by Forthright
A tiny flashlight hung from a nail just inside the door. Their cohort for infrequent kitchen raids, usually at Christmas, when tins of cookies lined the steps.
Halfway down, he caught the sound of Grandad’s voice. Then Tami’s. Were they having breakfast together?
Joe adjusted his plan, turning the narrow beam of his light on the shelves. Something here would probably tempt Kip. He was reaching for a box of graham crackers when he caught a thread of what Grandad was saying.
“… from the most famous of the moth clans. Dimityblest.”
“I’ve heard that name. Aren’t they clothiers?”
“That and more. My father’s friend arranged everything. In less than a week, we were sworn out, swooped up, and sent here. My parents warned me never to speak of the life we left behind, but sometimes we would remember together.”
Although he wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop, Joe slowly lowered himself to a stair.
Tami murmured something too soft to hear.
Joe scooted down a few more steps and switched off his flashlight.
“Because reavers are meticulous when it comes to pedigrees. The truth would have come out. Our family was in trouble. Maybe even in danger.”
“Why?”
“Apparently, there are only two situations that can lead to a tree-child being born to a male surrogate. Either one should have been impossible for a reaver in my father’s position. Unless he was involved in the illegal trade of rare items … or a thief.”
“Was he accused of wrongdoing?”
“No. And he liked to remind Mother and me that people were missing the obvious.”
Tami said, “I’m sorry, Grandad. I don’t know the same stories you do. What would people have accused Great-grandad of doing?”
“Eating forbidden fruit.”
Joe heard his sister scoff.
“I’m only quoting the old songs. Trees would seduce passersby and feed them. Anyone who ate fertile fruit would soon discover they were pregnant.” Grandad said, “That would mean my father broke into a heavily-guarded tree sanctuary and stole the life he carried.”
Tami murmured a protest.
Joe eased onto the bottom step, not wanting to miss a word.
“The only other way was to consume a golden seed, and that would be an unconscionable crime. Because that would mean separating a tree-kin from their twin. And robbing them of a tree’s blessing.” Joe heard Grandad thump the table, rattling the dishes. “Dad never did such a thing! He was no thief, and he was no liar.”
Tami’s tone was soothing. “Did he tell you what happened?”
“Lots of times, and always with a look that was soft and warm and … just really glad.” Joe could hear that remembered smile in Grandad’s voice—hushed by awe, touched by wonder. “Your Great-grandad met an angel.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Flagship Alliance
She was running very late. Buses were already unloading at the main entrance by the time Tami pulled into the only open slot in the staff lot—the one usually occupied by Coach. Did that mean Ash and Kip weren’t here?
Checking the time, she forced herself to focus on meeting agendas as she hurried to the school door. Dr. Bellamy was the punctual sort, and she was scraping it close.
Tami was only two steps inside when she spied Ash loitering nearby, fussing with the spotless floor. Had he been waiting? Had he been worried?
Abandoning his janitorial equipment, he cut her off. He touched her cheek, checked the diminishing lump on the back of her head, and searched her face. “Can we talk?”
“I have a meeting.” She pushed as much apology into her tone as she could. “Dr. Bellamy might already be here.”
Ash’s shoulders hunched, then relaxed. A slow-motion shrug that was hard to interpret. “Yeah. He is.”
“Come find me later?”
“I’ll do that.”
She didn’t like putting him off with another later.
Ash smiled faintly. “It’s all right, Tami. There’s time.”
Taking him at his word, she hastened along the hall and into the main office. Flootie sang out, “There she is! And just in time. Break it up, gentlemen.”
“What on earth?” Tami asked.
Dr. Bellamy and Harrison looked to be in the middle of a bizarre game of charades.
Harrison quickly explained, “He was showing me the steps to a folk dance.”
“Just a little something I picked up during my travels.” Dr. Bellamy gave a cufflink a twirl, then touched the elaborate knot of his tie. “Would you like to learn, my dear?”
Tami laughed. “If you want a dance partner, I recommend Kip.”
“Oh?” Bellwether’s president seemed pleased by the prospect.
“He lured Harrison into a tango.”
“And I can vouch for his polka,” said Flootie. “But he’s off today. Harrison, you’d better save some stamina for recess.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Harrison bowed to their guest. “It was a pleasure, sir.”
Dr. Bellamy cheekily dropped a curtsy. “Until next time, my good man.”
Tami beckoned for him to follow her into her office. “I’m sorry for keeping you. Today’s been a bit strange, but I have my notes ready. If you’ll just ….”
“Principal Reaverson. Tami.” He put a hand on her arm. “Would you be wholly devastated if we moved this meeting to a different venue?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I took the liberty of reserving a private room at my favorite coffee shop. Everything is in readiness.” He smiled disarmingly. “Will you indulge me?”
Tami couldn’t very well deny the man. She owed Cyril Bellamy so much and respected him as both an educator and an administrator. So she gave in with grace and gratitude in equal measure. “Coffee sounds lovely. Let me get my things.”
He insisted on driving, quizzing her all the way into Fletching about the Amaranthine staffers she was considering for Landmark.
