Sweep of the Heart

9

When we last left the inn, its new splendid décor had passed the Dominion’s critical inspection. Helpful assistants are gathering around our heroes in their moment of need.

And someone made an honest man out of George! Large is the Universe, and the wonders within it.

Watching Gaston eat was like witnessing someone have a religious experience.

He cut a small piece off the duck leg, wielding his fork and knife with the elegance of a concert pianist, slipped it into his mouth, and chewed, closing his eyes. Behind Sean, who sat on the left, the entire kitchen staff waited with bated breath, including Orro.

“Divine,” Gaston said finally. “It is a multilayered symphony. The meat melts in your mouth, tender yet with a delightful texture, the skin is crisp yet delicate, an ode to all that is savory. The hint of thyme is sublime, the trace of garlic is almost buttery in its smoothness, and I detect something else, something non-Terrestrial. A touch of storran herb perhaps? Spring harvest, not fall.”

Orro’s quills trembled just a fraction. If he had been a cat, he would’ve purred. “Indeed.”

“This is much more than a dish. It is a memory.” Gaston smiled, displaying serrated teeth. “I shall treasure it, my friend.”

Orro gave a brisk nod and the chefs dispersed.

Some beings viewed food as fuel, some enjoyed it, and yet others were like Gaston. Not simply fans but connoisseurs. Somehow the chefs could identify them by some hidden sixth sense and gave them special treatment. Gaston had been part of George’s retinue during the peace summit that ended the Nexus war and Sean’s contract with the Nuan Clan. He and Orro had formed a symbiotic bond. The moment I told Orro that Sean went to get him, the entire kitchen snapped into the “VIP Imminent” mode. It was just Gaston’s luck that Orro’s prized duck, which he had worked on for three days, had finished cooking.

Gaston cut off another piece, speared a sliver of potato dusted with herbs, and chewed with obvious pleasure.

“Should we leave you two alone?” Sean asked.

“No need. It’s just so difficult to find good duck confit outside of the solar system. I have had several variations on the theme, but none can compare.”

Gaston reached for his wine glass and took a sip. “And of course, the Malbec pairing is perfect. You are so fortunate.”

We were sitting in the Ocean Dining Hall with the amber waves splashing past the terrace. After we terminated the call, Sean had gone to fetch Gaston, while I went to tell Orro that his favorite guest was coming. It took Sean over fifteen minutes to come back, which gave Orro enough time to plate and serve his masterpiece. Fetching Gaston should’ve taken two minutes at most, so clearly an altercation with the female werewolf must’ve occurred. Neither Sean nor Gaston had elaborated on it.

“I suppose I should begin,” Gaston said, dabbing his lips with a napkin. “It all started in childhood, you see…”

The inn chimed. Another return visitor from Baha-char.

“Hold that thought.” I got up and stepped away.

I walked outside the dining room, folded space to save time, and reached for the door leading to the galactic bazaar. It swung open revealing a terminally cute creature. He was just under four feet tall, with sandy fur, a fluffy tail, and the jeweled apron of a Merchant. He stood on his hind legs, holding his paw hands in front of him. He twitched his lynx ears, making the two golden hoops in his left ear clink, opened his blue eyes wide, and held out his arms.

“Dina!”

“Nuan Couki!” I bent down and hugged him. It was like squishing the world’s fluffiest fox.

“So formal,” he said.

“Well, I can’t call you Cookie now. You have two hoops in your ear.”

Cookie’s rise through the ranks of the Nuan Clan was nothing short of meteoric.

“You can always call me Cookie,” he said. “I like it.”

“What can I do for you?”

Cookie narrowed his eyes into sly slits. “I have not seen you for so long. I miss my dear friends. I have come to spend time with you.”

“So Clan Nuan wants to expand its business to the Seven Star Dominion.”

Cookie’s eyes widened in shock. He clasped his hands to his furry chest. “How could we possibly, even if we wanted to? That’s Clan Sai territory. I am simply here on vacation. I work too hard. So hard.”

