Page 151 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
“This is Faisal we’re talking about.” Ash shrugged a shoulder.“His connection is apparently a cosset in Radiance Starmark’s cortege. As faras I can tell, they only gossip about clothing design and hairdressing.”
“Well, it’s something we didn’t know before.” Tami huggedBiddie and asked, “Will you bloom for us in the spring?”
The girl smiled a secretive smile.
Touching Biddie’s autumn-hued foliage, Tami tried to picturebuds and new leaves. But then she frowned. “What happens in winter?”
“Uh-oh, Biddie,” teased Ash. “If you lose all your leaves,you’ll be bald.”
Tami was quick to defend. “If you lose all your leaves,we’ll just have to bring you several pretty hats.”
The girl’s eyes widened. Then she reached up with both handsand pulled out two handfuls of leaves.
Tami gasped as they fluttered onto their laps. “Biddie! No!”
Ash grunted. “Look, Tamiko.”
He lifted aside a few leaves. Under the rustling crown offoliage, soft brown ringlets clung to Biddie’s head.
“No need to rush through seasons,” Ash said firmly. “If youcan be patient, I’ll bring you a hat tomorrow evening.”
“A gift for Biddie?” She sounded almost wistful.
Ash’s expression softened. “I’m glad you’re with us tonight,because my gift for Tamiko is also for you. I hear you like to look throughyour sister’s treasures.”
She looked up through her lashes, as if unsure of Ash’sreaction. “I keep them safe while Tami’s at school.”
With an encouraging smile, he asked, “Which are yourfavorites?”
Biddie lost no time in spilling out the small trove ofcourting gifts. And with that, she shed her temporary shyness like a pair oftoo-tight shoes. She told him snatches of the stories behind some of the gifts,often paraphrased in amusing ways. Or she had her own stories behind what madecertain tokens special, displaying a vivid imagination. Watching the girl sortand arrange brought back fond memories. Tami used to spend hours sifting throughher grandmother’s button jar.
The girl lifted a tiny silver bell. Its bowl looked like aswirl of trailing feathers, and from its crown rose the distinctive figure of acalling bird—a peacock. The work of art was no bigger than Biddie’s littlefinger, and its peal was a small, sweetting.
“One of my brothers gave that to me.” Ash was all patienceand pride, as if he liked the bell’s story too well to mind repeating it.“Faisal is my peacock brother. The bell is an old joke between us. If he evercourts a lady, I’ll choose a bell for him to give to her.”
The girl peeped under the peacock’s train at the bell’sclapper, which was egg-shaped. “Because it is funny?”
“Neither of us is what you’d call a songbird. Bells andchimes are traditional courting gifts among avians like us. They’re said tosummon Bethiel, whose sweet voice can make plain the truth of any matter. If hewere to sing on my behalf, your Tami would know me in ways that defy words.”
“I know my Tami.”
“I’m so glad you do.”
For a moment, Biddie held his gaze, as if weighing hiswords. Then she reached for another treasure, holding it up in silent command.
Ash obligingly began, “Giuseppe is my dove brother.”
“Can he sing?” asked Biddie.
“His voice is lovely. He has a gentle soul—hopeful andhopelessly romantic.” Ash gently touched his gift with a clawtip. “Dovesbelieve in love letters.”
Tami liked the dainty message tube as well. Clear glassallowed one to see the pale pink scroll within, and a pearl stopper kept itsafe. When he’d first presented it, Ash would only say that it contained atraditional blessing. But his manner made her curious.
So she’d quizzed Tyrone on the matter. He’d cheerfully readoff the enclosed poem, which only served to stump her, since it was in somekind of bardic language. Striking a pose, he translated all three verses, whichinvolved the delights to be found in nests of down … and a rather suggestiveline about duets and dawn.
According to Tyrone, doves were affectionate by nature andnone too shy in their approval of the intimacies of the nest.
Biddie gently lay the slender message carrier beside thebell before seeking out a pair of circular silver cases, each no bigger aroundthan a quarter. They were a matched set, yet subtly different, for their domedtops had been taken in a shallow cut from crow’s eggs. Soft green, speckledwith brown.
