Sweep of the Blade

The door chimed at fifteen minutes till seven.

Maud opened it. A retainer stood in the doorway. She was young, about twenty or so, with long brown hair tamed into a sleek waterfall and secured with an elaborate hairnet of thin knotted chains. A ceremonial garment the color of blood hugged her figure, close cut in the bodice, with relaxed sleeves caught at the wrist and a long skirt, split on the sides up each thigh. The slits betrayed a glimpse of black, skintight pants. Vampires rarely showed skin.

The front and back of the skirt fell in graceful folds almost to the floor, like an artist's rendition of a medieval tabard. The outfit was purely ceremonial, Maud reflected. No sane knight, human or vampire, would run around with a long piece of cloth tangling between their legs, but it was in line with vampire fashion, or at least what Maud remembered of it.

The retainer gave her a quick once-over, her gaze snagging on Maud's jet-black armor with its blank crest. "We will leave now."

That bordered on rudeness. Clearly the news had spread through House Krahr. The human new arrival was out of favor. Vampires were a predictable lot. There was a time when she found comfort in that predictability. "Come, Helen," Maud called.

Helen came over. She wore a blue tunic caught with a silver sash over white leggings and an undertunic. Little brown boots hugged her feet. Maud had brushed her hair and worked it into the customary vampire mane. She looked so adorable, Maud snapped a couple of pictures for Dina.

The retainer saw Helen and fought a smile. "Come this way."

They followed the retainer through a long hallway into a round chamber, then into another hallway and to a door. The door slid open as they approached, leading to a narrow stone walkway stretching to another tower. The weather had turned, the dark, furious sky flinging rain at the castle and the plateau beyond, and a transparent roof shielded the walkway from the weather's rage. It was like walking into a storm suspended a hundred feet above the ground. Helen's grip on her fingers tightened. Maud smiled at her and kept walking.

The other tower loomed ahead, a much wider and larger structure.

"How old is the fortress?" Maud asked.

The retainer paused. Maud hid a smile. As a mongrel human, she clearly wasn't worth an answer, but rules of hospitality prescribed courtesy when interacting with guests.

Politeness won. "The core of the castle is twenty-three centuries old. We have expanded it over the generations."

The understatement of the year.

They reached the second tower. The dark door swung open, and they entered another hallway. The stone of the walls here was smoother, newer, cut with greater precision. Lights, soft golden spheres, hung from the twenty-foot ceiling in artful bunches, bathing the hallway in a golden radiance. The blood-red banners of House Krahr spanned the height of the walls. At the far end, double doors stood wide open, offering a glimpse of the feast hall. Sounds of conversation floated over. The retainer turned left and stopped before an open door. A pair of knights in full armor waited at the entrance, one male and the other female, both middle-aged and thick through the shoulders. A sharp slice of red marked their House crests like a rip of a single claw. Sentinels, the knights trained specifically to guard against an intrusion. Both were armed. Children's laughter rang out behind them.

"The child stays here," the retainer said.

Maud crouched by Helen. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay," Helen said quietly.

"You will get to play with other kids. Practice rules only."

"Okay," Helen said.

"Repeat it back to me please."

"Practice rules only, Mommy."

"Good girl." Maud kissed her daughter's forehead and straightened.

The male knight stepped aside, and Helen walked into the room. Maud watched her go.

"Your daughter will be safe," the female knight told her. "The keepers of the children watch them closely. They won't permit other children to harm her."

It's not her I'm worried about. Maud nodded and followed the retainer to the feast hall.

***

The feast hall occupied a huge square chamber. Large rectangular tables, carved from sturdy wood ages ago, filled the room, each seating ten guests. In the center of the hall, the host table stood, marked by a metal pole supporting the standard of House Krahr. The guests were seated in order of receding importance, the higher the rank, the closer to the host table. Servers glided back and forth.

"You sit there," the retainer pointed to the table closest to the wall. A group of tachi had arranged themselves there. "With the insects."

It was customary to walk a guest to her table, no matter how far from the Host table she was seated. That was just about enough.

