The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 33: Etiquette Lessons

"ENUFF!" repeated Mistress Jek. "Everyone shut yer mouths RIGHT NOW!"

Everyone froze, from Master Jek, who was scowling at his finger; to the boys, who were swarming Taila and trying to pry open her hands; to Taila herself, who was stamping her feet in the beginnings of a major tantrum. Poor Bobo had been frozen all along while her employers fought.

"I've had ENUFF!" Mistress Jek stomped up to her husband, shoved her face into his, and shouted, "I am not a drunk or a crazy or a capper neither! The god came right down here to OUR yard." She stabbed a finger at the spot where Flicker had appeared. "He told us IN PERSON that that turtle is an emi – emis – emis'ry of the gods. You will treat it with respect, because if you don't, then you are DISRESPECTING THE GODS and Heaven will smite you with lightning!"

That was one lady with good lungs, I thought, impressed and even faintly awed by the display. That pitiful traveling mage, Floridiana, could have taken lessons from Mistress Jek. Who needed to learn magic to project your voice when you could develop lungs like that?

Master Jek had taken a hasty step back when his wife began to bellow, and as she continued her harangue, he seemed to shrink. It was as if the physical force of her words – and probably her breath – were striking him and compressing him into a doll-like caricature of himself.

(Yes, humans can shrink like that. I'd done it myself to many of Cassius' officials, albeit not by shouting. Smiling vitriol can accomplish the same effect with a much lower energy cost, while boosting your social standing. Maybe I should teach Mistress Jek sarcasm along with proper diction.)

In the end, Master Jek mustered a final defiant "Don't be so extra, woman," but in such a low mutter that he had plausible deniability if she called him out.

She didn't. Chest heaving, she spun on her offspring. "Okay. Taila, gimme the emis'ry."

Eyes as huge as a lemur's, Taila deposited me in her mother's hands.

Mistress Jek cupped me in her palms with satisfying reverence, raised me to eye level, and apologized, "Great One, I am so, so sorry about my fam'ly. My husband's just shook. Please forgive us. It won't happen again. You said something about 'etikit' lessons? We're ready now."

Etiquette was what I'd planned to start with, but now I was wondering if writing should come first. Because if none of the Jeks could write, then how would they take notes that they could review on their own? I certainly wasn't going to supervise them all hours of the day. And I doubted their brains were up to the task of remembering every word I uttered. You got the occasional human with an eidetic memory, but these ones looked pretty ordinary to me.

Except – even if I taught them how to write, they didn't have paper either, so what would they write their notes on? Bark? Corn husks? Ugh, civilization really had benefits. Maybe I shouldn't have deconstructed the empire quite so thoroughly.

Well, whatever. If I didn't know the best place to begin, then I'd start in the middle, the way I had when I entered Cassius' court. You couldn't expect all learning to be as systematic as a dance manual.

Thank you, Mistress Jek. I gave her a gracious dip of my head to reward her support. We will commence with an overview of basic etiquette.

"What's 'co-mens'? What's an 'over-vu'? And what's 'etikit'?" whispered Nailus to the oldest boy, who elbowed and shushed him.

I didn't bother to define the words for him. If he were smart enough, he'd pick them up from context. Immersion learning and all. Some of the Imperial tutors had championed it during their endless debates on the best pedagogical method to institute for the princes and princesses. Amusing that now Cassia Quarta had come full circle.