Straggler

 

Eloquence noticed a small stir in the corner where the phoenix’s triad sat. Suuzu’s human friend waved furiously at Isla, mouthing something incomprehensible.

Ms. Reeves also caught his gyrations and peered at him bemusedly. “Did you have something to contribute, Hajime-kun?”

Akira bounced to his feet. “Mostly just saying hey. Me and Isla are practically family, so I knew she’d be here at New Saga. But she never mentioned we’d be in the same class.”

Isla’s posture pleaded ignorance and innocence.

The boy grumbled something about keeping denmates informed, and several facts shifted into sudden focus. Eloquence blurted, “Akira Hajime, are you the Mettlebright beacon’s kin?”

“Yep, I’m her younger brother,” he cheerfully replied.

That made direct ties to three of the Five. What was Hisoka Twineshaft doing? If there was a risk here, why endanger children with such prominent connections? Or were Argent Mettlebright’s bondmate’s brother and the cat’s own apprentice the reason the cat was relying on him? He dearly wished the feline spokesperson was less fond of subtleties.

“You guys be nice to Isla.”

Akira’s gruff demand was almost rude and wholly unnecessary, but it struck the right sort of chord with a dog. Eloquence stood to give his words the proper weight. “Her welcome is assured. Her place is secure. Rest easy, friend of phoenixes.”

The boy’s grin was grateful.

“Akira, I’ll be fine.” Isla bowed again to their teacher and strode purposefully to their table to offer her hands. “Will you accept my presence, Eloquence Starmark?”

“Gladly.” Her hands were so small beneath his that he kept his touch light. “I am certain Tenma Subaru will have need of your expertise.”

She turned to their human counterpart with an expectant smile. “You have questions?”

Tenma looked nearly as wary of Isla as he’d been of the Amaranthine. Leaning forward and lowering his voice, he asked, “How old are you?”

Isla drew herself up. “I’m twelve.”

“But this is third year. High school, third year.” He fidgeted in his seat. “Aren’t you supposed to be eighteen?”

“I’ll eventually be eighteen.” After a brief assessment, she dragged their third chair around and placed it on the other side of Tenma. “I completed my coursework at Ingress Academy, but there aren’t many jobs for a twelve-year-old diplomat. So I’ve been assigned to this class.”

“Are you some kind of reaver prodigy?” Tenma asked.

“Let’s just say I’m good at my job.”

She favored them with a smile that Quen found achingly familiar. Ward. Of course. He’d known her father when Michael was this age. He’d been just as brilliant, just as sure of himself. Did Twineshaft know of their connection? Probably. Michael had been one of the cat’s special favorites while he was teaching at Ingress Academy.

Fingers tugged at his sleeve, and he refocused on his companions. “Yes?”

“Please, call me Isla. Both of you. No honorifics.”

“I’ll try,” said Tenma, who may have been blushing. “And you can use my given name, too.”

They both turned to him, Isla expectant, Tenma tentative. So he reached for their hands and closed his fingers around their wrists. Their heartbeats leapt under his touch, a joyous beat. His touch was welcome. Their trust was his. “Isla. Tenma. You may call me Quen.”
 

After lunch and a lengthy explanation of cleaning duties, upcoming club activities, and the following day’s visit to the Kith shelter, Ms. Reeves called for everyone’s attention. “Our final order of business will be the selection of our class representatives. This is a human custom, similar to the election a spokesperson. The position is voluntary. Three of you will serve as both leader and liaison for your peers. Let’s begin with our Amaranthine representative.”

As she outlined the role’s responsibilities, Quen groaned inwardly. The last thing he needed were more duties that would keep him from home … and from Ever. A swift flicker of movement passed through the room, and Quen slouched gratefully in his chair.

Hanoo-fel stood. “We are agreed. I will represent the Amaranthine.”

One of the human students raised his hand. “How did you decide? And so fast! Can you read each other’s minds?”

“No.” Hanoo plainly made the gesture for a negative answer. “Not at all.”

“Sign language?”

Ms. Reeves said, “Some of our lessons will include nonverbal communication. Until then, have your partners teach you some basics. But we’d all benefit from a demonstration. May I ask the Amaranthine to show us how you reached your decision?”

Quen stifled a sigh and stood with the others, since he’d been part of the process.

Hanoo’s posture shifted, and he flicked a finger. But this time, he also narrated the gesture. “What do you think we should do?”

The bear rolled his wrist and curled two fingers. “All choices are good. Which is best?”

Ploom’s fingers darted. “Who has the years?”

“The years are mine,” said Quen, slowly replaying his gestures. “But I defer.”

