Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga Book 4)

by Forthright

  From a small log cabin beside the road came a white-haired Amaranthine wearing the Starmark colors. She boarded the bus.

  Lilya wanted to ask Ginkgo to take a picture, but she didn’t say it. It was exciting to think that this might be one of Ever’s many aunts or cousins. She had the same eyes, all coppery.

  Ever Starmark was the best friend who usually made them a trio. He was a crosser, but he lived in Keishi, a city too far from Stately House to make visits easy. But he came when he could, just like they visited him whenever Uncle Argent had meetings. Sometimes, the three of them would play at the Starmark Compound, and sometimes they’d explore Kikusawa, the neighborhood below the shrine where Ever lived with his big brother Eloquence.

  They’d invited Ever to join them for the summer, since he was also eleven, going on twelve. The timing had been bad, but for a very good reason. He was about to become Uncle Ever. Kimiko was expecting a baby over the summer, and Ever absolutely needed to be there to greet his new packmate.

  “Mind if we get a picture with that?” Ginkgo suddenly asked.

  Lilya followed the sweep of his hand and saw a sign with bold lettering.

  WELCOME TO WARDENCLAVE

  FOUNDATION FOR PEACE

  And in slightly smaller letters, a proud addendum.

  HOMETOWN OF HARMONIOUS STARMARK

  Kyrie’s giggle was a melodious thrum that Lilya couldn’t imitate. A dragonish sound that meant he was pleased.

  Lilya knew how much he’d wanted this summer to include Ever. Before they left Japan, they made a solemn pact to send Ever a picture every day. Because even though they were often apart, they were part of each other. “For our first day. For his Da.”

  “You may. Please, do,” invited the lady, who was staring at Ginkgo’s ears, but trying not to be obvious about it. “Fans of his?”

  “Friends,” countered Ginkgo. He barely came up to her shoulder, but he was entirely at ease. You could tell by the gentle sway of his silvery tail. “I’m surprised you didn’t get the memo. Or not. Dad equates secrecy with safety.”

  “You’re Lord Mettlebright’s son,” she murmured.

  Lilya backed into the aisle to allow Kyrie to slide out of their seat.

  Immediately, the Amaranthine’s expression changed—surprise, chagrin, and a promising smile. “By any chance, are you Ever’s friends?”

  Kyrie solemnly corrected her. “Best friends.”

  She beckoned them off the bus, then dropped to one knee before Lilya and Kyrie to offer her palms. “My name is Resplendence, and I’m one of the guards who helps keep Wardenclave safe. Harmonious is my big brother.”

  ELEVEN

  Big Brother

  Lilya was happy to clasp hands with Resplendence. She liked dogs. Maybe even liked them best of all the clans. Mostly because of Ever, but a little bit because of his Da, who was all rolling laughter and rumbling kindness. If Ever’s Da was Resplendence’s big brother, did that mean she loved him the way Lilya loved Timur? Did she miss him the way they missed Ever?

  “Oh, lovely one,” Resplendence said when their hands met.

  That was strange. Lilya had been extensively warded, which meant no one should even realize she was a reaver. But the guard might simply be sorting her out by scent. Dogs did.

  “Are you looking forward to your courses?”

  Lilya bit her lip. Lying never worked with canines, so she gave a tiny shake of her head.

  “Homesick?” guessed the guard.

  She shook her head again.

  Resplendence rolled her eyes toward Ginkgo and Kyrie. “Something you don’t want the boys to hear?”

  Lilya didn’t want anyone to know. At least, not anyone from Stately House. But Resplendence was half right, so Lilya nodded.

  “May we have a few minutes?” She signaled for permission and for patience. “Girl talk.”

  Ginkgo swooped in, searched Lilya’s face, kissed her nose, and said, “Not even through the gate, and you’re already making friends. Take whatever time you need.”

  Just like that.

  Lilya doubted any parent would have let her go off with a stranger.

  Then again, Resplendence was a Starmark. And they didn’t go anywhere. Instead, the guard plucked a crystal from one of the pouches at her waist. Lilya knew about these—had one of her own—so she locked hands with Resplendence around it. Now, anything they said couldn’t be overheard, even by the cleverest of fox ears.

