Page 4 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
And even though the formidablewoman—Reaver Courtney Barr, according to the brass plate on her desk—had theinformation in front of her, Melissa stiffly explained her sudden arrival.
“Under the auspices of theElderbough Initiative, I’ve come to make an initial evaluation of the Reaversonhousehold in Archer. They’re relatives, and at my biological father’s request,they’ve opened their home to me. I’ll be staying with them while commuting intoFletching, where I’m enrolling at Bellwether College.”
“I can see that.” The stoutwoman with steel gray hair lifted the sheet and her eyebrows. “But the timestampsuggests a plan made in haste. Why?”
“Miss Tamiko Reaverson, agetwenty-nine, attended the recent New Saga conference for educators as anapplicant for Hisoka Twineshaft’s school revitalization project. While there,she caught the attention of one of the organizers, who flagged her name in thesystem.”
“She’s an unregisteredreaver?”
“If so, I’ll protect her.”
Courtney asked, “Yourclassification, Reaver Armstrong?”
Melissa squared her shoulders.“Battler.”
The woman lifted a bony finger,pushed back her chair, and left the room.
Alone again, Melissa draggedin a shallow breath. She wasn’t very good at this sort of thing. It didn’t helpthat Reaver Barr was such a dour woman, utterly lacking in the usual brand ofdiplomatic charm. Melissa shifted in her seat and fiddled with her unaccustomedattire. The jeans were all right, but she missed the close fit of her tunic andthe weight of her weapons belt. Her training group had been working in lightarmor for weeks, and she felt naked without it. Worst of all were the sandals. Shemight be a California girl—born and bred—but reavers didnotwearflip-flops.
Courtney returned with three sheetsof paper. Sliding the first across the desk, she said, “Bellwether has a reavertrack. You won’t need to enroll in any general studies unless they interest youpersonally.”
Melissa scanned the courselist with increasing amazement. “I thought Bellwether College was open to thegeneral public.”
“It is. The college is one ofthe earliest academic institutions in America. It is also one of the firstenclaves in this region.” With a stern look, she added, “Undisclosed.”
Perusing the section ofcourses and apprenticeships available to battlers, her gaze caught on a singleline. “They match Kith to battlers?”
“One of the three foundingclans of the Bellwether Enclave is the Nightspangle pack. Theirs is theforemost wolf-partnering program in North America.” A steady look. “You didn’tknow?”
Melissa could only shake herhead.
“Nice to know ChristopherArmstrong takes his vows seriously.” Courtney Barr slid a second sheet of paperacross the desk. “He was born here, raised in the enclave, and he’s kept theirsecret. Christopher’s Kith partner is a Nightspangle wolf.”
“Cove,” she whispered.
Partnership between battlersfrom the mid-ranks was an appealing option for those who wished to distinguishthemselves. During her homestays, Melissa always watched her mother train withher partner Magda. The two women had been a formidable team since their academydays, with Mom launching arrows that Magda imbued with crackling energy. Theirfierce combination regularly dominated in reaver tournaments, since their boltscould disrupt sigils, sear through barriers, and detonate on impact.
Melissa dreamed ofpartnership, too, but of a different variety.
During her first year atacademy, she’d wandered into an area of campus not intended for small children.Four years old and lost in the armory. But the presence of so many weaponshadn’t worried her. The echoing chamber was like her mother’s special closet,but on a much larger scale.
Fascinated, she’d explored thevarious cases, earning a shallow slice on one finger from a dagger and prickinganother on a particularly beautiful arrow. She could still remember its fieryfletching, for it had been trimmed with phoenix feathers.
Right about then, she’d foundherself nose-to-nose with an enormous feline. The Kith must have been some sortof lynx, for Melissa remembered tufted ears and speckled fur. As well as palegreen eyes that shone with intelligence and amusement.
Scruffing her like a waywardkitten, the big cat had carried her like a prize back to the correct dormitory,where the teenaged girl assigned to Melissa had breathed a sigh of relief andheld her close. Then taught her how to properly thank the Kith.
The dye was set.
Throughout her schooling,Melissa was most comfortable with her Kith acquaintances or her Amaranthine instructors.Her reserve never confused them. They knew when she was happy or confused orfrightened or angry, and they modified their behavior to match her mood. Herawkwardness in expressing herself never mattered. Without a word, she wasunderstood.
So she donned a battler’scolors and took her father’s name, all to increase her chances of being matchedwith a Kith companion.
As far as she was concerned,nothing else mattered.
Courtney Barr indicated thesecond paper. “Christopher Armstrong may not have told you about BellwetherEnclave, but his recommendation has been on file with the Nightspangle packsince your fifth birthday.”
“That’s nearly twenty yearsago.”
