Page 27 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
Straight out of a book of fairy tales and looking likesomeone’s rendering of the World Tree, Zisa’s trunk appeared to be smooth, andhis leaves were an uncanny shade of chartreuse. But what really intrigued Ginkgowas the scent.
“You smell that?”
Timur slowed his steps. “I remember thinking there was ascent the first day I was here. Too used to it now to notice, I guess.”
Kyrie asked, “Do you mean the flowers?”
Ginkgo nodded and peered at the village situated below. Fromhere, their song circle was more obvious, as well as the bustle of activityaround the cabins.
“That way,” said Kyrie, pointing.
“Yeah?” Ginkgo indicated the next few mountaintops over. “What’sthat way?”
“No idea.” Timur waved to the north. “Denholm, which is anundisclosed city, is just beyond the rise. It’s the hub of all Dimityblestindustry. In fact, it’s where the scribes write the communiques that linkreavers worldwide.”
“Which other Dimityblest industries?” asked Lilya.
As the girl rattled off the diverse products for which themoth clans were famous, Ginkgo hung back to wait for Kyrie, who still gazed tothe east.
“Eight different flowers.” He spoke with a confidence thattended to sway the susceptible. But he also spoke from experience. Kyrie was Ginkgo’sbest helper in the gardens of Stately House—inside and out. When the kid’s nosewasn’t in a book, it was usually in a flower.
“Any you recognize?”
“All new.” Kyrie eagerly begged, “Can we go find them?”
“Don’t see why not.” Ginkgo hated to admit it, but he wasn’tpicking up anything. “Eight, huh? How can you sort scents you’ve neverencountered?”
“The wind helped.” Looking up into the thick foliageoverhead, he tentatively asked, “Do you hear that?”
Ginkgo swiveled his ears. “The birds?”
“Someone is singing.”
Being only half Amaranthine, Ginkgo knew his senses weren’ton par with someone of full blood. His little brother was also a crosser, butthe mix was different. Dragon blood gave Kyrie a whole different set ofaptitudes. Ginkgo dabbled in illusory sigilcraft. But there wasn’t a trap orward he’d ever created that Kyrie couldn’t unmake with a touch.
The boy always blamed the wind. Probably thanks to all thedragon lore Tsumiko read to him. She’d been delving into Amaranthine history,scriptures, and songs ever since taking Kyrie to her heart as a son. She was asdiligent as a Dimityblest scribe, especially when it came to the tales ofdragons.
“What kind of someone?” asked Ginkgo.
Kyrie tipped his head to one side, then the other. “Someonenew.”
“Maybe it’s the tree?”
His little brother brightened. “Maybe.”
“We’re due for an introduction.” Ginkgo offered his hand. “Let’ssayhi.”
They caught up to Timur in the kitchen of a modest house. Hehad his arm around the shoulders of someone who looked like a young samuraiwho’d mislaid his swords. Wavy black hair swept back from a broad face withstrong cheekbones and a stronger jaw, but his quiet demeanor failed tointimidate. Largely due to the puppy in his pocket.
“This is my new sparring partner, Mikoto,” said Timur.
By the look on the young man’s face, this was news. And goodnews, at that.
“He’s headman of Wardenclave, so mind your manners.”
Not that Timur was showing even a smidge of respect. And Ginkgojudged that Mikoto appreciated the oversight.
Lilya greeted him in Japanese, which was understandable. Conversationsat Stately House veered from Japanese to English to French without a moment’snotice. Liberally sprinkled with Russian, usually for emphasis. But Japanesewas default, and Mikoto looked the part.
