That Radish-Man

 

“That Radish-man!” Mrs. Miyabe’s knife beat a staccato across her cutting board, reducing a cabbage to vicious shreds. Dinner preparation was turning into a dangerous affair, and Kimiko wondered if she should try to separate Mama from her weapon.

She traded a look with Isla, whose eyes had taken on a definite sparkle. Kimiko was relieved that the girl didn’t belittle or bemoan the circumstances in their household. On the contrary, Isla seemed to enjoy navigating Mrs. Miyabe’s shifting moods.

“Which man?” Isla adopted an expression of innocent puzzlement. “Do you mean Reaver Denholme?”

Apparently, Dickon’s name sounded enough like daikon to give rise to the insult. Mama clearly thought it a clever twist, but Kimiko thought her childish.

The woman took up a carrot and shook it. “Am I to be a prisoner in my own home?”

“Mama,” Kimiko sighed. “He’s here to keep us safe.”

“From the Ladies Neighborhood Improvement Committee?” Her voice squeaked with her outrage. “They met without me because that Radish-man wouldn’t let me through. Of all the audacity! I’m the chairwoman!”

It was difficult to say if that jibe was intended for their beleaguered security guard or the women who’d had the temerity to carry on without her.

“Spokesperson Twineshaft explained, and we all agreed it was for the best,” soothed Kimiko. “It’s too soon to let anyone know about my betrothal.”

“Security. Secrets,” Mama grumbled. “Can’t a mother be excited over her daughter’s good fortune?”

“You can.” Kimiko was a little surprised. “I’m glad to know you’re happy about the match.”

But the woman rattled right on. “And that Nakamura woman, flaunting her sons-in-law and her oh-so-gifted grandchildren. This will put her back in a proper place.”

“But Mama, you can’t tell.”

“I could hint!” Her smile was smug. “And even if she were to catch on, what’s a secret or two between old friends?”

Kimiko chose not to point out that this was the reason Mama was confined to quarters. Temporarily. And with Daddy’s quiet support. Part of Hisoka Twineshaft’s effort to stem the tide of gossip until the Starmarks were ready to go public about the bonding.

Preferably after graduation.

Noriko came in then, a patient smile on her face. “Don’t you girls have homework?”

“Loads.” Kimiko signaled her gratitude. “Isla and I will be in the archive until dinnertime.”

Practically running, she led their escape.

Out of sight of the kitchen windows, Kimiko slowed and whispered, “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Isla reached for her hand. “She’ll come around eventually.”

“Come around? To what?”

“Nope, nein, nyet.” Isla’s eyes fairly sparkled. “That’s the only hint you’re getting. Now where’s this obscure reaver library you’ve been hiding from me?”

“I wasn’t hiding it. Let’s call it … saving the best for last.” Unlocking the door, she slid it to one side and bowed Isla through. “Welcome to Kikusawa Shrine’s least famous treasury. Not that any of them are particularly well known.”

Isla swept through the door, swayed in place, executed a slow turn, then flung herself into Kimiko’s arms.

“It’s beautiful!” Isla rubbed their cheeks together in a great show of feline affection, raving nonsense in Russian and Old Amaranthine. “You’re my new favorite person!”

“Because I hold the key to a roomful of books?”

Isla clung. “And because you’re normal and nice and not jealous at all.”

Kimiko swept up the slender girl and spun her around. “And I hold the key to a roomful of books.”

“Okay, it’s the books.” Isla’s kiss landed in the vicinity of Kimiko’s chin. “I was nearly done with all the ones in New Saga’s library.”

“In a month?”

“Most of the books here are duplicates to Ingress Academy’s collection. So I had a head start.”

At the mention of Ingress, Kimiko’s smile faded. “Do you think the kidnapped girl is someone you know?”

“Probably.” Isla’s expression grew solemn. “Sensei will do something.”

It occurred to Kimiko that the cat might have multiple purposes in placing Isla at Kikusawa Shrine. For instance, if his apprentice was under guard and behind boundaries here, he would be freer. She whispered, “Is he out hunting?”

Isla lowered her voice, too. “Lately, he prowls more than he purrs. I don’t see him as often as I’d like, but I’m trying not to mind.”

Kimiko gallantly settled the girl into the most comfortable chair. “While the cat’s away, I’ll keep you busy. Because I have a courtship to formalize and my knowledge of Amaranthine bonding is skimpy at best.”

Isla hummed thoughtfully. “I know the most about fox customs. When I was little, I had the worst crush on one. Well, half of one.”

Half a fox? She could only mean a crosser, and the only one Kimiko knew about was famous. “Do you mean Spokesperson Mettlebright’s son?”

“Gingko.” Good memories softened Isla’s expression. “He’s always lived with Papka and Mum, so he was always there whenever I’d go home.”

Although Ever Starmark might be the first official crosser, unofficial ones had been stealing onto the scene. Just a few, here and there. Like Inti.

