Early Sunday morning, after Shade handed the umbrella in his hand to Miss Bell and sat down on the third floor of the Accordion Hotel, the gray-black-haired witch immediately leaned over and sniffed at him.
Miss Bell inserted the umbrella into the umbrella stand, looking as though she wanted to say something but stopped herself. She dearly wanted to remind her teacher that this was highly improper. Miss Danist, who had just put down her book, had already grown accustomed to Flora Winslet's childishness in certain matters:
"How is it, Flora? Did you smell anything on Shade?"
As she spoke, the red-haired girl smiled at Shade.
"The scent of the forest."
The witch answered frankly, then eyed Shade suspiciously:
"Did you bathe this morning?"
It was quite a personal question. Before that dream at Love Lake, the witch would never have asked it, but now it was nothing unusual to her.
"Of course. As long as I'm not pressed for time, I usually wash up a little in the morning."
In truth, he only did that when the young ladies stayed overnight at his home, but considering that there always seemed to be someone at home lately, calling it a daily habit was not entirely inaccurate.
Flora nodded, her golden eyes studying Shade closely once more, but she did not continue the subject:
"My performance at the Golden Music Hall tonight—the Harvest Festival performance—should be around eight thirty, according to the order of appearance. No matter what plans you have today, don't forget it. Don't you want to uncover the secret of the Time Temple?"
"I won't forget something like that. But I do have things to do today. My friend has already examined that black Kindling. He said it was power split off from a Demon, but compared to