by Forthright
“For almost whole day now! Nobody knows. Da will call for a press conference in the morning. Everybody’s been waiting and wondering and guessing.”
“You most of all.”
“Yes!”
There was sound of movement and a low murmur. Kyrie immediately recognized the muffled voice as Eloquence’s. Ever said, “Hang on. Here’s Brother.”
“Congratulations, Quen,” Kyrie said shyly.
“Many thanks, Kyrie. I’m still reeling from the events of the day.” He sounded like he was smiling all the way from the depths of his soul. “Your call is a welcome surprise, but I’m amazed that Hisoka-sensei reached you so quickly. He must have foregone all the usual means of transportation.”
Kyrie glanced at the cat, who offered a small shrug. “How is Kimiko?” he asked.
“Her happiness doubles mine. She is getting some well-deserved rest while we take turns holding the baby. Ever is prying her from Laud now.”
“A girl?”
“Did Ever not say?” With a soft chuckle, Quen said, “We named her Blessing.”
“I like it.”
“Thank you, Kyrie. And behold, the triumphant uncle returns. I will give you back to Ever.”
There was a soft shuffle, and Ever was there, sounding smug. “I brought her. Wish you could see.”
“Does she look like you?”
“Yes! Starmark colors. We’re kin for sure.”
“Does she have your ears?”
“And my tail!” In a very different tone, Ever coaxed, “Say hello, now. You can do it. Say hi to Uncle Kyrie.”
On the other end of the connection, a soft snuffling could be heard. Then a tiny whine.
Zisa hugged Kyrie and whispered, “A baby!”
Ever’s giggle was pure joy, and he explained, “She’s trying to eat the phone, and it’s no good. You say something, Uncle Kyrie.”
“Hello, pretty pup. Save some room in your affections for me and Lilya. We will come and see you as soon as we can.”
“She will love you,” promised Ever. “Hey, Kyrie? Da is going to be there—where you are—next week. For Dichotomy Day. There’s a … a thingie.”
“Induction ceremony?” guessed Kyrie.
“Yes! And Da offered to bring me along. You know, if there’s room for me. With you guys. Maybe?”
“You do not want to stay with Blessing?”
“I have almost a whole week to make sure she knows my voice and my scent. She won’t forget me.” More quietly, less confidently, Ever asked, “What do you think?”
“That would be ….” Kyrie’s lips trembled, and his voice wobbled. “Please, come, Ever. I want you.”
“I’ll be there,” Ever promised. “You can count on me!”
Kyrie whispered his thanks and then his goodbyes. Hisoka-sensei eased the phone from his grasp. Next, the cat eased Kyrie from Zisa’s arms. It was less awkward than Kyrie had expected, clinging to someone who was suddenly more than a familiar face.
Friend of Stars.
Lover of Trees.
Teller of Secrets.
Maker of Miracles.
“You flew to me?” Kyrie whispered against Hisoka’s shoulder.
“Like a shooting star.”
“Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.”
Hisoka moved into the nest with Zisa, who did his share of patting and petting while Kyrie gave in to another wave of tears. He couldn’t remember ever being so mixed up before. Maybe he was a little like Eloquence—still reeling from the events of the day.
Once he’d calmed, Hisoka-sensei said, “Your parents have earned my admiration over and again. They have always been willing to carry through with their responsibility to you, but I will ask you to allow me to ease their burden. I can spare them this conversation. Ask me anything, Kyrie. Ask me everything.”
“Do you know who my Amaranthine parent is?”
“Mostly by reputation. Your biological father is a dragon commonly referred to as ‘the rogue.’ We are trying to put a stop to his crimes. However, we have been unable to discover his name. He was not hatched in the harems, so his origin is as much a mystery as his current location.”
Zisa tittered.
Hisoka glanced at the tree and averted his eyes.
Kyrie asked, “What?”
“He said something silly,” said Zisa. “There is no mystery. Not for a friend of stars. Not for someone raised in an eldermost grove.”
