by Forthright
Argent stepped out from behind the curtain. Taking his place at the fore, he offered a series of genteel nods and gracious bows until the room began to settle.
Flootie beamed approvingly at the crowd, then spoke for all of them. “Welcome to Archer, Lord Mettlebright. We’re delighted to have you.”
FORTY-NINE
Eavesdropper
Biddie was in full bloom on the summer afternoon when Joe overheard something that probably wasn’t meant for his ears. Not that he was trying to eavesdrop. This was his farm. This was his favorite spot. And he didn’t doubt that Amaranthine ears were keen enough to pick up the lazy drift of fingers through fur … and the deep breathing of the squirrel draped bonelessly across his lap.
Which meant that he was meant to hear the conversation that pretended to be private.
“So this is her!” The voice was new to the farm, yet familiar.
“Why the sudden change of plans?”
That was Spokesperson Twineshaft. He’d turned up—unannounced and under the radar—a few days ago, escorting Isla. Or vice versa. School stuff, mostly. But wedding stuff, too. Turns out, Isla was the cat’s apprentice and a diplomatic wunderkind.
Voices carried clearly. Hisoka, who liked to be called Sensei, asked, “Are you here at your sire’s behest?”
“The idea,” came an injured grumble. “I’m at yours, if anyone’s. Why would you think otherwise?”
“There are ties to Wardenclave.”
A skeptical snort. “Most reavers in this part of the world can claim ties to Wardenclave. Are you angling for something, old friend? You know I prefer plain speaking.”
Joe cringed. This was very bad acting.
Hisoka asked, “Does this variety of tree grow in Wardenclave’s grove?”
“No, this is a new scent.” In a softer tone, he added, “Pleasant surprise, really. There are not enough new things in the world.”
“Not new,” the cat countered stiffly. “Not really.”
“No? Well, good. You probably needed reminding.” Harmonious Starmark, for the voice could belong to no other, gently said, “Nothing is lost forever.”
The conversation faltered, and when Hisoka spoke again he sounded weary. “So you can substantiate George’s claim.”
“His sire never stole from mine. That much I know.” The dog hesitated. “What I don’t know is whether it’s wise to leave the Junzi. You’ve seen the risk reports.”
Joe couldn’t help smiling. He’d forgotten himself … and his audience. But this was a safe place for secrets. Especially since Kip’s nap was probably the three-day variety.
“Remote. Warded. Secret. Surrounded.” Hisoka sounded pleased. “The Gentleman Bandit will not claim this prize.”
“Is that what we’re calling him?”
“Or her. And there’s no harm in letting Sinder have his way in small matters.”
Harmonious chuckled.
They exchanged a few murmurs that Joe couldn’t make out.
So they’d been checking out Grandad’s story. That was fine. Neither sounded like they were searching for evidence of past misconduct. It had almost sounded like Hisoka was looking for something else, something lost.
“You certainly have a way with animals.”
Joe was more used to attracting Ephemera than the Five. And he suspected the latter were more difficult to tame. Especially this one. “He’s a person, same as you.”
“And he’s in an enviable place,” said Hisoka.
“We all are.” Joe forced himself to relax into the tree at his back. “I won’t leave this place, even for you.”
“I know better than to ask it.” Hisoka chose a seat nearby.
Joe focused all his attention on Kip, who twitched a foot in his sleep. Silences had never bothered him, and this one was peaceful.
“Are you wearing something around your neck?”
“No. Nothing.”
Hisoka’s focus narrowed. “There’s something there, over your heart.”
Was he picking up on the seals? That shouldn’t be possible. Joe brushed self-consciously at the front of his overalls, only to realize something was there. Kip’s new favorite trick. “Just some acorns. They’re probably warded.”
“Ah. So that’s it.” Hisoka’s gaze lingered on the sleeping squirrel for a while. “About Harmonious. He can’t speak of Wardenclave to any but the Five, but he wanted to reassure you. I reminded him that a secret that must not be told … could still be overheard.”
“I figured.”
“This tree isn’t from Wardenclave.”
“Nope.”
“Joe, do you know where Biddie’s seed came from?”
“Lisbet was born with it.”
Hisoka asked, “And … before that?”
“Does it really matter? Or are you just curious.”
“I won’t know until I know.” He showed his palms. “How far will you trust me?”
