by Forthright
“I must protest,” came a voice, low and lazy. “I saw him first.”
How long had Lapis been watching?
Harmonious snorted. “Eloquence’s claim is a matter of record. But if you crave kinship, I’ll claim you next, dragonling.”
Blue eyes widened, then narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”
“Let’s call it a promise. But this one first.”
Tenma’s stomach flipped at the intensity of Harmonious’ gaze. And the enormity of his offer. Dogs were reportedly friendly, Spokesperson Starmark more than most. So this probably wasn’t as important to him as it was to Tenma. But even if this dog made offers of friendship and kinship to every person who strolled through his gates, Tenma wanted this.
“Please,” he whispered.
“Good lad.” Harmonious leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Welcome home.”
The sob took Tenma by surprise.
Quen’s dad mussed his hair and patted his cheek and quietly repeated, “Good lad. Come now, Ever. Sniffen your new packmate while I keep my promise to Lapis.”
And in a flicker of movement too fast for Tenma to track, Harmonious was gone, leaving Ever with him. Propping up on an elbow, Tenma saw Lapis’ futile attempt at escape. Laud had him by the elbow, and the hand on his shoulder must have belonged to Hisoka Twineshaft. Then Harmonious was on him—tickling and extolling the glories of pack.
Lapis’ imperious demands dissolved into fluting laughter and growled oaths, but Tenma thought perhaps the dragon was enjoying the attention. Just as he had.
With a gentle tug at Ever’s ear, Tenma whispered, “Your dad’s nice.”
Harmonious soundly kissed Lord Mossberne’s forehead, then turned their way. “I almost forgot. Would you do me a favor, Tenma?”
“Yes, sir. Anything.”
“Pass along a message to your teacher at school.” Harmonious traded a glance with Uncle Laud. “I need to keep Eloquence home for a few days—a week at the most—on a matter of importance to the pack.”
NINETEEN
Star Festival
Kimiko jumped a little when Akira brought his hand down with a thwap on the edge of their table. Hardly the most polite request for attention—even boars were more subtle—but effective. Setting aside her jumble of forms, lists, and reminders, she looked between her partner and the girl he had by the wrist.
Isla Ward wore an expression of strained politeness.
If Kimiko had to guess, she’d say Akira was about twelve seconds away from the end of diplomatic relations and the beginning of sisterly wrath.
She’d met the other reaver, of course, but in that fleeting way in which two people acknowledged one another’s existence without any intention of learning more. Just like at Ingress. To be fair, everyone in class mostly stuck to their triad. This week was their first class-wide project, preparations for the Star Festival.
New Saga High School had been given a prime slot on the center stage. Classes 1-A, 2-A, and 3-A would be putting on a play, reenacting the story of Saint Midori. Kimiko would have loved to be one of the actors, but that was A-group’s role. B-group had been assigned to costuming and set design. With the rest of C-group, Class 3-C was organizing a long line of booths, where festival-goers could buy traditional Star Festival treats and Amaranthine trinkets.
“Do that thing!” Akira’s eyes were sparkling. “Please, Kimi. Isla won’t listen, so you need to show her what you can do.”
Isla tried to tug free. “Stop being a bother. Can’t you see she’s busy?”
“I’m telling you, she knows stuff you’ll be interested in.” He could be surprisingly stubborn. “Isla’s decent, but a little superior. You’ve gotta make allowances for geniuses. But you don’t mind, do you, Kimi?”
She might have fended off his pleading look, but Isla tipped the scales in his favor. Her expression was polite, but her posture betrayed her skepticism.
“I don’t mind,” Kimiko said blandly. “I need to check in with each team. Would that offer enough of a demonstration?”
“Do it!” Akira’s hands fairly whirled with his excitement. “Watch her, Isla. You’ll see.”
The girl was tall for twelve, already a match for Akira, and a beauty. Fair as a fairy tale princess, with glossy curls and big green eyes. Kimiko wondered what kind of person she was under all the pedigree, power, and connections.