“We cannot find a record of the rogue in any of the dragon clan lineages. They have been thoroughly vindicated.” Hisoka-sensei rubbed a hand over the top of his head and sighed. “But all that means is that the rogue was not born in the usual way. He may have impish ancestry.”
“Or …?” prompted Zisa, all smiles despite the gravity of the situation.
“Or,” Hisoka dutifully echoed. “His parent may have consumed a golden seed.”
FIFTY-FOUR
Some Excitement Next Door
Ginkgo needed something to do, and his options were few. On any other day, he’d escape into the garden or drag a bunch of the boys down to the beach. Being cooped up inside was giving him a bad case of the fidgets. He had no idea how Waaseyaa was content to stay in one place for so many centuries.
With little else to busy his hands, Ginkgo announced, “I’ll just … put on the kettle.”
Kitchen puttering was better than nothing. The room was spotless, so he couldn’t really pitch in. Instead, he rummaged through tea cannisters and found some snacks.
He was sneaking tidbits to Noble when Reveille walked in.
“Tea?” he offered. “Or if you’re hungry …?”
Reveille put up a hand. “You need to come with me.”
Ginkgo tensed. Again. “Something happen?”
“You could say that. Transcendence is asking for you.” With a cocked brow that was so like Harmonious, he added, “My aunt? Snow.”
Now that he knew the lady wasn’t Kith, Ginkgo was feeling a little awkward. “Why me?”
“Who can know the mind of a female?” Reveille gestured to the door with both hands. “But orders are orders. She wants you at her side. Now.”
“Her time?” asked Mikoto from his seat across from Lapis.
“Finally,” confirmed Reveille.
Ginkgo could feel the color draining from his face. “I don’t know the first or last thing about whelping pups!”
Reveille raised both hands and took a soothing tone. “You and me both, but I’m not asking you to play midwife. The pup was born a little after mid-high. It’s probably the only reason she let me chase Kyrie through the forest instead of doing it herself.”
“She needs a nanny?”
“You’re standing in for Path.” Reveille kept edging toward the door, clearly eager to fulfill his aunt’s wishes. “You’ll speak for him. Present the pup to our Da and announce his name.”
“But I never met Path.” Ginkgo tucked a bewildered tail. “I’m not even a dog.”
“Auntie has always been … contrary. And slow to trust.” Lowering his voice, Reveille added, “And short on patience. So hurry it up.”
Mikoto rose and asked, “May I attend?”
“Of course, headman. She liked you even before your promotion.”
With a small smile, Mikoto admitted, “It can be difficult to tell.”
Ginkgo shot a questioning look at Lapis.
The dragon indicated Noble and Rifflet. “I have all the company I need until such time as Hisoka returns with Kyrie. Hurry along. It does not do to keep a lady waiting.”
“Coming, coming!” sang out Reveille, who practically carried Ginkgo to the low building.
Several important personages milled outside. He recognized Hannick and Salali, and he could only assume the rabbit was head of the Duntuffet clan. But Reveille bustled him straight inside, where an abundance of fresh straw almost covered the scents he associated with birthings.
His escort gave him a bump in Snow’s direct
ion, so Ginkgo hurried past anyone else in the periphery and said, “I’m here. I’m also a little confused but mostly honored. You sure about this?”
Transcendence—he really needed to remember her rightful name—angled her head toward the pup nuzzling at her belly.
Ginkgo melted. “Now that’s what I call cute. Okay if I say hey?”
Without really waiting for an answer, he hunkered down next to the pup, leaning into Snow, surrounding himself with the homey scents of motherhood and milk.
“You’re a Starmark for sure.” The puff of puppy down was red, and Ginkgo had little doubt it would grow out into the silky curls that made combing Rise so much fun. “You know, I’ve never been this close to a newborn pup. Cubs for days, but you’re my first baby dog.”
The little guy stopped nursing and thrust his nose in Ginkgo’s general direction.
“Clumsy little wobbler.” He gathered the pup onto his lap and urged, “Get a whiff, why don’t you?”
The pup’s ears had a decided droop, and he thought the tail would have a respectable sweep. “Odds are on copper, but maybe you’ll please your grandsire with a show of silver.”
