Surrogate

Isla knew Papka was getting in to see Sensei, which was understandable, what with him being Hisoka’s former apprentice and First of Wards and everything. But Isla was Sensei’s current apprentice, which meant he should rely on her more. Well … he was relying on her, but not in all the ways he could.

She and her staff were making certain that Canarian Evernhold was properly supported and that all council members and their people knew what to say and how to say it. They couldn’t stop all the murmurs, of course. It would be enormously helpful if Sensei would just make a showing. A press conference was probably too much to hope for, but they could put him on a panel, for instance. Let Harmonious and Argent do most of the talking. Even a stroll through Kikusawa in Keishi would make a world of difference. Unofficial. Casual. But effective in reassuring the general populace. People needed to see that he was okay. She needed to see that he was okay.

Instead, she shuffled two upcoming interviews to later dates and offered to supply an article in his stead. She cancelled a photoshoot and redirected several appearance requests to different Council members. Eyeing the calendar unhappily, she acknowledged that if Sensei didn’t budge soon, she’d be spending Christmas alone. And New Years. Even though she’d worked it so they could attend Cyril Sunfletch’s holiday gala together, then follow local tradition by returning to Kikusawa for the first shrine visit of the new year.

It would have been perfect.

This was so frustrating. Isla needed to know when Hisoka-sensei would be back. Back to normal. Back to her.

Maybe Lapis was right. She was being too passive about this. Patience wasn’t getting her any closer to Sensei’s side. She needed to be proactive … persistent … present. And once his eyes were on her, she’d make him see.

Right.

Fine.

She might not be on Sensei’s approved list, but Papka was, and his door was always open. She’d bring him around to her way of thinking, and he’d escort her past Argent’s wards. Not the most detailed of plans, but Kimi was always saying she didn’t need to map out every little thing. This was improvisation. This was reckless. This was love.

By the time she reached Papka’s office, she’d worked out a rationale.

The moment she leaned through the door, he brightened. “Isla! Perfect timing. Lend me a hand?” His gaze flicked past her, and he added, “Even better if Lord Mossberne is here …?”

“No. Sorry. Lapis needed to make several appearances and oversee preparations for an event he’s hosting over the weekend.”

Papka indicated a pair of green crystals that took up most of his desktop. “You haven’t had the chance to interact directly with these. Lend me your expertise?”

“I doubt any but the eldermost recall the mountain clans, and they’re notoriously stingy with facts.”

“But there are stories. And you’ve read your way through most of Kimiko’s family’s archive.”

“Well, yes.”

Papka patiently prompted, “Were any of them about the mountain clans.”

“Certainly.” She could feel her cheeks warming. “But you must know that those records—if you can call them records—tend toward romance.”

“I think that’s understating it.”

So he did know. “Papka, I don’t think ancient erotica will help you with your baby imps.”

“Still, as someone who’s more … ah … broadly read …? Perhaps there are details in those tales that could point us in the right direction.”

Us. She liked that us. Never once had Papka ignored her input simply because she was young.

“Right, then. Mountain clans, also sometimes called the earthbound folk. They’re the embodiments of hills, valleys, mountains, monoliths, volcanoes, and any number of other geological formations. Many people believe that the deifying of certain mountains or stones have a basis in ancient realities. However, the mountain clans purportedly left the Widelands behind, but not before Cadmiel guided them in sowing the earth with precious metals, jewels, and most notably, remnant stones.”

Papka simply nodded. And waited for more.

She thought back, trying to summon up any useful tidbit of information. “Some of the rarest references are about meadow imps. I read an article once that suggested they were actually a plant form, like Amaranthine trees. That a field of flowers could waylay passersby in the same way a grove of trees could. But others say it’s the ground itself that’s an Impression. On a related note, many preservationists believe that the earliest Song Circles—I suppose eldermost would be a more accurate term—were actually sentient!”

That rabbit trail distracted them for the better part of an hour, but it didn’t get them any closer to solving the riddle of their sentient wardstones.

“Setting that aside!” Isla sat a little straighter in her chair. “Why haven’t you asked Dr. Naoki about them? Wasn’t he involved in caring for them or … something?”

“I have asked, and his input has been invaluable, but I wanted a fresh perspective. One colored by narratives instead of by scientific methods. I suppose you could say I’m looking for inspiration.”

“If so, why not ask the new bard-in-residence? Or Lapis for that matter?”

“Oh, I’ll be relying on them as well.” Gaze sharpening, Papka said, “Speaking of Lapis ….”

She winced at his tone. “If you mean that thing, I really do wish you’d let it go. It’s been a week, and it really wasn’t anything.”

“It was only four days ago,” Papka corrected.