Pretty wrappers were no guarantee of quality chocolate.
“Sorry for Akira,” Kimiko said, giving her partner’s shoulder a cuff. “This won’t take long.”
Pulling out her chair, she used it to step onto their table, gaining the attention she’d need. And with the same orderliness with which she arranged her collections, she silently addressed herself to the Amaranthine members of each triad.
Casual greetings. Calls for reports. Compliments for those ahead of schedule. Assessing the needs of stragglers. And relaying requests for extra help so everything would be completed in time.
Maybe she was showing off just a little, tailoring her messages to each particular clan, adding the sorts of nuances that would please her classmates. All the while, keeping her gestures discreet, refined, subtle. To the untrained eye, it might look as if she was turning in a slow circle, surveying the room. And fidgeting a bit in the process.
Responses varied—amusement, relief, a spate of sly banter, gratitude, and more than one compliment. Kimiko brushed them off, consistently referring to her role as representative, serving the class.
Hanoo rolled his eyes and teased. Shouldn’t a speaker for the reavers speak with reavers?
She laughed at herself. It was true, she was playing favorites.
While she had their attention, she made herself available in a general way, should any of them have questions or need clarification. And then she stepped down.
The whole process had taken less than a minute.
“That just leaves … where is Eloquence Starmark? He’s been gone all week.”
Isla had been scanning the room, so her answer was a little distracted. “Quen had a family obligation and won’t return to class until next week.”
“But he’ll miss the festival!” protested Kimiko.
“There will be other festivals.”
Kimiko knew that her Amaranthine classmates might well see a thousand such festivals, should the tradition be carried forward through enough generations. But this was the only one Eloquence could experience with this class. Shouldn’t he treasure these once-in-a-lifetime experiences more? Or … maybe he did. And he was as disappointed as she would be in his place.
Isla turned around, and Kimiko noticed the change immediately. Excitement seemed ready to burst through her hefty wards. “You conferred with them all?”
“Except Eloquence.” Kimiko tried not to look too smug. “Since he’s currently out of visual range.”
“Akira says you’re teaching him.” Isla slipped her arm through Kimiko’s, leaning into her side. “Which is good, because he’s awful.”
“Hey!” he protested. “I didn’t even know it was a thing before Suuzu pegged Kimi. She’s genius, right? Admit it, Isla.”
The girl pursed her lips, then huffed, then asked, “May I call you Kimi, too?”
“Please, do.”
“And … when you’re giving Akira lessons, will you include me?”
“I’d love that,” Kimiko whispered, then offered an earnest message. You’ve made me glad our paths have crossed.
After classes finished up for the day, Kimiko made the rounds with Hanoo and Sosuke, checking and double-checking their preparations. Once they were sure everything was as ready as it could be, she offered to report to Ms. Reeves in the faculty offices. Mostly so she could talk to her in private.
“Thank you, Kimiko.” Her teacher smiled knowingly and asked, “Was there something else?”
Grateful for the opening, she blurted, “I’m wondering about Eloquence Starmark.”
“He’ll return to classes next week.”
<
br /> “After the festival.”
“It is a shame.” Ms. Reeves nodded, then nodded again. “Would you like to bring him some of the festival treats the class has prepared? I’m sure he’d appreciate the gesture.”
“Shouldn’t it be Isla? She’s his partner.”
The woman asked, “Who is the one who came to me because she wanted to make sure a classmate wasn’t left out? And if you don’t mind my saying so, I have an idea that you’re especially fond of this festival.”
“All of my memories of the Star Festival are good.” Kimiko took a posture of acceptance.
Ms. Reeves nodded approvingly. “Fill some of those tiered boxes and wrap them up. Are you familiar with the Starmark compound?”
Kimiko laughed a little. It was a silly question. The whole world was familiar with the Starmark compound.
TWENTY
Starry Gifts
Kimiko didn’t exactly gawk, but she felt a little like a tourist in her own city. The gates that appeared on television so often looked even bigger in person. Thick enough that knocking would be pointless. Heavy enough that opening them would be impossible.