“We need a librarian. When the last one retired, the school was forced to eliminate the position. Our library still exists, but it’s a free-for-all in there. The interns help to shelve and organize books, but it’s not the same.”
“An obvious need. And your candidates?”
“The list they sent me has three dozen people, all from different clans, all willing to join our staff.”
Cyril asked, “Need help narrowing the field?”
“Please.” She patted her satchel. “There are resumes, letters of introduction, and even a short video from each. And I liked your suggestion of bringing in people who can rotate between our schools, developing programs for all grades.”
“Art, music, languages, applied sciences.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “We should consider basic courses on cultural awareness, etiquette, cooperation, collaboration. That sort of thing.”
Tami made a note.
“And I’ve found an unexpected trove of resources. Ah, here we are.”
He pulled into a reserved parking place beside one of the big, historic buildings on campus. Coming around to her side of the car, he opened the door for her. Tami gathered up her things and accepted his courtesy with mild exasperation. After working with Cyril for so many months, she was used to his artless chivalry.
When he bowed her through the door to Founders Coffee, they were met by a tall African-American man, who guided them through a paradise of dark wood, rich aromas, and casual elegance.
“Your usual room, Cyril.”
“Thank you, my friend.” Bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, Dr. Bellamy added, “Have you met Principal Reaverson? Tami, Lou is one of the owners of this establishment.”
Lou took her hand in both of his. “Tami. I’ve heard nice things about you.”
“Are you sure you can trust your sources?” She shot Dr. Bellamy a bland look.
The coffee shop owner laughed. “Cyril and I are old friends, but I was thinking of Melissa. She’s becoming increa
singly indispensable around here.”
“Oh!” Melissa had always been a little vague about her part-time job, and Tami hadn’t made the connection. “I don’t think she’s ever mentioned this place by name. It’s a small world.”
“Amazingly so.” Still holding her hand, Lou asked, “What should I bring—coffee, tea, sweets, savories?”
Cyril ordered far too much, claiming, “The fare here is worth sampling. You’ll thank me later.”
Tami was used to humoring Dr. Bellamy’s whims, just as she was sure his advice was good.
They made quick work of her agenda, especially when it came to weighing the advantages of hiring each potential staff member. By the time Tami selected the three Amaranthine who were the best fit for Landmark Elementary, she was confident in her decisions.
Since exploring differences was one of the goals of Spokesperson Twineshaft’s initiative, Dr. Bellamy had suggested choosing Amaranthine who fit two simple criteria. First, they should not come from one of the predatory clans—what big teeth you have. Second, if possible, she should choose people who looked the least human.
Given the current climate, wolves were out of the question, even though it might have been nice to have a staff member with a tail. Instead, she’d chosen three volunteers who readily displayed their unique heritage with antlers, antennae, and fire engine red hair.
These Amaranthine were not in hiding. They were different, but that wasn’t bad. And in becoming part of the Landmark family, these Amaranthine representatives would be able to gain the trust of the children … and their parents.
“That’s settled.” She shook her head in awe. “How do you know so many little details about the different deer clans?”
“Oh, that? We were building our proposal for months,” Dr. Bellamy pointed out. “Such things require research.”
“But I’m quite sure we didn’t look into butterfly clans.” She studied one of the attached photographs. “And how can you even tell that this person is from a woodpecker clan? All it says on his profile is avian.”
Dr. Bellamy nibbled at a tea cake. “I suppose it’s possible that I’ve heard his clan name before.”
Tami didn’t want to quibble, especially over something so small. But there had been so many small things in the last couple of hours. Almost as if Dr. Bellamy was dropping hints. “Are you leading up to something?”
“I suppose I am. How could you tell?”
“Nothing in particular.” She toyed with her empty coffee cup. “Maybe all those months of proposal-building left me with some insights, as well. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Dr. Bellamy seemed pleased. “I did promise you a treat.” From an attaché case, he withdrew a sheaf of papers and presented them with his usual pomp. “Opportunities abound!”
Pamphlets. Brochures. Fliers. As Tami skimmed their contents, her excitement mounted. Amaranthine throughout the region had been appearing at state and county fairs, local festivals, and theme parks. There were also street performers who made the rounds of vacation spots and tourist centers.
“Many of their programs are perfect for schools.” Dr. Bellamy tapped a glossy flier showing a family of minstrels in the traditional costumes of their clan. “They’re making themselves available to schools who apply for Twineshaft’s integration programs.”
Tami whispered, “They’d come all the way here?”
“They are here. Or as good as. This sampling represents Amaranthine in easy traveling distance. If you invite them, they will come.”
“The children would love this!”
“And their parents,” said Dr. Bellamy.
“We could host regular programs! Invite the whole community!”
“Easily.”
A uniformed team of Kith handlers who worked closely with police. Forest rangers who monitored wildfires with the help of an eagle clan. A group of jugglers and acrobats from a lion clan whose performers included two cubs not much older than Landmark’s students. Folk singers who taught the traditional songs and dances of the cozy clans.
“This is new to me. What are the cozy clans?”
