Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox

by Forthright

  Deece’s frown deepened. “This pull is stronger than my will. Is that not addiction?”

  The question alone proved he was thinking clearly. Michael said, “You’ll crave me in the way close friends seek one another’s company. You’ll want me in the same way a child wants his father to carry him, even after he’s learned to walk.”

  His expression slowly cleared. “Yes.”

  “In days long gone, our races were at odds. You ate us. We killed you. Fear kept us apart.” Michael had never lost his wonder over the place into which he was born, this seam between worlds, stitched tight with trust. “Yet here we are. I risked fangs and claws, and you risked barriers and binding. For this.”

  Another brush of souls sent a tremor through Deece.

  “You should also know that the pull is mutual,” said Michael. “At least, that’s always been the case for me.”

  “You will crave my company?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised, friend.” Michael ruffled Deece’s hair. “I did warn you. I get terribly attached.”

  FORTY

  Not in Textbooks

  Hisoka didn’t reappear until midmorning, long after the Rilka and Vynn had cleared away all traces of breakfast. He waved aside Michael’s offer of refreshment, saying, “I was having a chat with Minx. We are distantly related, you know. On my father’s side.”

  “Sansa may have mentioned that at some point.” Michael hesitated. “How is that possible, though?”

  “You need to ask?”

  Michael searched his memory, but none of his resources went into any detail about the Kith. They were simply a lesser order of Amaranthine. “I’ve heard them referred to as cousins, but I thought it a term of endearment.”

  Hisoka chuckled. “How long have you known Minx?”

  “As long as I’ve known Sansa.”

  “And this is the first time you gave a thought to where she came from?”

  Michael said, “Minx has been a part of Sansa’s family for six generations.”

  “And before her connection with the illustrious Order of Spomenka?” Hisoka prompted.

  He shrugged. “It’s not as if Minx can tell me.”

  “True. Only cats commune with cats.”

  “She told you?”

  “Did I not mention I was having a chat with Minx? I’m sure I said as much.”

  Michael’s bewilderment mounted. “This isn’t in our textbooks. Nor was it in any of the lectures at academy.”

  “Why teach what everyone knows? The Kith are intelligent, loyal, and make good pets.”

  Having been through enough of Hisoka-sensei’s lectures to recognize a leading remark, Michael asked, “Are you allowing—even perpetuating—that impression?”

  “I have never been called upon to correct or clarify the reavers’ assumptions about this particular facet of Amaranthine culture.”

  “Until now?”

  Hisoka looped and arm around Michael’s waist and steered him out the door. “Let’s find that nephew of mine. Do you think him ready?”

  “Yes.” They were halfway across the lawn before Michael dared to ask, “Why should I be questioning the role of the Kith in Amaranthine society?”

  “Because with you, my secrets are safe.” Hisoka quietly added, “Didn’t you make me this promise earlier? I’m quite sure you did.”

  . . .

  They found Deece in front of the little-used stable, moving through a slow dance while twirling a staff with weighted ends. While there was an ornamental, even ceremonial feel to the design, there was no mistaking the staff’s primary function. Which was confusing in the extreme.

  Hisoka murmured, “Really, Michael. You act as if you’ve never seen a warrior before.”

  “But the Amaranthine neither carry weapons, nor use them.”

  “There are exceptions.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since the beginning.” Hisoka said, “Deece is the Evernhold tribute. For the sake of his clan, he will fulfill one or more of the ten roles reserved for a tenth child.”

  “This is also not in the textbooks.”

  “It is not.” Hisoka signaled to his nephew, who shouldered his staff and hurried their way. “We keep certain details close to the hearth. Or under its stones.”

  “You wouldn’t be telling me secrets if I didn’t need to know them.”

  “True.” Hisoka chose a new direction, heading back toward the house, and Deece fell in step behind them.

  Michael ventured, “Sensei?”

  “I plan on leaving Deece with you. He would benefit greatly from a ward’s tending and a battler’s training.” With a sidelong look that was far too sly, Hisoka added, “My nephew can be useful to your family, as well. Especially while Sansa nurtures a new life.”

  “I … didn’t realize,” Michael murmured, mind racing. Was this the inroad they’d been waiting for or a catastrophic twist of fate? They’d banished all signs of Argent’s presence from the house, but the enslaved fox would be returning in a month’s time. As would Gingko. Argent needed Hisoka’s advocacy, but the fox had expressly forbidden Michael from exposing his son’s existence. Move forward? Hold back? Michael had no idea which course would best serve his friend.

  “Is there a problem?” Hisoka inquired.

  “How could there be?” Michael set aside his qualms in order to reassure Deece. “A friend is always welcome.”

  Hisoka was practically purring. “Then I suggest we proceed with his first tending.”

  Michael blinked. “Now?”

  “You are willing, are you not, Deece?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent. And I found the perfect setting for his first taste.” Hisoka waved casually toward Stately House. “I was in the conservatory all morning.”