Still, she wanted to get closer, to stand in the same place where so many press conferences had been held. The doors showed beautiful craftsmanship—carved wood, its fine grain so smooth, it looked oiled. Kimiko caressed the silken surface with her fingertips and immediately felt the trip and tickle of wards.
With the click of a latch, a door beside the gate opened a few centimeters. Was this an invitation to enter?
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Pushing the door wider, she peered inside. “Pardon my intrusion,” she tentatively called, closing the door behind her. It was like stepping into a forest. She hadn’t realized there were so many trees this close to the road. Then again, this had been the home of an Amaranthine clan for centuries, and they were famous for their nature preserves and wildlife habitats. She caught the faint and familiar rattle of leaves and followed the sound to a large camphor tree alongside the path. Perhaps a younger sibling to their shrine’s grand specimen?
The wide road that began at the big front gates vanished into woods. It was clear of snow, which heaped up on either side, so she couldn’t tell if there were trails or benches or garden beds. These woods must be lovely in summer. “Hello?” she called again.
Oh, well. She supposed they’d send someone after her eventually, and then she could explain her errand. But she’d barely taken two steps when she encountered a guard dog. A very small, chubby-cheeked guard dog. She recognized him, of course. Even without the ears, he was Harmonious Starmark in miniature.
Kimiko bowed and addressed him seriously. “Peace, young sir. Are you the gate guard?”
He looked between her and the door, which he must have opened. “Tenma coming?”
“Did you think I was him? I’m sorry to disappoint you.” She showed her palms. “I know Tenma-kun since we’re classmates. I was hoping to speak to Eloquence. Is he here?”
“Bruvver busy.”
A large Kith stepped into the open. The dog’s auburn fur had been brushed to the sort of high gloss one expected in show dogs. His ears drooped like a setter’s or a spaniel’s, and his eyes were the exact same copper as the little boy’s.
Kimiko bowed again. “I go to school with Eloquence Starmark. He’s been absent, so I brought him a gift for the upcoming festival.”
The Kith sat, and the little boy trotted forward. “Who you?”
“I’m Kimiko.” Setting down her bag, she knelt on the path so he could reach her palms. “May I ask your name?”
That put a bounce in his step. “Ever!” He made a very proper bow, then plucked at his sleeve, showing off his family crest. “Ever Starmark, cause I’m Da’s boy!”
“You are a tribute to your den.”
The boy’s face scrunched adorably. “Nuh-uh. Bruvver’s a triboot. I’m juss me.”
Kimiko wasn’t sure what he meant, but it hardly mattered. Ever was precious. And rather articulate for three years, though he lisped softly over his syllables.
“I should sniffen you,” he announced.
“If you think that would be wise,” she said with equal gravity.
And then she had her arms full of boyish curiosity.
“Short.” He petted her hair. “Dun grow?”
“When my hair gets long, I cut it short.” She whispered, “Sometimes people think I’m a boy.”
He snuffled at her neck, then gave a small huff of disdain. “Smells like girl.”
“What do girls smell like?” she asked.
Ever returned to sniffing as if investigating the matter and surprised her by adding a bit of a nibble.
She quietly asked, “What are you doing?”
He licked the spot in what was surely meant as an apology and leaned back. “You mind me of Mum.”
“Is that good?”
“Like … dis.” Ever held out a tight fist, then slowly opened it, as if releasing a butterfly. “Stars inside. I like dem, but she hides dem. Special for Da. Who are yours for?”
She skirted that question. “Your mother’s a reaver?”
“She’s Mum, but Da calls her Anna.” Pointing to her bag, he asked, “What dose?”
Before she could answer, a male voice came from directly behind. “Ever.”
“Spect.” The boy’s ears drooped guiltily, but he clung more tightly to Kimiko.
