by Forthright
She blinked.
The rooms were changing? Was that even possible?
And then Suuzu’s warning from Akira’s texts came back to her. Be careful of tricks. This was exactly the sort of thing kitsune were supposed to do, leading astray hapless travelers. Tsumiko was willing to bet that her fox had enough tails to cause all kinds of trouble.
“Argent,” she muttered.
“Yes, mistress?”
She jumped, for she’d barely whispered his name. Yet her butler had not only heard, he’d stolen up behind her. Argent bowed, the picture of subservience, but Tsumiko didn’t trust his sly smile.
“Did you need something, my lady?”
“Yes, please. Will you show me the way to the kitchen?” she asked. “I’m a little mixed up.”
“Tsk. The stairs are right here, mistress.”
And so they were. Now.
She quietly followed her butler downstairs, intrigued by this turn of events. It would seem that foxes really were tricksters, and for two days, she’d been easy prey. What’s more, Argent had clearly enjoyed messing with her. Tsumiko could feel his malicious glee.
It was a petty sort of revenge, but she let him have it. She’d been raised to turn the other cheek, but it was more than that. While Tsumiko definitely didn’t trust his smile, he was smiling.
TEN
Circulating Letter
Sansa sat at the kitchen table, chin on her fist as she scanned what appeared to be a foreign newspaper.
Tsumiko was still trying to figure out how to behave around Michael’s reserved wife. Although Tsumiko knew better than to put too much stock in appearances, Sansa’s was formidable. Tall and broad-faced, her aproned uniform couldn’t disguise her musculature. Wide shoulders, browned skin, callused hands—Sansa was the kind of woman that made you suspect that she took after her father. Quiet, confident, watchful, and polite. Tsumiko couldn’t have called her pretty, but Sansa had her husband’s respect and regard.
Tsumiko wondered how they’d met.
Just then, Sansa turned a page, and Tsumiko’s attention was caught. Unlike the newspapers in her school library’s reading room, this one was printed on paper with a creamy hue. The pages were strangely delicate, crinkling like the onion skin of old Bibles.
As Sansa gently smoothed the page and continued to read, Tsumiko felt a tug and shuffled forward as if obeying an implicit command. Whose, she couldn’t say. But the compulsion was impossible to ignore. Confused by her own boldness, Tsumiko reached out to touch the paper’s edge.
Sansa’s questioning glance softened into a pleasant smile. “You may look, miss. You want to, yes?”
“Very much,” Tsumiko admitted with a blush. “But I don’t understand why.”
Easing from her chair, the woman nudged Tsumiko into her place. “This paper is moth-made, and the allure is strongest the first time.”
Tsumiko leaned forward, trying to make sense of the strange combination of symbols, insignias, and text in three languages—English, Japanese, and Russian. She brushed her fingertips over the page, exploring the sensations pulling at her soul. Although the ink gleamed as if wet, nothing smudged. “It looks freshly written,” she whispered in awed tones.
“No, no. This is a week or more old. Reports are passed along from one reaver to the next.” Sansa moved to the cupboard. “We are quite low on the priority list, but old news is better than none. And Michael likes being at the end of the line because he can keep the issues.”
“I can see why he’d want to. This is a work of art.” Row upon row of neat brushwork fanned out around a strange seal. Tsumiko couldn’t seem to stop stroking the silky paper. “It looks handwritten.”
“It is.” Sansa brought cups of tea and took the seat beside Tsumiko’s. “The clan who makes our paper also trains scribes. Dimityblest craftsmanship is good, yes?”
“Wouldn’t email be more efficient?”
“Not for secrets.” Sansa wrapped large hands around her cup. “Sometimes, the old ways are best.”
“What’s this?” Tsumiko asked, touching a symbol that looked like a striking cat’s paw surrounded by twisting branches.
“You have heard of the Five?”
“The five largest Amaranthine clans—cat, dog, wolf, fox, and dragon.” Tsumiko had familiarized herself with the basics. “They led the Emergence.”
“Not largest, miss. Strongest,” Sansa gently corrected. “The Five Clans have prestige, pride, and the power to keep both.”
“Because they’re predators?” Tsumiko guessed.
“Some consider that a factor. But historically, the Five maintained deep ties with reavers.” With traces of pride, she said, “As allies, our strength became theirs.”
Tsumiko wondered if she could become a source of strength for Argent. If he gained power, could he break the bond that fettered his life to hers?
Sansa indicated the cat’s paw. “This crest belongs to Hisoka Twineshaft. He guided the Emergence, so human governments consider him the spokesperson for all Amaranthine.”
“He’s their leader?”
“Yes. A good leader, despite his protests.” Chuckling softly, she added, “He holds a power he did not seek. Michael says that is why it is safe.”
“Have you met him?”
“Yes, yes,” said Sansa, a far off look in her eyes. “In my day, he was only a teacher at Ingress Academy. Hisoka-sensei was good to Michael. And to me. Sensei noticed me because of Minx.”
“Minx?”
Sansa stood. “I need to check the wards. Join me, miss. Some things will be easier to explain if I show you.”
