by Forthright
“Tzefira,” he said more confidently. “I want to see you.”
Mikoto wasn’t used to being in charge. “Would you please arrange a … a gathering?”
“Very well.” Yulin set aside a stack of folders and clasped his hands. “May I know the particulars?”
He really didn’t want to go through the whole long story again, so he skimped. “I am going to woo the wind to my side. If it works—when it does—I am fairly certain I will be engaged. Or would it be considered a betrothal? I do not know the etiquette.”
Yulin gaped.
Mikoto settled for an apologetic posture.
“Precious noble,” Yulin said faintly. “How long has she been courting you?”
“The accident by the river. Since then. Maybe even before.”
Folding his hands over his heart, Yulin asked, “That long?”
“Sinder thinks I am wind-kissed.”
The moth stepped forward and touched Mikoto’s cheek. “And you wish to kiss her back?”
It was his turn to flounder for words.
Yulin inclined his head. “When you do, it will bind you irrevocably. You are right. There should be witnesses. Who did you have in mind?”
Mikoto had expected more resistance. “You do not disapprove?”
“Why would I?”
“I have a responsibility to Wardenclave. To serve as headman. To have a son.”
“Does she know this?” asked Yulin.
Mikoto supposed she must and nodded.
“Then all will be well.” He selected a notepad and stood with pen poised. “Dear me, there is so much to do! But the task is hardly insurmountable. Everyone will already be here for your induction.”
“Oh, I was thinking a smaller group. Something more … private.”
Yulin was already jotting. “For the Descent, surely. An intimate gathering for an intimate moment. I was referring to the solstice. What better time?”
Dignitaries were already arriving from all over the world, along with news crews, journalists, and Amaranthine enthusiasts. Every hotel, tavern, and bed and breakfast in Denholm was booked solid.
Mikoto watched Yulin scribble for a full minute before daring to ask, “Do you mean Dichotomy Day?”
“Noble heart,” Yulin said kindly. “I mean your wedding day.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
Intimate Gatherings
Part of Kyrie was jittery with anticipation for tomorrow, when Harmonious Starmark would arrive, Ever in tow. But today had an excitement all its own. Before leaving Waaseyaa’s door, he checked to see if Lilya also had her invitation.
“Ready?” She lifted the small envelope where her name was written with an extravagance of loops and flourishes.
He reached up to touch her hair, which Zisa had braided into a crown and flourished with his own flowers. Lilya adjusted the fold of Kyrie’s sash, which bore both the Mettlebright and Stately House crests. They’d dressed in their very best, since today was extra special.
With the help of Lapis and Sinder, Mikoto would woo the wind to his side.
The invitations, which were hand-lettered works of art, called this transformation a “descent.” Which matched every story Kyrie knew of the various sky clans. Moon maidens, stars, and storms were difficult to capture, for once they touched the ground, they could never return to their former home in the skies.
“Ready,” he agreed.
A few others were already gathering. This is where everything would happen, since Waaseyaa and Zisa couldn’t have attended otherwise. Ginkgo was already there, speaking in Japanese to a woman in a luxurious kimono. Timur and Salali were fussing with a lovely set of wardstones. Lapis had somehow ended up with Gregor, and each seemed entirely pleased in the other’s company.
Lilya made a happy noise and ran to speak to the Dimityblest at Mikoto’s side. “Did you write these?” she asked, proffering the invitation.
“I did.” He smiled gently and covered her hands. “Keep it as a memento of the day.”
“I’ll treasure it always.” And turning to Mikoto, Lilya said, “It’s like a fairy tale.”
Kyrie hung back. It was nice that she’d made friends. She might not even realize that, in her own way, she’d begun to feel at home here. Already their paths were beginning to diverge.
Turning aside, Kyrie slipped his hand into Sinder’s. “Is this a wedding?” he whispered.
“Hope so.” His smile was wry. “Do I look as awkward as I feel?”
Kyrie studied his attire, which was certainly more lavish than the stuff Sinder usually wore. “Lapis usually dresses in a similar style.”