His little voice piped, and he lipped Ginkgo’s chin.
“Now you listen to me,” he gruffly ordered. “Your mother is a growly nipper, but she knows what’s what. That’s why I’m here. Nobody loves little ones more than me, and I have some stiff competition.”
Transcendence did nip his ear then.
Which brought his attention up. “Oh. Hey, Resplendence.”
“Auntie had me write down the words you need to say.” The guard he’d met at the front gate radiated happiness. “They are Path’s message to Da.”
Unfolding the page, he read the pronouncement through a few times. “Got it.”
It was incredibly sad that this pup’s father wasn’t here to help welcome him. He was missing out. And Snow was undoubtedly missing him. Ginkgo lifted his hand and said, “You did good, mama.”
She bypassed his hand to nip his ear again.
“Watch it, little mister,” he grumbled to the pup. “She’ll be after yours next. But don’t let it worry you too much. I’m pretty sure it means nice things.”
A throat cleared, and people filed inside. All five founders. Resplendence and Reveille, who Ginkgo guessed were Glint and Radiance’s youngest children. Waaseyaa entered, as did Wardenclave’s headman. Ginkgo offered a little wave to Mikoto, whose mystification softened into a smile.
Salali sidled over and helped Ginkgo to his feet. No easy task, given the pup’s heft. Before retreating, the squirrel tucked a crystal into his pocket and whispered, “If motherhood interests you, I can pull a few strings, bend a few branches.”
Ginkgo rolled his eyes, but he had the uncomfortable suspicion that his mentor was only half-teasing.
And suddenly, it was time. There was no way Ginkgo was going to mess this up. Not when it meant so much to Snow. And to this pup. And to Glint, whose cheeks were already wet.
Taking a deep breath, Ginkgo said, “I speak for Path Starmark.”
Glint shuffled forward. “I am listening. I will hear.”
“We shared a den. We shared a pack. We shared a promise.”
“I remember.” Glint quietly added, “I will always remember.”
Ginkgo blinked hard and continued. “I did not forget our pact. A son for a son.”
“Your promise is fulfilled. And he is beautiful.”
“May he be a tribute to the Starmark clan, and may he be a comfort in my absence.” Ginkgo couldn’t quite keep the tremor out of his voice now. This was breaking his heart.
Glint wasn’t trusting his voice at all. He simply nodded.
Ginkgo glanced at Snow, who inclined her head. So he smiled shakily and said, “Father?”
“I am Path’s father.”
“A son for a son,” Ginkgo repeated. “Here is my promise kept. His name is Pact.”
FIFTY-FIVE
Levels of Stupidity
Lilya couldn’t help feeling that something was happening. Like Stately House on the eve of the Frost Festival, or when Uncle Jackie returned from a trip with Uncle Argent and began doling out souvenirs for each of them. The air seemed to be humming with anticipation. Or maybe she really was hearing humming.
Gregor propped on her hip, she hurried after Timur, scanning the sky for any sign of singers. “Maybe it’s the wind,” she said to Gregor.
He lay his head on her shoulder and said, “Pah-kah.”
“Yes, your papka needs us.”
Inside Zisa’s little house, which was now swathed in creamy yellows and golds, she found her big brother already slouched in a chair that had been dragged to the corner and Sinder huddled on the larger of two beds.
Timur beckoned for her to pass him Gregor. “Thank you, Lilya. Take care of Sinder for me.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I held Gregor so you can …?”
“No.” Timur’s tone was tightly controlled. “I will stay right here, and I will hold Gregor, and you will take care of Sinder.”
“Why?”
“Because I am angry.”
Lilya had never seen Timur angry, but she’d seen Mum angry. Once. Things could get scary without someone—in Mum’s case, Papka—to calm everyone down. “Where’s Fend?” she asked.
“I shut him out.”
“Why?”
Timur’s jaw tightened. “He’s even angrier.”
“Right, then.” It was clearly up to her. “Tell me what to do.”