  Michael’s smile fell away as Hisoka left his side and strolled to a set of glass doors. Had there always been exterior doors on the conservatory?

  “The ambiance is perfect, and privacy is assured.” Hisoka swung the door wide. “Your collection is impressive!”

  “I … can’t take all the credit.”

  “No surprise. This must have taken several of your lifetimes to collect.”

  Michael managed a mute nod. How had Hisoka found a place so wreathed in illusions, he and Sansa usually forgot it existed? They’d taken no precautions here, where signs of Argent’s existence hung as thick as the humid scents of sedge and soil.

  Argent’s haven flourished under a thousand delicate sigils. Alone, the illusions were flimsy things, the product of a starved, stilted existence. Woven together, they stood as testimony to their maker’s creativity and cunning. Meticulous and mercenary. Surreptitiously stubborn. Alive.

  On reverent tiptoe, Michael entered Argent’s conservatory for the first time in his life. His heart quaked, less from dread now, more from awe.

  Under an intricate dome of wrought iron and beveled glass, daylight shattered into a thousand rainbows. They dappled slender trees, mossy stone, and sun-drenched stands of bonsai. Without turning to look, Michael knew that the sounds of trickling water came from a fountain, that the heady sweetness on the air came from the flowering vines clambering over latticed arches, that the moon and stars changed colors when they danced far overhead.

  An old ache eased in Michael’s heart. Because he knew this place. Perhaps his old friend hadn’t barred him entirely. Argent’s sanctuary had the familiarity of someplace you’ve visited in dreams. Fox dreams.

  “This system for irrigation is ingenious,” Hisoka was saying. “Every green and growing thing is sustained and can flourish without constant fussing. Although the rest seem a bit peaky. A little tending wouldn’t go amiss.”

  Michael dragged his gaze from the profusion of starry blue flowers that had always been Lady Eimi’s favorite. “You, Sensei?”

&nbs
p; The feline rolled his eyes upward. “Them.”

  He looked up.

  Ah. Argent’s collection. Hisoka hadn’t been talking about slips or seedlings, trees or topiaries. A glimsleek skittered across a vine-draped arbor, and a pair of midivar flitted daringly close, bound for the waxy blossoms on a squat lemon tree. “Ephemera,” he whispered.

  Hisoka’s hands closed around Michael’s, and with the tip of a claw, he coaxed open the catch holding the beads at his wrist. Deece watched intently while his uncle removed the bracelet … and the buffer it provided.

  Michael asked, “Are you sure that’s wise, Sensei?”

  “Are you accusing me of foolishness?”

  He swallowed against the sudden sting in his eyes. “Only if your folly can help.”

  “Are you asking for my help, Michael?”

  An invitation. He closed his eyes, but not fast enough to prevent a tear slipping free. He’d talked so easily of bringing their case to Hisoka Twineshaft, of exposing a lifetime of secrets in order to set Argent free. But Nona Hightip was one of the Five, a collaborator in the Emergence. Would Hisoka honor a fellow clan leader’s demands in the interest of peace? What if this was the moment Michael betrayed his oldest friend?

  He couldn’t speak.

  “Like Dimityblest to moonbeams,” Hisoka murmured. “You are attracting attention.”

  Something brushed Michael’s face and he opened his eyes. The Ephemera looped and swirled around them—insects, avians, and an iridescent drift of gossameer, which wove ribbon-like through the air. An immature pirouelle whispered past, wings alight with luminescent spots. And a young dusket tumbled out of a stand of curling ferns.

  Deece scooped up the small bird with its shock of sapphire plumage, carrying it closer.

  Hisoka brushed his fingertips over the flightless bird’s feathery crown. “Where did you smuggle this one from? He’s not local.”

  “They’re native to the British Isles.” Michael tried for a normal tone. “Lady Eimi must have taken a fancy. She liked that shade of blue.”

  When Deece edged closer, Hisoka stopped him with a warning rumble. The younger feline silently retreated two paces and sat. Michael held no illusions about who was in charge. Even graduated and grown, he would always defer to this person. His favorite teacher. His friend.

  “Michael.” Hisoka tugged him closer. “Tend to me.”

  A demonstration for Deece’s benefit?

  “Michael,” he repeated. “What is at the very foundation of tending?”

  “Trust.”

  “Yes. Tending is an act of trust.” With a small smile, Hisoka rested his forehead against Michael’s. “Do you trust me?”

  “Everyone does.” Michael looked into his sensei’s eyes. He could still recall the triumph he’d felt when he matched his teacher’s height as a weedy fifteen year old.

  “You always excelled at diplomacy … and evasion.”

  “Thank you?”

  Hisoka sighed. “I know the cats’ secrets, and I’m privy to those of other Amaranthine clans. Reavers of the In-between have taken me into their confidence, as have countless human governments and agencies. I carry enough secrets to understand their worth.” He waited for Michael’s soft hum of acknowledgement before continuing. “I can boast about quantity, but few of those secrets have any quality. However, yours are infinitely more personal and precious.”