“There’s a good reason for that.” Fiddling self-consciously with gauzy layers of sheer fabric, he muttered, “He loaned me this get-up. I managed to talk him out of most of the jewelry.”
“You look very pretty.” Touching the necklace Lapis had loaned him, Kyrie added, “I feel special.”
Sinder grudgingly admitted, “It’s not so bad. Once in a while. To pretty up a bit.”
Wardenclave’s founders arrived together, and Radiance swept to Lilya’s side. She and Glint were clearly taken with her. So much so, Kyrie couldn’t help wondering if Ever would be jealous. Which reminded him of something.
“Will it cause a problem that Mikoto’s children will be crossers?”
“They won’t be.”
Kyrie hesitated. “They are not compatible?”
“No, no. If the stories are to be believed, they’ll have no trouble. Untouched by the Waning, and so forth. However, I have it on good authority that an imp’s contribution to a mixed mating is … unmixed.”
“Could you clarify?” asked Kyrie. “If it is not a secret.”
“Nah, not this. It’s lore.” Still, Sinder kept his voice low. “If a moon maiden accepts a wolf as her bondmate, she’ll give him strong cubs. If a wind joins with a dragon, all their young will be exceptionally beautiful dragons. If a tree gives its fruit to a phoenix, the resulting child will be a phoenix.”
“So Mikoto’s children will be human, even though their mother is a wind imp.”
“Not just human. They’ll be reavers, and they’ll probably rival Waaseyaa’s lot for power once they’re ranked.” Sinder’s gaze settled on Wardenclave’s headman. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer kid.”
Just then, Ginkgo signaled for Kyrie, so he excused himself.
His big brother was still with the Japanese woman, and Glint had joined them. They’d switched to English, probably for the dog clansman’s benefit.
“I was going to tell you, and then I didn’t.” Ginkgo’s ears went all cockeyed with embarrassment. “This is Mikoto’s mother. She’s from Japan, and her maiden name is Hajime. Sora-san, this is Kyrie Hajime-Mettlebright. Like I was saying, I also have Hajime ancestry, so in a way, we’re kin.”
Kyrie looked up into the woman’s face, searching for any resemblance to Mom. There were commonalities, things typical to the Japanese people, but that was all. He offered his hands in greeting.
“My pedigree is a matter of record.” Sora looked thoughtfully at Glint. “If anyone can trace our connection, it would be you, Lord Starmark.”
“Odd thing, that.” Ever’s grandsire casually offered a hand to Kyrie. “Your father personally searched our records. Quite thoroughly. He was researching Tsumiko’s heritage. Even unregistered reavers can usually be placed on a chart if we cross-reference family registries.”
Ginkgo’s ears pricked. “He never mentioned that to me. What did he find?”
With a low chuckle, Glint said, “He never mentioned that, either. Although I got the distinct impression he was … annoyed.”
Kyrie had been so focused on the dragon half of his heritage, it had never occurred to him that being a Hajime might be special in its own way.
Yulin encouraged Mikoto to limit his guest list to the bare minimum. His mother and his best friend. His five mentors. He’d wanted Waaseyaa and Zisa in attendance, so they were hosting. They needed Lapis
and Sinder, who’d outlined a plan that required Timur’s support.
He’d promised a place to Kyrie, and it was only natural to include Lilya. And Ginkgo for that matter. Lupe had also been invited, but she’d politely declined. Maybe that was for the best. Mikoto could only assume that she was being considerate of Tzefira’s feelings.
“Cold feet?”
Mikoto hadn’t specifically invited Radiance, but neither would he dream of excluding her. Lady Starmark found a warm welcome wherever she went. He considered her teasing question and answered seriously. “I have no doubts.”
“Good boy.” She bumped shoulders with him. “Did you know that your parents didn’t meet until the day they exchanged vows?”
He shook his head.
“It was the same for Glint. He was adorably flustered when I ambushed him. But like you, he squared his shoulders and faced me.” Radiance dimpled. “I’m happy for both of you.”