"They are not insects," Maud said. "They are tachionals. They are warm-blooded, with a centralized brain. They give live birth, nurse their young, and the sharp edges of their arms can slice a vampire's head off her shoulders with a single swipe. You would do well to remember that."

The retainer stared at her, open-mouthed. Maud strode to the table. The tachi appeared to ignore her approach, but their exoskeletons remained a nebulous, bluish gray. Tachi at rest turned darker, revealing their speckled patterns. It was a sign of trust and often a promise of intimacy.

If the tachi stood, they would be slightly taller than her, right around six feet. Their silhouette was vaguely humanlike: two legs, two arms, an elegant thorax that could almost pass for a human chest clad in segmented armor, a very narrow waist, and a head. That's where the similarities ended. Their backs curved backward, the thick exoskeletal plates hiding their wings. Their arms joined to the body not at the sides, like in humans and vampires, but slightly forward. Their necks were long, and their round heads were shielded by three chitin segments, each with slits for a pair of glowing eyes.

They had two main legs with shins that curved too far backward for human comfort, and two short vestigial appendages-false legs-pointing backward from their pelvises. The vestigial legs had two joints and a very limited range of movement, but when a tachi sat, they gripped the seat, anchoring them in place, which greatly helped them in spaceflight and aerial combat. A tachi was just as comfortable upright as upside down.

Maud swept the table with her gaze. Nine tachi in all. The female in the center wore a crystal bracelet filled with gently glowing fluid. Pale green flecks floated within it, shifting every time the tachi moved. A royal. The rest were bodyguards, likely elite warriors.

They should've never been seated this far from the host table. She couldn't even see it from here. It was an insult and the tachi were sensitive to such slights. Vampires were somewhat xenophobic, especially toward aliens who didn't look like mammals, so the fact that the tachi were permitted here at all meant something significant was on the line. An alliance, a trade agreement. Something of value, which was now jeopardized. This was a tactical blunder. She would have to mention it to Arland.

Where was Arland? She didn't expect him to sit with her-that would be pushing against all the Holy Anocracy's customs-but he could've at the very least strolled by. Just to see that she was actually present. The tachi had left only one seat open, directly across from the royal. She would be sitting between two sets of bodyguards, with the other four watching her. Maud bowed her head and sat. "Greetings."

"Greetings," the royal replied, the bottom segment of her face rising to reveal a slash of a mouth.

The ten plates were clean. The vampire cooking utensils, small four-pronged forks, lay untouched. Nobody had eaten. The moment she sat down, she saw why. The two large bowls on the table contained a salad. They served them salad. Maud almost slapped herself.

When on a mission among other species, tachi abstained from consuming meat, so at least House Krahr had gotten that right. But tachi were notoriously fastidious in their presentation of food. It was an art as well as sustenance. Every ingredient had its place. Nothing could touch. The vampires served them a salad. Drenched in dressing. Ugh.

Mom would turn purple if she saw this. Orro, Dina's inn chef, would probably commit homicide.

The tachi would never say anything. They would just sit there and quietly fume. If the royal got up from the table without consuming any food, House Krahr could kiss any hope for cooperation goodbye.

Maud turned to the nearest server. "Bring me bread, honey, a variety of fruit, a large platter, and a sharp knife."

The server hesitated.

She sank ice into her voice. "Am I not a guest of House Krahr?"

The server flashed his fangs at her. "It will be done, lady."

The tachi watched her with calm interest. Nobody spoke.

The server arrived with a massive wooden cutting board bearing a loaf of freshly baked bread. A second server set a large bowl of fruit in front of her and a glass gravy-boat-like vessel of honey. The two servers parked themselves behind her. They didn't bring the platter. No matter.

Maud sliced the crust off the bread, trimming the round loaf into a square shape. At least the knife was sharp. That was one thing one never had to worry about with vampires.

The tachi kept watching.

She cut the bread into precise half-inch cubes, placed five of them together onto the plate, one in the center and four in the corners so they formed a square. She picked up the honey and slowly dripped a few drops onto each cube, until the bread soaked up the amber liquid.

