Sinder stated the obvious. “You have all the markings of a top recruit.”
“That is … nice to hear.”
Timur grimaced. “Don’t suppose Wardenclave would let us borrow you?”
Mikoto simply shook his head.
“Right. Still.” Timur clapped Mikoto’s shoulder. “Over the summer, we can make good and sure that Wardenclave’s headman is fully equipped to defend his home.”
Sinder detected a subtle shift in the wind and straightened. “I think he’s coming.”
“Before things get dicey, I’ll do you a favor.” Timur stood and dusted off the seat of his breeches. Drawing something on the palm of his hand, he showed it to Sinder. “May I?”
It was a sigil. “A barrier?”
“You’re as good as marked. My fault entirely.” Timur pointed.
Sinder groaned and lifted his shirt. “Kyrie tried to warn me. The kid doesn’t miss a trick.”
“Pardon my touch.”
He turned his face away and closed his eyes, signaling submission. Which was a little embarrassing, come to think of it. But it’s how he would have presented himself to any of his older brothers in the heights.
Timur murmured, “Thank you for your trust.”
It was a touching moment—literally—but any thought of brotherly bonding went out the window when jaws closed around Sinder’s calf.
“Fend?” gasped Mikoto.
“Fend!” exclaimed Timur.
Sinder swore. Damned cat didn’t like him much.
The second time Kyrie paused to wait for them, Torloo scolded. “Do not divide your efforts. Give this prey your full attention.”
He found this difficult to accept. Perhaps it was Mother’s influence. He did not like to exclude anyone. “If you are certain?”
“Go.” Torloo’s tail had developed a twitch. “In this game, we can both test our limits.”
A balance he could embrace.
Kyrie did not look back again.
Neither did he go straight forward. For although he knew where Sinder could be found, the trees held their peace, which meant his prey was holding his position. Undoubtedly alert. So Kyrie chose a less obvious approach. Low and swift, he darted his way toward the reavers who were also on the hunt. Circling behind them, he used them as a barrier, then began teasing sigils out of his imagination.
Not the kind Michael set for lessons. Nor the sigils he’d read about in books. Kyrie needed something smaller, swifter, subtler.
Patiently, he fiddled with nuances, rejecting several attempts before he was satisfied. Then he made a dozen. And a dozen more. Anchoring them to his own soul, he sent them whispering away to mark his prey.
Three reavers walked past his sheltering shrub, close enough to brush against its leaves, but they didn’t notice. He eased into the open, moved to the nearest tree, and found the crystal embedded in its bark. A blue. And pleased to be noticed.
He hummed it a little tune, which its neighbors picked up. Kyrie listened to their songs, then taught them one of his own. They wanted to be useful. He knew just what to ask for.
But sudden inspiration struck him dumb.
While the crystals around him waited, he turned the new idea over and over, considering it from every possible angle. It was simple. And beautiful. But also … terrible.
And tempting.
Wasn’t the point of this test to show Sinder what he could do?
But a summer breeze interrupted him, carrying the faint strain of music. Someone was singing again, high overhead. A compelling voice, yet elusive. As if the song wasn’t meant for everyone to hear. It reminded him of the singer he’d been seeking the first time he climbed into Zisa’s branches.
Were they nearby?
Heedless of the battlers and their search formations, Kyrie ran. More winds joined the first, carrying clearer snippets, guiding his way. He pushed the limits of his speed, afraid that the fleeting music would stop before he found its source.
The tree was large, but ordinary, and easy enough to climb. He clambered upward, pushing past summer leaves, and broke swaying into the muted light of an overcast morning. The sun was shrouded, yet something was shining. Or rather … someone.
“Hello?” he whispered, hardly believing his eyes.
Someone was resting amidst the leaves a little ways away, swaying with them. He looked like a man, but he couldn’t have been, sitting with so light a touch, he didn’t bend a single twig.
The face that turned his way was almost too bright to look at, like light reflected on the surface of the sea. It brought to mind the stories of angels, whose countenances were said to have flashed like lightning.
“H-hello?” he repeated, his voice trembling. “Are you the one who was singing?”
He inclined his head, and his hands framed a plea for peace. Without a word, he stood—or seemed to—and drifted nearer.
Kyrie clung to his branch, which was too thin to be steady.
The person offered his hands, but touching palms would mean letting go. One hand would have to do. Kyrie reached, and the shining person smiled. His hand was warm, and his grip offered a welcome support.
Inside Kyrie’s mind, a voice gently inquired, “Does my voice reach you now?”
He nodded, tongue-tied.
“It would be too loud if I spoke. My voice is meant for the skies.”
That was intriguing. All of this was. “Are you an angel?”
Bending closer, he smiled as if he’d been complimented. “No, Kyrie. Not an angel. I am a star.”
FIFTY
Sacred Places
Lilya stared down at a plain circle of white stone, trying to understand the inscription.
PATH
First of Dogs
we walked together
“First of Dogs?” she asked. “But isn’t that you?”
Glint began, “He was my ….” Faltering, he cleared his throat and started again. “Path is … was …. I am not sure how to …?”
Radiance, who stood beside Snow, said, “Path was the first Starmark Kith.”
Lilya had noticed that members of the dog clans were indistinguishable from wolves when in truest form. However, Kith of the wolf clans always looked like wolves, while the dog clans seemed to represent all kinds of dog breeds.
“Who …?” But Lilya stopped. Because it wasn’t hard to guess.
This was one of those secrets that adults didn’t seem to think children understood. But Ever was terrible at keeping secrets.
Looking to Moon, whose arm was draped around Snow’s neck, she revisited an earlier insight. “You are like Laud to Quen. Like Quen to Ever.” Beloved foster parent.
“That is the way of things,” he agreed, sharing a smile with Radiance.
Stepping closer so Glint would have to look her in the eye, she asked, “Ever’s Da loves all his sons. Was Path your Rise?”
Glint’s mouth trembled, and he sank to his knees and pulled her into his arms. “So you know about such things?”
“Rise is Ever’s big brother. We all love him.” She wanted to tell him not to be sad, but that would be like telling him to stop caring about a member of his family. “I’m not supposed to know about Kith-sire. But I’ve overheard some things. And Ever explained some other things.”