Sweep of the Heart (Innkeeper Chronicles #5)(46)

“What is your opinion of Unessa?” Kosandion asked me.

Put me on the spot, why don’t you? “The way she speaks and what she says indicates that she was raised by the Dushegubs from an early age. Anyone who can survive that shouldn’t be underestimated.”

Bestata was confusing education and cleverness. Unessa might have had limited exposure to the humanoid society and its complexities, but she had rebutted Bestata’s argument, even if she didn’t know the proper word for it, while Bestata had nothing to counter with and resorted to insults.

Where did the Dushegubs find a humanoid child? Did they buy her? Did they steal her? Were there more like her?

It was time to bounce the light again. I stopped it on the Kai. Prysen Ol rose, swept his layered robe back with an elegant gesture, and descended the ramp. He always held himself with a quiet dignity. Even as he was walking now, his steps were small, and his right arm was bent at the elbow and held across his body. It was all very deliberate and restrained.

Self-control would be an excellent quality for an assassin.

Prysen Ol touched an orb. The insects spiraled out, floated over to the Gaheas, and danced around Nycati’s purple hair, matching the golden diadem on his head. The Gaheas candidate stood up, a flawless movement, and took the ramp to arena floor.

An appreciative murmur spread through the spectators and died down.

“Interesting,” Resven observed. “Those two appear well matched.”

I had looked through the footage from yesterday’s dinner, and something caught my eye. On paper, Nycati came from a scholar family, aristocratic, but mid-ranking, and all appearances indicated that he was selected to be their candidate for his merits and achievements. The head of the Gaheas delegation, Naeoma Thaste, was the equivalent of a duke, one step removed from the royal family. He outranked Nycati by a mile.

Yesterday at dinner, Naeoma made a disparaging remark about the Donkamins. Nycati looked at him for a moment, and the duke looked down. The Gaheas were psionics. They dueled by staring at each other. To look away was to back down, but to lower your gaze to the ground was like kneeling with your head bowed. Complete submission.

Only a prince could stare down a duke. Nycati was Gaheas royalty. I was sure of it.

A Gaheas prince, even if he had been raised in secret, would have survived dozens of attempts on his life. Most of them became efficient killers by adulthood, or they died. His delegation lied about who he really was. They could have done it because they secretly wanted to tie their bloodline to the leadership of the Dominion, or they could have done it because Kosandion was their target. Either way, Nycati’s chances of being the assassin had shot up into the stratosphere.

The First Scholar surveyed the two men. “The question before you is as follows: Why are you here?”

“Before I can answer,” Prysen Ol said, “would the Honored Scholar be so kind as to define ‘here’?”

“Indeed,” Nycati agreed. “It is a fair request. Does ‘here’ designate a physical location or a fixed point in time? Does it refer to our presence or our purpose?”

“How can we be sure that we are ‘here’ at all?” Prysen Ol added.

The First Scholar puffed to twice his size, looking positively giddy. His eyes sparkled. “The interpretation is entirely up to you. You have a hundred moments to compose your thoughts.”





15





When we last left the Arena of the Trials, Nycati, the psionic space elf , and Prysen, the scholar representative of the hypochondriac Kai, were asked a simple question: why are you here? They are now trying to answer it. Grab a coffee and get comfy. It might take them awhile.





“… However, applied meaning runs in tandem with applied ethics, therefore, the meaning and definition of a concept, perceived through the lens of that view set, must be considered in situational context.”

Prysen Ol shook his head slightly. “Your mistake is in seeking to apply multiple definitions to a singular concept. Should we not be concerned instead with focusing our search on a single, albeit broad, principle that captures varied iterations of a concept in an effort to distill its essential meaning?”

They had been at this for half an hour. Not only could they not agree on what ‘here’ meant, they couldn’t even figure out by what parameters to define it. Most of the audience had zoned out. The otrokars were playing bone dice. The Dushegubs’ branches had drooped together, braiding into a canopy. Unessa had curled up under it and was taking a fine nap. The Kai had formed a shield wall with their bodies, which normally happened when they were traveling through the wilderness and had to rest while guarding against predators. Resven had anchored his elbow on his arm rest, leaned his chin on his hand, and nodded off. Kosandion had given up and was reviewing some complicated-looking documents on his personal screen.

“Help…” Tony whispered into my ear. “Eyes closing… Can’t resist…”

I pulled up a small screen. Tony was up in the hidden tower above the stands, getting the bird’s eye view of the arena. He looked like he was halfway into a coma.

“You’re an ad-hal. Use your badass training.”

“There are limits to my power.”

I flicked my fingers at the screen, accessing the kitchen. Droplet popped up on it, her cute squirrel tail raised behind her. “How can I assist you?”