The tachi at the edges of the table leaned in slightly.

Maud plucked the blue kora fruit from the bowl, peeled the thin skin and carefully cut the fruit into even round slices. She managed eight slices, seven perfectly even and one slightly thicker. She placed the seven slices around the cubes. The eighth was a hair too thick. She pondered it.

The tachi pondered it with her.

Better safe than sorry. She reached for another kora.

The tachi to her left emitted an audible sigh of relief and then crunched his mouth shut, embarrassed.

After the kora, she cut the red pear, then the thick yellow stalks of sweet grass, slowly building a mandala pattern on her plate. The kih berries followed, perfect little globes of deep orange. She carefully arranged the berries and took one last look at the plate. It was nowhere as perfect as it should've been, but that was the best she could do with what she had.

Maud got up, lifted the plate, and offered it with a bow to the royal.

"Lady of sun and air, it is my great honor to share my food with you. It is humble, but it is given freely from the heart."

The table was completely silent. The royal looked at her with her six glowing eyes.

Color burst on her exoskeleton, the pale neutral gray turning the deeper azure of the morning sky. She reached out her long elegant arm and took the plate.

"I accept your offering."

Maud exhaled quietly and sat. The color around the table darkened slightly. She could tell the shades of blue, green, and purple apart now.

The two vampire servers behind her took off at a near jog.

She reached for the next fruit and began peeling it.

The royal speared a cube of honey-drenched bread with her claws and popped it into her mouth. "My name is Dil'ki. What is yours?" "Maud, your highness."

Dil❜ki clicked her claws. "Tch-tch-tch. Not so loud. The vampires do not know. Where have you learned our customs?"

"My parents are innkeepers on Earth."

A deeper blue blossomed on Dil'ki's segments. The tachi around the table shifted, their poses less stiff.

"How delightful. Do you speak Akit?"

Thank the universe for dad's insistence on a superior speech implant. "I do."

Maud arranged another, less complex mandala and passed it to the tachi on her right.

"We will speak Akit," Dil'ki declared, switching to the dialect. "Do you understand me, Lady Maud?"

"I do," Maud said.

"Yes." The royal leaned closer and popped a berry into her mouth. "Tell me, what are you doing here, among these barbarians?"

"One of them asked me to marry him."

"No," the green tachi from the right gasped. "You mustn't."

"They can't even make proper seats," another green tachi said. "Some of them are joined into benches."

"You must be very brave to come here," a purple tachi said from the left.

"Did you say yes?" Dil'ki asked.

"I said I would think about it."

The vampire servers arrived, bearing platters of precision sliced fruit and cubed bread. The tachi fell silent. The food was placed on the table and the servers backed away. "You may serve yourselves," Dil'ki said. "If poor Maud has to feed us all, we will be here all night."

The tachi clicked the mandibles inside their mouths, chuckling. An instinctual alarm dashed through Maud. Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Claws reached for the platters, each arranging their own small masterpiece of fruit on their plate.

"Which one asked you?" Dil'ki asked.

Maud craned her neck. If Arland was anywhere, he'd be at the host table, but she couldn't really see him. "The big blond one. The son of the Lady Ilemina."

Dil'ki leaned in and the other tachi mirrored her movement, as if they had choreographed it.

"Tell me all about it," Dil'ki said.

Maud opened her mouth and saw Seveline walking toward her, two male vampires in tow.

"Enemy?" Dil'ki guessed.

"I don't know yet," Maud said. She realized she had pushed her chair back from the table slightly, on pure muscle memory. When an enemy is approaching, it paid to make sure getting up didn't cost you a precious fraction of a second. "I think she might be."

As one, the tachi went light gray.

"There you are!" Seveline grinned at her. "I was wondering where they hid you."

No proper address. An insult. It would've been fine if they were friends in private, but they were neither friends nor alone.

Maud plastered a smile on her face. "Lady Seveline."

"I expected to have to search, but at this table? Really?"

