Page 100 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
“You’re my responsibility, now.” Salali solemnly asked, “MayI place a sigil on you?”
What to say? Trust for trust was a good way to begin. But heknew better than most that it could lead to betrayal, capture, and enslavement.Voice catching, Ginkgo asked, “What for?”
“You can’t learn from my sigilcraft if you can’tseemy sigils.” Salali showed his palms. “I intend to open your eyes. We can waitfor Hannick if you have reservations.”
Ginkgo gave a small shake of his head. “Where do you wantit?”
With an approving little chirr, Salali playfully asked, “Areyour feet ticklish?”
It took a few minutes for the squirrel clansman to completethe intricate pattern on Ginkgo’s heel, but the moment it took, Ginkgo’s viewof the world changed.
Sigils wheeled at regular intervals overhead.
Networks of hidden crystals sparked with inner light.
Nocturnal varieties of Ephemera swirled into view.
Barriers fizzed at trailheads, limiting choices.
And as he slowly adjusted to the dizzying array of newinformation, Ginkgo noticed a pattern. The surrounding trees bore a softlygleaming mark. Finding the silvery sigil on the tree in which they’d stopped,he looked to Salali in disbelief. “You named them?Allof them?”
A modest shrug. A faint smirk. “I’m a squirrel. I spend alot of time in trees.”
Ginkgo found Waaseyaa dozing in a rocker, Gregorsprawled on his chest. “Was he fussing?”
Zisa laughed quietly. “Brother has always kept his childrenclose. He knows no other way.”
Lifting the contented toddler to his own shoulder, Ginkgonudged Waaseyaa. “Get along to bed, old man.”
Waaseyaa smiled sleepily. “Welcome back.”
“Good to be. Thanks for this.”
“Anytime.”
As the man eased from the chair and stretched, Zisa swoopedin, getting a shoulder under Waaseyaa’s arm. “Bed, bed, bed,” crooned the tree.“I will tuck you in.”
Waaseyaa chuckled and allowed himself to be led away. “You donot need to fuss.”
“I know no other way,” retorted his twin.
Ginkgo slowly swayed his way toward the guest room, but anunexpected sound set his ears quivering.
A moan? Almost a howl.
Without stopping to put Gregor to bed, Ginkgo hurried backoutside and paused to orient himself. He squinted against the dazzle ofsigilcraft that kept Zisa’s existence under wraps. It was going to take a whileto get used to all the extra stuff revealed by Salali’s mark on his sole.
“Thatwasn’t there before,” he muttered, making hisway to a shed on the far side of the tree. It must have been, of course.Probably for a century or more, judging by the vines. But Salali must havehidden it from view for some reason.
Another halfhearted moan set his hairs on end.
He tried the door. Not locked.
Ginkgo’s ears flattened against a whimper that turned tosoft keening. Had this been going on every night? Or worse, day and night? Whywould anyone sequester an animal here?
Opening his mouth, he tasted the air, which was close frombeing closed up. Wolf. Well, probably a dog, given the locale. Not injured, butnot happy. The scents finally matched a memory, and he adjusted his hold onGregor as he hustled to help.
Planting a hand on the rail of a pen, he launched over,landing lightly in the straw beside a large white Kith who was crying in hersleep.
