Page 111 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
Could she domuch good?
Moving to the window, Tsumiko watched snowflakes whirl through bare trees. The dim winter daylight was nearing an end, yet this felt like a beginning. Where would the path forward lead? What might she become?
Tsumiko hadn’t realized her thoughts had turned to prayers until they were interrupted by Brynn staggering to a chair. A moment later, Argent’s presence wrapped around her, stifling the unchecked flow of her soul.
Nurse Fallowfield muttered something about glinting radiance.
Argent stepped up behind Tsumiko, lightly resting his gloved hands on her shoulders. “Is thisreallythe time and place for such flagrant intercession?”
Glancing between him and the bed, where Kyoko stirred restlessly under a crumpled coverlet, Tsumiko stated the obvious. “Yes.”
“If you must,” he said, reaching around to enfold her clasped hands with his own. “Perhaps we should proceed together.”
She wavered, then whispered, “Are you sure?”
“I have always wanted to try.” Argent rested his chin atop her head, gazing with her out the window.
“Do your people pray?”
“In our way.” He shrugged closer, and she could feel his hold on her, gentle as the brush of tails. “It is said our very existence is the world’s prayer—invocation, adulation, and benediction combined. A threefold chant of what was and is and is to come.”
More than ever, Tsumiko wanted a look at the Amaranthine equivalent of sacred writings. Maybe her new role wouldn’t diverge much from her former one. That of student.
“Nurse Fallowfield?” Stewart called, a note of concern underlying his professional tone. “I believe there’s been a change.”
Brynn levered herself from the chair and passed close by them. “Be brief. The birth you are attending is imminent.”
“How can you tell?” whispered Tsumiko. Very little had changed for Kyoko throughout the day … except that she seemed paler and more listless than ever.
“Because itmustbe now.” With a small shake of her head, Brynn added, “Otherwise, Mrs. Hajime-Smythe will not be strong enough to bring the child out. And if they do not both die, one surely will.”
Tsumiko pulled free, and Argent released her with a sulky sigh.
Stewart asked, “Did something change?”
“I shuttered the star,” Argent said from his post at the far end of the room. Kyoko wouldn’t tolerate him any closer. “The child lost sight of your pretty lure. Was there a protest?”
“A shift,” he replied. “Downward.”
“Excellent. We can use that.” Brynn made adjustments to the bed and bedding. In a low voice, she said, “Miss Hajime, you are with me. Argent, keep a tight hold on your star, but let her sparkle now and again. To light the way.”
. . .
After so many exhausting hours of empty anticipation, everything seemed to be happening at once. And to make matters worse, Tsumiko couldn’t really do much. Except to shine. And that was only useful because Argent could control her output. Kyoko fairly snarled at her tentative offers of encouragement, probably because she’d mentioned the baby. It was as if the child’s very existence was taboo. Stewart was clearly skilled at avoiding the subject.
“It’ll be over soon, darling. Courage.”
Kyoko’s restlessness presaged another contraction, which dragged a thin wail past her lips. Her eyes rolled back as her hands knotted in the blankets, and she tossed to and fro. “Make it stop,” she gasped. “I want itover.”
“A little longer,” promised her husband. “You can do it.”
“End this!” Kyoko shrilled, struggling against the pain. “I don’t care what it takes! Get it gone!”
Tsumiko wavered between dismay and indignation. And since no one else was willing, she focused on the child.
At that moment, Argent loosened his hold on her, and she sensed power welling up. Just a taste, enough to tempt. And then came a tiny tug. As if the baby was reaching for her. She could feel the clawing need, so much smaller than Argent’s had been, but equally insistent. Needing more. Needing her?
It was so sad. First Kyoko was held captive by a monster, and now she was held captive by the child she carried. But this little one wasn’t a monster. This was only a child. One who wanted to live.