Another insult. She really was enjoying herself.

"And I see they forgot to bring you meat. Do they honestly think you are an herbivore? Are humans herbivores, Lady Maud? I only ask because of your small teeth."

A third insult. The dark-haired vampire at Seveline's right flashed a quick smile. Couldn't help himself.

A tachi on her right leaned to her and murmured in Akit. "Would you like me to kill her? I can do it quietly tonight. They'll never figure it out."

Oh crap. The last thing she needed was to cause an interstellar incident.

Seveline narrowed her eyebrows slightly. Ten to one, Seveline's implant didn't recognize Akit. It was an internal tachi language. But if Maud replied in English, it would translate her reply. Maud cleared her throat.

"Khia teki-teki, re to kha. Kerchi sia chee." No, thank you. She's a source of information.

Argh, she'd mangled it. There were sounds human mouths just couldn't make.

The tachi clicked their mandibles again, in approval.

"That was very, very good," Dil'ki said in Akit. "Good try."

"Is something the matter?" Seveline asked.

"Not at all," Maud smiled. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"As a matter of fact, there is." Seveline smiled. "These lords with me were wondering if there was some unique aspect to human lovemaking that particularly appeals to vampires. I thought you would be a perfect person to ask, since you have used it to such great effect."

Quarter of a second to get up, another quarter to jump up on the table, half a second to ram her fork into Seveline's neck, piercing the windpipe. She would look so pretty with a bloody fork sticking out of her neck. Maud smiled and stopped. A sentinel stood at the doorway of the feast hall. A small figure in a blue tunic with a silver sash stood next to him. The beginning of a huge black eye turned Helen's right cheek bright red.

"Please excuse me." She jumped up and hurried through the tables to her daughter.

Helen looked up at her, her face pinched. She was trying not to cry.

"What happened?" Maud asked.

The sentinel, an older male vampire, smiled at her. "Personal challenges are forbidden in the nursery. Lady Helen was warned about the consequences of her actions, yet she chose to continue as did her challenged."

"He called me a liar," Helen squeezed through her teeth.

Fear crushed Maud. Somehow, she made her lips move. "Is the other boy alive?"

"Yes." The older vampire smiled brighter. "His broken arm will serve as a fine reminder of today's events. Unfortunately, Lady Helen must leave us now. She is to report tomorrow to the nursery to atone for her failure in judgement. Should I take her to her quarters?"

"No," Maud said. "I'll do it."

"But your dinner, Lady Maud?"

"I have had my fill."

Maud took her daughter by the hand and walked down the hallway, away from the feast hall.

***

The long hallway of House Krahr's citadel lay deserted. Behind Maud, the noise of the feast hall was dying down, receding with every step. Helen walked next to her, her face sullen.

"What happened?" Maud asked softly.

"They asked me where I came from, and I told them about how I made my room and Aunt Dina said she would get me fishes. This boy said that houses can't move if you think at them. He said I was lying."

Of course he did. "Then what happened?"

"Then I got mad." Helen bit her lip with her fangs. "And I said take it back. And he said I was stupid and a liar. And then he wagged his finger at me."

"He did what?"

Helen stuck out her hand with her index finger extended and waved it around, drawing an upside-down U in the air, and sang, "Liar-liar-liar."

"Then what happened?"

"Then I said that pointing was bad, because it lets your enemy know where you're looking."

The lessons of Karhari had stuck. No matter how long Helen spent away from it, the wasteland had soaked into her soul and there wasn't anything Maud could do about it.

"And he said I wasn't good enough to be his enemy. And I said, 'I'll punch you so hard, you'll swallow your teeth, worm.""

Maud hid a groan. "Where did you hear that?"

"Lord Arland."

Oh goodie. "Then what happened?"

"Then the scary old knight came and told me that if I challenged the boy, there would be ripper cushions."

"Repercussions."

"Yes. So I asked if the boy would get repercushions if he fought me, and the knight said yes, and I said I was okay with it."