ELEVEN
Michael’s Plan
Argent was just baiting his next trap when Michael opened the rigged door from the inside.
“Really, friend?” With an expertise gained from a lifetime of foxish encounters, the man touched the sigil at the center of Argent’s latest ploy. An hour’s worth of effort collapsed into nothing. Michael leaned against the door frame. “Care to explain why I’ve been undoing pranks all morning?”
“Not especially.”
“Isn’t this a bit childish?”
It was, but Argent wasn’t about to explain himself. Not even to Michael. “She has not complained.”
“I doubt she’s capable. Though you’ve given her every reason.”
“Tsk. Did she run crying to you?”
“No. Not once.” Michael’s expression lost most of its affability. “How many years has it been since you had the strength to create not one, but a dozen sigils in the space of a day?”
The answer was a triple digit figure, but Argent chose to keep that little detail to himself. “Who is counting?”
Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward. “We used to use quiet mornings like this to shore up your reserves.” Opening his arms wide, he asked, “Do you have need of me, friend?”
“I do not.”
“Because your new mistress is a trove, and she hasn’t the sense to keep a lock on the door.” Michael let his arms fall. “And you’re venting your excess by making mischief for her.”
Argent’s gaze slid sideways. “Are you scolding me?”
“Aren’t you grateful to her?”
“I hate her.”
“But why? From what I know of your history, she has to be the first mistress to make no demands.” Michael stepped close enough to straighten Argent’s bow tie. Soft and sad, he acknowledged the plain truth. “Even Lady Eimi pressed you into service.”
Argent’s eyes slammed shut. His butler’s attire and polished manner had been a small price to pay for nearly seventy years of relative peace. But they were still a source of shame. “I live at my lady’s command. If she wants me to change, I will be changed.”
“That’s just it, Argent. Sansa’s been watching her. Miss Tsumiko’s not on
ly incredibly powerful, she’s shown signs of increasing sensitivity.” Michael gripped his shoulder. “She knows what you’re doing.”
“Unlikely,” he scoffed.
“On the contrary, she’s letting you bedevil her.”
Argent searched Michael’s face. “Why would she do that?”
“Has she ever ordered you to do anything?”
“No.”
“Do you know why?”
Argent hesitated. As Michael had said, Tsumiko’s behavior was outside his realm of experience. “No.”
Michael went on as if lecturing a child. “Miss Tsumiko may have inherited you, but she doesn’t treat you like a possession. However, she’s taken responsibility for you.”
“There is little difference.”
“There is!” Michael reined in his frustration and took a different tack. “Did you know that Miss Tsumiko was a teacher at Saint Midori’s?”
“No.” Argent’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you know?”
“Do you really think Mrs. Eimi would choose her successor without consulting your ward?” Michael grimaced. “I was concerned, so I placed several calls. I spoke at length with people who knew her character.”
“Tsk. You like gossip.”
“It was for a good cause,” Michael said with a faint smile. “As you know, the alternatives were … unpalatable.”
Argent conceded the point with a curt nod.
“Miss Tsumiko took care of the children in the boarding school. Many were rich girls whose parents had no time for them. Others were orphans who’d never known a parent’s care.” Michael cleared his throat. “The sisters I spoke to all mentioned Tsumiko’s patience. She’s used to dealing with childish behavior.”
The point was made, and Argent didn’t like it.
Michael asked, “Will you stop this nonsense?”
“The doorways are safe,” Argent said archly.
“That isn’t any kind of promise, but it is a start.” From an inside pocket, Michael produced a long envelope bearing the crest of the Twineshaft clan. “Shall we move on to other problems?”
Argent’s stomach plunged. “He responded?”
“Not exactly.” Gesturing down the hallway, Michael said, “I’d feel better if we discussed this in my office.”
TWELVE
Into the In-between
Tsumiko hadn’t explored the gardens or grounds, so she was grateful when Sansa began with the front lawn and spiraled outward. From Stately House’s southern face, Tsumiko spied a glass enclosed conservatory. “I haven’t seen an entrance to that yet.”
Sansa said, “Argent has it hidden.”
“Why?”
“He hides that place from all of us. He has few retreats.”
“I guess I’ll have to wait until he invites me in.”
“It is yours,” Sansa pointed out.
Tsumiko shook her head. “It was his first. I don’t mind sharing.”
“We are not the same. If I meet an obstacle, I break it.” Sansa took a stance and thrust outward with both fists. “Yes?”
“You and Michael are both reavers.” At Sansa’s nod, Tsumiko added, “I get the impression you’re not a ward.”
Sansa laughed. “My soul is middling compared to Michael’s and nothing alongside yours. So I have trained—strength, skill, and senses. My designation is battler.”
“I don’t have any training. Will I eventually be assigned to one of these reaver categories?”
“There is no need, miss. You are a beacon.” Sansa turned toward her. “Did the boys not say? Few reavers have your ranking.”
“Beacon,” Tsumiko echoed. “What does that mean?”
“Trouble.” With another low laugh, Sansa said, “My patrols have doubled since your arrival.”
