Taiken rubbed his forehead then tried to run his hand through his hair. With it pulled back in a messy braid, he didn’t get far. Several of the stagehands swallowed laughs and hurried on with sorting the storage room as the hair became an even bigger mess under his fingers.

He didn’t notice, his attention firmly on the chalk tablet he was holding.

“The price on wood has gone up that much?”

“With last year’s fires, the southern forest was nearly burnt to the ground,” said his aide grimly. 

Today, Sheldon had little Isha (the one responsible for Taiken’s failing hairdo) clinging to his neck. Except when Taiken sent the little girl smiles and got dimpled grins in return, all three men barely noticed her presence as she quietly sucked her thumb.

“The Brethren have put new regulations in. There won’t be much wood for another year or two. Unless you plan to go beyond the Border for it yourself.”

Taiken grimaced.

Mentally he was tallying up the pebbles in their funds. With the humans, their chief patrons, becoming increasingly unhappy with the demons, a demon-ran entertainment troupe wasn’t very popular.

There was even a smaller traveling troupe started on the other end of the lake. They weren't nearly as good as his people but humans prefer the alternative.

Which meant in the last couple years their funds had become lean.

Not desperate but lean.

“At these prices, I might have to,” he said grimly, handing the tablet back to the prop and supply master. He rubbed his neck and turned his chin upward as he closed his eyes. “I’ll have to pay for reports on Outsider surveillance.”

“That might be almost as dear as just buying the wood,” said his aide grimly.

“What other choice do we have?”

“You could touch with other materials for a couple of years. It’ll look funny but it’ll hold together at least that long.”

“Maybe,” said Taiken doubtfully. “Materials not like each other don’t touch together well. And stone is too brittle for some of these repairs. We’ll have to find something else-”

“Sheldon!”

The three of them turned as a boy from camp caught up to them. Taiken’s aide leaned down, holding the undisturbed Isha in place, so the boy could whisper in his ear. Sheldon nodded and stood back up.

“There’s something I need to do. Can you two go on without me?”

“Everything alright?”

Sheldon hesitated, met Taiken’s eye, and shrugged casually. “I have a visitor at the gate. Nothing serious.”

An unnamed visitor for Sheldon.

Taiken took a deep, steadying breath. “I’ll fill you in when you get back.”

Sheldon bowed and started to walk away, the messenger boy already gone before they’d finished talking.

“Let me know how she’s doing,” said Taiken casually. Not looking at Sheldon and pretending to be interested in contents of the nearest crate.

“Yes, sir.”

After Sheldon was gone, the prop master gave him a sympathetic look.

“Don’t say it. I deserve the silent treatment.”

“It was an accident, Master.”

No, it was stupidity. Kelly’s stupidity. And mine, he thought, pressing his lips together. No point in arguing, though.

“Let’s move on. Foods supplies are next, I believe.”

“Yes, sir.”

They’d barely discussed the first few items on the list when another messenger came.

“Master Taiken, sir,” said the child, this time a girl. She tugged on Taiken’s shirt to get his attention and smiled up at him when he looked down. “You’re wanted at the gate, sir.”

“What?”

“At the front gate, sir. Someone to see you. Says it’s important.”

Bewildered, Taiken looked to the prop master. Who smiled brightly.

“Thank you, Candi, I’ll get the Master there,” the prop master intervened.

Still, she waited expectantly with Taiken’s shirt hem wrapped in her little fingers. Waited until Taiken laughed, dropped into a crouch, and pulled something out of his hip pouch.

“Is this what you’re waiting for?” he teased.

She grinned widely, snatched the piece of hardened honey from his hand, and raced away. Once the child had left, the prop master went on as though there’d been no delay.

“Maybe she’s forgiven you, sir.”

“And if she hasn’t?”

The prop master shrugged and Taiken stood with a grimace.

“Won’t be worse than it already is. We can finish this later.” The other man tucked the board under his arm and bowed his head to Taiken. Then grinned and pointed at his own head. “If I were you, I’d brush your hair out a bit. Don’t want to scare her off with that rat’s nest.”

As Taiken walked through the inner and outer complexes, away from the stage, he absently brushed out his hair with his fingers and tried to guess what she wanted.

“Didn’t come to say, ‘I forgive you, Master Taiken,’ that’s for sure. Not that I want her to. It’s not something someone should be forgiven for,” he muttered.

A couple of kids ran out in front of him. Nimbly, he danced around them and tugged one little boy’s braid, making the child squawk in surprise. Giving his younger brother just enough time to catch up and tackle him.

“Not fair!” the child yelped. “No grownup help! Oh! Tigo, it’s the Master.”

Taiken smiled to himself and acknowledged the little ones’ nods with a wave but he didn’t stop. Behind him, the older brother used the distraction to once again escape.

Except for the youngest children, who were too little to fully understand their etiquette lessons, he received nods and bows all along the walk. Mostly nods because that was the best he’d gotten them to downgrade to. Unfortunately, more than one person stopped what they were doing to offer those acknowledgements.

He loved the littlest ones’ reactions best.

One small girl, younger than Isha, saw him and broke away from her mother. The child, only two years old, held out her arms to him and squealed in delight as he quickly snatched her up and twirled in a circle without stopping his forward motion. He left her giggling with her head bowing mother.

The outer gate.

He finally paused. Putting a hand on the stone wall that surrounded both complexes, the amphitheater and its stage, he closed his eyes. Mentally stepped back in time.

100 years ago, when he’d faced down the Brethren and finally won his case to get his own holdings. This wall was the first thing he’d touched into being. Back then it had taken him months, a little at a time.

If he were to do it now, he was fairly certain it would only take a couple of days.

He rolled his hand into a fist and opened his eyes.

It was worth it.

He saw Sheldon first when he’d stepped through the gate. There was a gatekeeper but her main job was to send messengers and receive supplies. It was the other gate, the one that led into the amphitheater, where he had to keep people on watch.

Until four years ago, he also had to keep armed guards there. He still had security, but they weren’t as obvious as those nights had been.

Then he saw Lita.

For an instant, he lost his step. Freezing in place.

It had been four years since he’d last seen the girl up close. She’d been fourteen then, just shy of her fifteenth birthday. Today was almost a week to the day of when she’d left.

His last meeting with her had been before the disaster. When she’d still been happy with him. When she was still breaking the etiquette whenever she felt like it to poke and tease him.

Except, the last day she’d toned it down with concern.

“Master Taiken, are you alright?”

They say that demons don’t get sick. That was generally true. But his head had been throbbing that day. Fighting Compulsion had left him weak, paler than normal, and half stumbling with exhaustion.

Months of letting it get steadily worse had been in vain.

Little Lita’s concern had been… touching.

Though he could imagine her voice, he couldn’t recall the happy or the concerned expressions anymore. All he could remember was… how she looked when he’d glanced up from the disaster. His head clearing from Compulsion’s hold.

And the first thing he’d seen was young Lita’s face at the top of the bleachers before she turned it into Sheldon’s protective chest.

Anguish and horror.

That was what he remembered.

He’d caused a week’s worth of nightmares before she’d packed up her stuff and run away.

She’d always been open with him. Always. No matter what the emotion was.

He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking. Slowly.

Lita was not a fourteen-year-old child anymore. She was eighteen, almost nineteen, and had shed what was left of her childhood from her body.

It struck him, briefly, that she had grown into a beautiful young woman.

Not Kelly beautiful but beautiful nonetheless.

That was when she saw him.