“Probably all the way.” Joe gave a small shrug. “Argent asked us to.”
“Thank you.” After a thoughtful pause, Hisoka said, “I have accumulated so many secrets that there are few mysteries left in the world. You are one. Truth be told, I am another.”
While Joe didn’t feel mysterious, he’d already figured out where the problem was. “I shouldn’t be a beacon. I don’t have the pedigree.”
Hisoka visibly relaxed. “Yes.”
“And you want to know why?”
“Among other things.” His posture loosened further. Rubbing a hand over his short hair, he leaned forward, elbows on knees, and ticked off items on his fingers. “Someone arranged for your great-grandparents to leave Wardenclave without Glint Starmark’s knowledge. Someone knew that this is where your family resettled. Someone kept enough contact to know of Lisbet’s death. And someone took steps to ensure that the buried seed would have a twin.”
Joe could see the chain of events, and he could tell where they were headed.
“Someone warded your sister, who is certainly a reaver. Lovely and above average, but not exceptional.”
“Wasn’t that Grandad? The necklace is a family heirloom.”
Hisoka hummed. “Everyone agrees that Tami’s wardstones were handed down from Lisbet Reaverson. But no one remembers when the gift was given. And no one finds that strange. Which is really very strange, indeed.”
Joe tried to think back. “She’s always had her necklace. She always wears it.”
“And someone sealed you.” Hisoka nested his fingers loosely together. “I wish I had seen the seal myself. Argent says it was already beginning to decay—much to the delight of local Ephemera—so certain markers were lost. But Argent believes that the seal was directly responsible for your covert rise through the ranks.”
“I’m not ranked.”
“Ah, but you are. Argent is more than qualified to render an assessment.” With a gesture Joe couldn’t interpret, Hisoka quietly said, “Congratulations, First of Beacons.”
Joe winced. “Why do you think that’s a bad thing?”
Hisoka’s eyebrows lifted. “You can sense my reservations?”
That was one way of putting it. Joe admitted, “I’ve been trying to calm you down since you came over.”
Sensei drew himself up, but in an embarrassed way. Like when you’ve just told a guy his zipper’s down.
Unsure how else to reassure him, Joe said, “I won’t tell.”
“Thank you.” Hisoka ran a hand over his hair again. “We believe the seal was designed to draw upon this tree’s power in order to add to yours. In a sense, Biddie has been tending you. It may be why you feel so deeply attached to this place.”
Joe said, “But Biddie chose Tami. She’s the one who became tree-kin.”
“True.” Hisoka sighed deeply. “The person who placed your seal may have had the best of intentions. Things certainly worked out favorably. But the possible repercussions of the seal’s existence and usage are … concerning.”
“You’re worried
about the trees?” Joe guessed. “Like when humans raided the old groves, searching for ways to live longer?”
“It could begin again. Only it would be the reavers this time, seeking fresh power, no matter the cost.”
Thinking of the protectiveness of the preservationists, Joe’s heart sank. “That sounds kind of like it could lead to a Betweener civil war.”
Hisoka said, “I doubt it would come to that. But I’m very much afraid that somewhere, someone may be cultivating potent souls. Presumably, for harvest.”
That triggered a memory, a fragment from his dream. “Argent said something about people being snatched and caged. Is this what he meant?”
“In part. But there’s more, and we believe everything is connected. You represent our first hint as to how.” Hisoka slipped from his seat to kneel, like a supplicant before Joe’s childhood throne. “Can we speak plainly, as one third twin to another?”
Joe felt the weight and worth of that single secret Hisoka allowed him to know.
Keeping a proper balance meant answering in kind. And trusting all the way.
With a shy smile and a sure heart, Joe asked, “Have you ever met an angel?”
THE END
never more than
FORTHRIGHT
a teller of tales who began as a fandom ficcer. (Which basically means that no one in RL knows about her anime habit, her manga collection, or her penchant for serial storytelling.) Kinda sorta almost famous for gently-paced, WAFFy adventures that might inadvertently overturn your OTP, forthy will forever adore drabble challenges, surprise fanart, and twinkles (which are rumored to keep well in jars). As always... be nice, play fair, have fun! ::twinkle::
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THE AMARANTHINE SAGA CONTINES
This summer is his last chance to win his first love.