Gifts of Peace

Ginkgo tried to gauge how much Kyrie needed him. At nearly thirteen, his younger brother was plenty mature, but that’d never stopped anyone from needing a hug. However, the boy’s gaze was calm as he indicated that Ginkgo should precede him to the beach. Times like this, Kyrie really resembled Dad. Maybe more than Ginkgo ever would. Honestly, it was pretty cute.

Scooping up Sibley, who definitely needed as many hugs as they could sneak in, Ginkgo caught Deece’s eye. “Bring kindling?” he asked.

Deece signaled his support.

So Ginkgo jumped to the top of the wall and jogged along it, aiming for the stairs that clung to the cliff face. “Is our brother following?”

Sibley looked startled, then stunned. Brotherhood was taking some getting used to, but only because the kid seemed worried that it was too good to be true.

“He’s walking slow, but yeah. Kyrie’s on his way.”

“Good. We could use the head start.” When Ginkgo skipped a few dozen stairs on his first jump, Sibley throttled him. Landing in a crouch, he checked, “You okay, little bro?”

Eyes wide, he asked, “Can you fly?”

“Nope. But I’m fast and … kind of bouncy, I guess. Like it?”

Sibley mumbled, “Just wasn’t ready for it, is all. Do it again?”

“Anytime you want,” he promised, vaulting over the next rail into another giddying plunge.

He was absolutely positive that Sibley was hiding his face to cover his smile. Cute clearly ran in the family.

On the beach, they walked side-by-side past the lineup of festival booths toward Ginkgo’s driftwood pile. “We’ll dig up this way, far enough from the water that the tide won’t be a problem. Actually, the storm might kick up some waves, too, so let’s hug the cliff.”

They dug together, creating a shallow pit, and Gingko showed him where he stashed a pile of blackened stones that the swim club used for ringing fires.

“Looks like the wolves are satisfied.” He nodded to where Ninook and the rest were breaking formation. “The barrier’s back in place. What do you think? Seem good?”

Sibley asked, “Wouldn’t you know better than me?”

“You’d think so. I have access to more sigilcraft than you can see, and I didn’t notice anything. But you’re a dragon crosser with a whole different set of experiences. You know what we’re up against better than most, and you might be sensitive to a clansman if he happened to be nearby.”

“You think I can help?”

“I know you can.” Ginkgo sat in the sandy bowl they’d been creating. “I’ll be asking Kyrie the same thing.”

Sibley nodded once, scrutinized the sky and sea, then shrugged. “I don’t see nothing, and I don’t feel them.”

“You can feel … what?”

“Those foxes.”

“The vixens?”

“Yeah.” Sibley shrugged again. “They were hard to spot, but I could always feel their eyes on me. I got good at getting around them. It was the only way to avoid the meanness.”

Ginkgo asked, “What kind of meanness?” It was so hard to get any of the children to talk about the things that had happened. But Sibley had a way of jumping in and speaking up, letting them know about everything from food allergies to bed wetting.

“Different things,” he said vaguely. “Lots of nasty smiles. And being all glad that they’d tricked you in the first place.”

“They’re the ones who kidnapped you?”

“Me, yeah. And about half of the others.” Sibley went back to shoving sand. “The rest were born there. Kodoku liked making strange matches.”

“You’re here now.”

“Yeah. This is a good place.”

“Let’s keep it that way. Let me know if you see any problems, and I’ll step in.”

Sibley’s looked at him sharpish. “There’s people here you don’t trust?”

“No, not at all. But … what if it turns out that one of our little sisters is afraid of bears. Or what if a little brother needs to eat more than he’s taking? I’d want to know, and I’d be glad if they told me. But maybe they don’t trust me enough yet.” Ginkgo dropped another rock into place. “They trust you, Sibley.”

“Well, yeah.”

“So help me help our family.”

“I can do that, yeah.”

Deece arrived with reinforcements. Gilen and Jarrah and Sho each carried an armload of kindling. The boys picked through the driftwood pile, and Deece oversaw the fire-lighting while Ginkgo backtracked to the water’s edge where Kyrie stood apart, looking out to sea.

Boon crouched just beyond the range of the thundercloud, the picture of patience despite everything.

A fine drizzle had turned Kyrie’s hair lank, but he had a secretive smile, like something was turning out even better than he’d hoped.

Ginkgo ignored the rain in order to hug his brother. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna need to start at the beginning for me. Eventually. More importantly, you did great, letting us know what was important. But I’d still appreciate hearing everything from the start.”

Kyrie said, “For that, Opal will need to go first.”

“Want me to find him?”

His brother’s gaze drifted to one side. “He is already here.”

“Yes, yes. I am here,” the dragon bard announced. “To be thanked or blamed, whichever you deem best.”

Kyrie asked, “Why do my winds consider you their enemy?”

“It is a long story.”

“I do want the whole story, but for now … what is the most important thing?”

Opal shivered in the winds preceding Dima. “I am the one who lured and sealed the Changing Winds. Their captivity was my doing.”

Ginkgo really wished Dad was home. “Okay, that’s a lot, but I’d like a little more detail. Why would you do that?”

“It has to do with the Junzi and their remnant songs. I don’t suppose you ever heard of them?”

“Yeah.” Ginkgo traded a look with Boon. “As it happens, I’m pretty familiar.”

“The crafters who created them did so by listening to the songs of stars. I was there—helping refine their purpose, helping test their strength, helping shape their lore. I always did work closely with reavers, especially battlers.” With a sidelong look at Kyrie, he added, “Especially ambuscades. Anna Green—now Lady Starmark—is my most recent association. She is descended from the first to wield the Bamboo Stave.”

Kyrie asked, “What do the Junzi have to do with the Changing Winds?”

“They are meant to wield them. Or that was my interpretation. Zeri disagreed at the time, but I could not in good conscience ignore what I felt was my duty. The current confluence suggests that I was either correct or, at the very least, I forced this outcome.”

Ginkgo could tell details were getting away from them, but he wanted to see where this was headed before backtracking. “Can you be more specific? What outcome are you talking about?”

Opal fluttered his fingers at Kyrie. “You summoned the Four Storms.”

“I only brought three, but I have met the fourth. She is very nice.” To Ginkgo’s amusement, his brother paused, then spoke with his voice pitched for his passengers. “I was there for her descent and for her wedding. Tzefira is well and happy.”

Boon casually lifted a hand. “This is the first I’ve heard of anyone but reavers wielding the Four Storms.”

Opal said, “They were gifts of peace, initially given to reavers. But they were always meant to be entrusted to imps, should any be found. The Changing Winds were ideal for the job: companions of stars, shepherds of winds, tuners of stones. If ever an Amaranthine—especially a dragon—succumbed to the allure of the shine newly born in the descendants of wind and tree and sea, then the Four Storms would take up their weapons.”

Kyrie announced, “There is such a dragon.”

“Alas, the Junzi were lost.”

“Yeah, about that,” said Ginkgo. “We have them. Well, we know where they all are. And we could probably get them here pretty quick, if necessary.”

Opulence Windlore gasped softly, then teared up. Finally he whispered, “Fandriel’s foresight, I was right.”

Kyrie took a step closer to the dragon bard. “I want to know—we want to know—how is any wind, even an eldermost storm, supposed to hold a weapon?”

“It’s no small matter, and yet … simplicity itself.” Opal twirled a finger at the ominous cloud over Kyrie’s head. “They will have to descend.”