Page 83 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
“Should I get out of here?”
Hurrying for the door, he ordered, “Stay!”
He didn’t have time to explain something that had alwaysdefied explanation. Maybe it was a twin thing. Maybe being reavers was a partof it. Joe didn’t really care about the whys and wherefores. All that matteredwas getting to Tami.
A sleek black car had parked in front of the gift shop, anda stranger was helping Tami out of it. She’d been crying. Joe’s warinessevaporated. Striding forward, he inserted himself between the strange man andhis sister, and Tami collapsed into him with a sob.
“I’m here,” Joe whispered.
Her arms tightened around him.
“You would be Joe?” inquired the man politely.
Paying attention now, since this guy might somehow beresponsible for Tami’s distress, Joe gave him a quick once-over. City boy. Probablyrich and important. But radiating compassion. “Who are you?”
“Perhaps your sister has mentioned me. Dr. Bellamy ofBellwether College. You may call me Cyril.” With a lazy wave toward theorchard, he asked, “Mind if I take a stroll?”
“We’re closed.”
“To the public, certainly.” The man’s eyes were bright withanticipation, his smile coy. “These are exceptional days, and I really wouldlike to catch Doon-wen in the midst of a proper romp. Trust me when I say itwould be araresight.”
He knew about the wolves.
“Dr. Bellamy is part of the enclave.” Tami pulled back,dabbing at her face. “I’m going to freshen up. Thank you for the ride, Cyril.”
“Shall I arrange for the retrieval of your car?”
Tami wavered, nodded, and hurried up the porch steps.
Once she was inside, Joe tried to think what to say. Then anuneasy notion came to him, since he had been advised to wash. “Are you a wolf,sir?”
“Nothing of the sort. I’m not half so rangy or rugged.” He cockedhis head to one side. “You know, for a twin, you are veryunlike yoursister.”
Joe guessed that meant Kip’s sigils were working. Heshrugged and muttered, “We’re fraternal.”
Cyril laughed lightly, then changed the subject again. “Isthere any truth to the rumors of a corn maze on the property?”
He gestured to the sign propped against the barn. “We haveone every year. It opens this weekend.”
“The squirrels will want to play havoc with your customers.”Easing into conspiratorial closeness, Cyril added, “They’re one of thetrickster clans, you know.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Illusory expertise. Games and mischief. Harmless fun, to besure. Always coaxing for a laugh, but trustworthy and true of heart.”
Joe was uncomfortably certain that this person knew aboutKip.
As if reading his thoughts, Cyril said, “He’s a good boy.Pick of the litter in more ways than one.”
Joe dropped his gaze in time to watch a slender hand pluck along, red hair from his sleeve. Busted. “Don’t tell. He … he doesn’t want mysister to find out … before … justbefore.”
“You may trust my discretion.” Cyril beckoned with bothhands. “Once all is revealed, you’ll understand my part in this deliciousmuddle. But we should begin at the beginning.”
Joe took the cue and shyly offered his palms. “Sir, can Iask about your … umm … your clan.”
“You may.” Radiating delight, he announced, “Lord CyrilSunfletch, a pheasant by clan, a scholar by trade, a founder by choice, and anaficionado of fashion by destiny. Your sister and I met some months ago whenshe approached me with regards to the Twineshaft Initiative.”
“Because you’re Rivven?”