“Gentle countryside clans with a unique perspective because they’ve always lived close to humans. Mostly rodents and small birds, but many clans that watch over animals domesticated by humanity count themselves among the cozies.” Dr. Bellamy was watching her closely. “Their customs are charming.”
Tami sat back in her chair. “This is amazing. And so generous. I just hope we can present these programs responsibly, so the kids understand that the Amaranthine aren’t here for our entertainment. Maybe if we balance off these programs with those by human and reaver guests? Or we could focus on groups who are already integrated, showing how our races can work together in fun and interesting ways.”
Dr. Bellamy smiled. “A far-sighted view. I can only approve.”
“If my perspectives have changed, it’s thanks to you.”
“Might I remind you, my dear lady, that you approached me with the plan that’s led to our flagship alliance.” He sat forward, then stood, beginning to pace. “Your vision has changed the future. Or at least my future. May I share a matter of some delicacy with you?”
Tami left off putting away her notes, giving Dr. Bellamy her full attention. She archly repeated her earlier question. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
To her surprise, Dr. Bellamy came around to sit in the chair beside hers. Turned toward her, he said, “I have always known I would need to declare myself eventually, but the current confluence of events … well! It would seem the time is now.”
She adored this man. No one else in her acquaintance shared his enthusiasm for life or his robust vocabulary. But his wording made her a little uneasy—declare himself. Was he about to ask her out? That would be awkward.
“Spokesperson Twineshaft must be informed. This may affect his plans, as well.”
Okay, she was out of danger. Tami was glad to have misinterpreted his turn of phrase. “Do you mean when we introduce the new faculty and staff?”
“No, it would be best if I came out before Dichotomy Day.” He cocked his head to one side. “There. Have I shocked you?”
Tami hardly knew what to say. “Why would Spokesperson Twineshaft be concerned about your orientation?”
Cyril blinked.
Tami blinked.
“I have been entirely too circumspect. A longstanding habit, I fear. While I have no wish to embarrass you with regards to your assumptions, I am—as you would say—a happily married man, boasting many daughters and sons, many of whom share my foibles and fashion sense.”
“I’m so sorry …!”
He waved her apology aside. “I am what I am, and I am as authentic as I can be under the circumstances. However, my clan affiliation will surely cause a stir.”
Tami blinked.
Cyril smiled.
“There,” he said gently. “Now we understand one another.”
“You’re Amaranthine?”
“Yes.”
This raised several questions. Perhaps her priorities were mixed up, but the first question out of Tami’s mouth was, “Is that why we were selected for the Twineshaft initiative?”
“No. Hisoka and I are not directly acquainted, and even if he knows of me, it would be by my true name.” Dr. Bellamy shook his head. “Our proposal’s selection was based entirely on its merits.”
She was relieved. And then she allowed herself to be shocked. “You’re Amaranthine.”
He offered his palms.
Covering them, Tami whispered, “May I know your true name?”
“Cyril Sunfletch, from one of the pheasant clans.” He quietly asked, “Can you bear up under further revelations?”
Tami couldn’t help laughing. “If they’re as world-tilting as this one, bring them on.”
He raised a hand, which was clearly a signal, for the door immediately opened. Lou strolled in, bearing a loaded tray. Then came a tall man with red hair, freckles, and a stack
of bakery boxes.
Lou said, “Allow us to treat you to lunch.”
She asked, “What’s all this?”
“This and that, but mostly us,” said the redhead. “I’ll get the door. Go on, Rook. You have the years. You first.”
Tami watched in fascination as the newcomer sketched shimmering figures on the room’s windows and doors. “Sigils?” she whispered.
“A bit of added privacy,” he said with a wink.
Pushing back her chair, Tami stood in happy suspense. The men—males—didn’t disappoint. All three underwent a subtle transformation, their Amaranthine features becoming readily apparent.
Lou stepped forward, his tail swaying, and spoke with quiet formality. “Tamiko Lisbet Reaverson, principal of schools, proponent for peace, twin of trees, you have become the allotment from Red Gate Farm. Meet with us, learn our names, and take your rightful share of trust.”
“The enclave?” she guessed. “You’re part of the enclave?”
“Its founders.” Lou offered his hands. “I am Kinloo-fel Nightspangle, often called Rook. My brother Doon-wen, alpha of the Nightspangle pack, led an answering allotment to Archer to meet your family and consider our future.”
“You’re Jiminy’s family.”
“Yes.”
“Does Melissa know?”
“More or less.” The redhead offered his hands. “More more than less. She hasn’t been next door just yet, but we’ll coax her into the nest by and by. Linden Woodacre. Squirrel clan.”
Rook said, “We are showing our true faces, telling our true names, and meeting with you in good faith, because trust has two sides.”
Cyril, whose ears were now showed both points and piercings, spread clawed hands wide. “Your secrets are ours, and ours have become yours. You will join our number as a founder and guide our two enclaves toward a brighter future.”
“Me? Wouldn’t it be better for you to work with Grandad? He’s the one who prepared the way for an alliance.”
“You’re tree-kin,” said Linden, as if that explained everything.