Page 56 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
Once the teachers and tour guide led the school group away, Akira could see that other signs had been taped to the front of the information desk. Presumably, they said the same thing, but in Spanish, French, Korean, and … a language he didn’t recognize.
Stepping up to the desk, Akira asked, “Do you know this language?”
The woman came around and clapped her hands together. “This is Hawaiian! One of the workers at Brew & Bubble is originally from there. Lovely, isn’t it?”
“I think so, too.”
“All of these were contributed by members of the staff. May I ask where you’re from?”
“Japan.”
“Will you add to our collection?”
“Sure! I would be pleased.”
“You should also sign our guest book,” she urged as she rummaged through things on the desk.
Akira scanned the open page of a fat ledger, making a note of the different places people called home. Suuzu would have known which states the two-letter abbreviations represented, but after a few pages, Akira saw enough variety to tell that visitors came from all over America.
International guests stood out.
A recent message was in Japanese. He knew a little Russian, so he could make out parts of messages in blocky Cyrillic. One visitor left their message in Greek. To his surprise, there were even some famous names. Cyril Sunfletch. Kimiko Starmark. Tenna Silverprong.
The museum worker held up a fresh sheet of paper and a thick marker. “Will these work for you?”
“Just right,” he promised. And since there wasn’t much room on the plant-strewn counter, he knelt. His calligraphy wasn’t nearly as polished as his sister’s or Isla’s, but the characters would be legible.
While he worked, a familiar clack sounded on the stone floor. Even without looking up, Akira knew the sound of geta. All of the crane clansmen at Stately House favored the traditional wooden sandals. It was a safe sound. Homey.
Finishing his sign, Akira sat back on his heels and smiled up at the man who was studying him curiously. He wore a kind of linen short coat that was commonplace in Japan, with full sleeves that tapered to points. His was black with a scattering of tiny red flowers. Perhaps quince?
Akira angled his sign for the man to see. His features had a vaguely Asian cast. Perhaps mixed heritage? But Akira had the strongest impression that he’d be able to read the Japanese characters.
The man did scan the paper. Then he winked and walked on
TWENTY
Lunch Date
A couple hours passed before Akira wandered back into the lobby and scanned the tables.
“Look here,” Sinder softly commanded.
Akira was essentially immune to a dragon’s words, but he could still feel their pull. Which gave him a bearing. He’d actually walked right past Sinder’s table. The chunk of blue crystal at its center was probably anchoring some minor illusion, making it difficult for the average citizen to notice both the table and its occupant.
“Hungry yet?” asked Sinder, whose fingers were idling over his laptop keyboard.
“Sure. If I’m not interrupting.”
“We’re good. I’ve already interviewed everyone on the morning shift. And they’ve pointed out which of the current customers are regulars … and therefore above suspicion.”
“How did they react to being interviewed by a dragon?” Sinder hadn’t done anything to disguise the fact that he was Amaranthine.
“Oh, they don’t remember.” Sinder slouched a little in is chair. “Not me. Not my questions.”
“Very stealthy. And kind of cool.” Akira might not be a starry-eyed teen anymore, but he still thought Juuyu and Sinder made a convincing pair of international spies. “What are you looking for?”
“Anomalies. People who don’t fit into this place’s version of normal.” Sinder lightly asked, “See anything strange while you were roaming?”
