Starry Gifts

 

Kimiko didn’t exactly gawk, but she felt a little like a tourist in her own city. The gates that appeared on television so often looked even bigger in person. Thick enough that knocking would be pointless. Heavy enough that opening them would be impossible.

Still, she wanted to get closer, to stand in the same place where so many press conferences had been held. The doors showed beautiful craftsmanship—carved wood, its fine grain so smooth, it looked oiled. Kimiko caressed the silken surface with her fingertips and immediately felt the trip and tickle of wards.

With the click of a latch, a door beside the gate opened a few centimeters. Was this an invitation to enter?

“Hello?”

Nothing.

Pushing the door wider, she peered inside. “Pardon my intrusion,” she tentatively called, closing the door behind her. It was like stepping into a forest. She hadn’t realized there were so many trees this close to the road. Then again, this had been the home of an Amaranthine clan for centuries, and they were famous for their nature preserves and wildlife habitats. She caught the faint and familiar rattle of leaves and followed the sound to a large camphor tree alongside the path. Perhaps a younger sibling to their shrine’s grand specimen?

The wide road that began at the big front gates vanished into woods. It was clear of snow, which heaped up on either side, so she couldn’t tell if there were trails or benches or garden beds. These woods must be lovely in summer. “Hello?” she called again.

Oh, well. She supposed they’d send someone after her eventually, and then she could explain her errand. But she’d barely taken two steps when she encountered a guard dog. A very small, chubby-cheeked guard dog. She recognized him, of course. Even without the ears, he was Harmonious Starmark in miniature.

Kimiko bowed and addressed him seriously. “Peace, young sir. Are you the gate guard?”

He looked between her and the door, which he must have opened. “Tenma coming?”

“Did you think I was him? I’m sorry to disappoint you.” She showed her palms. “I know Tenma-kun since we’re classmates. I was hoping to speak to Eloquence. Is he here?”

“Bruvver busy.”

A large Kith stepped into the open. The dog’s auburn fur had been brushed to the sort of high gloss one expected in show dogs. His ears drooped like a setter’s or a spaniel’s, and his eyes were the exact same copper as the little boy’s.

Kimiko bowed again. “I go to school with Eloquence Starmark. He’s been absent, so I brought him a gift for the upcoming festival.”

The Kith sat, and the little boy trotted forward. “Who you?”

“I’m Kimiko.” Setting down her bag, she knelt on the path so he could reach her palms. “May I ask your name?”

That put a bounce in his step. “Ever!” He made a very proper bow, then plucked at his sleeve, showing off his family crest. “Ever Starmark, cause I’m Da’s boy!”

“You are a tribute to your den.”

The boy’s face scrunched adorably. “Nuh-uh. Bruvver’s a triboot. I’m juss me.”

Kimiko wasn’t sure what he meant, but it hardly mattered. Ever was precious. And rather articulate for three years, though he lisped softly over his syllables.

“I should sniffen you,” he announced.

“If you think that would be wise,” she said with equal gravity.

And then she had her arms full of boyish curiosity.

“Short.” He petted her hair. “Dun grow?”

“When my hair gets long, I cut it short.” She whispered, “Sometimes people think I’m a boy.”

He snuffled at her neck, then gave a small huff of disdain. “Smells like girl.”

“What do girls smell like?” she asked.

Ever returned to sniffing as if investigating the matter and surprised her by adding a bit of a nibble.

She quietly asked, “What are you doing?” 

He licked the spot in what was surely meant as an apology and leaned back. “You mind me of Mum.”

“Is that good?”

“Like … dis.” Ever held out a tight fist, then slowly opened it, as if releasing a butterfly. “Stars inside. I like dem, but she hides dem. Special for Da. Who are yours for?”

She skirted that question. “Your mother’s a reaver?”

“She’s Mum, but Da calls her Anna.” Pointing to her bag, he asked, “What dose?”

Before she could answer, a male voice came from directly behind. “Ever.”

“Spect.” The boy’s ears drooped guiltily, but he clung more tightly to Kimiko.

She turned to look up—quite a ways up—into the face of a powerfully-built Amaranthine male dressed in Starmark colors. Not Eloquence. Carefully rising to her feet, she propped Ever on her hip and offered her free hand. “My name’s Kimiko Miyabe of Kikusawa Shrine.”

“Prospect Starmark,” he replied curtly. “May I ask your purpose in coming here, reaver?”

It was awkward, relying on one-handed gestures, but she rather enjoyed the challenge. And the more she conveyed, the more Ever’s older brother relaxed. She explained, “I came looking for Eloquence. He’s my classmate.” Bending to catch the handles of her bag, she asked, “Would you give this to him?”