I leaned toward him and kept my voice low. “You’re turning into your uncle.”

He tapped his nose with one clawed finger. “You flatter me so. It’s no wonder I want to come and stay with you.”

I almost died of cuteness. That’s why other species underestimated the lees. They knew they were adorable, and they made the most of it. But no matter how cuddly Cookie looked, inside his furry chest beat a ruthless heart. Their species were assassins and poisoners, and when it suited their interests, they killed with unparalleled viciousness.

“No harm can come to the Sovereign. If any unfortunate incident occurs, not even the bonds of friendship would save the guilty party. I mean it. If the Sovereign comes to any harm, I will lose my inn.”

Cookie’s face turned solemn. “I swear to you on my Grandmother’s heart that Clan Nuan will not harm the Sovereign.”

It was the strongest oath a Merchant could make. They revered their elderly and prayed to their ancestors.

The rules of hospitality dictated that I accept any guest that had not been banned. Furthermore, Clan Nuan and our family were bound by more than business. My sister was engaged to Arland, the Marshall of House Krahr. She and Helen, my niece, were now on the planet belonging to House Krahr, and a few months ago, during an attempted invasion, Helen had been poisoned. She lived because Nuan Cee gave her the antidote. Our family owed Clan Nuan a debt we could never hope to repay. Although I was sure that sooner or later Clan Nuan would put a price tag on it.

“Gertrude Hunt welcomes you, Honored Merchant.”

I bowed my head and invited him in with a sweep of my hand.

“We have been invited!” Cookie called out.

A pack of lees came running around the corner. They came in all shapes and sizes, decorated with veils, carrying things, and pushing a massive antigravity cart loaded to the brim with chests and bundles. One, two, three…seven, not including Cookie.

The lees danced about me, waving their paws.

“Greeting, Honored Innkeeper!”

“You smell like delicious duck, Honored Innkeeper!”

“Thank you for having us!”

Cookie grinned at me.

Well, I suppose that was to be expected. Cookie had moved up in the world, and in Merchant Clans promotions came with bigger budgets and larger staff.

I widened the entrance and pulled the Merchant Rooms I had made for the summit out of storage.

“It all started in childhood, you see.” Gaston sipped his wine.

We were back in the Ocean Dining Room at the same table in the same seats, with the addition of Cookie, who was treated to his own serving of the “delicious duck.” His posse was settling in their rooms and would come to dine later. Like all Merchants, Cookie loved gossip, and Arbitrator gossip was simply too delicious to ignore.

“All of us come from the world where the division between nobility and commoners is very stark. George and Jack are brothers born into a commoner family. They lost their parents when they were young, and they were raised by their older sister, Rose. The three of them tasted true poverty, the kind when you know the exact balance in your bank account down to a dollar and can tell exactly how much change is in your pocket without checking.”

That was not something I had ever experienced. My parents’ inn was prosperous, and while Gertrude Hunt and I had seen some lean times, we were never truly poor.

“Rose eventually married a man from a noble family, handsome, rich, and very stable, and the two brothers acquired a new and illustrious last name, Camarine. George and Jack received an education appropriate to someone of their new status. Their personalities are very different, but as brothers they share certain traits and being a chameleon is one of them. They adjusted to their new roles perfectly. Unless you knew their history, you would never suspect that those two are anything but noble princes, one elegant and beautiful, and the other fashionably jaded and rebellious. This is important.”

Cookie blinked. “Fascinating.”

He was clearly committing every drop of information to memory.

“Sophie was born into an aristocratic family. Her grandfather was a noble of a rival country who was exiled to the Mire, this horrible swamp, which I love.”

Sean frowned. “You love the swamp?”

“It’s home. You should see it when the moon slips from the clouds on a quiet night. The night flowers glow, the poisonous worms fluoresce in every color, and the giant alligator-like reptiles sing to the sky. It is peaceful.”

“You are a strange man,” Sean told him.

