Genesis

Tsumiko rocked slowly, calm despite the shocking truths Opal was spinning out. “None of the books in my current collection mention Dima by name. I had no idea that the Changing Winds had such a large role to play in human history. Or … should I say shared history?”

“Dima predates the Amaranthine people. Impressions mostly do. Not always, mind you. We do see bright new lives adding spark and spice to the world at intervals. Baby stars are especially sweet.” With a teasing glance at the child huddled against his chest, he added, “Usually.”

Twosies made a face.

Opal smiled benignly.

From Tsumiko’s lap, Try contributed a soft giggle.

Tsumiko was touched that Twosies had decided that his official tour of Stately House should start with the naproom. Or more specifically, with her. Try had taken one look and loved her. Not because she was a beacon, but because she somehow knew that Tsumiko was also a tree’s daughter.

Twosies was the surprising one, boldly taking comfort from the same sort of Amaranthine who’d made his young life a misery. But Opal had starry acquaintances and starry stories and knew more than a few starry songs, which added up to one little boy’s fascination.

Opal asked, “What resources have you gathered?”

“The Tellridge Scriptures, the Chronicles of Fynwen, and the Petalwaft Papers. As well as some anecdotal stories that Josheb Dare confided once he realized that my interests included the genesis of the Amaranthine people.”

“While the Amaranthine do mingle with imps, we do not have the same nature. Rather, we have a part in the balance. It is said that the Maker wanted to be able to converse with his creation, and so the Impressions came to be. Which was good, for the Maker’s friendship with the world inspired the addition of humanity.”

Tsumiko had read as much. “That was humanity’s genesis, but why were Amaranthine added to the world? The only references I could find were so oblique, they barely qualify as accounts.”

“The mystery isn’t one. All of the eldermost remember where they came from. And why.”

Something in Opal’s tone invited more, so Tsumiko asked, “Are you one of the eldermost?”

“As it happens … I am.”

“Would you be willing to unravel this non-mystery for me?”

“I am a bard, Lady Mettlebright. Telling stories is what I do.” And with a rueful smile, he lowered his gaze and began. “In the aftermath of Dima’s destruction, all were told, ‘be fruitful and multiply,’ man and animal alike. And so the Widelands flourished anew. One season to the next, one generation to the next, new lives sparked and spread. Territories were reclaimed. Cities were founded. People were scattered.”

“Babel,” Tsumiko murmured.

Opal inclined his head. “As you may recall, authority was given to humans over the animals. There were those who took this to mean stewardship. Flocks flourished. Boundaries were established and protected. But there were those who took the Maker’s intention and twisted it. Dominion became an excuse for hunts, nay for slaughter. Many sought to be named among the mightiest of hunters.”

Tsumiko blinked. “There’s one oblique reference. Nimrod?”

“Just so.” Opal shook his head. “In a few decades, many species of the animals that Noah had preserved upon his ark were in danger of extinction. Hunted out of existence by men and women whose only goal was acclaim. Saddened by this state of affairs, the Maker stepped in once more. Or so the stories say.”

“Do you know if the stories are true?”

“My dear woman, I penned those stories. I would hardly contradict them.”

“Oh. Oh my goodness. I hadn’t considered that.” Tsumiko searched Opulence Windlore’s eyes with a growing sense of certainty. “You penned your people’s scriptures.”

“Our songs, certainly,” he murmured. “Which are just as revealing, though vastly less prophetic. More anecdote than authority. But … yes. I threw in my lot with chroniclers and story-keepers through the ages. There are things that should not be forgotten.”

“Like the first Emergence of the clans.” She couldn’t help plying for more. “Do all of you remember where you came from?”

“Certainly. Though none of us liked the Maker’s mercy. At first.” Opal’s eyes took on a shine. “You might be interested to know that our genesis explains—at least in part—one of your lesser mysteries. Why crossers are even possible.”

Tsumiko’s mind leapt to a simple explanation, and she stopped rocking. She bluntly asked, “Why are humans and Amaranthine genetically compatible?”

“Because the Amaranthine were once humans.” With a twist of his wrist, he indicated himself. “For our sins, we were changed.”

Before Tsumiko could think what to ask next, Kyrie burst in.

“Mother!” He held up a phone, his face alight with happiness. “He has arrived!”

Anan skulked in after Kyrie, and he glowered silently at Opal.

The dragon beamed. “Ah, reunions. So fraught with meaning … emotion … potential.”

Tsumiko thought perhaps Opal was referring to the leather case now slung across Anan’s back. Argent had shown her the Junzi before they could be scattered to the winds. Lovely as the crystal masterpieces were, none had resonated with her, which was just as well. If one had, Argent might have decided to keep it.

“Mother,” Kyrie tried again. He’d composed himself, but excitement still sparkled in his eyes. “Will you come to the kitchen, please? That is where I asked Grandfather to bring him.”

If her father and her son were conspiring, the results could only be good.

With murmured excuses, she left Try with Opal, who changed the course of his tale-telling to a story about a tree, a star, and the foundling they raised together.

