Treasured Gifts

Argent laced the walls of the meetinghouse belonging to Stately House’s sedge of cranes. After the drenching of his receiving room by the eldermost storms, Randolla had volunteered the hut, which stood upon stilts above the marsh his family had created by damming a creek.

It was a picturesque spot, near enough the forest to be partially in its shadow, far enough from the other cranes’ homes to give a sense of seclusion. But more importantly, the highly-polished wood floors, hinged storm shutters, and thatched roof had been built with monsoons in mind. The high-ceilinged room was a traditional design, according to Randolla. A welcome port for three storms. And for the son who knelt before Argent, head bowed, as if awaiting judgment.

Juuyu asked, “May I see?”

Kyrie’s gaze swung to Anan, who slouched moodily at his side.

“Why should we listen to this person? Who is he?”

Even though they’d gone through all the formalities already, Kyrie answered patiently. “Juuyu is a tribute of the Farroost clan. A skilled phoenix who is part of an elite taskforce. He has an imp’s blessing because his bondmate’s sister is a tree. Juuyu watches over one of the hidden groves.” In a subtly sterner tone, Kyrie added, “You should be more grateful. He brought the Junzi.”

“That’s what he says, but where are they?”

“Close,” Argent smoothly assured. “Now … if you would be so good?”

Anan grumbled like distant thunder, and Kyrie flashed him a radiant smile before presenting his palms. Juuyu warbled a soothing cadence before approaching. Movements slow, he knelt before Kyrie and took his hands, carefully smoothing his thumbs over marks that Argent had confirmed earlier.

Argent did not fully trust this eldermost storm. Even less did he like that two more had holed up inside his son, sapping his strength to add to their own. Like parasites.

But Juuyu had closely observed Mikoto Reaver, whose bond with another of these storms had spun itself into a love story. The phoenix thought symbiosis a better term. A relationship of give-and-take, not unlike the bond Argent shared with Tsumiko. Or that of a tree and their twin.

Argent thought Kyrie much too young for such a bond.

Tsumiko had gently pointed out that Mikoto had been even younger when Tzefira had first favored him. And that she’d gone on to save his life. And later helped to emancipate every crosser they’d carried from Kodoku’s clinic.

Nobility had probably been Tsumiko’s point, but Argent erred on the side of power. If Anan, Dima, and Haizea were a safeguard on Kyrie’s life, Argent might permit them to linger. But he was still wary. The good behavior of one wind imp didn’t guarantee the cooperation of another any more than the treachery of one dragon should damn the rest.

“Your marks shine,” Juuyu murmured, his gaze lifting to Anan’s.

“I noticed.” The imp testily admitted, “They are brighter than when bestowed.”

Juuyu blinked. Blinked again. “Kyrie, are you doing something?”

“I do not want them to fade. So I have been … encouraging them.” He folded his hands over his heart. “Gifts should be treasured. Is that not so?”

Argent blandly opined, “I do not think your imp expected to be loved.”

Kyrie cast a sidelong look in Anan’s direction. “I do not think he minds.”

“Who would know better than one’s bonded?” asked Juuyu. It wasn’t a question.

The air crackled with the promise of a squall, but Kyrie went to set his small hand on Anan’s arm and calmly inquired, “Is he wrong?”

“He presumes too far.”

“Should he call you my friend instead?”

“Now you presume too far, little terror.”

Argent thought the imp protested overmuch for one who’d given Kyrie a startlingly perceptive endearment.

Juuyu tutted at the both of them and carried on. “I know stories of Dima and Haizea and Tzefira. Anan as well. There is little doubt that these winds are Bethiel’s former companions.”

“Little doubt?” echoed Anan in mocking tones.

“No doubt.” Juuyu’s hands formed a plea for peace. “I consider our meeting an honor, and I make myself available to help the four of you find your balance.”

“I thought you were meant to be arming us. Against dragons.”

Kyrie slipped then, using touches of sway. “Not until you make peace with Opal.”

Anan snorted. “Why should I?”

“He is an ally. We cannot do without him.” The boy tipped his head to one side. “Have you forgotten that he will ask Bethiel to come and mediate between us?”

“Maybe I do not need anyone else meddling.”

“Maybe you miss your friend.”

“Would a friend abandon us for so long?”

“Can anyone go against songs or stars or sovereigns?” Kyrie boldly said, “I was meant to find you. If your friend had meddled sooner, we might never have met. Is this not a good outcome?”

“Is it?” Anan grabbed Kyrie by the scruff of his tunic and dragged him out of Juuyu’s reach. “I have yet to see any of the promised outcomes.”

Argent caught Juuyu’s eye and asked, “Well?”

“These good imps cannot use the Junzi unless they descend, and they will not descend except to claim one of the Junzi.” With a graceful flutter of fingers, Juuyu said, “Invite them here. Reveal their prize. Await their decision.”

Having amassed a great deal of respect for Juuyu Farroost, Argent inclined his head and waved a hand, banishing sigils and revealing a long leather case propped like a broom in the corner. Also a squat case like those musicians used, its hard sides plastered with stickers. And a lacquered box with golden latches, its glossy length bound by crisscrossing red ribbons. And finally, a relatively small circular case that looked very much like an antique hatbox covered in lavender brocade.

Argent said, “Thanks to Juuyu’s preparations, the Junzi made the journey safely. You may assure yourself, Anan Eldermost. I would not want there to be any doubts to their authenticity either.”

“Ohhh. Oh, my. This is my first time meeting them!” exclaimed Kyrie, who crawled across the floor. He caressed the cylindrical carrier, then lightly tapped the ribbon-bound box, as if unsure which gift to open first.

But then he hurried to the long leather case, laid it on the floor, and unzipped it. The Bamboo Stave, a flute shaped from green crystal, glittered against thick black padding. Lightly touching its silver fittings, Kyrie warbled softly to the thing, then lifted it with both hands. Eyes alight, he carried it to Anan and presented it.

“I needed help to do so, but I have kept my promise, Anan.”

“You’ll just give it to me?”

“I think it was always meant for you. The resonance is right. Can you tell?” Kyrie pushed the instrument against Anan’s chest, forcing the imp into contact. “I think the stone remembers you.”

Anan claimed the ancient weapon, but he muttered, “I don’t even know how to play.”

“We can ask Opal for lessons.”

“I would sooner clout the blaggard with the Chrysanthemum Blaze.”

Juuyu warbled a soothing cadence. “I would like to hear more about this meeting he is arranging. Do you truly expect a visitation from Bethiel?”

Kyrie hesitated. “I do not think it would be so formal. An old friend will be dropping by. Unofficially.”

Argent was entirely proud. Or perhaps a more accurate term was … impressed.

But every vestige of maturity vanished when the boy hurried to open the stickered case, then fluted over the Orchid Saddle like it was a kitten. Kyrie was—quite predictably—in love with the pale lavender stone, and his storm looked vexed to have lost his attention.

“All four Junzi, three storms, and an angelic … ahh. An old friend dropping by,” said Juuyu. “It is as the children have been saying for weeks. The song is still culminating.”

“Yes. I do not think it is over.” And with bland amusement, Argent inquired, “Would you agree, Sibley?”

The boy was uncommonly good at hiding in plain sight, no doubt an upshot of his clandestine forays through Dr. Kodoku’s lab. Yet again, Argent was impressed.

Sibley stepped into notice.

Kyrie tensed. “What is it?”

“Nothing bad. Nonny sent me over.” From the back pocket of his jeans, Sibley produced a phone, poked at its screen, then proffered it. “It’s for you.”