Page 100 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
Holding it up so the moonlight brought out some of the shineto the beads, she asked, “What should I do with it?”
“Keep it. And bring it with you when I visit.” Ashrearranged himself, sitting cross-legged. “Courting traditions vary between thedifferent avian clans. Crows are collectors. The gist is … every evening, Ibring a gift, and if it pleases you, you add it to the bag before sending me onmy way.”
“What happens once the bag is full?”
Ash plucked at the edge of her blanket. “Youdon’tsend me away.”
Straightforward. Tami fingered the knot. “What kinds ofgifts can the keeper of the pouch expect from her generous suitor?”
“Items with special meaning. I brought one.” He huffedsoftly. “Before I show you, can I ask for one of those hard-to-explain things?”
Tami’s heart leapt. This was nothing like the pageantry thataccompanied the Miyabe-Starmark courtship, yet she was on the edge of her seat.Because this washercourtship. And Ash was her suitor. “Tell me what todo.”
“It’s driving me crazy that I’m not touching you.” He wavedhis hands and muttered, “That sounded worse than it needed to.”
“They covered this at the educators’ conference I attended.Amaranthine are tactile.”
“Yeah. Any contact is fine, but holding you would be …really nice. And I apologize in advance if I start preening you.”
She pushed up onto her knees. “Where to you want me?”
He settled her in front of him so she could lean back intohis chest. There was much shifting and tucking and the faint rustle of settlingfeathers before he was satisfied.
Tami asked, “How does preening work?”
“Usually, it’s fussing with hair or fur of feathers. I findit calming.” Ash’s fingers were back in her hair, gently tugging until her headrested against his shoulder. He kissed her temple and added, “When an avian ispreening someone, it’s a sign of affection. Or even devotion.”
“Does Cyril preen you?”
“Yes.” Ash’s arms settled around her waist. “My first giftis about him. I thought you’d like to know how he came to be my father.”
“Perfect,” she said, relaxing into him. “I’d love to knowthat story.”
“First, this.” He let go long enough to fumble in a pocket,bringing out something that swung from a chain.
She caught it, exploring the shapes. It seemed to be anecklace with a heavy pendant.
“Hang on.” Ash brought out a pen light, which cast a dimcircle upon the necklace in her hands. The chain was silver, from which wassuspended a speckled egg—pale green with brown mottling.
“Is this a real egg?”
“Yes.” With one fingertip, he traced a hairline crack. “Amuch smaller crow than me hatched from this egg. They managed it neatly, and somy father had this shell set it in silver. See the catch?”
Tami gently twisted the clasp. The top portion of the eggswung upward on a miniscule hinge, revealing a heart of silver. Inside wassingle twig, gray and brittle with age.
Ash said, “In the oldest of avian traditions, parents wouldkeep a piece of the eggshell from which their child hatched. These keepsakeswere made into ornaments, to be used as tokens for courtship. All avian clansrecognize the significance of a gift that includes an eggshell.”
“Amaranthine hatch?” She couldn’t help the skepticism thatcrept into her tone.
“Avians do if they find their way into this world while intruest form.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Cyril had this made for you?”
“For himself. At least, at first. He wore it constantly—asproof that I’m his son—until last week, when he approved my choice.” Ash closedthe egg, then closed her fingers around it. “He has been good to me. I don’tthink I would have survived without him.”
“How did you come to be his?” she asked.
Ash rested his cheek against her hair and began, “I’m halfNative-American, but I don’t remember my mother. I’m half Amaranthine, but I don’tknow my father’s name or his clan. My earliest memories are of fear and runningand hunger and pain, but those are half-remembered impressions and make a poorstory. Better by far—at least in hindsight—is the tale of a wretched boy whowas caught by a wolf.”
