One Fell Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles #3)(32)

She was right. Liquid lasers were like computers. The smaller they were, the more they cost, and the portable unit in Sean’s truck was way out of my budget. My two units were each the size of a medium-range sedan, and both were at least two centuries old. Compared to Sean’s sleek modern beast, they were antiques, but they packed a hell of a punch.

“Envirosuit, camo cloak, pulse sidearm… He’s got enough weapons to finish a small war. How can he afford all this? Is he secretly a prince? Are you dating a galactic weapon-lord? Does he have a rich father or possibly brother?”

“No! He isn’t a prince, he isn’t a gun runner, and his father isn’t rich, he is a lawyer, and Sean is the only child. He did some highly paid mercenary work.”

“So you are dating him.”

“I didn’t say that.” Technically going on a date once didn’t strictly qualify as dating.

“Sean and Dina sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s…”

“I will so punch you.”

Sean looked up. I could’ve sworn he heard me, except that the inn was soundproof. I concentrated and projected my voice.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he said. He didn’t jump, even though I just spoke to him from seemingly thin air.

“Do you need a hand with all of that equipment?”

“Oh sure, he totally needs your help with his equipment,” Maud whispered.

I stomped on her foot, but she was fast, and I only got the edge of her toes. There was no way to just project my voice. I also projected the sounds around me.

“Do you have an armory?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Can I have access to it?”

“Full access,” Maud whispered and batted her eyelashes.

“Yes,” I told him, opening a tunnel in the ground next to him. “Enter…” if I said tunnel, Maud wouldn’t be able to contain herself. “The path I just made. Underground. The inn will move the weapons there.”

“I thought I’d visit Baha-char after I’m done settling all that in,” he said. “I need to talk to Wilmos.”

“Sure. I’ll open the door for you, but could you take Orro with you? He wants some sort of weird spices and I don’t want him to go by himself.”

“Will do.”

He grinned at me, the look on his face positively evil, and went down into the tunnel.

I watched the inn swallow the truck whole, pulling it into the garage, and turned to my sister. “I hate you.”

“Did you see how he smiled?” Maud asked. “Do you think he heard me? I wasn’t projecting.”

“Yeah, he heard you. My neighbors across the street heard you. Don’t you know how to whisper?”

“Are you blushing?” Maud asked.

“Here!” I opened a ladder to the battle attic and dropped it into the hallway. “Since you butted in, you can check the pulse cannons instead of me. Make yourself useful.”

“Yes, Mother.” Maud paused in the doorway and took in the war room. Her voice turned quiet and wistful. “Brings back memories.”

Yes, it did. When I had called up the war room from the depths of Gertrude Hunt for the first time, I had reshaped it to mirror the war room in our parents’ inn. Mother made us do countless drills in a war room just like this one.

“We’ll get them back,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “We will.”

Maud climbed the attic ladder. I huffed and went to splash some cold water on my face. I was blushing, and my whole face felt like it was on fire.

*

Twenty minutes later I watched Sean and Orro walk through the door into the bright sunshine of Baha-char. Sean had pulled a tattered cloak over himself, hiding his face within the depths of a hood. Orro, on other hand, held his head high, but all his spikes shivered slightly, ready to be raised at a moment’s notice. I seriously doubted the Draziri would jump them there, but if they did, they would regret it.

I went back to the kitchen. In Orro’s absence, Arland had brought down a grey bag, which now lay beside him in a chair, and spread his armor on the dining room table. He’d turned off the lights. Only the two table lamps were on, their warm radiance soothing and buttery yellow. A kit similar to the one he’d sent to Maud rested on the table, opened, its contents backlit by a peach glow. The tiny vials of various liquids shone weakly with borrowed light. A quiet melody was playing from the kit, the sounds of silver bells and the measured chant of female voices soothing but mysterious, as if they were weaving some secret magic.

Helen sat in the corner, quietly fascinated.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” I asked.

“No.” She yawned. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Let her stay,” Arland said, his voice quiet. “I remember sitting just like that watching my mother. The smells and the lights, it’s comforting.”

I sat in the chair. It was comforting to watch in a way. There was a meditative, unhurried quality about his movements, as if he were going through a ritual he’d done hundreds of times before. The light played on his profile and the strands of long blond hair that had escaped his ponytail. He was right. Helen probably watched her father or my sister check their armor just like this.

For a while he worked quietly. Helen’s head drooped. She sighed and put her head on the table onto her arms. Her eyes closed. She wasn’t quite asleep yet. I could see her eyelashes trembling. A few more minutes and I would let the inn carry her to bed.