Page 39 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
She frowned. “What?”
He waved his hands, clearly searching for the right words in English. “Do you need permission for the things you want to do? Is there someone in authority over … this place? And … and you?”
Fumiko honestly admitted, “I don’t know.”
THIRTEEN
Amaranthine Influencers
Since he was early, Juuyu took the time to stroll around the museum’s exterior. Modern lines. Tinted glass. Tasteful banners promoting the Amory’s new exhibit, “Art Without Barriers.” Ironic, given how many barriers were in place to safeguard the Junzi.
Amory Fine Arts Center was one of an increasing number of much-needed establishments, founded and funded by the public sector, yet wholly in favor of inter-species cooperation. The director and curator had worked together to fill the Amory’s galleries with art by humans and by the clans, and Juuyu appreciated their efforts. The search for common ground in this country had found its first, staunchest ambassadors in places like this.
Because art and literature pointed to similar ideals of beauty and tragedy.
Historians clamored for meetings with people who remembered their forebearers.
Musicians delved into the trove of “new” compositions that rivaled their masters.
Educators added Amaranthine to their faculties at every level of learning. Indeed, continuing investments in education had brought the Amaranthine people into the daily lives of American families.
But none could deny that the biggest influencers in the States were the entertainment networks. Broadcast television, streaming media, and blockbuster films fed the fascination and helped to shape public opinion in positive ways.
Documentaries that wrestled old myths into the open.
Talk shows that raised questions everyone should be asking.
Children’s programming that fostered inclusion and acceptance.
Openly Amaranthine actors and actresses, models and musicians—they created a buzz the Amaranthine Council couldn’t duplicate. Clannish, a tabloid that stalked the Amaranthine elite, recently asked the average American citizen to rank the Rivven they admired most. Hisoka Twineshaft barely scraped into the top twenty, usurped by media darlings like Ash Skyfletch, Pim Moonprowl, and Eloquence Starmark.
Granted, Spokesperson Twineshaft did routinely make a better showing on Most Eligible Bachelor lists. Which were usually topped by Lapis Mossberne. And in a recent—and amusing—trend, had begun including Suuzu.
Juuyu was grateful that he could carry out his duties largely in secret.
When he rounded the final corner of the building, he spied Colt waiting beside a drab little door, one of the emergency exits.
“Something to report?”
Colt shook his head. “A morning as quiet as the night Hallow passed, but I took a look at today’s schedule. School groups. Community groups. Our bandit may try to mingle with the crowds.”
Juuyu inclined his head.
They finished his circuit of the building together. Colt remained silent, which was helpful. Juuyu wondered why this teammate understood his need for focus when his own partner would have chattered heedlessly all the while.
Freed to relax any kind of personal guard, Juuyu set his sights on the sigilcraft, singling out each individual pattern in turn. He might not normally have bothered, but he couldn’t discount Mirrim’s and Magda’s certainty that someone had slipped—however briefly—under their guard.
Argent’s sigilcraft could only impress. Exquisite. Efficient. Ruthless.
Juuyu’s steps slowed as he picked apart the meaning of each interlocking pattern. Colt stood quietly at his side, hand on his sword hilt, gaze roving.
Finally, Juuyu closed his eyes. “It is well made, this trap.”
“Glad to hear it.” Colt’s hand slipped supportively under his elbow. “Orders?”
He breathed deeply, organizing his thoughts. “Until Sinder arrives, watch the guests and customers for anything out of place.”
“Openly?”
