getting better and better.” Odalon shook his head in horror. “One wants to have a pagan ceremony, the other invites the excommunicated to it. Has everyone lost their minds?”

Robart stood his ground. “House Meer sacrificed their honor for all of our sake.”

“So help me, I will strangle him.” Arland clenched his fists.

Lady Isur stepped between them.

“Explain it to me,” Arland shot over her. “Explain to me how those sniveling worms have our best interests at heart while we are getting ready to spill our blood in their place.”

“This rotation does nothing except drain our blood,” Robart said, emotion clear on his face. “I wish I could make you see. Only a concerted offensive can end this war. We must throw all our might into it.”

Arland shook his head. “And you suppose our Kair, Dui La Kingdoms, and the Harat will just stand by and wait at our borders patiently, like docile livestock, while we do this? Or have you signed some peace treaties on behalf of the Anocracy when I wasn’t looking?”

“How can you be so dense?” Robart growled. “Do you not understand that we must reject the Hierophant’s directive and abandon the Warlor…”

“Stop!” Odalon thrust his hammer against Robart’s chest. “Stop, Lord Marshal, before you add treason to your heresy.”

“I withdraw my consent to the celebration,” Arland said, his eyes dark.

“You can’t. You’ve given your word.” Robart smiled at Arland and Isur. “You both have given your word.”

Arland bared his teeth.

“Any time!” Robart pushed forward.

“Enough!” Lady Isur barked. “You may be Marshals but I’m the Bitch of Eskar. Do not make me show you how I earned my name.”

Robart took a step back.

Arland turned and stormed out of the room.

The Battle Chaplain turned to leave as well.