Akavia’s brown eyes went wide; he hadn’t considered that the child was anything but what it appeared.
“No!” the woman sympathizer cried. “Don’t give those monsters my baby!”
Akavia glanced to the woman and then down at the child whimpering in his arms. “She’s just a little girl.”
“We need to know if she is human or oni.” Wolf tried to pose the statement in a non-threatening way.
“She can’t hurt anyone.” Akavia covered the girl’s small head with a protective hand. His eyes went past Wolf to the sekasha behind him.
Of course the human saw only the child, not the female that would be an adult in a few decades, nor the army she could produce in the years to come. In truth, even to Wolf, she looked small and helpless.
“Let us test her,” Wolf said. “If she is human, we will give her back.”
Akavia’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And if she’s oni?”
Yes, Wolf thought as he scanned the hostile faces of the heavily-armed EIA force that outnumbered his sekasha, that would be a problem.
He sensed the tension going through his sekasha who were growing impatient. He had no doubt that his people would walk unscathed away from a fight with the EIA, but the EIA might not understand this, and he needed all the allies he could muster.
Maynard moved between Wolf and Akavia. Maynard’s face set into hard lines, as if he bracing himself for a fight. With Wolf or with his own people? “Let us test her.”
He left unsaid: Let us at least find out if we have cause to fight.
Wolf nodded. “That is acceptable.”
“Uri David.” Maynard motioned to Akavia. Wolf shifted his shields to include the EIA subordinate so Maynard could take the girl into his arms.
“Wraith.” Wolf indicated that the sekasha was to hand Akavia the biatau.
Akavia placed the spell against the child’s bruised and dusty arm. When the spell activated, there was no change to the girl’s appearance. Relief went through the EIA.
“It proves nothing,” Wraith growled. “It’s probably mixed blood. The female has all but admitted that she’s coupled with the monster.”
Maynard’s gaze skipped to Wraith and then came back to Wolf. Please, his eyes implored, let her go.
Wolf studied the child. She gazed at him with eyes as brown and innocent as his domi’s. He didn’t want to kill this child. Wolf steeled himself and forced himself remember that an oni wouldn’t waver in killing an elfin child nor a human child. His people counted on him to do the right thing, no matter how difficult the right thing might be.
How could he could he winnow the monster from the human?
“Little one, what’s your name?” Wolf asked the girl.
“Zi.” The girl pointed to the woman. “Mommy’s sad.”
“Yes, she is. So am I.” Wolf let his face show his inner sorrow.
Zi considered him gravely, and then leaned out to pat him gently on the cheek. “Don’t be sad. Everything will be a-okay.”
Wolf threw out his hand to keep the sekasha from reacting. “She has compassion; oni don’t have that capacity.”
Wraith slowly took his hand from his sword hilt. “So human empathy is a dominant trait?”
“So it seems.” Wolf gave the girl a slight smile. “Yes, Zi, everything will be a-okay.”
Chapter 5: Tree That Walks
The dying echoes of thunder pulled Tinker out of the dark sludge of drugged sleep. She opened her eyes to see shadows moving across an unfamiliar ceiling.
Where am I?
For one panic moment, she thought she was back in the oni compound with the kitsune projecting illusions into her mind. She fought her sheets to sit up, heart pounding, to scan the luxurious bedroom. Saijin-induced sleep still clung to her like thick mud, making it hard to think. It took Tinker a minute of comparing all the various places she had slept in the last two months to finally recognize the room. It was the bedroom she and Windwolf shared a month ago at Poppymeadow’s enclave. She remembered now the massive poster bed, the carved paneling, and the view to the courtyard orchard. The window stood open to a warm summer morning, letting in air sweet with ripening peaches. Dappled sunlight played across the walls and ceiling. Tinker flopped back into the decadent nest of satin sheets and down pillows, tempted to go back to sleep.
But if she did, she’d probably have another nightmare.
Her groan summoned Pony from his attached bedroom. “Good morning, domi.”
Eyes still closed, she grunted at him. “It’s not fair to expect me to be polite before I’m fully awake. Where’s Windwolf? Did he get back safely last night?”
“He was needed at the Faire Grounds this morning. He took everyone except Stormsong with him.”
“How is Stormsong?”
“Her leg bothers her slightly, but she is whole. She is practicing in the swordhall.”
That was good news. Tinker heaved herself back up and rubbed a heavy crust of sleep from her eyes. “Gods, I hate saigin. It turns my brain to taffy. What’s that for?”
That being one of the sekasha’s pistols. While the gun itself was of human make, the blacked tooled leather holster and belt were elfin. Pony laid it on the bed, a coil of dangerous black on the sea of cream.
“Wolf Who Rule wished you to have it.”
Oh, yeah, I asked for a gun.
“It is specially made for the sekasha.” Pony settled on the bed beside her. “Only parts of it are metal, and those are insulated with plastic, so they don’t interfere with our shields. Once you learn magic, it will be important that you don’t wear metal.”
There was an elaborate system of wood buckles, D-rings and ties to support the weight of the pistol on the hip without metal. In place of a metal snap, the belt maker had used a heavy plastic substitute.
“Is it loaded?”
“Not yet. I thought you would like to get comfortable with it first.”
So they played with the gun. Taking it part. Putting it together. Strapping on the holster (although it had a tendency to slide on her long silky nightgown.) Drawing the pistol smoothly. Holding it with both hands to keep it steady. Aiming it. And finally, how to load and unload it.
“Wolf Who Rules wants you to start the basics of the sword fighting,” Pony said. “It would be unwise for you to wear a sword until you are able to use it. Guns are simple. Point and pull the trigger.”
“I’m fine with that.” She had no interest in swords. They relied too much on brute force. At five foot nothing, it didn’t matter how smart she was, she wasn’t going to win a sword fight with an elf. “Okay. I think I’m ready to face the day.”
“In that?” Pony indicated her current nightgown and holster outfit.
“I thought I’d start a new fashion statement.” Nevertheless, she started to look for the clothes she had on the day before. She was going to have to do something about clothes. After being kidnapped twice, she was left with only one t-shirt and one pair of carpenter pants. Everything else in her closet was elfin gowns.
Pony guessed what she was looking for. “They took your clothes to be cleaned.”
“Oh no.” She went to the window and looked out. Beyond the orchard wall was the kitchen garden and the clothes lines. Windwolf’s household staff was hanging up the laundry. Her jeans dangled between several pairs of longer legged pants. Her t-shirt? Oh yes, that had been cut to ribbons by the dragon. “Oh pooh.”
Well, she could wear a dress and just go clothes shopping. Of course she didn’t have any cash in hand, nor did she ever receive the promised replacements for the ID that the oni stole the night she saved Windwolf’s life. It could be sitting in her mailbox back at her loft — if the EIA had been so stupid as to mail it out after she was kidnapped by the oni. Oh gods, what if she’d been declared legally dead after the oni ‘staged’ her death?