“How did you know she would say yes?” Tomato asked. “You brought the weapons before they even agreed to fight.”

Orro had served him small cubes of raw steak. Tomato pierced them with his claws, dipped them into a saucer of spiced honey, and gently popped them into his mouth one by one, taking a long time to chew each piece.

“I recognized the training armor she wore. Every time Bestata appears in public, she is in full formal mode. There was only one reason she would call while wearing practice armor. She wanted to spar, and there was only one person among us she would challenge.”

“But how did you know Karat would accept?” Tomato asked.

“A vampire knight of Karat’s standing never backs down from a challenge by a rival house. This is Bestata’s chance to get a feel for Karat’s skills. Karat knows it and is happy to demonstrate she isn’t worried about House Meer’s intelligence gathering. Also, Karat is just like my sister. She can’t resist the sword. If there is one in the vicinity, her hand starts twitching toward it.”

Dagorkun drank his tea. He was clearly brooding.

“Why didn’t you recite By the Light of the Moon, by the Trail of Blood?” Tony asked.

He waved it off. “It didn’t occur to me at the time.”

“Can you explain Surkar to me?” I asked. “You are here to observe him. Why is he here?”

Dagorkun sighed. “When the Horde claims a planet or builds a space station, the settlers are chosen through a complex algorithm. It takes into account seniority, achievements, needs of the colony, and individual preferences. It also ensures that the population of the colony is diverse and equally represented. No one clan can claim a numbers or specialist majority. The colony’s survival requires cooperation; everyone must set aside their ancestral differences and blood feuds and work together to thrive. In a few decades, as the newer generations rise, they begin to think of themselves as being from that colony rather than being from the Tribe of the Northern Wind or the Tribe of the Southern Gusts, and if any troublemakers pop up, they usually enlist and are shipped off into the Horde bootcamps, where they learn unity or die. That’s how the Horde remains cohesive.”

It made sense. If the Horde was a garment, it would be Joseph’s coat of many colors, sewn together from thousands of scraps. Each color was a tribe. Each tribe had a long and bloody history. If all of Earth’s ethnic groups came together, we would barely account for a single sleeve of it.

Keeping this multitude from fracturing had to be a monumental task.

Tony pretended to be absorbed in his food, but I could tell he was listening to every word. This is exactly the kind of knowledge the innkeepers went bonkers over. His father would want a full report.