Mikoto slipped into a grateful posture, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Wasn’t it too early to celebrate? They weren’t even sure this would work. Then again, if it didn’t, they’d keep trying until something did.
“She has only been here for summers.” He liked knowing Radiance would support their choice. “She will finally see our village in autumn and winter and spring.”
“May all the seasons ahead be joyous.”
He wanted that, too.
“Mikoto,” called Timur. “We’re ready for you.”
He hurried into a circle set with wardstones. Most were pale blue, but at the center Timur placed a single red crystal.
Timur grabbed him by the shoulders and backed him out of the ring. “You’ll be on this side of the barrier. Otherwise, our dragons may inadvertently woo you to their side, and that would leave your lady lonely.”
“Understood.”
“I’ll monitor things from inside. Ginkgo and Kyrie will keep watch out here. Lapis and Sinder will be piling on the charm, and nobody here would be able to resist.”
“Because they will be singing a love song?”
“A traditional ballad with admittedly amorous subtext.” Timur indicated the crystals. “I’m pretty sure one of the reasons Lapis insisted on the barrier is because it’s a clan secret.”
“If they’re inside a barrier, how will Tzefira be able to hear them?”
Timur blinked, then chuckled. Gesturing with both hands, he explained, “It’ll be switched. You and your guests are on lockdown. Lapis and Sinder will be singing to the open sky.”
“What if they attract more than they intend?”
“Won’t matter,” assured Timur. “Even if the stars themselves are lured in by their song, they don’t have Tzefira’s reason to stay.”
“And the song will help her know what to do?”
“That’s what they tell me.” Timur lowered his voice and took a more serious tone. “It’s a very old, very long ballad that teaches by example. A dragon friend slipped me the transcript once. It’s called ‘The Temptation of Lord Beckonthrall.’”
Mikoto started out nodding, then shook his head. “What good will it do to hear about him? I cannot duplicate his methods.”
“You’ve got it switched again, my good man.” Timur’s eyes sparkled. “According to tradition, Persiflage Beckonthrall was the one who succumbed to temptation. And the song was composed by the four winds who wooed him.”
That wasn’t in the song Sinder had shared. Mikoto was almost afraid to ask. “How did they do that?”
Timur’s smile had a hint of smirk to it. “I think you’re about to find out.”
Because of the barrier, Kyrie couldn’t hear Sinder and Lapis, so he gave the blue wardstones a bit of encouragement—they were doing their job well—and slipped away. Certain the song would rise, he found the rungs set into Zisa’s trunk and clambered upward.
Only when he’d reached the lowermost branches did Kyrie realize that someone else had the same idea. Salali rolled his eyes, signaled for silence, and continued his own nimble ascent.
A voice filtered down. Zisa’s.
“You know he is in earnest. He is serious about everything.”
A pause.
“Has he neglected something? I thought not. Well, then … what more is there?”
A longer pause.
“Does that matter? I never gave it a thought. I simply happened.”
Salali revealed himself, strolling along the limb. “Who have you coaxed into my nest, Zisa?”
The tree looked relieved to see them. “Come, Salali. Come, Kyrie. What should I do?”
Squatting before the nest, Salali asked, “What’s needed?”
“Tzefira is not sure how to appear.”
“Isn’t that what the song’s for?” reasoned the squirrel.
Kyrie climbed one branch higher and stepped lightly along its length, intent on catching the dragons’ song. To his delight, once he was far enough away from the trunk, he met Timur’s barrier. However, before Kyrie could coax it to give him a tiny hole to listen at, Salali’s words snagged his attention.
“… was always easier for Amaranthine because the forefathers and foremothers were once human themselves. But for Impressions, who are the embodiment of the natural world … well, it’s trickier. The first to manage it were either commanded by heaven or inspired by love.”
Eager for more details, Kyrie stole back and perched directly over the nest. “Are they in love?”