In the kitchen hall, they met Nonny, and Kyrie asked, “Bring Jacques?”

“Headed there now,” he assured.

“Keep it a surprise?” Kyrie begged.

“Think that’s wise?”

“Yes. They’ll both have their guard down, and that is better for honesty.”

“Right, then! Mum’s the word.” Nonny spared her a wink before trotting off to find his mentor.

They arrived in the kitchen just as a gust of cold air scattered red flower petals across the floor. Haji-oji had a wolf on each arm, acting as porters for all of their guest’s baggage. Said guestwas currently being smothered by Sonnet, but he turned toward the gate guards to say, “Terribly sorry about the excess. Is that all of them? Thank you Ninook, Boon. I couldn’t have managed without–”

“Uncle Boniface!”

The man left off, twisting around at Kyrie’s glad cry.

Sonnet turned him loose just in time for Boniface Smythe to enfold his oncoming nephew within his snow-dusted cloak. “Good lord, are you actually glad to see me?” And catching Tsumiko’s gaze, he doffed a holly-sprigged hat and murmured, “Lady Mettlebright.”

Then a voice came carrying along the hall at her back, and everyone took a breath. And held it.

“Lord, are you sure? I can’t be imagining it.” And Jacques preceded Nonny into the kitchen, already saying, “Sonnet, love, your ears are better than mine. There’s a … sort of … ringing …? Oh, damn.”

Sonnet tutted.

“Beg pardon. Terrible manners.” Jacques took in the general air of festivity surrounding his brother’s arrival and settled on a neutral posture. “Boniface?”

Tsumiko could only wonder at the silent messages passing between the estranged brothers, but then Boniface reset his feet, taking a similarly receptive posture, albeit feline in origin. And when his hands cautiously formed a plea for peace, Jacques looked stunned.

“I was sent for,” Boniface said, snippily defensive. “Argent issued the invitation himself. Well, it was really more of an order. So … here I am.”

All eyes turned to Jacques, who’d taken to frowning.

“I say,” Boniface tried again. “Is that note quite natural? It’s two notes, I think. And getting louder. An alarm? Lord, have I set off an alarm?”

And then Michael burst into the room, his arms wrapped around one of the wardstones. “Boniface! Good to see you again. Welcome back, and all that. Would you just … here, now.” And he thrust the green crystal into Boniface’s arms. “Bear up, there’s a good fellow. Yes, that’s done it. You’re the one they want. Or … one of the ones.”

Jacques covered his mouth with his hand. Probably to keep from swearing in front of the children again.

Michael looked his way. “This is interesting. Did anyone ever mention these to you? The team brought back four.”

Finding his voice, Jacques said, “Hisoka has one.”

“That simplifies matters!” Michael crossed to Jacques, then herded him toward his brother. “I may need to rethink my theories as to the source of a pair’s appeal, but you’re clearly a set.”

Jacques rested his hand on the curve of the chrysalis in his brother’s arms and murmured, “Hello, you. This is a rather pleasant surprise. More of Dayith’s lineage. But, Michael. Isn’t there meant to be a deep-seated, unrequited tendre that sets off the resonance?”

Boniface was looking worried.

Jacques stole his brother’s hat and passed it to Nonny.

Tsumiko moved closer, not wanting to miss any part of this reunion … and not wanting any misunderstandings to mar it. Up close, it was possible to tell that both brothers weren’t sure how to proceed. Boniface was all cautious peeks and colored cheeks, and Jacques grew unusually solemn. That was good. He was taking his brother seriously.

But a shared past could be as much a hurdle as a bridge. And Jacques had confided enough for Tsumiko to know that his family had disapproved of his choices. She dearly wished Argent wasn’t halfway across the property. Should she ask Hajime to fetch him back?

But then Boniface changed his posture again.

Jacques’ eyebrows shot up. “Mon dieu, do you even know what you’re asking?”

“Did I get it wrong?”

“Non, but I doubt you’ll like the answer.”

“Whyyy?” Boniface asked warily.

With that, Jacques seemed to make up his mind. He smiled in his haziest, laziest, flirtiest way, and with an exaggerated sigh, he said, “Lord, if I must. It’s only good manners. If his lordship sent for you, who am I to say you nay? Especially since it would seem that you’re harboring feelings for me.”

“Harboring? Don’t be overly dramatic. Err … Jackie? Bloody hell, Jackie!” exclaimed Boniface. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing I haven’t done before. Take notes. This may come in useful.”

“For what?” he all but squeaked. “I’m not gay!”

“You say that now.” And with a low laugh, Jacques nuzzled his brother in an entirely polite feline welcome.

“Oh. Err … right. I know that one.” And rolling his eyes, Boniface delivered a basic nonverbal rebuff.

Jacques’ smile widened, and he broadly announced, “The hearths of Stately House are many and wide. And Nonny’s currently bent on their greening. Good of you to cast in your lot with us. We shall merry-make and festive-be. But first … where’s Suuzu? He’ll want to know his man has arrived.”