She turned to look up—quite a ways up—into the face of a powerfully-built Amaranthine male dressed in Starmark colors. Not Eloquence. Carefully rising to her feet, she propped Ever on her hip and offered her free hand. “My name’s Kimiko Miyabe of Kikusawa Shrine.”
“Prospect Starmark,” he replied curtly. “May I ask your purpose in coming here, reaver?”
It was awkward, relying on one-handed gestures, but she rather enjoyed the challenge. And the more she conveyed, the more Ever’s older brother relaxed. She explained, “I came looking for Eloquence. He’s my classmate.” Bending to catch the handles of her bag, she asked, “Would you give this to him?”
“What do you think, Ever?” asked Prospect.
She felt something batting against her arm. His tail!
“Since you’ve come this far, Kimiko, I think you should see it through.” Prospect beckoned for her to follow. “My runt of a brother won’t be much longer. I’ll show you where you can wait.”
He guided her through a series of courtyards, sometimes on raised porches, sometimes along shoveled paths. Given how many buildings they passed, the Starmark clan was almost a city unto itself. Well, a neighborhood, anyhow. But she didn’t see a single soul. Everything was quiet, as if the place had been evacuated.
“Where is everyone?” she asked. Maybe she shouldn’t have. But her Starmark guide didn’t seem to mind.
“Festival preparations, one way or another.” He grinned at her. “Here’s the den you need. Ever, be a good host until Quen returns. Kimiko, if you need anything, tell Rise.”
The Kith leapt onto the pavilion’s wide front porch and gave a welcoming wuff.
Prospect slid the front panel open, poking his head through to peer around. “You can duck inside if you need the shelter.” He scanned the heavy clouds and hummed vaguely. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”
When he left, Kimiko gave in to curiosity, but there wasn’t much in the pavilion’s outer room—tatami mats on the floor, a single chest, and a low table with a neat stack of school books at its center. Sliding screens barred the view into inner rooms, and she refused to snoop any further. Mother would have. All the more reason not to, as far as Kimiko was concerned.
So she slid the door closed and rejoined Rise on the porch. “May I sit with you?”
With the Kith at her back and Ever in her lap, she’d be warm enough for a while.
The boy renewed his line of inquiry about her baggage. “What dose?”
“Do you know about the Star Festival?”
Ever’s
ears pricked forward, quavering. “Fessval?” he asked.
“Everyone in Keishi loves the story of the Star Festival.” Encouraged by his eager expression, she offered a highly abridged version. “Reavers remember a long-ago day when a beautiful girl with the brightest soul called down the stars from the sky.”
“Talk to stars?”
“That’s how the story goes. Some say they were angels. Some say they must have been sky clansmen.”
“Manthine?”
“Yes, from the clan of the sky.” She knew these stories from her grandfather, and it was fun to share them. “Have you learned any stories about imps?”
“Dun know dem.” He rubbed his nose against her chin. “Story?”
“Imps are the impressions of old.” Kimiko adopted the sing-song tone that had been such a big part of her childhood. “The star clans belong to one of the four lost peoples—sky, sea, mountain, and tree.”
Ever’s wide eyes shifted to the surrounding woods. “Manthine trees?”
“They’re my favorite in the stories, so I know lots of things about trees. But this is the Star Festival.” Reaching for the bag, she explained, “Gifts are one of the traditions; we give starry gifts. And we wish upon the stars. Best of all, we share starry sweets. See?”
And she lifted the topmost box’s lid, revealing an array of star-shaped fruit jellies and molded candies, some sparkling with sugar, others studded with nuts. The second box held chocolate wafers, and the third a honeyed cake, rich with butter and liberally flecked with orange zest.
“I brought these for Eloquence so he wouldn’t miss out.”
Ever tapped the edge of the box. “Trade wiff me?”
“I’m sure your brother would share,” she ventured.
“Him dun like sweet stuffs.”
Kimiko innocently asked, “But you do?”
The boy tangled his fingers together and shyly admitted, “I does.”
“Then I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Right back!” And the boy disappeared around the corner.
With a soft grunt, the Kith rose to follow.