Salali huffed. “I’m hardly an expert, and that boy simply isn’t the sort to spout poetry or sing ballads. But once he commits himself … I mean … isn’t loyalty a kind of love?”
Zisa waved his hands. “All of that may be important, but this is not a matter of means. Rather, Tzefira must decide how to appear.”
“We are talking in circles, friend.”
Kyrie, who had many sisters, said, “Radiance has a robe waiting.”
Salali blinked, then hauled his hat low over his face. “Maker have mercy. She wants to be pretty.”
“She certainly does.” Kyrie understood all too well. “I would want to be found beautiful in the eyes of my beloved.”
Zisa nodded.
Salali sighed. “Impressions in speaking form often resemble their true form; however, they can also borrow their appearance from someone they admire. Their mentor. Their friend. Their kin. Their love.”
Kyrie stowed these new details before asking, “Why do you know so much about Impressions? Most people think they are myths.”
“Some of it’s age. There are those who remember what the world was like before the imps completely faded. And wrote the stories that passed into legend.”
“Are you a forefather?” guessed Kyrie.
“I hardly qualify. Never been a father.” Salali went on. “Some of it’s this place. We’ve been preserving reaver lines and tree-kin from the beginning. But a few of us have been quietly preserving ties with imps. For instance, Starmark Kith have always had ears to hear the songs of stars.”
Kyrie believed that. After all, he’d always had ears to hear the whispers of winds.
“But the main reason we have so many connections with impressions would be Linlu Dimityblest. His knack brought them flocking. We always had a star or two hanging about, keeping Jori company.”
“He is Wardenclave’s star,” supplied Zisa. “And there is that rainbow who visits most summers.”
Salali nodded. “We’re on the course of a comet, as well, but I think his last pass was before Tzefira’s time.”
“No other winds?” asked Kyrie.
“They’re not usually the sort to linger.” With a sidelong look that was probably meant for Tzefira, he added, “Mikoto has always lived for summer’s arrival. Now, we know why.”
“Linlu would have known sooner,” Zisa said sadly.
Kyrie studied their faces. “Is he away?”
“Well, he’s certainly not here.” Salali grimaced. “He’s missing. Went away with some secret purpose and never returned.”
<
br /> “He would if he could,” murmured Zisa.
“We should set aside those cares for another day. Mikoto is waiting for his bride’s appearing.”
Kyrie exhaled on a slow warble. “I have never seen a wind, so I do not know if they resemble one another.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Zisa. “Oh, I know! I am comely, and Mikoto loves me. Tzefira, let me be a brother to you, and I can stand beside you when you claim your husband. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
The wind twirled, scattering leaves and flower petals, before spinning away.
Salali, one hand clamped firmly over his hat, whispered, “That worked?”
Zisa tittered and vanished.
“Hurry!” gasped Kyrie.
Sighing mightily, Salali scooped him up and dropped.
Mikoto knew how to hold a position. To stand at his post, alert for any change, poised to respond to any situation. This was a little different, perhaps, but it felt the same. Requiring patience. Requiring courage. Mikoto wasn’t awaiting further orders or anything resembling an attack. Still, he would have felt a little better if he were armed.
Sinder and Lapis were singing, but the barrier was funneling their song away. It was supposed to call to Tzefira, but Mikoto couldn’t help but think that he was the one who should be doing the calling.
Mikoto lifted his chin and declared, “I am here, Tzefira. I am waiting.”
Something changed.
Timur signaled, and the dragons traded a look. They ended their duet with a prolonged flourish, and when the barrier collapsed, the final note was somehow still ringing. An echo? An overtone? Or perhaps a star. Radiance swore they sang for those who needed to hear them.
Lapis stepped back, and Sinder hurried to Timur’s side, making room.
Diffuse light began to coalesce, and Radiance readied a kimono. It was an heirloom from his mother’s collection. Again, something changed, and chimes sounded—tiny and tinkling. Radiance was fussing with folds and knots, which meant there was someone wearing all that silk.
Mikoto desperately wanted to look, but he didn’t want to see too much.