“I insist!”
Mikoto gently squeezed Zisa’s shoulders. “You are a good host. I am certain he will want to return.”
The tree pouted. “That is not why. And I still insist. I will even go along, to make sure.”
Waaseyaa quietly reminded, “You cannot pass our boundaries, Brother.”
“I know.” Zisa lay his head against Mikoto’s chest and murmured, “I only want to help them.”
To appease the tree, Mikoto said, “We can walk Tenma to the boundary. That way, he will know the way back to you.”
“Yes!” All brightness, Zisa gave his brother a soft-eyed look. “This is important.”
“I will be waiting,” Waaseyaa promised.
Tenma followed the conversation with an expression of polite confusion. Mikoto wasn’t sure what else to do, so he reinforced Zisa’s invitation. “Let us walk you to the boundary. It would be our pleasure.”
The man accepted with a nod. “I would appreciate knowing how to return.”
Zisa seized their hands and nearly skipped to the door.
Tenma didn’t seem to mind the handling at all. In fact, he laced his fingers with Zisa’s and held on tight. Mikoto found himself hoping the man would stay in Wardenclave. Not many were so accepting of Zisa’s little ways.
Barely halfway to the boundary, Zisa stopped short. “Now,” he said, as serious as Mikoto had ever seen him. “Tell Tenma what happened.”
“Something happened?” Mikoto’s brows furrowed. “When?”
“When you were smaller than you are now, but not as small as Gregor.” Zisa wasn’t very good with timeframes, but when he let go and stepped back, he put out a hand, describing the correct height. It was a good hint.
“Zisa, are you talking about when I was nine?”
“No. You talk.” The tree made little flutters with his hands. “Tell him about the day when everything changed.”
Which could only mean … Lupe. Lowering his voice, Mikoto asked, “Do you mean the day I almost drowned? Why do you want me to share that story?”
“It matters,” said Zisa. And again to Tenma. “It matters.”
“I believe you.” Tenma took a receptive posture. “If Mikoto-kun is willing.”
Mikoto didn’t mind telling, but he didn’t understand why. Touching Zisa’s shoulder, he asked, “Why does it matter?”
“Because that is the day everything changed,” he patiently replied.
“I do not understand.”
“Maybe I will,” Tenma suggested.
“It was an accident,” Mikoto awkwardly began. “We were down by the river. I slipped and fell in.”
Not much of a story, really. A dozen words covered the basics.
Zisa frowned. “You left out the important part.”
“L-lupe … she ….” Mikoto stopped and restarted. “A friend of the family dived in after me and pulled me out. She saved my life.”
Tenma was listening closely, watching closely. He asked, “Were drastic measures required?”
“I … I guess you could say that. The other kids teased me some, saying she kissed me.” Mikoto offered an awkward shrug. “I needed CPR.”
“Breath,” said Zisa, who bounced on his heels. “Wind.”
To Mikoto’s way of thinking, the kiss was the important part, even if he couldn’t really remember it. Only the elation and how the air had tasted. And the warmth of being hugged and how Lupe smelled like sunshine. And the whole falling in love thing.
“This friend of the family,” Tenma said, watching Zisa now. “She’s Amaranthine?”
“No. She is a reaver.” Mikoto lowered his gaze. “She is here. For the summer.”
Tenma shuffled closer, maybe to try to read his expression in the dark. “Are you sure?”
“That she is here? Yes.” He swallowed hard. “I met her bus.”
Reaching out to touch his arm, Tenma quietly asked, “No. I meant … are you sure she’s human?”
Zisa tittered.
Mikoto whispered, “Of course she is human. The same as me.”
“Yes,” Tenma said slowly. “But you and I aren’t the same kind of human. Maybe she’s another kind entirely.”
“Closer.” Zisa clapped his hands the same way Yulin often did. “Close, but not quite.”
Tenma turned his attention to the tree. “Do you need us to figure this out, or can you tell us more?”
Zisa looped his arms around Tenma’s waist and said, “Look at me.”
Mikoto edged around to the other side so more moonlight fell on Zisa’s face. But he knew he wasn’t seeing the same kinds of things Tenma was.
The man stood quietly for several moments, then breathed, “Oooh.”
As much as Mikoto wanted to hurry them along, he bit his lip and waited. Because Zisa said this mattered. And it was about Lupe.
“What am I?” prompted Zisa.
Tenma said, “You’re a tree.”
Mikoto thought he understood, then. “You are an Impression.”
Zisa’s smile was beautiful. “I am.”
“Is Mikoto’s friend an Impression?” asked Tenma.
Zisa hummed happily. “Close, but not quite.”
A thought occurred. “Is she the one Salali said was coming?”
“Salali noticed,” confirmed the tree. “Salali knows.”
Tenma’s gaze bounced between Mikoto and Zisa, as if comparing what he’d found. “Would you mind if I made a call?”
“To?” asked Mikoto.
Pulling out his phone and pushing at his glasses, Tenma said, “My friend is an expert on … well, just about everything. May I ask her about Impressions?”
“No pictures.” Zisa gave a little shimmy of excitement. “Could you use the speaker?”
Tenma smiled and nodded, but he also waited for Mikoto’s verdict.
Funny that his first big decision as headman was to allow Zisa the rare treat of a phone call. “May I know who you plan to call?”
“Someone trusted.” With an abashed expression, he said, “Actually, you may know her already. She’s Timur’s sister, well one of them. I want to confer with Isla Ward.”
TWENTY-THREE
Conference Call
“Isla do you have several minutes to spare?” Tenma spoke over his phone. “You’re on speaker, by the way. My friends and I have need of your expertise.”
“Which one?”
Tenma hesitated. “Which friend?”
With exaggerated patience, Isla asked, “Which expertise? I have several, you know.”
Isla wasn’t twelve anymore, but she still seemed awfully young to have so much confidence. She was as bossy as ever, still eager to share her encyclopedic knowledge on any and every topic, and patient with the gaps in Tenma’s understanding. A force of nature. A friend he could count on.
“We’re interested in anything you might know about Impressions.”
“Oh!” Isla sounded delighted. “I like your friends already. How secure are your surroundings?”