Conmer’s face jerked toward a blank expression, though not from the usual panic or dismay. No, this time the emotion that broke free of his control was joy, excitement, the thrill of the hunt. He could almost taste the secrets he was about to dig up.
Everything was clicking into place: a secret organization of genzin. A genzin member of a group of ninja. Masters of the lost Art of Smoke. It was so obvious in retrospect, obvious that although the Rosearn had lost the Arts of Smoke and Shadow, other cultures had preserved and improved upon them.
All that remained was to figure out how this related to Conmer. Or maybe it didn’t? The first thing Meadow had asked about was Tenra, and it was uncharacteristic of Conmer’s mother to swoop in and save him… unless Conmer’s opponents were after the same thing she was.
Oh. Oh no… Tenra had come from a species that was incredibly skilled in stealth, in visual and auditory concealment – in the Art of Shadow.
“Tenra! Tenra! Come here!” Conmer called out, hoping Tenra was nearby. She didn’t respond, but as soon as Conmer turned to his left, he found her just inches away from him – head cocked with curiosity. “Look.” He reached into one of the many hidden pockets of his coat. “Hidden.” He pulled out his copy of the Devil’s Contract. Though it was still in its disguised form, Conmer was taking a huge risk by brining it out into the open… but if his hunch was right, it was a risk worth taking. “Important.” He gestured towards Tenra. “Yours?”
Tenra nodded, and carefully pulled out a small book bound in tough, worn leather. Its title was written in a strange language, similar to a centuries-old code most Rosearn learned in first grade – a code developed by ancient human ninja.
A note from the
Tenra, much like Conmer and Genrou, is an heir to a legacy.