Tamiko and the Two Janitors (Amaranthine Saga Book 3)

by Forthright

“But that was hundreds of years ago.”

  “More like thousands. Long before the place where your history books pick up the story.”

  She missed a beat. “How old are you?”

  “Not that old.” He kissed her cheek. “Anyhow, out of respect for Glint, reavers don’t talk about Waaseyaa unless it’s to brag on their pedigree. Because he’s very much alive, thanks to his twin Zisa. They’re brothers, just like you and Biddie are sisters.”

  They weren’t alone in the world. Others knew about Amaranthine trees and knew the importance of keeping them safe. But it wasn’t such a deep, dark secret that nobody knew about it. People—at least those immune to Faisal’s charms—were circumspect about the subject.

  Ash tapped Biddie’s nose. “Apparently, Zisa’s hair—if we can call it that—changes with the season. Flowers in springtime. Leaves in summer. And Waaseyaa doesn’t age, but his hair never stops growing.”

  Tami waited for more, but all Ash did was gently touch her hair, as if imagining it at Rapunzel lengths.

  She asked, “That’s all you know? Hairstyles?”

  “This is Faisal we’re talking about.” Ash shrugged a shoulder. “His connection is apparently a cosset in Radiance Starmark’s cortege. As far as I can tell, they only gossip about clothing design and hairdressing.”

  “Well, it’s something we didn’t know before.” Tami hugged Biddie and asked, “Will you bloom for us in the spring?”

  The girl smiled a secretive smile.

  Touching Biddie’s autumn-hued foliage, Tami tried to picture buds and new leaves. But then she frowned. “What happens in winter?”

  “Uh-oh, Biddie,” teased Ash. “If you lose all your leaves, you’ll be bald.”

  Tami was quick to defend. “If you lose all your leaves, we’ll just have to bring you several pretty hats.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. Then she reached up with both hands and pulled out two handfuls of leaves.

  Tami gasped as they fluttered onto their laps. “Biddie! No!”

  Ash grunted. “Look, Tamiko.”

  He lifted aside a few leaves. Under the rustling crown of foliage, soft brown ringlets clung to Biddie’s head.

  “No need to rush through seasons,” Ash said firmly. “If you can be patient, I’ll bring you a hat tomorrow evening.”

  “A gift for Biddie?” She sounded almost wistful.

  Ash’s expression softened. “I’m glad you’re with us tonight, because my gift for Tamiko is also for you. I hear you like to look through your sister’s treasures.”

  She looked up through her lashes, as if unsure of Ash’s reaction. “I keep them safe while Tami’s at school.”

  With an encouraging smile, he asked, “Which are your favorites?”

  Biddie lost no time in spilling out the small trove of courting gifts. And with that, she shed her temporary shyness like a pair of too-tight shoes. She told him snatches of the stories behind some of the gifts, often paraphrased in amusing ways. Or she had her own stories behind what made certain tokens special, displaying a vivid imagination. Watching the girl sort and arrange brought back fond memories. Tami used to spend hours sifting through her grandmother’s button jar.

  The girl lifted a tiny silver bell. Its bowl looked like a swirl of trailing feathers, and from its crown rose the distinctive figure of a calling bird—a peacock. The work of art was no bigger than Biddie’s little finger, and its peal was a small, sweet ting.

  “One of my brothers gave that to me.” Ash was all patience and pride, as if he liked the bell’s story too well to mind repeating it. “Faisal is my peacock brother. The bell is an old joke between us. If he ever courts a lady, I’ll choose a bell for him to give to her.”

  The girl peeped under the peacock’s train at the bell’s clapper, which was egg-shaped. “Because it is funny?”

  “Neither of us is what you’d call a songbird. Bells and chimes are traditional courting gifts among avians like us. They’re said to summon Bethiel, whose sweet voice can make plain the truth of any matter. If he were to sing on my behalf, your Tami would know me in ways that defy words.”

  “I know my Tami.”

  “I’m so glad you do.”

  For a moment, Biddie held his gaze, as if weighing his words. Then she reached for another treasure, holding it up in silent command.

  Ash obligingly began, “Giuseppe is my dove brother.”

  “Can he sing?” asked Biddie.

