“Unrivaled, I should think.” Tenma searched Mikoto’s face. “Am I allowed to say where we are?”
“Do,” urged Zisa. “How else can you introduce me?”
Still, Tenma waited for Mikoto to give some sign. Young though he seemed, even younger than Tenma had been when he started at New Saga, Mikoto was the headman of Wardenclave. He would know how much was too much.
Mikoto asked, “How secure are your surroundings?”
“If this is a competition, I might win. Sensei and I are at Lord Mossberne’s home in the heights.” She was smug now. “He gave me your room, Tenma. The east-facing one.”
Tenma groaned. His friends might forever tease him for Lapis Mossberne’s grateful impulse, especially Isla.
Isla glibly went on, “A secure line. A secure room. I’ve also begun adding wards, since you sounded concerned.”
Mikoto nodded and said, “You may explain our circumstances to Reaver Ward.”
Tenma began, “Isla, I’m at Wardenclave. And that was Mikoto Reaver.”
“Oh!” Isla’s voice radiated warmth. “It’s a pleasure, Headman. But Tenma, this is wonderful. Have you met my brother?”
“Just this evening. A nice man.” More softly, he added, “A good father.”
“Isn’t Gregor a dear?”
“He is never at a loss for admirers.”
“And my sister!” Isla exclaimed. “You met Lilya.”
“I … suppose I did.” Tenma had been rather more interested in Mikoto. He couldn’t recall much about the girl. “Quiet. Very quiet. Not much like you, I think.”
Sisterly concern overflowed. “This is her first time away from home. I hope she’s not withdrawing. Did she seem unhappy?”
To his embarrassment, Tenma couldn’t answer. He looked to Mikoto and Zisa, hoping they had something to contribute.
Zisa leaned closer to the phone. “Your sister has courage and ended the evening with a smile.”
“Ah, that is good to hear. Who is this, please?
“I am Zisa.”
Silence reined for three full beats. “Oh? Oh, dear.” Isla was clearly flustered. “Oh, this is a pleasure! Tenma, you’re not teasing, are you?”
“You know who he is?”
“Of course! While the name of Waaseyaa’s tree twin is not listed in any contemporary literature, any student of history can uncover the occasional mention. And, well, I’ve had several opportunities to chat with Dickon Denholm on the subject of trees.”
“He is one of ours,” said Zisa.
Mikoto quietly explained, “Waaseyaa’s youngest son.”
“Baby of the dynasty,” boasted Zisa. “We have a dynasty, you know. That is what Glint calls our family tree.”
“Yes, I am aware.” Isla’s tone softened. “Papka was recently awarded dynasty status. We’re all very pleased for him, of course, but … well, it’s also a lot of pressure.”
“Oh? Oooh!” Zisa leaned so close to the phone, his nose nearly touched the screen. “Glint likes linking dynasties. Are you part of ours?”
“No, no.” Isla veered off into a brief overview of her lineage, which carried down almost exclusively through Northern Europe. Never crossing with the fabled bloodlines that flourished an ocean away.
“He might consider you, then.”
Isla’s fell silent. Finally, she ventured, “Pardon?”
“If you are not descended from Waaseyaa, then you could come and belong to Brother and me.”
Tenma knew that this was a sensitive subject for Isla and led in with a chuckle. “Are you matchmaking, Zisa?”
The tree pointed to the screen. “She likes me. I like her. Brother might choose her if he knew she would be nice to me.”
His expression was so hopeful, so wistful. Tenma had no idea what to say, but Mikoto wrapped his arms around Zisa and said, “Isla is nice, and we need her help. Is it all right if we talk about Impressions now?”
Zisa leaned into Mikoto’s larger frame. “I like her.”
“Yes. We all do. And you can tell Uncle all about her later.” Mikoto calmly added, “He will be glad to know you made a new friend.”
Until now, it hadn’t occurred to Tenma that a tree whose legacy had been all but erased and who lived in hiding might be a little lonesome. Reading between the lines, this would be especially true if his twin’s wife wasn’t nice to him.
“Complementary genealogies aside,” Tenma interjected. “Isla, what can you tell us about Impressions?”
“Yes. Right. Quite.” He could hear the relief in Isla’s acceptance of the change in subject. “As it happens, I’ve had access to most of the old sagas. The collection at Kikusawa Shrine remains the most extensive, and thanks to the Miyabe family’s efforts, completely uncensored.”
“Sorry, sorry,” interrupted Tenma. “By sagas, do you mean stories like the one Kimiko borrowed for her courtship?”
“The Wolf and the Moon Maiden,” Isla supplied. “And yes. The sagas refer to the oldest heroic tales. Some belong to individual clans. Some are shared freely, usually by storytellers during a Song Circle. Oral tradition is more common, but many clans—like the Dimityblest—are compulsive about written records.”
“True,” Mikoto offered. “There is a Dimityblest chronicler attached to our family. He has preserved our whole history.”
“Really!” Isla’s fascination carried easily over the phone. “I’d love to read a record of Wardenclave’s founding.”
Before she could be further sidetracked, Tenma asked, “So the sagas are historically accurate?”
Isla hesitated. “Some think the stories are figurative, but there are just as many who call for a literal interpretation. Scholars like to point out that many of the essentials don’t change, and not only through the compendium of sagas. There are also the songs, which are sometimes called psalms, countless short fables, a handful of lullabies, and the Amaranthine equivalent of nursery rhymes.”
“I know some of the fables and rhymes,” Tenma said. “When I … do what I do, I’m often repaid in stories. For many it’s all they have to offer.”
“Oh, I want to hear more about that!”
“Another time?”
“Right. Yes. Where was I?” Isla seemed to be drumming her fingers. “Taking corresponding histories into account, the Impressions predate Amaranthine culture. Many of the classic tales involve encounters between the Amaranthine and the Impressions. And in all, the imps inspire awe. They’re beautiful, desirable, and often depicted as existing just out of reach.”
Zisa shook his head and said, “I am here.”
“So you are!” Isla agreed. “We cannot deny the existence of the clans of earth, sky, and sea when people like you confirm the truth.”
Tenma’s attention skipped ahead. Isla knew how his abilities worked, so he simply asked, “Why would I look at a human and see the same kinds of colors only found in Amaranthine?”
She hummed. “Logically, it means that they aren’t human. Or that they’re not entirely human. Or it could mean that you are changing.”