Maud rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"And then the knight asked the boy if he wanted help and the boy said he didn't, and the knight said 'proceed', and then the boy punched me, and I got his arm. With my legs." Helen rolled on the floor and locked her legs together. "I said, say surrender, and he didn't say anything, he just yelled, so I broke it. If he didn't want me to break it, he should've said surrender."

Maud rubbed her face some more.

Helen looked at her from the floor, her big green eyes huge on her face. "He started it."

And she finished it.

"You weren't wrong," Maud said. "But you weren't wise."

Helen looked at the floor.

"You knew you weren't a liar."

"Yes."

"So why did it matter what the vampire boy said?"

"I don't know," Helen mumbled.

Maud crouched by her. "You don't always meet enemies in battle. Sometimes you meet them during peace. They might even pretend to be your friends. Some of them will try to provoke you so they can see what you can do. You have to learn

to wait and watch them until you figure out their weakness. The boy thought you were weak. If you let him keep thinking you were weak, you could've used it later. Remember what I told you about surprise?"

"It wins battles," Helen said.

"Now the boy knows you're strong," Maud said. "It wasn't wrong to show your strength. But in the future, you have to think carefully and decide if you want people to know your true strength or not." "Okay," Helen said quietly.

"Come on." Maud offered her daughter her hand. Helen grasped her fingers and got up. They resumed their walk down the hallway.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Are vampires our enemies?"

That was to be determined. "That's what we are trying to figure out."

"When are we going to go live with Aunt Dina again?"

An excellent question. What am I doing here anyway?

She'd had it up to her throat with all of the vampire backstabbing the first time. She'd promised herself she was done the moment they landed on Karhari and she'd repeated this promise over and over when she lay on the hilltop, breathing in Karhari dust, watching the blood sword flash and seeing Melizard's head fall to the ground; when she tracked his killers; when she bargained for shelter and water, knowing that if she failed, Helen would die. It became her mantra. Never again.

Yet here she was. Arland had abandoned her the first chance he got.

What did you expect? Did you expect he would come and take you by the hand and lead you to a seat at the host table?

Yes. The answer was yes. Maud didn't expect it, but she wanted it.

Stupid.

It was stupid to hope for something that wouldn't happen. It was stupid to come here. "Mama?" Helen asked.

They could just go home right now. Go back to Dina. Helen would never be able to join a human school or play with human children, because there was no way to hide the fangs, but all three of them, Klaus, Maud, and Dina, had been homeschooled in the inn, and none of them turned out badly.

They could just go home, where nobody would belittle them or punch them in the face. Home to the familiar weird of her childhood, before Melizard. Before Karhari.

But they had come all this way. She had dragged Helen here, because Arland had offered hope for something deeper than Maud had ever hoped for. A part of her rebelled at giving up without a fight. But was this even a fight worth fighting? I'll do one more day. One more day. If it's all shit at the end of tomorrow, then I'm done.

"We have some things to do here first."

"I liked it at Aunt Dina's," Helen said. "I like my room."

A short figure turned the corner and was coming toward them, walking upright on furry paws. She was only three and a half feet tall, counting the nearly six-inch lynx ears tipped with tufts. Her fur, full and long like the coat of a mink or a fox, was the color of sand and marked with tiny blue rosettes. Her face was a meld of cat and fox, with a long muzzle and big emerald green eyes that shone slightly when the light caught them just right. She wore a diaphanous apron of pale pink, decorated with black embroidery. Two thin gold hoops twinkled in her left ear.

"A kitty," Helen whispered.

Ha! The universe provided a teaching moment. "No, my flower. That's a lees. Remember how I told you about hiding your strength? The lees hide their strength. They look cute, but they are dangerous and very cunning." They were also excellent assassins and they would poison their enemies in a heartbeat, but that was a lesson she would deliver a few years down the road.

"See her little apron? She's from a Merchant clan. The markings tell you which one. This one is from Clan Nuan. Remember how I told you that Grandpa and Grandma were innkeepers? They would buy things from Clan Nuan, and sometimes they would take me with them. Your grandpa told me to never bargain with a lees unless I absolutely had to. He was right."