  Privacy. The first novelty of travel.

  Ginkgo and Kyrie eased back, giving her room to speak for herself.

  Resplendence carefully slid one hand into a supportive position under Lilya’s. “May I know what you’ve been hiding.”

  “I’m a beacon.”

  Slim eyebrows arched. “That is well-hidden, but hardly the secret you wished to keep from these males. Therefore, it’s not the truth I’m offering to protect.”

  Ever talked like this sometimes. Insisting he would protect them from anything that dampened their spirits, be it bad dreams, hurt feelings, or failing grades. Still threatened to sniffen them if she or Kyrie tried to keep something from him.

  Lilya eased closer. “I’m a beacon,” she repeated softly. “But being a beacon isn’t a job.”

  “Your classification hasn’t been assessed?”

  She made a face. “Of course it has. Many times. I’m a beacon.”

  Resplendence frowned. “But that’s not … ah. Do they look no further?”

  “They do. They’ve tried so many times.” Uncle Argent was especially keen on helping her refine her superlative soul, to define her path. “It’s no good. They can’t pinpoint my aptitude because I don’t have one.”

  “You are a tribute to your parents’ strength, but you aren’t sure how to stand in your own?”

  She put it so simply, Lilya was all amazement.

  “I understand a little.” Resplendence rolled her eyes. “Try being Glint Starmark’s daughter.”

  Was there a lot of pressure on her because her dad was First of Dogs? Maybe she did understand the weight of expectations placed on a daughter of the First of Wards.

  “My case is a little different. You see, I have sufficient years to consider a suitor, and my sire wants my happiness. But his enthusiasm for the topic exceeds my own. If I didn’t know my own mind, I might mistakenly conclude that my only value to the pack will be found in the number of pups I add to his lineage.”

  Lilya nodded.

  “Then it’s good that you’ve come to us. To Wardenclave. And you shouldn’t fear your courses. They’ll help you know your own mind.” Resplendence smiled. “Then you’ll stand proudly, sure of your place.”

  “Is that what you did?”

  Resplendence brushed a kiss against Lilya’s cheek. “It’s what I did, and it’s what I’m still doing. Making up your mind will be good, but changing your mind is also part of becoming.”

  That was a relief. It would be terrible to choose a course that didn’t fit.

  “You seem more at ease.”

  Lilya decided she was. “Thank you.”

  Taking back her crystal, Resplendence raised her voice to include Ginkgo and Kyrie. “If you need me, ask any of the guards.” Standing tall, she proudly declared, “The sisters and daughters of Radiance Starmark are strong.”

  The bus carried them through the gate, up a steep series of switchbacks, and along the rim of a large green that looked to be a perfect circle. Buildings lined the road, and paths fanned away, leading to cabins. They pulled to a stop in front of a low building draped with banners representing the colors of every reaver classification, but Lilya was more interested in the man standing out front, holding a chubby toddler, accompanied by a large black feline.

  Gregor had grown so much since last Dichotomy Day, when Timur had arrived with their invitations to Wardenclave. He’d stayed long enough to convince their parents—and especially Uncle Argent—to accept Glint’s invitation.

  It had taken two whole months.r />
  In the end, Lilya guessed that it was little Gregor who swayed the fox. For once they became attached, there was no way Argent was letting the little boy fall into anyone else’s clutches. Ginkgo must go. No other minder would do for a son of Stately House.

  Ginkgo was off the bus in a flash.

  And it was nice to see Timur so glad.

  “He is like us,” said Kyrie, still in his seat. “Brother took care of him, too.”

  “All of us,” agreed Lilya, who had spent as much time in Ginkgo’s arms as Mum’s. Maybe even more. “And all of our children.”

  Kyrie softly replied, “Yours, perhaps. If you stay at Stately House.”

  Lilya started to say that she’d never leave. She never wanted to, but she couldn’t know that for certain. Darya had been contracted away, never to return. And Isla received offers from every corner of the world.

  She tapped Kyrie’s shoulder. “Your children, too.”

  He shrugged and shook his head.

