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matters with far more intelligence than I."
Shima almost snorted at that. Of course he could. He'd provoked Zhar by stealing half of them when they were first made.
Arashi had stolen the other half.
Motioning, he quickly coaxed the confused couple away, guiding them to the warehouse to view the tapestries.
An hour later, he saw them off and went back to Raiden, grinning in triumph.
Raiden, stretched out in a small bed in his office, laughed weakly. "You've a natural talent for fleecing people, lad. You are
wasted even on being my supercargo."
"You should be at home," Shima chided. "Not here."
"Bah!' Raiden said, waving a hand dismissively. "I need to talk to you, and it's impossible to talk at my house with all those
nagging women fluttering about!"
Shima's mouth curved in a smile "Your wife and daughters, you mean?"
"Aye," Raiden said, mouth twitching. "Those very ones. A beautiful wife and three loving daughters, but I've not a single son
to take care of them when I'm gone."
"I'm sure your daughters will marry well," Shima said, moving to sit next to him as Raiden flapped and motioned. "Your wife
is hardly the sort to let anyone but you attempt to order her about."
Raiden snorted. "I've yet to meet a woman that took orders she didn't feel like taking."
Shima laughed softly
"There's a gift for you, there," Raiden said abruptly, voice as gruff as it had ever been. He motioned to a chest in front of the
massive desk on the far side of the room. "Everything in it is yours. I don't want to hear a word of complaint, lad, understand
me?"
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Frowning, Shima crossed the room and pushed open the lid of the trunk. He stared down quietly at the contents. "The
keys?" he asked softly.
"To here, the warehouse, my house, the lockboxes& all of it, and well you know."
"You should not be giving me these things," Shima said quietly. He reached out to touch a small scroll, tied with a dark blue
ribbon and lying atop a bundle of bright, colorful silk. "What is this?" he asked softly.
Raiden started to speak, but fell instead into a terrible coughing fit. Shima strode back across the room and fetched the tonic
that helped ease the cough.
Storms, he hated himself in moments like this. What good was there in being alive, when he could do nothing for his
children when they most needed him? This one man he wanted so badly to help, and all he could do was watch him die&
All the wisdom of creation meant very little when such things were right in front of your eyes. Once he could do so much&
now he could do nothing&
Finally the coughing eased, and Raiden glared at him. "Get cleaned up, get dressed. You need to look sharp for once, not
like the humble little sailor you play at being."
Shima quirked a brow at him, but did not argue.
Striding back across the room, he knelt to examine the folded silk within the trunk. With a soft sigh, he stood and stripped,
washing off at the basin set on a table nearby. Clean again, he lifted the costly fabric from the trunk and slowly dressed.
When had he last felt such fabrics against his skin? Did he even deserve such finery? No, he most certainly did not. How to
make a stubborn old man see that?
Even a dragon, it seemed, did not have the answers for everything.
Still, he could not deny he liked them.
Loose, dark gray pants, tucked into short boots of highly-polished black leather. Over that, a thin under robe of palest silver.
An outer robe of deepest blue, stars cut out of the fabric to show the silver beneath.
The sash& the mark of any true Kundouin was his sash, and this would put even the royal family  he fought back a snarl of
anger at the thought of those who were descended from that traitor  to great shame.
It was dyed myriad shades of silver, rippling like moonlight on water. Sparkling caught the corner of his eye, and he saw
that further treasures remained in the trunk. Long strands of pearls and moonstones, meant to be wrapped and strung
through the sash.
Swiftly he bound all in place  and saw one last scrap of fabric in the trunk.
A large square of blue fabric, decorated with silver stars.
He smiled faintly, an ache in his chest, and swiftly bound the kerchief over the top of his head.
Finally he scooped up the small scroll and strode back across the room.
"Do I pass muster?" he asked.
"Aye, that you do," Raiden said quietly. "I hope you're not going to argue me over the adoption."
Shima shook his head, amused despite himself. A dragon, adopted by one of his own children. It was funny and charming
and sweet and sad. "Arguing with you is like arguing with the tide."
Raiden let out a sharp bark of laughter at that. "Aye, you've got the right of it. Well, come on then, let's get me ready to go
and tonight you'll be my son." He motioned to the office. "Then I can finally make someone else do all this so those storming
women will stop nagging me."
Slowly he got Raiden standing and dressed, managing to force down more tonic.
At last ready, Raiden led the way out, slapping Shima on the back and grinning. "Shimano Raiden. Has a nice ring to it, eh?
"
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AmaSour Fiction
"Yes," Shima said, returning the smile. "It does."
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