“We’re a little late.”
Waaseyaa only smiled and said, “Welcome home, Timur.”
Gregor bounced and reached, and Waaseyaa turned the toddler loose. Timur swooped him up and grinned. “There’s Papka’s little battler! Miss me much?”
“Pah-kah!”
Timur grinned and glanced around. “Where is everyone?”
“Most of us were at Zisa’s. I brought Gregor out because things were becoming … noisy.” Waaseyaa’s smile tilted, and he chuckled. “I believe Ginkgo is intoxicated. Or pretending to be. He is trying to cheer up Mikoto.”
“Is something the matter?”
Waaseyaa nodded. “Although I am more concerned about Sinder.”
Timur was already backing toward Zisa’s house. “What happened?”
“I think he needs a healer. Ginkgo thinks he needs a harem.” Waaseyaa waved him onward. “Either way, he asked for you.”
Timur spun on his heel and whispered to Gregor, “We shall catch us a dragon, yes? I can teach you how. It’s a family tradition.”
One that all his other sons and daughters were probably already learning.
One that might bring them back together someday. In a place like this.
TWENTY-ONE
Persons of Interest
Sinder was in familiar territory—fading into the background, overhearing more than people realized. Without really meaning to, he was filing away details about Tenma and Mikoto. They certainly counted as persons of interest.
The Savior.
The Successor.
But to Sinder’s wearily jaded eye, they seemed like a couple of close-kept and cosseted kids. Maybe he envied them their safety. Maybe he should be proud that he was one of the guys who kept them safe.
“Prismatic?” Mikoto looked too confused to be hiding something. “Are you talking about colors?”
Ginkgo’s attention fixed on the young headman. “Sure you’re seeing straight, Tenma? He’s definitely human.”
“Do me!” exclaimed Zisa, who eased between the two men. “Look at me.”
Sinder couldn’t shake the idea that the tree knew exactly what was going on. Easing away so he could watch everyone’s reactions, he focused his senses, trying to catch the import of Tenma’s mistake.
“Oooh,” breathed Tenma. He looked between Waaseyaa and Zisa, then beamed at Mikoto. “You’re tree-kin?”
Zisa tittered.
“No?” Mikoto scooped up his puppy like he wanted to hide behind it. “Just a reaver.”
Ginkgo held up a hand. “Maybe we should start over.”
As they began a rehearsal of bland and useless facts, Sinder slipped into the only other room in Zisa’s house. While some snide part of his personality was amused because trees shouldn’t need toilets, Sinder appreciated the spacious shower stall, which had surely been built on a scale to accommodate the First of Dogs.
Sinder let the drumming of hot water on tiles drown out most of the inanity in the other room and eased carefully out of his clothes. Stepping under the steady flow, he wondered if he had enough range of motion to get properly clean.
He belatedly began unraveling his braid, but he could only lift one arm high enough.
Swearing under his breath, he turned and nearly leapt to the ceiling. Zisa was perched on the sink, watching him.
“You have no concept of privacy!” he grumbled.
“I do. Brother has explained it to me many times.”
“So, what? You don’t believe in privacy?”
“I do not see the necessity.” Zisa smiled sweetly. “You did not ward this room against me.”
It hadn’t even occurred to Sinder.
“May I help with your hair? Brother lets me. His is even longer than yours.”
Relief washed over Sinder, and he mumbled, “That’s very generous of you.”
Zisa hopped down and stood just beyond the streaming water. Sinder turned and tilted his head so the tree could untangle his increasingly sodden hair. “Your clothes are getting wet.”
“Should I disrobe?” Zisa asked hopefully.
“Maybe not.”
Like a well-trained bath attendant in a dragon lord’s harem, the tree handled him courteously. Blunt nails scraped circles against his scalp. Then a hand took Sinder’s chin, guiding the angle of his head, the other lifting sections of hair to rinse away the suds.
Sinder basked in the heat and in the attention. So much, he was sorry when Zisa turned off the tap.
Still in silence, which was its own kind of privacy, Zisa brought out an enormous stack of towels and proved he was adept at toweling without tangling. Sinder bowed his head and let the tree do as he pleased.
Zisa had begun braiding before he spoke again. “You have more injuries today.”
“You keep track?”
“Are you being bullied? Children are sometimes bullied.”
What a thing to ask. “I’m hardly a child.”
“No?” Zisa sounded amused.
Sinder lifted his head. “Do I look like a child to you?”
“How many centuries do you have?”
Fudging a little, Sinder held up three fingers.
Zisa shook his head and pushed down one of the fingers. “You are barely old enough to tempt a tree.”
“I know I’m young. Prodigies usually are.”
“Finished.” Zisa dropped a kiss on the blaze decorating Sinder’s shoulder. “Thank you for your trust, beautiful dragon.”
Sinder turned, only to find himself in a careful embrace. It was so easy to give in, sagging against Zisa, who held him up, stalwart as beams.
“Timur is coming,” Zisa murmured. “He will know what to do.”
Sinder sighed. “Oh, sure. I suppose he could just put me out of my misery.”
“You will show him your injuries and drink his tea and trust him as you have trusted me.” Zisa sternly added, “Or I will tell on you.”
“I suppose.”
“Promise it.”
Sinder smiled, for Zisa wasn’t very convincing as a commander. He missed Juuyu’s crisp orders and Boon’s growling. But since either of them would have backed up Zisa at this moment, Sinder lifted his face and whispered, “I promise.”
Zisa kissed his nose, stepped back, and vanished.
While he pulled himself together, Sinder tried to decide if he should make a note in his report about Zisa. While it was plain as pebbles that Amaranthine trees could manifest, it had never occurred to Sinder that they could de-manifest. Or would it be un-manifest? And presumably re-manifest at a different location. How quickly? And what was the limit of their range?
Surely there was some strategic significance here. Offensive and defensive potential? A possible means of protection, both for them and for their sibling? Hallow would figure it out if anyone could. Sinder would simply leave out the circumstances surrounding his little discovery.
Exiting the bathroom, he fielded a nod from Ginkgo, who was in the middle of trying to explain what it was like, having characteristics of both Amaranthine and reaver bloodlines.
Zisa stood poised by the door, hand on the knob. If his expression was anything to go by, Ginkgo, Tenma, and Mikoto were off the mark, but getting warmer. If no one else thought to ask the tree what was going on, he’d do it himself.