“Remove his bandages. Clean him up. Reapply ointment.” With his gaze firmly fixed on Gregor’s face, he gruffly added, “Better check his leg, too. Fend bit him.”
Lilya studied Sinder, who looked increasingly wilted. “What did you do?”
“I messed up.”
“Anyone can make a mistake.” Lilya located the medical kit and pointed to the foot of the bed. Sinder scooted to the edge and sat with eyes downcast.
“Mistake?” Timur’s accent thickened. “This was a debacle.”
“You know the rules.” Lilya patiently quoted, “You can’t point to consequences without weighing them against intentions.”
“He made a grievous error.”
“Unintentionally?”
“Carelessly.”
Lilya propped her hand on her hip. “That falls under simple stupidity, and you know it.”
Sinder blurted, “What are you two on about?”
“Uncle Argent says there are levels of stupidity, but those who climb them sometimes achieve genius.” She gestured for him to remove his tunic. “There are also depths of stupidity, and those mired in them rarely get by without help.”
“That’s probably why I need a partner,” Sinder muttered.
Lilya placed a hushing finger over his lips. “That was a secret, yes?”
Sinder winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Saying sorry is a good start.” Lilya eased gauze away from an injury that was healing nicely. “What did you do?”
“Confess,” ordered Timur. “Tell my sister the tale of your thoughtlessness. You can spare Kyrie that much, yes?”
Lilya gave her brother a hard look and went into the bathroom to fill a basin with hot water. She sometimes helped the mares and Mum with this kind of thing. Everybody at Stately House learned the basics of the healing arts. She wasn’t completely hopeless, so long as she was following orders, but she didn’t like seeing people in pain.
Right now, both Timur and Sinder were in pain. And she wanted to help.
She quietly cleaned Sinder up. He endured it while stealing glances at Timur.
“You are depleted,” Lilya said. And to Timur, “He needs tending.”
“I am in no fit state,” her brother said firmly. “Is Mikoto still around? Or Tenma. He’d be best.”
Lilya was tempted to ask his opinion of Tenma. But she wasn’t about to bring up her impending contract while Timur was angry. Instead, she busied herself with ointment and gauze.
“Sinder, what does Kyrie have to do with what happened?”
He met her gaze. “I blabbed a secret, and he overheard. It was about his biological father.”
“Why would that be bad?” She risked a look at Timur, whose expression was unreadable.
Sinder sighed. “How much should I say?”
“Now you weigh your words?” asked Timur.
“She’s just a kid.” When Timur offered no guidance, Sinder looked ready to be sick. “We’ve been training battlers to hunt dragons. Because there’s this one dragon. He’s a very bad person.”
Lilya helped Sinder into a clean shirt. “Kyrie’s actual dad is some kind of criminal?”
“The worst kind.” The dragon whispered, “Terrible and terrifying.”
She rested her hands on his shoulders and firmly said, “That’s not your fault.”
“But I told …!”
“The truth.” Lilya knew Kyrie better than she knew herself. “He would always rather know the truth. Secrets bother him almost as much as lies.”
Sinder looked like he really wanted to believe her. But didn’t trust her. Or himself.
Suddenly, she knew what to do. “Timur, go get water for tea?”
Her big brother grunted and hauled himself out of his chair, carrying Gregor out.
To Sinder, Lilya said, “Don’t tell.”
His brows shot up when she pushed her knuckle between his lips and past his teeth. “Li’ya?” he mumbled around her finger.
“Hush. There are so many wards, I can’t hurt you. It’s safe. Papka made sure.”
A muffled warble. He was uneasy.
“Tending will do you good.” She pressed firmly. “This is the only way past the seal, so bear with it. And don’t worry about Timur. He never stays grumpy for long. He’ll still be your friend.”
Sinder slowly bowed his head, letting it come to rest on her shoulder. Lilya felt him give in to trust. That’s when the first hot drops splashed, and she knew he was crying.
“Don’t be afraid.” She petted his hair. “You have good friends.”
They pulled away from each other when Timur returned. He’d turned Gregor over to someone else, and he carried a tea tray. “I made it extra strong,” he said grimly.