Isla went on. “I adored him, but he was never interested in me like that. When I was eight, Gingko did his best to let me down gently. I was heartbroken.”

“He faced your feelings because he loved you.”

“Yes, but that was harder to understand back then.”

The twelve-year-old sounded so worldly-wise. Comparatively, she was. Kimiko had never given boys much thought. She’d always been Grandpa’s girl.

“Papka explained to me that there are all kinds of love, and each is precious if you treasure it. And Mum reminded me that as a reaver, I have a responsibility to the next generation.”

Kimiko murmured, “I’ve been worrying about that part myself.”

“But you’re not ….” Isla blinked, then blushed.

“It’s all right to speak plainly, Isla. I know as well as you do that I have little to offer the In-between. My children would have been like me—raised in the human community, never rising above a middling rank.” Kimiko really had put a lot of thought into the consequences of her choice. “The reaver community loses nothing of worth, but Eloquence gains something he never expected. To him, I’m unique, rare, and irreplaceable.”

Isla’s eyes sparkled. “Like a limited edition chocolate bar?”

“That is the finest compliment I’ve ever been paid!” Kimiko’s laughter faltered, and she hid her face against Isla’s knee. “This is all very flattering, but it’s also intimidating. How can I show the Starmarks that I’m properly treasuring their son? Eloquence deserves more than I know how to give.”

“Courtship can do that.” Isla’s hand smoothed over her hair. “I know traditions within all the major clans and most of the minor ones, but there are so many variations and nuances, depending on the message you want to convey.”

She lifted her face. “Another form of non-verbal statement?”

“Exactly!”

Kimiko frowned. “I thought you said you only knew about foxes?”

“I know the most about foxes.” The girl showed a dimple. “Sensei thought it best that I cover courting traditions before I hit puberty, since hormones make it difficult to stay objective about the intricacies of Amaranthine bonding. There are usually sexual overtones.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “Hisoka Twineshaft taught you about Amaranthine mating behavior?”

“Don’t look so shocked. He set my reading course, then handed me over to Mare Withershanks for a while. She explained everything, answered my questions, and took me along on her rounds. During that one summer, I attended seven births and two matings.”

“M-matings?”

Isla’s eyebrows arched. “Some clans fight for the right to claim a desirable female, so they bring in a healer to tend injuries. And some clans require someone in an official capacity to witness the mating.”

Kimiko quailed. “Please, tell me that dogs like privacy.”

“Yes. Dogs are both possessive and protective. The Starmarks will undoubtedly band together to ensure the sanctity of your den.” Isla cheerfully added, “In the oldest traditions—which are naturally wolvish in nature—the bonded pair does not rejoin the pack until the coupling has met with success. But that was before the Waning.”

“Let’s not rush things,” Kimiko mumbled. “As much as I’d like to leave Eloquence with a child, I’m not ready to think about kids.”

Isla opened her mouth, and it snapped shut. “What do you mean, leave him?”

She said, “I’m human. Lifespan differences.”

“Oooh, Kimi. I forget that not everyone knows. I can’t believe nobody told you! That’s so unfair, but typical of Sensei.” The girl’s babble cut off, and she drew herself up. “He’s probably testing your motives.”

Kimiko was getting worried. “A test?”

“One you’ve passed.” The girl touched her cheek. “You really are doing this for Quen’s sake.”

That was obvious. “Isla, just tell me.”

“Although it’s not widely known, Sensei documented several cases which prove that a properly-tended bond between an Amaranthine and a human benefits both participants.”

The girl slipped into full diplomat mode. Instead of talking to Kimiko as a friend, Isla subtly removed herself from the flow of information, which she delivered in a completely neutral tone. She sounded like a textbook.

“While ranking, intent, focus, and duration are variables that affect the degree of success, the results are similar in every case. The Amaranthine borrows the reaver’s power, and their partner gains an Amaranthine’s years.”

Kimiko blinked. “You mean like … like a tree-child?”

“Yes, just like in tree lore! Except you don’t have to be born with a golden seed in your hand. Instead of a tree-sibling, you’ll have Quen to prolong your life.” Isla seemed puzzled. “But how did you know? Tales of the imps are hard to come by.”

“Probably because most of them are archived here.” Kimiko laughed and gestured to the surrounding books. “I grew up hearing stories about moon maidens, river guardians, and the four winds. But the stories about Amaranthine trees have always been my favorite.”

Isla’s second hug was even fiercer than the first. “I’m not leaving this shrine until I’ve read every one of them!”

“I’d love that.” Kimiko held the girl close. “Grandpa would have been thrilled. If only … if only he had been the one with a tree’s years.”

After a comforting hush, Isla’s voice came softly. “Kimi, are trees truly your favorite?”

“Always have been.”

“Then would you be interested in a courtship tradition from the Songs of Trees?”

Kimiko laughed. As a daughter of Kikusawa Shrine, nothing could be more appropriate. “Something to do with trees sounds perfect.”