“I’m only ¾ man,” Gaston corrected. “But I digress. Sophie is actually my cousin, once removed. Her aunt is my grandmother, which doesn’t seem right since I’m older than Sophie, but it is true.”

“That’s nothing,” Cookie said. “I’m my uncle’s thrice-removed cousin’s seventh son.”

Gaston nodded in appreciation. “Family ties are important. We come from a very large family, land-rich, money-poor. The Mire is not a nice place. There was an incident when Sophie was young. She was kidnapped by slavers and put in a hole for a week. In Sophie’s head, a little girl went into the hole and a monster came out.”

I had no idea. When we met, I could sense there was something there, something dark and painful, but I didn’t imagine that.

“The thing is, Sophie’s grandfather did his best to raise her and her sister as nobles. They had the education, and they knew the legacy of their family, yet they also understood that they would be stuck rotting in the Mire forever. It had all the makings of one of those potent tragedies. But!”

Gaston waved his glass with a flourish.

“There was a matter of international intrigue. People were murdered, disasters occurred, righteous punishments were delivered through feats of personal heroism. The end result of all this complicated mess was our entire family relocating out of the Mire. Sophie’s sister married Declan Camarine’s best friend, and Sophie and George were introduced.”

“The swamp monstress and the elegant prince,” Cookie said.

Gaston grinned. “Indeed. Not falling in love would’ve violated a fundamental law of existence. Cue decades of angst.”

He raised his hand to his forehead in an obviously feminine gesture. “Oh no, I am a damaged killer with trust issues. I do not deserve happiness.”

He slapped his hand over his left eye, his expression dark and tortured. “Oh no, I am a necromancer who must manipulate everyone to keep them safe due to childhood trauma, and the woman I love, whom I most want to keep safe, will not permit me to take care of her.”

Cookie snickered.

“Incredibly frustrating for everyone involved,” Gaston said. “George refused to make the first move in consideration of Sophie’s feelings. He wanted it to be her decision. And she, in turn, wanted him to throw himself at her feet and walk away from his professional obligations of playing chess with real rulers and empires as his pawns. They got nowhere.”

This was like some cheesy romance novel, except I knew the people involved.

“I had given up on them,” Gaston confessed. “And then George became an Arbitrator and dragged the lot of us with him. I have read this wonderful book, called The Three Musketeers. It was just like that, except we were missing our D’Artagnan. I believe you were there when George enticed her to return to the pack.”

“I was,” I confirmed. “It was something. He gave a very passionate speech.”

Gaston smiled. “He’s excellent at that. I don’t know what he said but it worked. However, once Sophie joined us, she realized that nothing had changed. George was still assuming responsibility for everyone and everything, still working himself to the bone, and still manipulating people and beings, except now, he was doing it on a galactic scale. Our little band of misfits had graduated to the big leagues. Sophie left us. Again.”

“She did?” I had no idea.

Gaston nodded. “Crushed George’s heart. I didn’t think he would recover but somehow, he did and threw himself into his work, the way he always does. The story would have ended right there if it wasn’t for Ruk Minoody.”

“I thought somebody killed him,” Sean said.

“Don’t ruin the story.” Gaston refilled his glass. “Ruk Minoody ruled over a prosperous planet in the central bulge of the galaxy. The planet’s citizens place great value on martial prowess, especially when it comes to settling personal conflicts.”

“The planet of swordsmen!” Cookie exclaimed. “I know about them. Uncle once did business with them.”

I knew about them too. Their planet was called Harriblex, and they were not all swordsmen, although all of them were martial artists of some discipline. They were excruciatingly polite when they stayed at the inns until someone mortally offended them by stepping on their shadow or some such nonsense and then nothing would stop them from demanding satisfaction.

“The Office of Arbitrators had offended Ruk Minoody,” Gaston said.

“Let me guess, he demanded satisfaction?” I asked.

“Exactly. They tried to reason with him. They failed. He sent hit squads to hunt down individual Arbitrators and managed to kill a couple. The Office declared that whoever satisfied Ruk Minoody would be entitled to a single boon.”