Helen craned her neck, trying to see better. "At Baha-char?"

"Yes, my flower. And every time I visited, Nuan Cee, the great Merchant, would give me candy. It was the best candy ever and it wasn't for sale. He gave me candy because he liked me, but also because he wanted to make a good deal with my parents. It's hard to bargain with someone who made your child happy."

They reached the lees. The little fox glanced at them.

"Greetings," Maud said.

"Greetings," the fox answered.

"Please pass our respects to the Honorable Nuan Cee," Maud said.

"You know our clan?" the fox asked.

"Our family has done business with Clan Nuan. My parents were innkeepers. You may know my sister, Dina. She is an innkeeper also."

The little fox froze.

Maud tensed.

"Dina? We know Dina!"

The little fox grinned, showing all of her tiny teeth, and hopped in place, bouncing like a balloon filled with excitement. "We know Dina! You come. Come with me now. My uncle twice removed will be so happy. Come, come!"

"We are"

The fox grabbed Helen by her hand. "Come with me now!" She ran down the hallway and Helen dashed with her.

Just what they needed. Maud sprinted after them. They turned right, then left, then right again, and the fox jumped into the doorway, pulling Helen with her. Maud lunged through and slid to a halt.

Veils in pastel colors draped the stone of the vampire walls. Soft, luxurious rugs hid the cold floor. Plush furniture, carved from pale wood and so ornate, Louis XIV would've turned green with jealousy, offered seating by little tables. Glass and metal bowls sat on the tables, offering fruit, sweets, and little pieces of spicy jerky. A dozen lees chatted, snacked, and played games. In the center of it all, on a six-foot-wide floor pillow stuffed to a three-foot thickness sat Nuan Cee. His silver- blue fur darkened on his back, dappled with golden rosettes, and faded to white on his chest and stomach. He wore a beautiful apron of ethereal silver silk embroidered with Clan Nuan's sigils, and a necklace of sapphires, each as big as a walnut.

It was like stepping into a Merchant's shop. Maud almost pinched herself.

The little lees ran into the room, pulling Helen with her. "Dina's sister! And her young!"

Helen froze.

Nuan Cee raised his paw-hands in surprise. "Matilda!"

He remembered her.

The memories came flooding back. Walking with Mom and Dad through the sunlit streets of Baha-char within a current of shoppers from all over the galaxy, while the galactic bazaar hummed with a million voices. Reaching Nuan Cee's shop, a

cool oasis in the middle of the desert heat, and hearing Nuan Cee's singsong voice bargaining and chuckling. The taste of ru candy in her mouth. Suddenly she was twelve again. Maud almost cried.

She started moving before she even realized it.

Nuan Cee pushed off his pillow and took three steps toward Maud. She barely registered the honor. She reached him and they hugged.

"There you are, Matilda," the Merchant said.

Somehow,

she found her voice. "Yes."

They broke apart.

"And who is this?" Nuan Cee widened his turquoise eyes.

"This

is

my daughter,

Helen."

The lees let out a collective squee.

"She is so cute!"

"Look at her hair!"

"Look at her little boots!"

Helen stood in the whirlwind of lees, looking slightly freaked out, like a cat greeted by a pack of overly enthusiastic little dogs.

"I am Nuan Nana," the lees who found them announced. "Come with me. We have the best sweets."

Maud hid a smile as the lees dragged Helen to the nearest table and thrust a dish of candy under her nose.

"Have

you

seen your sister?" Nuan Cee asked.

"Yes. She is all grown up."

"And an innkeeper!" Nuan Cee raised his hands. "Who would have thought?"

Maud laughed. It was that or crying.

"What are you doing here?" Nuan Cee asked.

"It's complicated."

"Come, come." He led her to a divan by his pillow.

Someone brought her a glass of sweet wine. Someone else delivered a dish of ru candy. She ate one, savoring the taste melting on her tongue, sweet with a slight touch of sour, but so refreshing; it was as if her whole mouth sang.

"Tell me all about it," Nuan Cee said.