There was a very soft sound from the back of the apartment and the younger brother came to his feet with the speed of an alley cat. Before he’d even gotten there, he’d hissed a word, and his staff flew across the room and into his hand.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, rising, my hands spread. “Would you relax, please?”
“Who is that?” he demanded. He shot me a hard look. “Who?”
“I just fed you pancakes,” I muttered. How tense were things in the younger brother’s world that he would react like that? “Stars and stones.”
“Don’t say that,” he said, his tone slipping into a more familiar, grouchier cadence. “You don’t even know what it means.”
“The guy I learned it from wouldn’t teach me,” I said back. “Would you relax for five seconds, please? Please?”
He glowered at me. He lowered the staff
