our arrangement?”
“Is that usual?”
“Common enough, and quite useful in our case.” With a faint smirk, he said, “I recommend Hannick Alpenglow.”
Ginkgo recognized the name. “One of the other founders? Why him?”
“I really couldn’t say.” Salali casually scanned their surroundings. “But as my apprentice, you’ll gain access to the kinds of places I go. Which will undoubtedly please Lord Mettlebright, should you discretely pass along certain details.”
He wasn’t going to turn down that kind of help. “Want me to call you sensei?”
Salali tweaked his nose, then pulled something from behind one of Ginkgo’s ears, presenting it with a wink. “Wear this at all times.”
“Is this so you can keep tabs on me?”
Salali snorted again.
A necklace. Holding it up toward the moon’s light, Ginkgo recognized it for the treasure it was. The crystal was nearly colorless, with a faint seam of green at its heart. Slipping the heavy chain over his head, he studied the sigils etched deeply into the stone’s surface. “This is to keep me safe?”
“You’re my responsibility, now.” Salali solemnly asked, “May I place a sigil on you?”
What to say? Trust for trust was a good way to begin. But he knew better than most that it could lead to betrayal, capture, and enslavement. Voice catching, Ginkgo asked, “What for?”
“You can’t learn from my sigilcraft if you can’t see my sigils.” Salali showed his palms. “I intend to open your eyes. We can wait for Hannick if you have reservations.”
Ginkgo gave a small shake of his head. “Where do you want it?”
With an approving little chirr, Salali playfully asked, “Are your feet ticklish?”
It took a few minutes for the squirrel clansman to complete the intricate pattern on Ginkgo’s heel, but the moment it took, Ginkgo’s view of the world changed.
Sigils wheeled at regular intervals overhead.
Networks of hidden crystals sparked with inner light.
Nocturnal varieties of Ephemera swirled into view.
Barriers fizzed at trailheads, limiting choices.
And as he slowly adjusted to the dizzying array of new information, Ginkgo noticed a pattern. The surrounding trees bore a softly gleaming mark. Finding the silvery sigil on the tree in which they’d stopped, he looked to Salali in disbelief. “You named them? All of them?”
A modest shrug. A faint smirk. “I’m a squirrel. I spend a lot of time in trees.”
Ginkgo found Waaseyaa dozing in a rocker, Gregor sprawled on his chest. “Was he fussing?”
Zisa laughed quietly. “Brother has always kept his children close. He knows no other way.”
Lifting the contented toddler to his own shoulder, Ginkgo nudged Waaseyaa. “Get along to bed, old man.”
Waaseyaa smiled sleepily. “Welcome back.”
“Good to be. Thanks for this.”
“Anytime.”
As the man eased from the chair and stretched, Zisa swooped in, getting a shoulder under Waaseyaa’s arm. “Bed, bed, bed,” crooned the tree. “I will tuck you in.”
Waaseyaa chuckled and allowed himself to be led away. “You do not need to fuss.”
“I know no other way,” retorted his twin.
Ginkgo slowly swayed his way toward the guest room, but an unexpected sound set his ears quivering.
A moan? Almost a howl.
Without stopping to put Gregor to bed, Ginkgo hurried back outside and paused to orient himself. He squinted against the dazzle of sigilcraft that kept Zisa’s existence under wraps. It was going to take a while to get used to all the extra stuff revealed by Salali’s mark on his sole.
“That wasn’t there before,” he muttered, making his way to a shed on the far side of the tree. It must have been, of course. Probably for a century or more, judging by the vines. But Salali must have hidden it from view for some reason.
Another halfhearted moan set his hairs on end.
He tried the door. Not locked.
Ginkgo’s ears flattened against a whimper that turned to soft keening. Had this been going on every night? Or worse, day and night? Why would anyone sequester an animal here?
Opening his mouth, he tasted the air, which was close from being closed up. Wolf. Well, probably a dog, given the locale. Not injured, but not happy. The scents finally matched a memory, and he adjusted his hold on Gregor as he hustled to help.
Planting a hand on the rail of a pen, he launched over, landing lightly in the straw beside a large white Kith who was crying in her sleep.
“Hey, lady, what’s the matter?” He crouched to rest his free hand atop her head. “Wake up, now. It’s only a dream.”
He rattled on until she finally roused, her whimpers cutting off with a snarl.
When she lifted her head to bare her teeth, he ducked low