Amaranthine understand about faith? Aunt Tsumiko would have called it hope in unseen things. And it was silly not to believe in imps. She’d chatted with Zisa every day since their arrival, and he was technically an Impression. But saying as much would give away who she was. Something else worried her, though. “You think Rifflet might be an imp?”
“Ah.” Yulin presented a fingertip for Rifflet’s inspection. “I cannot think of a more plausible explanation as to why I have never heard of this creature.”
Lilya said, “He may have come from somewhere far away.”
“I may not be well-traveled, but I am exceptionally well-read.” Yulin’s eyes danced with interest. “Which means your Rifflet is either an imp, a clan secret, or … both.”
“Could he be Kith?” she asked.
“Unlikely,” said Glint. “Our Kith always look the same as we do in truest form, but this little one only bears a passing resemblance to members of the dragon clans.”
“And Kith are sentient,” added Yulin. “They have a voice.”
Lilya decided to speak up. “Rifflet has a voice.”
“You heard something?” Glint came over, bending down to study their mystery critter. “I hear nothing.”
“Would we?” posed Yulin. “Rifflet is neither a dog nor a moth.”
“But why would Angel hear a voice.”
“She could belong to one of the attuned classifications—candor, fellow, reach. Rare, but not without precedence. The trait does crop up from time to time in most bloodlines.” Yulin shrugged. “Or it could be an impish or ephemeral quirk, making Rifflet himself the cause.”
“Which brings us back around to our original plan. Where is that young dragon who has been … err … here?”
Glint’s abrupt self-censoring made Lilya feel a little better about keeping her own secrets.
“Out of contact, for the moment. I can arrange for them to meet tomorrow.”
“Could we do that here?” Glint bargained. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
Yulin clasped his hands together, giving a significant look to the piles of paperwork. “Are you certain you have the time? Dichotomy Day is near and nearer.”
“We do not often see new things,” protested Glint.
Inclining his head, Yulin conceded. “Perhaps if you made significant headway tonight …?”
Sensing an end to her visit, Lilya raised her hand. “May I have the flowers and leaves I collected for Mum?”
Glint straightened and patted his pocket, bringing out the small journal. “Nearly forgot,” he muttered. “What would make these safe to travel?”
Yulin jumped in. “Allow me.”
He located a box with delicate slips of paper, thin and veined with copper threads. He showed Lilya how to fold them into a protective sleeve. Each of her specimens was carefully preserved, then bundled into an envelope he created from a fold of heavy paper.
“If you plan to collect more over the summer, I can show you how to make a press,” Yulin offered. “Perhaps tomorrow.”
“You’ll be here tomorrow?” she asked.
His laugh rustled pleasantly. “How could I resist? We do not often see new things.”
Lilya riffled through Glint’s journal, making certain she hadn’t left any of her botanicals behind. Again, the names and charts caught her attention, and she slowed to read.
“Hoping to find a good match?” Yulin asked mildly.
“Not today.” She closed the book and offered it to him. “Are all these charts part of your job, too?”
“No, no.” With a wave to the walls and piles, Yulin said, “This is Glint’s labor of love. My own affections bind me to the headman.”
He must mean Mikoto.
Glint snorted. “You cannot deny an interest, Yulin. You have been hovering like the proverbial moth to a flame these past weeks, all because the current headman is at that age, and more than half of these piles are offers for him.”
“We are all interested in his future. And who will share it.”
Lilya was curious. “You’re going to arrange his marriage?”
“Not … precisely.” Glint rubbed at the back of his neck. “I do try to bring strong bloodlines together. Usually indirectly. Our summer courses have exceptionally high standards. For those wanting a match, there are no poor choices.”
She walked over to one of the trees on the wall. “Did you make this match?” she asked, tracing a green thread to another chart farther along. “Did you decide they should meet?”
“Yes.” Glint patiently explained, “This young man wished to leave home and see new things. His academic mentors agreed that his aptitudes and interests would make him an excellent addition to the isolated enclave that this young lady calls home. When I sent them a progeny projection, they agreed to meet, even though neither can