  Tears threatened again, and Michael’s desperate hopes welled up, spilling outward, causing a storm among the Ephemera.

  Hisoka rocked back on his heels and laughed shakily. “Gently, friend. I know. I do know.” Then he caught Michael’s hand, guiding it around his waist, under his tunic. Pressing and holding Michael’s palm against the small of his back. Against warm skin. Against his blaze. “Tend to me and reassure yourself that I am ever as I was. And ever will be.”

  All the while Michael bared his soul, Hisoka whispered secrets and promises. This is how it had always been with Sensei. No matter how much Michael gave out, Hisoka poured back, reciprocating. Really, it was hard to recall who was tending to whom.

  Finally, Hisoka murmured, “If you need more to hold onto, I will part with a whisker.”

  Michael choked back a sob and sagged into the cat’s superior strength with considerable relief. Hushed and held. Hopeful.

  “Do you trust me, Michael?”

  “Yes, Sensei.”

  “That is all I need to know.” Hisoka kissed his forehead and promised, “I will reward your trust.”

  FORTY ONE

  Beware of Dragons

  A soft ping from the direction of the desk turned Tsumiko’s head

  “Were my instructions too complex for you?” Argent inquired acidly.

  “Sorry.”

  “Sit still.”

  Argent hadn’t wearied of their game of traded obedience. Tsumiko murmured another apology as he continued to brush her hair. Over and over. Long past the point of untangling or tidying. She couldn’t see the point, but Argent had insisted. So she submitted to his ministrations. There was little else to do in the evenings when little Tsumiko was supposedly going to bed early.

  Another ping.

  She twitched.

  He tsked.

  “What if it’s my brother?” Tsumiko asked.

  “Unlikely. Or is your brother in the habit of texting in the middle of the night.”

  The phone gave another ping.

  “If it’s not Akira, then it’s from home.”

  The hairbrush stilled. “Fetch the thing and bring it here. I am not finished.”

  She obeyed. “It’s Michael.”

  “And?”

  As she returned to her perch, she read, “Are you there? Please be there. We need to talk.”

  Argent peered over her shoulder at the small screen. “At this hour?”

  You are up late.

  I don’t expect to sleep

  Is something wrong?

  Not here

  We are well

  The baby?

  Too soon

  Argent said, “Why begin in urgency only to dither in small talk?”

  Do you want us to call?

  NO.

  This is safer, but not the most secure

  I must choose my words carefully

  Both there?

  Yes.

  A former sensei dropped by

  Argent said, “That would be the midwife.”

  Tsumiko knew about the lady from the horse clans. Sansa spoke of her with deep affection. A mentor, but almost like a mother. “Do all reavers form close ties with their teachers?”

  “Hardly.” Traces of pride seeped into Argent’s tone. “Neither your cook nor your chauffeur have ever wallowed in mediocrity. They distinguished themselves early.”

  “Are they … important?”

  “To many. Yourself included.”

  Michael’s texts came in short bursts.

  Rilka came under escort.

  We have a lofty guest.

  The loftiest.

  “Give that to me.” Argent plucked the phone from Tsumiko’s hands.

  She let it go but whispered, “I want to see.”

  He cooperated, angling his body so she could follow.

  Stop dithering, boy

  Was he looking for me?

  No, my friend

  But he is too close for calls

  Grooming in the next room with nephew

  But that’s another story

  Stick to this one.

  Tsumiko asked, “Who’s there?”

  “Hisoka Twineshaft.”

  “The internationally recognized leader of all the Amaranthine clans is at our house?” At his flat look, Tsumiko whispered, “But why?”

  “Based on Michael’s keen grasp
of the mundane, I can only assume he is there to avail himself of Stately House’s superior bathing facilities.”

  Tsumiko gravely said, “I hope you put out the nice towels before we left.”

  Amusement flickered across Argent’s face, and the phone pinged anew.

  So bizarre

  A Smythe link

  Problems up your way

  This locale?

  My guest came asking after Cedric

  Why?

  He went on quest.

  Lost his team. Fell prey.

  To?

  Beware of dragons

  Close as kindred.

  Can you be ANY more cryptic?

  Sorry, keeping it short

  Cedric did his own search

  Hired an unregistered reaver

  She lives there, or did.

  Clarify. Cedric searched for a dragon?

  Yes, but no

  He looked for a Hajime

  Have you met her?

  No sign.

  For good reason

  Probably hiding her

  Why?

  Cedric quested for dragons.

  Got his team killed.

  All but two women.

  Went missing for months.

  Found later by wolves.

  Pregnant. Crossbred. There.

  No sign.

  Tsumiko tugged at his sleeve with fingers gone cold. “Remember what happened at Saint George’s when I asked Jacques about dragons?”

  Argent growled softly and tapped the screen.

  Correction. Jacques is afraid of dragons.

  Ask Stewart

  He is not here.

  …

  Look again.

  They must be there.

  They?

  Stewart and his new wife.