“Oooh.” Cookie opened his eyes wide and put his ears back.

“Exactly,” Gaston said. “The line to satisfy Ruk Minoody was long enough to wrap around a planet, figuratively speaking, of course. He loved it. While he kept killing them one by one, Sophie infiltrated his knights, got herself promoted to his personal guard, and challenged him for the throne in front of his entire court.”

Gaston paused and sipped his wine slowly, milking the moment for all its drama.

Cookie bounced up and down in his seat. “And then what?”

“She won. They made her their queen.”

I had a feeling I knew where this was going and, judging by the grin on Sean’s face, he did too.

“The Office owed her a favor, and she claimed it. They asked her what she wanted, and she said she wanted George.”

Sean laughed.

Gaston’s eyes sparkled. “Sophie finally decided to stop trying to live up to other people’s expectations. She knew where her happiness lay so she reached out and grabbed it. She had asked George’s consent before demanding this arrangement.”

“And he consented?” Sean asked.

“Enthusiastically. The Office didn’t want to give George up. He is brilliant and he’s a born workaholic. They bargained back and forth for a month. Threats were made. Things such as ‘You offended Ruk Minoody, here’s his head, honor the bargain, or I will get offended’ were said. Finally, they came to an agreement. George is allowed to work four months out of the year.”

“Consecutive months?” Cookie asked.

“Not necessarily. He can do it in chunks, but the total duration cannot exceed four months. The rest of the time he has to attend to his duties as the royal consort. Sophie must approve every job he takes as an Arbitrator or he can’t take it.”

“Oh, sweet cosmos,” I murmured. “And he’s okay with it?”

“He loves it,” Gaston said. “She conquered a planet to marry him. It was the proof he always hoped for, and now he can be with her all the time. George is his own worst enemy. The man doesn’t know the meaning of work/life balance. Now he is devoting all his energy to the person he loves most, and he is taking his consort duties seriously, the way he takes everything. Before I left, Sophie was presiding over a court case. George was reading a book on child rearing next to her. The defendant, one of their better fighters, challenged him. George put down the book, killed this veteran in two seconds, and went right back to reading. He is an excellent duelist, you know.”

Sean shook his head. I knew what he was thinking. That kind of arrangement would never work for us.

“They were married in a ridiculously lavish ceremony about six months ago,” Gaston continued. “They’ve dealt with the initial unrest, and now they’re trying to nudge the planet toward democracy, which the planet is fiercely resisting. It will have to be a slow, gradual change, and they will be busy for years. Most importantly, they are happy. They love each other, but for them love alone is not enough. There must be clearly defined boundaries and mutual respect for them. George is a smart man. He knows this is his only chance at happiness, and he will do nothing to jeopardize it. And now you understand why George cannot be here. The last job he did ended a few days ago, and he barely squeaked in under Sophie’s deadline.”

Now the booster made perfect sense. George had been trying to finish things before his time ran out and he had to go back to his wife.

“Where does that put you and Jack?” Sean asked.

“Jack is on Harriblex somewhere,” Gaston answered. “He told me that for the first time in years he doesn’t have to worry about George or Sophie. I asked him what he wanted to do with his downtime, and he told me he would get a house in the woods and not see anyone for a couple of years. He claimed it would be the best vacation he could get and that he more than earned it.”

“And you?” I asked.

“As they say, somebody must make the doughnuts. I’ve been a spy, a gentleman of adventure, and an occasional assassin, now I am a free agent. George is paying me a hefty sum to help you with this affair. Once that’s done with, who knows? Perhaps I’ll open a shop at Baha-char next to that old werewolf we’re all trying to save.”

“So you’re not here in an official capacity?” I asked.

Gaston put his palm on the table. “Dina, I’m here to assist in any way I can. Your goals are my goals. Your enemies are my enemies. Tell me how I can help, and I will do my best.”

He rose and bowed with an elegant flair, his hand sweeping the air. “My dear friends, I am at your service.”