  “His voice is lovely. He has a gentle soul—hopeful and hopelessly romantic.” Ash gently touched his gift with a clawtip. “Doves believe in love letters.”

  Tami liked the dainty message tube as well. Clear glass allowed one to see the pale pink scroll within, and a pearl stopper kept it safe. When he’d first presented it, Ash would only say that it contained a traditional blessing. But his manner made her curious.

  So she’d quizzed Tyrone on the matter. He’d cheerfully read off the enclosed poem, which only served to stump her, since it was in some kind of bardic language. Striking a pose, he translated all three verses, which involved the delights to be found in nests of down … and a rather suggestive line about duets and dawn.

  According to Tyrone, doves were affectionate by nature and none too shy in their approval of the intimacies of the nest.

  Biddie gently lay the slender message carrier beside the bell before seeking out a pair of circular silver cases, each no bigger around than a quarter. They were a matched set, yet subtly different, for their domed tops had been taken in a shallow cut from crow’s eggs. Soft green, speckled with brown.

  “Twins,” said Biddie, holding them out to Ash, one on each small palm.

  “Once upon a time, Amaranthine nearly always came into the world two-by-two.” His brows lifted a little. “Cyril has a twin. So does Rook, for that matter.”

  Tami liked this part of stories. With each retelling, fresh nuances came to light.

  Ash said, “Tyrone is my pheasant brother, and his gift is another avian tradition. He’s saying he wants me and Tami to multiply. Kind of like saying, ‘Hurry up and make me an uncle.’”

  Tyrone’s gift was quite practical, by avian standards, because he’d provided for the potential future of two nephews, who might one day wish to begin their own courtships. Tami had been startled to learn that Tyrone was not only bonded, but already three times a father. He had two sons of his own.

  “It’s for a tooth.” Ash showed Biddie how to unscrew the top. “An egg tooth, for those born in truest form. But they’d work just as well for baby teeth.”

  Biddie selected other gifts, and Ash seemed pleased by her interest. If Tami had ever entertained doubts over her plans to publicize their relationship, he banished them that evening. Ash’s gifts were no more secret than his feelings for her. How many times—and in how many ways—had he said it plainly? I love you.

  Sitting up, Ash asked, “Would you like to see what I brought tonight?”

  From the pocket of his jeans, he brought out something with a length of glittering chain. Uncurling his fingers, he showed Biddie an egg that had been carved from dark green crystal. Its entire surface was etched with intricate sigilcraft.

  “I’m courting Tamiko, so this is from me to her. But it’s also partly from Jiminy, who has a way with crystal. And it’s also mostly for you, Chick-a-biddie.” Ash undid the clasp. “Even though it means my present won’t help to fill up you sister’s bag, I would be happiest if you’ll wear this.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes. Do you understand why I’ve been bringing so many gifts for Tamiko?”

  The girl kept her eyes on the necklace as he fastened it around her neck. “Ash loves my Tami.”

  “That’s right. And sometimes, I want to keep her all to myself.” He lifted her chin. “But I also know how much your Tami loves you. I would never try to take her away. And I would never try to keep you apart.”

  She traced the sigils, quiet once more.

  “We’ll share a home, Biddie. M
y wings are wide enough to shelter you both within our nest.” He wafted his wings demonstrably.

  Biddie said, “A promise for me?”

  “I promise to be your brother.” He lightly touched the three courting gifts from Faisal, Giuseppe, and Tyrone. “You’ll have three of us, you know. A crow brother, a squirrel brother, and a twin brother.”

  Small fingers closed around her very own treasure. “Brother,” she said, as if conferring a title.

  Tami’s heart swelled, and because she wasn’t sure if she’d ever said it plainly enough, she touched Ash’s shoulder and said, “I love you.”

  Days passed with a veneer of normalcy. Argent regularly sent Tami books to read, links to follow, and checklists to complete. Cyril made a present of Faisal, whose energy and efficiency were nothing short of miraculous, and Lord Mettlebright—for lack of a better word—retaliated by assigning both his son Gingko and a pleasant young diplomat named Isla to Tami’s team.

  Cooperation. Coordination. Everything was humming along, right on schedule. Almost.