“I’m sorry to add to your work. Especially since … well.” Tsumiko shyly gestured at Sansa, who had traded her starched cook’s uniform for a worn green tunic, snug leggings, and the crisscrossing belts and straps that held her small arsenal. The softly clinging clothes made Sansa’s condition obvious. “When are you due?”
“Before the turning of the new year.”
“Is this your first?”
“This is our fifth child.”
“But …” Tsumiko hoped she wasn’t treading close to a sad story. “I haven’t seen any children around.”
“Reaver children begin training at a young age,” said Sansa. “Especially when they have much power, and our children are strong. We were encouraged to add to our line after Annika left home last spring.”
“How old was she?”
“Almost four.”
A three-year-old taken from her mother? Tsumiko must have looked as horrified as she felt.
Sansa rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Our little one has been partnered with her elder sister. Darya will guide her early training.”
“Do you see them often?”
“Two or three times a year, during reaver festivals.” Sansa led the way onto a forested path. “And they all come home for a month in summer.”
“So I just missed them?” asked Tsumiko.
“Yes.” With a small smile, she said, “They were able to see off Mrs. Eimi.”
“That must have made her very happy.”
Sansa nodded. “She and Lord Percival had no children of their own. We became the family they longed for.”
They strolled along at an easy pace. Every so often Sansa left the path to inspect the wards that apparently kept the borders secure.
“What are you checking for?” asked Tsumiko.
“Signs of tampering, curiosity, intrusion.”
“People come all the way out here?”
Sansa shook her head. “The Amaranthine world has many layers. The Kindred clans are uppermost. These take our form, learn our languages, and make peace. But others cannot aspire to such complexities. Kith are sentient, but have no speaking form. And then there are the Ephemera—tiny creatures that are difficult to classify because of their diversity. They can be pretty or pests.”
Tsumiko asked, “And the wards keep them out?”
“Before, Michael’s wards were simply for camouflage, hiding Stately House from prying eyes. But a beacon is not easily dampened. Every day, Minx and I have had to turn aside inquisitive creatures. Until we can add more layers of protection, I may need Argent’s help.”
“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned Minx.”
“She is near.” Sansa asked, “Can you tell?”
Tsumiko scanned the forest, but nothing tugged at her the way the moth-made paper had. She couldn’t even sense Michael’s wards. After several moments, Tsumiko shook her head. “This isn’t anything like how Argent feels. And I think the bond might have something to do with that.”
“He is very strong. Minx does not make so much noise.” Sansa lifted her voice. “Do you, koshka?”
A large cat, bigger than a lion, slipped into the open. She was inky black with unnervingly red eyes that showed no whites.
Tsumiko scooted behind Sansa, who said, “Minx, this is the new mistress of Stately House. Tsumiko, this is Minx. She has been my companion since I was a girl, and was my grandmother’s before me.”
“Is she safe?”
“I would never insult a huntress with such a word. Better to say you are safe, miss.” Sansa knelt and held out her hand to the feline. “Minx cannot speak, but she understands us quite well. Greet her as you would any new friend.”
Following Sansa’s example, Tsumiko offered her hand. “Hello, Minx. Thank you for helping to keep our home safe.”
Closing the distance between them, Minx butted her head against Tsumiko. She had to grab hold to keep from toppling backward and discovered that Minx’s fur was thick and soft. Leaning into the big cat’s imposing bulk, Tsumiko
risked petting her. A deep purr took Tsumiko by surprise. “You like me?”
“Yes, miss,” Sansa laughed. “Did you not hear? You are dazzling. Like every other Amaranthine, she is smitten.”
She concentrated on Minx for several moments before quietly saying, “Argent isn’t. He hates me.”
“He hates captivity, not you.”
Tsumiko wished it didn’t feel like the same thing. “I want to set him free.”
“Good. So does Michael.” Sansa left off tugging Minx’s ears, a small frown on her face. “But you are a beacon.”
“Does that make a difference?”
Sansa nodded. “Once bonded to a soul such as yours, yes. He may well claim hatred to keep his pride. You are enough to tempt Hisoka-sensei himself.” The battler’s frown deepened. “And others of the Five are not half so noble. Oh, miss!”
“Wh-what?”
“Once they know, they will come for you!”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere.” Tsumiko lifted her wrist. “And the bracelet seems to work well enough.”
“Too late, too late.” Sansa took her arm and hurried back the way they’d come. “Michael must double, no triple the wards! Stately House must keep its secrets!”
“Too late for what?” Tsumiko gasped, jogging to keep up.
But Sansa only shouted over her shoulder, “High alert, Minx! We may already have company!”
THIRTEEN
Urgent Matters
In his locked and warded office, where overstuffed bookshelves and stacks of reaver communiques lined the walls, Michael dropped the heavy envelope onto his desk. “The crest is Hisoka’s, but the letter isn’t. One of his assistants responded to let me know that our privacy-sealed enquiry will await his return from overseas.”
“Along with hundreds of others,” Argent guessed.
“Without a doubt.”