  “Crossers marry,” she insisted. “Like Ash and Tami.”

  Kyrie’s lips twitched into a little half-smile. “Ash’s inheritance never frightened anyone.”

  “You might have wings one day,” Lilya reasoned. “An attainment.”

  Her brother’s eyes were soft with the gentle sadness that had always been a part of him. “Ash has the wings of an angel. With dragon wings, I would look even more like a devil.”

  Lilya’s troubles seemed small and silly now. She dropped back into the seat and hauled him into a fierce hug. “No, nyet, non, and never.”

  Kyrie melted against her. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I should not borrow trouble from my tomorrows.”

  “Today has enough worries,” Lilya agreed, quoting Aunt Tsumiko. “Can we go to Timur, now?”

  “May I hold Gregor first?”

  Lilya giggled. “If you can get him away from Ginkgo.”

  With chorused thanks to the driver, they linked hands and hurried to join their brothers. What a sight they made. True to form, Ginkgo had secured the baby for himself, but that gave Timur the advantage. He scooped up Ginkgo and Gregor, proving he was strong enough to cradle both the half-fox who’d raised him and the son he was raising alone.

  “Put me down, cuddle bud.” Ginkgo’s smile held nothing back. “I know I’m your favorite, but you really shouldn’t neglect the rest of your denmates.”

  Timur landed a resounding kiss on Ginkgo’s forehead, then turned him loose in order to capture Kyrie. He tossed him high, earning a warbling yelp, caught him close, and kissed his cheeks. “Have you grown?” Dangling Kyrie at arm’s length, Timur let the boy squirm and smile under his scrutiny before nodding. “You have grown a little, I think. Yes?”

  It always amazed Lilya that someone who looked so much like Mum could behave so much like Papka. Timur had been away for years. A training trip from which he’d returned with mixed baggage. A deeper laugh and a sadder smile. A richer accent and a baby son.

  But no wife.

  Lilya got the impression that Papka was somehow worried about Timur but delighted to welcome Gregor into the family. Mum was flat-out proud, but she tried not to let it show. And nobody was willing to pass along the particulars to a couple of kids.

  While Timur quizzed Kyrie about their trip, Lilya offered a hand to Fend, one of the cubs from Minx’s litters. He nosed her palm and tickled her with his whiskers, mostly to be polite. Fend was all business. Not one for indiscriminate cuddling or purring. But he sat beside her, watching Timur more closely than anyone. And Lilya waited her turn with the confidence of one who knows they are being saved for last … and will get the best because of it.

  “Where is that sister of mine?” called Timur.

  She raised her fist in a battler’s hand sign. Or was it from wolf trackers? Lilya was always getting them mixed up.

  Not that it mattered. Timur closed the distance in a handful of strides, dropped to one knee, and offered his hand like a burly prince charming.

  Delighted, Lilya curtsied and placed her fingertips on his palm.

  With a murmured endearment in their mother’s first tongue, he tugged her into the circle of his arms. “Did you see many strange things along your way?”

  For someone who lived with giant cats, flying foxes, and phoenix friends, the trip had been filled with fresh oddities. “A boat and a plane and a train and a bus.”

  “Wonders beyond compare?” teased Timur.

  “New things,” she replied seriously. “Kyrie and I have finally broadened our horizons.”

  Ginkgo swayed over, making silly faces for Gregor, and asked, “Do we need to check in with anyone?”

  “As it happens, I just met the headman, and he wants to welcome you personally.”

  TWELVE

  Treeborne Boy

  Even knowing what to expect, Ginkgo had trouble making sense of reality. Once the promised Amaranthine tree towered into view, he understood the scope of the illusions that kept it safe. “Okay, that thing’s beyond big.”

  “He is,” agreed Timur.

  Ginkgo peered around, senses alert. So much had been fine-tuned—the tree’s presence, the shadow it cast, temperature differences, the view of the sky. There was probably a barrier similar to the one Dad used to keep his conservatory from being overrun. It made most people at Stately House forget the glassed-in garden even existed.

  Straight out of a book of fairy tales and looking like someone’s rendering of the World Tree, Zisa’s trunk appeared to be smooth, and his leaves were an uncanny shade of chartreuse. But what really intrigued Ginkgo was the scent.

