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“Love raises questions,” Amphie continued. “It is healing and yet it can also harm. One must love oneself, but too much self-love causes one to compromise their ethics and become blind to their own flaws. One could say love is a quest to complete oneself, seeking virtue and beauty in others that we lack within ourselves. Love exists in opposition to reason, for when we love someone, we ignore their faults, allowing their moods and wellbeing to affect our own. While it is the root of charity, it is also a kind of madness. In conclusion, love is a layered phenomenon that must be examined in a specific context, for it is too broad for generalizations. Its power is immense, its impact is lifelong, and it warrants further contemplation.”
The First Scholar nodded again and looked at Lady Wexyn.
She smiled back at him. A soft blush touched her cheeks. She glanced up at Kosandion. “Love is what I feel for His Majesty.”
Resven slapped his hand over his face. Amphie stared at Lady Wexyn with an open mouth.
“He is my favorite, and I will never love anyone else in the same way.”
Lady Wexyn gave Kosandion a little wave and smiled.
16
When we last left the inn, the debates were finished, and the Book Devouring Horde Dominion citizens were busy voting for their favorite in the official ratings. Meanwhile, Dina desperately tried to figure out the identity of the assassin targeting Kosandion. Unfortunately, the debates proved less than illuminating.
The Dushegubs stared at me. ‘Stared’ was a figurative term in their case, as their eyes were hidden in the crevices of their bark. They planted themselves, standing straight and stretched their branches to take up as much space as possible. Their limbs slithered and slid over each other, reaching for me like dark nightmarish tentacles, ready to grab and constrict. The wood creaked and groaned as they moved, suggesting the sound of human bones snapping.
Sean, next to me, didn’t seem impressed. I wasn’t impressed either.
Everyone else had already been dispatched to their quarters, including Unessa. In three hours Kosandion would go on his first date, which would be with Ellenda, and everyone else would be invited to an early dinner, but until then the delegates would stay locked in. We’d had enough socializing for one day.
The largest Dushegub stretched his branches at me, holding them above me like fingers of enormous hands ready to snatch me off my feet. The translator attached to his bark hissed and spoke in a low male voice.
“Proposition. You stop interfering or we kill you and break your house-tree. Do you want to discuss?”
This was not my first Dushegub rodeo. “You follow rules, or we kill all of you, go to your planet, and kill your saplings with fire.”
The leader creaked, rocking side to side.
“Fallacy: you do not leave your tree. You cannot go to our planet. Submit or we kill you. Do you want to discuss?”
“I will kill you here. He will go to your planet.” I pointed at Sean.
Sean showed them his teeth. The arena floor parted, displaying a clump of weeds in a flowerbed. Two nozzles shot out from the stone. The first unloaded a spray of hardcore off-world weed killer on the plants. The weeds shriveled. The Dushegubs drew back. The second nozzle clicked and spat out a jet of flame, turning the withered weeds into a miniature torch.
“We kill. You die.” I crossed my arms on my chest. “No need to discuss. Return to your pit.”
The Dushegubs creaked and hissed.
I tapped my broom on the stone floor. A low sound pulsed through the arena, rattling my bones. The Dushegubs were sensitive to vibration and sounds. That was how they identified their prey.
The trees scooted back.
“Submit.”
The Dushegubs moved together into a clump, folding their branches. I opened the floor under them and funneled them down a slippery chute into their pit.
Sean laughed.
“Sadly, this isn’t the end of it. They are single-minded assholes. I surprised them this time, but they will come back with something.”
“What happened to their fellow tree ruler-breaker?”
I turned around. The First Scholar was right behind me, while his two assistants hovered from a respectful distance. He was supposed to have been escorted home by Gaston, who was nowhere in sight.
“Was it harmed?” the First Scholar asked.
“No,” Sean said. “I dropped her back into the Pit.”
Dushegubs were gonochoric, with male and female trees. Telling them apart was pretty much impossible, but only females produced the spore pods.
“Their spore pods aren’t lethal,” I explained. “They cause a temporary stupor. They hurl them at distant prey to knock it out so they can get close and eat it.”
Had the pod landed, Bestata would’ve taken a nap. But then, with vampire metabolism, it might have only slowed her down, and then we would be treated to a stunning impersonation of Paul Bunyan done in knight armor with vampire weapons. A primed blood sword would cut through an adult Dushegub in two or three swings.
