Page 54 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“To humans, we were myths,” said Argent.
While the boy muddled, Michael asked, “Have you considered what you’ll do if you’re followed?”
“Only what I must.”
Michael gave the knot of Argent’s tie a final pat. “What about pursuit of adifferentnature?”
“She is forewarned. What else can I do?”
“Much.” Michael said, “Tsumiko will be utterly reliant on you. She needs a trustworthy guide, advisor, and translator.”
“And?”
“Andshe’ll be vulnerable, which means opportunities for humiliation abound.” Michael frowned down on him. “I’m asking you to lead her gently.”
“I am no gentleman.”
“You’re no fool, either,” snapped Gingko. “She’s been treating you well enough. Better than you deserve. Don’t mess that up by messing with her.”
Argent stepped back, giving his cuffs a tug. “If I do as you say, then the freedom she dangles before me like a trinket will remain in her hand. She will find she cannot do without me.”
“She’s different,” Gingko argued. “She promised.”
“If I ingratiate myself to the ones who hold my leash, it gives the wholly erroneous impression that I am resigned to, content with, even grateful for my captivity. It eases their consciences. So Iwillprotest my enslavement in both action and attitude.”
Michael quietly asked, “Is that what you think of me?”
Argent stood on principle, but lightly. “How comfortable are you in your role, ward?”
“More than I like. Less than I let on.”
The man’s shoulders drooped nearly as much as Gingko’s ears. Sensitive as ever. The both of them.
Michael rallied a little. “But I do agree with Gingko. Tsumiko is different.”
“Humans are careless with their promises, and women change their minds as easily as the wind changes direction.” Argent’s hands curled into empty fists. Was this chance already slipping through his fingers? “Tsumiko is changing … has changed.”
“In what sense?” asked Michael.
“She has grown accustomed to the strangeness of a world she did not know existed. She has adapted, adjusted.”
“Tsumiko is making herself at home. Hardly a herald of doom,” said Michael.
They didn’t see it. Probably because the young woman was saying all the things they wanted to hear. Her ideals shone as brilliantly as her soul. But Argent recognized the underlying peril and dared to name it. “She is growing attached.”
THIRTY TWO
Long Road
Tsumiko’s joints ached and her eyes smarted. Sounds echoed tinnily inside her head without resolving into sensible patterns. Did people truly enjoy this endless monotony? “I don’t think I like travel,” she murmured.
Argent’s glance was supremely bored. “Human methods do resemble torture.”
“Are we almost there?”
“Weren’t you listening to the driver?” he countered.
“Did he say?” She’d studied English, but speech patterns differed and accents blurred the shape of words. Plus, everyone talked sofast. Tsumiko floundered in mute frustration, utterly reliant on her translator.