  “You smell that?”

  Timur slowed his steps. “I remember thinking there was a scent the first day I was here. Too used to it now to notice, I guess.”

  Kyrie asked, “Do you mean the flowers?”

  Ginkgo nodded and peered at the village situated below. From here, their song circle was more obvious, as well as the bustle of activity around the cabins.

  “That way,” said Kyrie, pointing.

  “Yeah?” Ginkgo indicated the next few mountaintops over. “What’s that way?”

  “No idea.” Timur waved to the north. “Denholm, which is an undisclosed city, is just beyond the rise. It’s the hub of all Dimityblest industry. In fact, it’s where the scribes write the communiques that link reavers worldwide.”

  “Which other Dimityblest industries?” asked Lilya.

  As the girl rattled off the diverse products for which the moth clans were famous, Ginkgo hung back to wait for Kyrie, who still gazed to the east.

  “Eight different flowers.” He spoke with a confidence that tended to sway the susceptible. But he also spoke from experience. Kyrie was Ginkgo’s best helper in the gardens of Stately House—inside and out. When the kid’s nose wasn’t in a book, it was usually in a flower.

  “Any you recognize?”

  “All new.” Kyrie eagerly begged, “Can we go find them?”

  “Don’t see why not.” Ginkgo hated to admit it, but he wasn’t picking up anything. “Eight, huh? How can you sort scents you’ve never encountered?”

  “The wind helped.” Looking up into the thick foliage overhead, he tentatively asked, “Do you hear that?”

  Ginkgo swiveled his ears. “The birds?”

  “Someone is singing.”

  Being only half Amaranthine, Ginkgo knew his senses weren’t on par with someone of full blood. His little brother was also a crosser, but the mix was different. Dragon blood gave Kyrie a whole different set of aptitudes. Ginkgo dabbled in illusory sigilcraft. But there wasn’t a trap or ward he’d ever created that Kyrie couldn’t unmake with a touch.

  The boy always blamed the wind. Probably thanks to all the dragon lore Tsumiko read to him. She’d been delving into Amaranthine history, scriptures, and songs ever since taking Kyrie to her heart as a son. She was as diligent as a Dimityblest scribe, especially when it came to the tales of dragons.

  “What kind of someone?” asked Ginkgo.
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  Kyrie tipped his head to one side, then the other. “Someone new.”

  “Maybe it’s the tree?”

  His little brother brightened. “Maybe.”

  “We’re due for an introduction.” Ginkgo offered his hand. “Let’s say hi.”

  They caught up to Timur in the kitchen of a modest house. He had his arm around the shoulders of someone who looked like a young samurai who’d mislaid his swords. Wavy black hair swept back from a broad face with strong cheekbones and a stronger jaw, but his quiet demeanor failed to intimidate. Largely due to the puppy in his pocket.

  “This is my new sparring partner, Mikoto,” said Timur.

  By the look on the young man’s face, this was news. And good news, at that.

  “He’s headman of Wardenclave, so mind your manners.”

  Not that Timur was showing even a smidge of respect. And Ginkgo judged that Mikoto appreciated the oversight.

  Lilya greeted him in Japanese, which was understandable. Conversations at Stately House veered from Japanese to English to French without a moment’s notice. Liberally sprinkled with Russian, usually for emphasis. But Japanese was default, and Mikoto looked the part.

  To Ginkgo’s surprise, Mikoto answered in kind, greeting them with polite formality. “It is my honor to welcome you on behalf of Wardenclave. May the coming season find you stronger for your efforts and richer for the bonds we will share.”

  Nice words, nice guy, if a bit serious for Ginkgo’s tastes. But he was the sort Kyrie usually sidled up to. Quiet, conscientious types. Probably because they were slightly less susceptible. The kid clammed up fast around folks who couldn’t help themselves.

  Pleased, Ginkgo turned to urge his brother forward, only to realize his hand was empty.

  Lilya, who had a sense for these things, blurted, “Where’s Kyrie?”

  Before he could break for the door, a hand hooked his arm. “Wait. He has not gone far.”