  As December neared, one item had been sitting at the top of Argent’s checklist for two weeks—inform next of kin. Tami was almost sure this was evidence of the fox’s dark sense of humor. Either that, or he was teasing her. Because she kept finding ways to put off the conversation, even though she was sure it would go well.

  Her parents were far from dense, but Tami got the impression that they thought all the secrets were on the Reaverson side.

  Quite literally in passing—since they were in the upstairs hall—Tami confided in Melissa.

  She should have realized that a battler was more about strategies than sympathies.

  “Tonight. I’ll create an opening. You take it.” Melissa clapped her shoulder. “Lock and load.”

  It wasn’t as detailed as the schedules Isla drew up, but Tami had a feeling it would get the job done.

  That evening, Tami realized that Melissa must have involved Joe in her plans. All he did was raise his hand, but by the time he lowered it again, Melissa was out the kitchen door. And when she returned, she hustled two janitors into the house ahead of her.

  “I’d like to call a family meeting,” she announced. “Now.”

  Tami flashed her a grateful smile and helped Mom find extra chairs while Joe helped Dad add a leaf. Greetings floated around, and snacks made their way onto the table. Biddie went straight to Ash, who lingered by the door. Not out of reluctance to join in, Tami realized, but because his wings would be in the way.

  They were part of him, and they forced him apart. But only from those who didn’t know his secret. Why had she left this so late?

  She touched a chair on the side of the table that left the most room. Ash kissed her cheek, and she sat beside him. Kip claimed the chair on Ash’s other side, casually shielding his best friend, just as he’d always done.

  Melissa lead out. “I’m being pursued by a wolf of the Nightspangle pack. Which is like courtship. If Jiminy had his way, I’d already be part of his den, but my adoptive father is making me wait until after my whelping feast.” A small smile touched her lips. “I think Doon-wen is using a technicality to tease Jiminy.”

  Dad rallied first. “It sounds like congratulations are in order!”

  Mom asked, “Jiminy’s a wolf? I thought he was a reaver.”

  “He’s human, but he was raised by wolves and is considered one by the Nightspangle pack.” Melissa quietly added, “Actually, I’m considered Kith-kin. By adoption.”

  “Get out!” exclaimed Kip. “Me, too! Except not the adopted part.”

  Ash asked, “True?”

  “True.” Melissa’s smile warmed and widened. “If you count Rook, I’m up to four mothers.”

  “He’s mine, too.”

  Tami eyed her parents. Dad was utterly bewildered, and her mother was barely holding back a burgeoning inquisition. So she jumped into the next gap and announced, “Argent Mettlebright has agreed to be go-between for Ash and me.”

  Joe calmly banished the sudden silence. “I like Ash.”

  Biddie giggled. “And I like Ash.”

  “Not as much as I do,” said Tami.

  “Hold up.” Grandad pointed at Tami. “Say that again.”

  “I like Ash?”

  “Argent. Mettlebright.”

  “Oh, him.” She rallied like a Reaverson. “Lord Mettlebright agrees that America needs a love story to soften their hearts toward the Amaranthine. Ash and I volunteered. With the help of the Amaranthine Council, we’ll be going public with our engagement.”

  There. It was out.

  All eyes swung to Ash, who recognized his cue. “I’m a crosser.”

  “I’m hopping the bandwagon,” said Kip. “I also like Ash, but that’s never been a secret. Is that what this is? A chance to spill secrets?”

  “Yes,” said Joe. “This is your chance.”

  “Awesome.” Kip spread his hands on the table, taking the proverbial floor. “I’m pretty sure you have to have realized by now that I’m not even a little bit human. Only you’ve been too polite to let on.”

  “What?” asked Dad.

  “Wait. No?” Kip was playing it up. “You guys saw me make with the wards at the pizza parlor, right?”

  Dad said, “I thought that meant you were a reaver. Like Mr. Ismal.”

  “Oh, that does make sense. I wasn’t sure how much Jiminy told you when he brought me in that first time. Guess it’s out.” His glib tone softened slightly. “Who wants to play Guess My Clan?”

  Grandad shook his finger at Kip. “Woodacre ring any bells?”

  Kip held up his hands. “Guilty as charged.”

  Joe cleared his throat. “I like Kip.”

  “Who doesn’t?” asked Ash. “He and I have been keeping each other’s secrets for a good long while. Even longer than we’ve been janitors at Landmark.”

