Sweep of the Heart (Innkeeper Chronicles #5)(43)

“What about the moderator platform?” I asked.

We needed a moderator for the debate, and Sean had volunteered to make a special platform for him.

“I’m working on it,” Sean said.

He raised his head to the brilliant blue sky and squinted at the sunshine. In reality, the arena was deep inside the inn. I had done some serious damage to dimensional physics. The sky above us was real, but if someone flew a drone over the inn, they would find only the worn roof of an ordinary ornate Victorian.

Even a year ago, expending that much energy would have been impossible for me. Each inn had a finite capacity for energy storage. A steady flow of guests was much preferable to the feast or famine scenario Gertrude Hunt had to endure for the last couple of years. Our reputation was spreading, and we’d had more visitors in the past few months than ever, each of them more troublesome than a typical inn guest but very much welcome. These guests allowed our inn a chance to grow, but its energy reserves were still insufficient to contain the massive influx of this event. Gertrude Hunt was overflowing with magic. It was a use-it-or-lose-it situation, so I used it to give the trials a wow factor.

Tony had shaken his head at the arena and told me I was working too hard. According to him, a college auditorium would’ve done the job. But the Dominion was broadcasting the spousal selection across multiple star systems. Their neighbors were tuning in, and the Innkeeper Assembly was watching it and evaluating our performance. Gertrude Hunt’s reputation was on the line. As Caldenia once told me, life gave us few opportunities to put our best foot forward, so when a chance to shine presented itself, it was best to take it. A little bit of showmanship didn’t hurt.

A chime pealed through the arena. It was time.

Sean tapped his spear on the floor. Huge screens descended from the clear sky, offering each section a chance to view the action up close.

I planted my broom on the stone tiles, formed a tunnel between the closest section and House Meer’s quarters, and opened their doors.





“Greetings, my fellow beings!”

Gaston cut a striking figure in the middle of the stage. He’d changed into a stunning white and gray outfit, embroidered with silver-blue thread that complemented his silver eyes. It fit him like a glove while still projecting the air of what he called “gentlemanly menace.” He had looked like a space pirate before. Now he looked like a space pirate prince who had done very well for himself.

His voice matched his new for-TV persona, resonant and smooth, as it blasted from the hidden speakers. It took him exactly four words to get everyone’s attention. Sean, a few yards away at the edge of the stage, might as well have been invisible, despite his robe, his spear, and his tendency to loom.

“Welcome to the First Trial!” Gaston announced.

The 12 delegations cheered, stomped, and made species-appropriate noises. Even Kosandion in the chair to my right clapped politely. Gaston clearly missed his true calling.

“I know all of you have been waiting to find out how our contestants will showcase their talents today. Are you ready?”

The delegations roared to indicate they were most definitely ready.

“He’s turning it into a spectacle,” Resven murmured.

“It is meant to be one,” Kosandion told him. “People love a good show.”

“Today’s challenge is…DEBATE!”

The alien equivalent of “wooo!” was rather loud.

Gaston waved them on, inviting more noise, then made a sweeping gesture that somehow brought instant silence.

“Our spousal candidates will face off in randomly selected pairs. Both candidates will be asked the same question. One will respond first, and the other will reply. The winner will be determined by a combination of popular vote, the Sovereign’s opinion, and the feedback from our esteemed debate moderator.”

He gave them a moment to digest and went on.

“Our debate moderator is truly a scholar of great renown. He has devoted himself to contemplating the mysteries of the universe. Beings from every corner of the galaxy travel thousands of light years to seek his advice.”

The floor behind Gaston split, and an SUV-sized stone egg positioned on its side with the narrow end toward the center of the arena rose from under the floor on a metal stalk.

He didn’t.

The metal stalk carried the egg up and stopped about fifteen feet above the stage.

Yes, yes, he did.

“Recipient of the Starlight Quill, Sage of the Great Tree, Vanquisher of the Sphinx, the First Scholar Thek!” Gaston roared.

The stone egg split in half lengthwise. The top half retracted, revealing the First Scholar in all his glory, holding his teaching stick, his hat firmly on his noggin with the glittering white feather attached to it. His two assistants dutifully stood behind him, looking down and playing the part of modest disciples.

“An egg?” I hissed into the mike.

“It’s funny.”

Ugh.

“He thought it was appropriate.”

The arena greeted the First Scholar with resounding applause. He nodded to them, waving his hand-claw benevolently.

The original moderator had encountered unexpected travel delays because his second wife kidnapped him, and now his other four wives were having their own debate on the merits of rescuing him. We needed a substitute in a hurry, and the First Scholar Thek was the talk of the galaxy after the Sphinx escapade. Orata practically drooled when Sean suggested him.