“What do you think, Ever?” asked Prospect.

She felt something batting against her arm. His tail!

“Since you’ve come this far, Kimiko, I think you should see it through.” Prospect beckoned for her to follow. “My runt of a brother won’t be much longer. I’ll show you where you can wait.”

He guided her through a series of courtyards, sometimes on raised porches, sometimes along shoveled paths. Given how many buildings they passed, the Starmark clan was almost a city unto itself. Well, a neighborhood, anyhow. But she didn’t see a single soul. Everything was quiet, as if the place had been evacuated.

“Where is everyone?” she asked. Maybe she shouldn’t have. But her Starmark guide didn’t seem to mind. 

“Festival preparations, one way or another.” He grinned at her. “Here’s the den you need. Ever, be a good host until Quen returns. Kimiko, if you need anything, tell Rise.”

The Kith leapt onto the pavilion’s wide front porch and gave a welcoming wuff. 

Prospect slid the front panel open, poking his head through to peer around. “You can duck inside if you need the shelter.” He scanned the heavy clouds and hummed vaguely. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”

When he left, Kimiko gave in to curiosity, but there wasn’t much in the pavilion’s outer room—tatami mats on the floor, a single chest, and a low table with a neat stack of school books at its center. Sliding screens barred the view into inner rooms, and she refused to snoop any further. Mother would have. All the more reason not to, as far as Kimiko was concerned.

So she slid the door closed and rejoined Rise on the porch. “May I sit with you?”

With the Kith at her back and Ever in her lap, she’d be warm enough for a while.

The boy renewed his line of inquiry about her baggage. “What dose?”

“Do you know about the Star Festival?”

Ever’s ears pricked forward, quavering. “Fessval?” he asked.

“Everyone in Keishi loves the story of the Star Festival.” Encouraged by his eager expression, she offered a highly abridged version. “Reavers remember a long-ago day when a beautiful girl with the brightest soul called down the stars from the sky.”

“Talk to stars?”

“That’s how the story goes. Some say they were angels. Some say they must have been sky clansmen.”

“Manthine?”

“Yes, from the clan of the sky.” She knew these stories from her grandfather, and it was fun to share them. “Have you learned any stories about imps?”

“Dun know dem.” He rubbed his nose against her chin. “Story?”

“Imps are the impressions of old.” Kimiko adopted the sing-song tone that had been such a big part of her childhood. “The star clans belong to one of the four lost peoples—sky, sea, mountain, and tree.”

Ever’s wide eyes shifted to the surrounding woods. “Manthine trees?”

“They’re my favorite in the stories, so I know lots of things about trees. But this is the Star Festival.” Reaching for the bag, she explained, “Gifts are one of the traditions; we give starry gifts. And we wish upon the stars. Best of all, we share starry sweets. See?”

And she lifted the topmost box’s lid, revealing an array of star-shaped fruit jellies and molded candies, some sparkling with sugar, others studded with nuts. The second box held chocolate wafers, and the third a honeyed cake, rich with butter and liberally flecked with orange zest.

“I brought these for Eloquence so he wouldn’t miss out.”

Ever tapped the edge of the box. “Trade wiff me?”

“I’m sure your brother would share,” she ventured.

“Him dun like sweet stuffs.”

Kimiko innocently asked, “But you do?”

The boy tangled his fingers together and shyly admitted, “I does.”

“Then I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Right back!” And the boy disappeared around the corner. 

With a soft grunt, the Kith rose to follow.

“I don’t want to get him into trouble,” whispered Kimiko.

Rise turned back long enough to nose her chest and lick her cheek, then ambled away. Five minutes passed into seven before the boy came skulking back, carrying a bundle in both hands.

She asked, “What do you have there?”

“Better stars.” Ever offered it very properly on both palms. “Stars for Bruvver. You make him happy?”

Kimiko wondered at his tone. “Is your brother unhappy?”

Ever frowned. He shook his head, then nodded, then shook again. “Bruvver’s a big boy. Dis a big boy gift.” He pressed it into Kimiko’s chest, so that she had to take it or else it would fall.

With extreme care, she folded back the wrappings, revealing a lovely old comb. The fading light gleamed softly on its surface, which was indeed etched with delicate stars. “Ever, this looks valuable. You can’t trade this for sweets.” She refolded the cloth and extended it. “I can’t take this.”

“Not for you. For Bruvver.”

Kimiko was willing to concede the point. Was there really any harm in indulging the little guy? He could have his sweets, and when Eloquence arrived, she’d return what had to be a family heirloom. So she said, “Thank you very much, Ever. I’ll make sure to give this to your brother.”