  “How long’s that been?” Kip asked, as if he didn’t know.

  Tami had to appreciate the way they played off each other. It was kindergarten orientation all over again.

  Ash stole a look in Grandad’s direction. “Hit our eightieth anniversary a few years back. Hoping to make it an even century if they’ll keep us around.”

  Dad was tapping his fingers on the table, the way he did when figuring in his head.

  “You know,” said Tami. “Landmark Elementary has always been fortunate in the custodial department. Dad, by any chance, do you remember who had that post back when you were attending?”

  He rubbed at his chin, his eyes never leaving Kip’s face. “Haven’t thought of it in years, but sure. Hard to forget Mr. Reynard, the juggling janitor.”

  Kip did a little smile-and-wave.

  Dad’s eyes cut to Ash, then back to Tami. “But there was another one. Are you saying …?”

  “Grandad?” prompted Tami.

  He was silently shaking his finger at Kip, a crooked smile on his face.

  Once more Kip raised his hands, as if to repeat guilty as charged.

  Joe asked, “Who was he then, Grandad?”

  “Back in my day, it was Mr. Redman, the janitor who always spoke in puns.”

  Ash groaned.

  Kip shrugged.

  Joe demanded fur.

  Tami coaxed for feathers.

  Mom kept slipping into Japanese.

  Dad ordered pizzas.

  Melissa scooped ice cream.

  And Grandad—for the first time since the Emergence—missed his weekly documentary, the nightly news, and the Rivven Report. Without complaint.

  Tami knew without a shadow of doubt that she was going to make a difference. On her own, that difference probably wouldn’t have extended beyond her hometown. With Cyril’s help, they’d pushed change all the way to the county lines. Now, Argent would make sure one small town girl achieved national—and international—coverage.

  “Having second thoughts?” asked Ash.

  “No.” She sagged further down into Coach’s back seat. Kip had gone on ahead
with Joe. She’d begged for five more minutes. Twice.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “You.”

  His arm slid around her waist, and his lips brushed her eyebrow. “If that’s the case, then why do I have you worried?”

  “I’m not Kimiko.”

  There was a thoughtful pause before Ash asked, “What does that young lady have to do with us?”

  “She goes places, does things.” When that failed to enlighten, Tami went on. “She makes appearances all over the world, meeting diplomats and giving speeches. She hosts conferences, rallies supporters, and sits in on official meetings with the Amaranthine Council.”

  Ash hummed. “Kind of a go-getter, I suppose.”

  “All while courting Eloquence, who pretty much only leaves the Starmark compound if there’s a kiss scheduled.”

  “The press only knows as much as they see. And what they’re allowed to see isn’t necessarily all there is to know.”

  Which was true. But it wasn’t really her point. “You’re Kimiko.”

  “Not even close.” His smile was the knowing sort, a good sign that he understood.

  “I have Biddie, and that means sticking close to home. I doubt I can leave the county without distressing her. Which means you have to be Kimiko.”

  “I’m really much better at being myself.”

  Tami let his kisses calm her before trying to reason through her concerns. “You might be asked to travel, to give speeches, to be on television, to do photo shoots and interviews and … and all the things that Kimiko has to do.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Aren’t you nervous? Or bothered? Or … regretting that I ever suggested this whole thing?”

  “No, no, and never.” He toyed with her hair. “I’ve been wondering if I should bring this up. In many ways, it doesn’t matter, but if it would set your mind at ease … Tamiko, I’m really very old.”

  To Tami, Ash looked like a man in his early thirties. So did Kip, for that matter. But so did Argent Mettlebright. She’d never actually seen any Amaranthine whose appearance surpassed a vigorous forty-something.

  “Age doesn’t matter. It won’t ever matter, now that I’m tree-kin.”

  “Yeah, which means you’ll understand in time.” He sighed and said, “I have a slightly different perspective. People will come, and they’ll go. Some of them will use paper towels to clog sinks, and some of them will slip paperclips into my pockets. Either way, I’ll learn their names, I’ll listen to their words, I’ll tell the truth, and I’ll hold them to a high standard of courtesy.” Ash’s feathers rustled and settled. “My manners will become their manners.”