“Well, it feels like forever. And I hope you didn’t take him to task. The whole thing was my idea, and it really was for a book.” She sternly added, “I trust him implicitly. He wouldn’t do anything. I can’t even imagine it!”

To her surprise, her father looked put out. “I’m certain of Lord Mossberne’s integrity, but what were you thinking, putting him in such a difficult position?”

“He didn’t have any difficulty proving me wrong.” She huffily added, “I was quite vexed.”

“Isla, you’re missing the point. He’s male.”

“Yes, yes. I’m aware. But he’s a dragon of the heights. They’re chaste.”

Papka snapped into a dominant posture so fast, Isla blinked in surprise.

“Is that the excuse you’re hiding behind?”

“I’m not making excuses. Neither of us did anything wrong!”

“So he explained.”

“Then you did confront him?” she exclaimed, indignant. “Papka, I told you …!”

“I heard him out, and then I apologized to him.” His expression went soft and sad. “Think, Isla. Are you properly considering his feelings?”

Isla could only be incredulous. She and Lapis were great friends, and the dragon knew she had no interest in him, not in that way. He was her confidante, so of course he knew that Sensei was the one for her. The only one. Which reminded her of why she’d come to Papka in the first place. She was meant to be coaxing for information. Or better yet, an escort.

And then the office door opened.

Someone lovely and luminous leaned in, spied Papka, and—despite a certain gangliness—glided gracefully into his arms.

“This is a pleasant surprise!” Papka exclaimed warmly. “Is everything all right?”

“All is as well as he will allow.”

“And you?”

“I was curious, and so I am here.”

Isla was beginning to be giddy. She may have been informed about Impressions, but it wasn’t every day you met an imp. But she was honestly confused. “Papka …? You have a new acquaintance …?”

“Ah! I suppose you wouldn’t have met, since Rhomiko kept to Sensei’s room until recently.”

She recognized the name from the other day. Papka hadn’t explained then. So this was the person he’d been referring to?

Papka was in the midst of a rambling introduction, offering the sorts of details only a parent would think important. So Isla raised a hand and interrupted. “Sensei’s room? Hisoka-sensei’s?”

“Canarian didn’t mention …? Ah, well. Not surprising, really. Sensei brought Rhomiko back from that island.”

“What for?”

“I suppose the simplest answer is … rescue. That applies to everyone Argent and the others brought home.”

“But … why wasn’t I told?”

“Probably just an oversight.” He smiled at Rhomiko. “You’ve been making yourself at home, I hope?”

“My home is his hearth.”

Isla was growing increasingly uneasy. She’d heard something about a small child that Sensei had come across. A toddler who was part Ephemera. It was a fine thing that Sensei had rescued that little one, but he hadn’t kept them.

She switched up her stance, asserting dominance. “I’m Hisoka-sensei’s apprentice.”

Rhomiko slowly inclined their head, acknowledging her statement without seeming to understand its import.

“What are you to Sensei?” she pressed.

Rhomiko simply gazed at her from within the circle of Papka’s arms.

Her father stepped in, nodding significantly at the chrysalises on his desk. “Perhaps more importantly, what is Rhomiko to them? Can you sense the shift in their tone?”

Isla let herself be diverted. For now.

Crossing to the desk, she rested a hand on a silken-smooth crystal. A trill found its way into her soul, and she couldn’t help smiling. “Is this the same one that resonated with me earlier?”

“No.” Rhomiko had slipped to her side. They reached for her hand, fingers sliding between hers. Lifting it to the other crystal, they pressed her palm into firm contact and murmured, “Here is your part in the song.”

She stared into strange eyes and knew amazement.

Rhomiko’s expression was so peaceful, so patient. Ancient. Isla didn’t realize she’d been edging closer until they bumped together. An arm slipped around her waist, steadying her, and Rhomiko whispered, “Do you like to sing?”

“No. I’m awful.” Isla whispered, “Are you shining?”

“A little, yes.” And with a knowing sort of smile—the kind that Isla hated most—they softly asked, “Are you captivated?”

“Impish allure,” interjected Papka.

An imp. Of course. Isla nodded vaguely.

Rhomiko nuzzled her cheeks in a very proper feline greeting. “I am similarly intrigued. May I touch your hair?”

“What …? Oh! Err … yes, you may.” And because the simplest way to carry a conversation forward was to turn a question back, Isla asked, “Do you like to sing?”

“I yearn to sing, but not every moment can hold a song.” Rhomiko became increasingly distracted with petting and rearranging her hair. “I live in anticipation.”

Papka’s voice came from quite close, right behind her. “Isla, may I adjust your personal wards? You’re clearly susceptible.”

She hummed vaguely, intrigued by the softness of Rhomiko’s skin.

They leaned their cheek into her hand and blinked contentedly.

