Page 154 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
She blinked up at Hisoka, who always seemed so relaxed.
“Yes, Sensei?”
Under the cover of ongoing banter, he said, “My nephew made a rather cryptic suggestion earlier, and I wondered if you could solve his little riddle for me.”
“Deece.”
At his name, the guard took a tentative step in her direction. His brows arched in silent inquiry, but Hisoka waved him off. “Yes, Deece. He thinks some hand-holding is in order.”
Tsumiko caught on. “With Michael?”
“That was the gist. And I wouldn’t be opposed, since Michael has been precious to me since he was an impertinent lad of five.” Hisoka gently added, “Ifthe lady permits.”
A good plan. She acquiesced with a nod, but she also gave a small push, unwilling to remain in a wholly passive role where Hisoka was concerned. “What do cats revere?”
His head tipped to one side. “Felines are generally considered quite irreverent.”
Tsumiko tried again. “Wolves have the moon. And dragons have the wind.”
Understanding sparked in Hisoka’s eyes, and he leaned close to whisper, “You will not like the answer, but thereisone that fits.”
“Will you tell me?”
“Certainly.” Hisoka’s smile turned coy. “Cats have secrets.”
. . .
Deece took it upon himself to lead Tsumiko to Michael’s temporary office. “You do not have to be afraid of Uncle,” he said quietly.
Was that a warning? “Are you afraid of him?”
“Are you?”
“A little. But I can’t imagine why.” Tsumiko fiddled with her cardigan sleeve. “None of the others make me uneasy.”
“Your instincts are good.” Deece paused before opening the door. “Fear is close kin to awe. And both have their place.”
Their research room was as cluttered as ever, if not moreso. Michael was opening wooden crates, spilling fragrant wood shavings all over an extravagant Turkish rug as he uncovered large blocks of crystal. Precious cargo.
Argent lifted a rosy hued chunk as if it weighed nothing. He and Hisoka had already placed several others around the room’s perimeter, final preparations for the breaking of the bond. While they made minute adjustments, Tsumiko inspected the crest painted on the crate’s lid—a faceted flower that looked like a jeweler’s workmanship. “Is this for a clan or a cooperative?”
Michael set aside his crowbar. “Glintrubble is a cooperative that specializes in mining and shaping the stones that amplify a reaver’s abilities. Their community includes horses, rabbits, and bats. And reavers, of course.”
“Is there a lavender one yet, First of Wards?” called Lapis.
The dragon lolled in the corner, serving in a largely supervisory capacity since his hands were full. With Kyrie. Ever since surrendering the little one into the dragon’s hands, she’d barely seen him. Kyrie spent his days in increasingly precocious attempts to emulate Lapis’ vocalizations. And all night long, he sprawled upon Argent’s blaze, with the fox’s low rumbles to lull him into dreams.
“I’ll leave that to you and Argent, if you don’t mind,” said Michael. “Tsumiko and Sensei are borrowing me for a bit.”
Lapis twiddled his fingers dismissively. “Mettlebright is more than adequate to the task at hand, but do not dally. The arrangements are all but made, and eagerness makes him snappish.”
Tsumiko checked, but Argent only shook his head and waved them off.
Michael ushered them into the same small parlor where he tended Deece, and he dropped to their usual seat, slouching carelessly as he patted the cushions to either side. “My new technique is in high demand. But go easy on me, Sensei. You may be more than I can manage.”
“I should think that was obvious.” Hisoka settled onto the sofa and mussed his former student’s hair. “Only my mother still labors under the misapprehension that I can be managed.”
Tsumiko eased into her corner as Hisoka quizzed Michael for more details. His descriptions were sketchy, based more on improvisation than fine tuning, but his former teacher seemed intrigued. They might have drifted further into theories and potential applications if she hadn’t placed her hand over Michael’s.