One of the horses brought her hands together. “A stronger voice than mine.”

Yoota’s stance changed, and he indicated his packmates. “A wolf understands pack. One of us, surely.”

“Hanoo-fel already has their trust,” said Quen. “Let him thunder.”

Laughter rippled through the room.

The young bear spoke again. “Our voices will be heard, our concerns will be his. Hanoo-fel Nightspangle watches over this den.”

Suuzu made a graceful flourish which the others mimicked. “We are agreed. We will be your support.”

Ms. Reeves said, “Although this classroom isn’t a proper den, a wolf always thinks in terms of pack. Thank you, Hanoo. Now, do we have a volunteer from among the human students? My only request is that the representative be someone from a different triad than Hanoo.”

During the intervening moments of silence, Eloquence tried to read the mood of the prospects. He half-expected the energetic Akira to rush into responsibility, but the phoenix seemed to be holding him back. Then a hand slashed upward.

“Sosuke Fujimoto,” said the weedy boy who’d spoken up earlier. “I’m more than willing. If everyone’s okay with it, I’ll speak for those of us who are ordinary.”

Softly, too softly for human ears, someone murmured, “We are each ordinary in our own way.”

Hanoo turned in his seat, as did Ploom. The filly signaled approval, and then Quen found the speaker. The reaver sitting with Suuzu and Akira.

Ms. Reeves said, “Thank you Fujimoto-kun. That just leaves our reaver representative. And as is our custom, we’ll defer to Hanoo-fel, since he’ll be working closely with them.”

Eloquence wasn’t sure what reasoning might guide the wolf’s choice. By sheer magnitude, Isla was superior, but she was also a child. Pack instinct was to protect their young, not follow them. But none of the others stood out.

Yet Hanoo didn’t hesitate in his choice. He presented his palms to the phoenix’s reaver. “Your name again?”

“Kimiko Miyabe.” More quietly, she asked, “Are you sure?”

“Sure of foot, true of heart, and glad of your support, little sister.”

The girl made deft use of several signals not normally taught to reavers, which piqued Quen’s interest. Was she enclave-bred? And then the audacity of her messages hit home. Was she actually accusing Hanoo of coddling her in his sister’s place? The teasing glint in her eye, the tilt of her head—reavers of her rank were usually much more … awed.

Eloquence was obliged to take a longer look.

She was lean and long in the leg, and her shorn hair offered an unimpeded view of her neck, which had a pleasing line. To his amazement, he caught a few whispers from classmates who seemed at a loss to her gender. Had they missed her introduction? While some given names were neutral, Kimiko was obviously feminine. Perhaps her nose was too wide, her figure too spare, but that didn’t confuse his nose. He was more puzzled by Hanoo’s swiftness in singling her out.

Why her?

It wasn’t caliber. The young woman’s presence was felt more in that teasing smile than in the pale light she carried. He could barely catch a whisper of her soul with so many other reavers in the room. Even warded, Isla glinted more tantalizingly off the periphery of his awareness.

Eloquence had seen Kimiko’s type a thousand times over, for reavers with low ratings filled many unassuming roles in the In-between—file clerks, receptionists, couriers, and the service staff for dozens of reaver facilities and Amaranthine enclaves. One reaver in a hundred gained the prestige Isla was born to. The rest were their support.

And it was as if Uncle Laud’s voice was in Quen’s ear, deep and disdainful. And who are you to criticize, pup?

Wasn’t he here because he still passed for a whelp? He fared poorly in any comparison with his father and brothers. And he would always hold a supporting role within the Starmark pack. Baby-minder. Dog-brusher. Perimeter-prowler.

Uncle Laud insisted on the nobility of every effort made on the pack’s behalf. Even the humblest tasks should be accomplished with pride. Maybe his classmates were destined to empty trash bins, mine crystals, till fields, and file paperwork, but they belonged to the In-between, and every part was needed.

But still, why her?

As he watched the Nightspangle pack’s pleased posturing, he could only surmise that Kimiko had distinguished herself by calling out the fallacy in the Fujimoto boy’s remark. He’d heard Dad say it often enough to know that the Five were challenging humanity to redefine personhood, and not just on the legislative level. Ordinary no longer existed in this world, not if there was to be anything resembling equality.

Perhaps that was Kimiko’s charm. Hanoo hadn’t wanted fear or formalities. A girl who teased instead of tucking her proverbial tail had already dismissed the very distinctions they were here to study.

A satisfactory explanation. One that didn’t much concern him. And so Quen’s thoughts strayed to more important things, like his den and its denizens. For his heart yearned for home.