“That’s done it. I think. Isla?” Her father gripped her shoulder. “Fascinating, isn’t it? I can’t say for sure if the allure is from the star part of Rhomiko’s heritage. Nobody seems to be affected by Twosies, and he’s part star. But Naoki pointed out that they have different parents. Also, Twosies was sprigged, which technically makes him tree-kin. Isla …?”

“I’m thinking clearly enough to be embarrassed.” She tried to pull away from Rhomiko’s face, but their hand covered hers, and again their fingers tangled. She stiffly said, “I have no desire to impose.”

Rhomiko’s smile faded. “I am imposing?”

“Well, I rarely get this close to people I don’t know well. Unless they’re children.”

“I am no child.”

She did have to look up, but not much. Isla was taller than most of the human women in her acquaintance, even Kimi. But she’d picked up on her father’s careful use of neutral pronouns, so Rhomiko probably wasn’t female. Was Sensei susceptible to allure? She was trying to puzzle out feline proclivities and impish influences when Rhomiko’s lips brushed her eyebrow.

“That was an apology,” they murmured. “Not a claiming sort of kiss.”

Had they been claiming Sensei with kisses? Surely not. He wouldn’t allow it.

Isla rummaged up a smile. “You can’t help being you. And it’s interesting, in a way. I mean … I’ve always been immune to undue influences. I’m not swayed by dragons.”

“Yet,” Rhomiko said softly. They pulled her close, wrapping both arms around her shoulders.

She didn’t resist. Maybe she couldn’t? It was more fascinating than frightening, and then Papka’s arms were around both of them, like he was giving their friendship his blessing. Or … no. His attention was on the chrysalises. With a laugh, Isla asked, “Are you trying to make them jealous?”

“In my experience, children don’t like being left out. Maybe some form of contact is key? You were certainly close to Lapis when they began resonating before.”

“Since we collaborate, our schedules do intersect with more frequency than all the others, but we each have our own agendas.” As an example, she rattled off, “I’m leaving for Keishi tomorrow, meetings in Belgium on the fifth and sixth, then straight on to Lapis’s for a soiree. It’s his turn to host. I’ll take an extra day there, catch up on some reading, but I’ll probably only see him for an hour or two here and there. Then it’s back-to-back interviews and appearances and events straight through Dichotomy Day.”

“So there’s no time for the two of you to cuddle a rock baby.”

“No. I mean … unless he fills in for Hisoka-sensei for the holidays. He’d be sacrificing a few days of sleep, but he’d be a good choice. Americans are in so love with dragons right now.” She shook her head. “It’s still small snatches, though. Even if I can get our schedules to mesh, it’s not as if we can carry one of these babies away from here.”

“Argent would never allow it.”

Rhomiko hummed a few notes, then suddenly said, “Carry them. Yes. They want to be carried.”

“Really?” Papka left their huddle to heft one of the chrysalises. “So you have been feeling left out. Up you come, there’s a brave little love.”

Isla covered a smile.

He admitted, “If they need to snug up to someone, I’ll certainly volunteer. Perhaps they need access? Something like cosseting. We could create an atmosphere that fosters peace and maturation.” With a soft grunt, he added, “You’re a bit heavy. Toting you around all the time will throw off my balance.”

“Tell that to Mum!”

“Oh, I’ll get no sympathy from that quarter.” And to the baby rock imp, he affected Mum’s brusque kindness. “What is hard is good, yes?”

“Isla Ward.” Rhomiko spoke slowly, softly. “You must learn your part in the song.”

She didn’t like being told what to do, especially by someone who didn’t know anything about her. And it was ten times worse when that person was preening about knowing something she didn’t. “I have a place,” she asserted. “I know my part.”

“Isla Ward,” Rhomiko repeated. “You cannot learn another’s lyric.”

She grimaced. “Look, I know stars are meant to be oracles or good omens or something. At least that’s how it is in stories. But could you drop the affectation and say what you mean plainly.”

“The words are not my own.”

“Surely you’re capable of paraphrase.”

“Certainly. I have already translated the song into a language you know.”

“Interpretation, then,” she muttered, pulling free and standing apart.

Rhomiko slowly inclined their head, then spoke with surprising authority. “Hisoka was never meant for you.”

Isla shot a look at Papka, who showed no sign of having heard. “That’s not for you to say.”

Rhomiko solemnly repeated, “The words are not my own.”

“So you can’t speak for yourself?” she challenged, suddenly keenly aware that she was in the same room as her two greatest rivals for Hisoka-sensei’s time and attention.

“I can.”

“And …?” she prompted, ready with a thousand counter arguments.

Voice low with urgency, Rhomiko said, “Hisoka will never call you to his side.”

Isla turned on her heel and walked out.