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.”
“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.
Lowering his gaze, he went back to what he knew. Holding a position.
“Lovely,” declared Radiance, which meant it was safe.
“We are,” agreed Zisa. “I helped.”
That was so like him, heedless of ceremony, quick to greet a newcomer.
He and Radiance stepped aside, parting like a curtain to reveal a young woman. She was the same height as Zisa, though with a much more curvaceous aspect. Her feet were fair against the springing mosses, and when she stepped toward him, bells jingled anew.