Jo followed. A little further out than Jay, so he could keep sight of who he thought was Suzé not only complete the crossing but launch into what could only be a jog.

“What is she playing at?” Jay snapped. “I’m not built for this.”

“Running,” said Jo, stopping himself from down as the figure seemed to recede rather than get closer. “If she gets across the road, we’ll lose her.”

“I so want to say something,” Jay growled, bandana tails like triple pennants as he sprung the full width of Miss K Avenue. “I wish I could pull the apple from the waist down trick.”

Glancing to his left, Jo veered out onto the road. If Suzé was going to slip away at the top, at least he would have a better view of which of the following exits she ran into. Although he had to continue almost to the other side in case a carriage materialised on the lane that he was running upon. Only he wasn’t expecting the figure to take off across Ullista Road at almost the same time as himself and appear to be slowing down at the same time. So abruptly that Jay ran past the point that they had veered across and almost reached the next, and last, avenue on this stretch by the name of Silver Queen.

In fact, Jo had to blink twice to see if the figure had not reached the corner on his present side. Then blink again at the unmistakable sight of Suzé; statue-still, and not far from a twin-pillared road sign.

“It is you,” he said, decelerating.

“Who else would it be?” Suzé yawned, and not even with a hint of laboured breath.

“That’s for when we’re not in ear-shot of this bunch,” said Jo, glancing at the tree-flunked houses on the other side of the road.

“He thought you were some chap who turned off into one of the streets earlier,” said Jay, reaching the pavement and placing hands on knees. “Although before he explains that, I want to know why you had us running like we were practicing the ten-second dash.”

“Got you up here though,” Suzé smiled.

“I am not built for this time of night,” said Jay. “Nor charging up here because you want us to move faster.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Hang on a minute,” said Jo. “Why did you stop?”

“To prove a point and make us look like midnight jesters,” said Jay. “I could so turn round and go home right now.”

“And throw it all away at the last moment? That’s very becoming of you, Sonnet.”

“What’s with the poetry too?” said Jo. “You could have stopped on the corner further up, or gone right past it. So why here?”

“Probably tired in the head from thinking up ways to get inside of ours and making this a night I want to end,” Jay groaned, walking over to a gatepost; slamming both hands against it; then pulling them back as if they had touched an oven.

“Ouch - can’t even hit stone without hurting myself,” he growled.

“Would you be as welcoming if someone came up to you and went for it with both fists?” Suzé asked.

“You speak as if it’s a person,” said Jo. “There’s the odd tale about animated trees, but stone?”

“Why don’t you touch it and find out,” Suzé said, stepping away from the gate that led to a path of trees and matching undergrowth. He hadn’t realised it before, but the post next to him may as well have been a giant. Even the neck part was above his head and made the waist-high ones near Orion, Nimbus and Elizabeth Y. Avenues look like children.

“And be nursing my hands like our comrade, no thanks,” he said, at last, taking in the point that if the post had been an archway, he could have walked through it.

“He struck it,” said Suzé, “You are gently placing a hand on an emblem.”

Jo frowned at Suzé, then spied a carving at the same level as his chest. A sunburst, if anything, with an inner set of rays that formed a second circle and an outer ring that may as well have been stars. Just about the only decoration on the post save for the lattice or scrollwork upon the neck portion where it joined the considerable head or summit.

“It won’t bite,” said Suzé.

“I’m going back myself if it does,” Jo said, closing his eyes and placing a palm upon the raised surface of the motif. Cool, and not grainy from decades of wear.

“Has it taken a finger?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Not been enough time,” said Jo, raising one eyelid and not being met by a grinning face or a luminous yellow post. But on no account should his chest - no, that - be lifting an eyelid.

“I don’t like this.”

“What’s happened?”

“It’s as if something that shouldn’t be there, has woken up.”

“The stone?”

“…Within…” Jo gasped, pointing at his chest with his free hand. “I don’t… like it.”

“You think I’m into it,” Jay’s voice came from the further side of Suzé. “Stood on a roadside in the middle of the night touching a gatepost.”

Suzé was going to have a comeback for that, Jo braced. Either regarding her being the night-time nursery leader or letting it flow past her like a missed shower of water. Only the reply didn’t come. Blinking, he turned to Suzé to be met by a full burst of sunlight and overhead birdsong; plus the solar warmth associated with removing a jacket.

Then again, the gentle breeze along the length of the wall seemed to soothe that. A wall, not with peeking thickets and overhung trees, but chest-high and with azure butterflies dancing along it. Revealing star-speckled lawns flowing away into the distance; with a matching tree-lined drive leading from the grand-pillared and pinnacle gate to a pinnacled, navy and indigo-rooved and dove alabaster-walled house. A house complete with weathercocks like radiant suns, its navy and white echoed in the robes and solar gold in the hair of the woman stood near the Gatehouse looking back at–

Bird chime - no - bell chime. Clear as if the hand of a clock within had just reached the hour. Abrupt as if a stream had just been released from the confines of a dam. Coursing from within, along his arm, through his hand, and into the –

He blinked again. To be met by a gatepost crafted from flowing starlight. Surface translucent. Touch warm. The motif still raised, but it’s core now traced in what could only be internal moonlight. Much like the twin lines flowing from his fingers and hand back to his arm and –

“What in all the Patchwork-” he gasped, pulling his hand away from the post but still seeing the unmistakable lines of light. “It’s still on me.”

“Rather, you’re still on it,” came the almost welcome voice of Suzé, coupled with an angled hand. He turned back to the radiant pillar to be met with the lunar outlined motif and more decorations above and below. Three stars, more like diamonds, heading earthwards whilst skyward from the sunflower symbol rose a word, a numeral, and a crescent moon; almost as radiant as its celestial namesake on a clear night.

“Seven,” he exhaled, knowing the equally radiant numeral with the Grand V followed by two vertical strokes without having to look twice. Plus the word below decorated with a shade of glacial blue, yet for a second had a tint of rose. “Song.”

“Six…” Jay whispered, his own hand and arm decorated with parallel flows of light. “…Sonnet…”

“Song and Sonnet,” said Suzé.

“But why the moon crest on his and I’ve got the sun?”

“Need I repeat the verse spoken on the day of your investiture?”

“How could I forget,” said Jo, mind flickering back to the time before he had a ‘legacy’:

“The Arms of Time a Pair of

the Sixfold shall wield:

One of the Moon;

The Other of the Sun.”

“Sounds Lion and Unicornish to me,” said Jay.

“You might be onto something there,” said Suzé. “Lynnette was known as the Lunar Unicorn whilst they gave Adelicia the title of the Solar Lion.”

Jo stared at the Crescent. Lynnette Louisa Jones, or “Lynette” or short. The First ‘Song’ and the reason his full code name was Jones. Although Patchwork knew what she and the First Sonnet - Kiera Adelicia James - would have made of their latest inheritors.

“I’m more of a tiger fan myself,” said Jay. “The white ones with the chocolate stripes. Or even the kind that are supposed to be blue.”

“Jury’s out on unicorns,” Jo added, mind flicking back to the tapestry his father had been trying to restore for half a decade.

“But now if any of the other Houses ‘happen’ to come this way; they will find that the Lion and Unicorn - or Song and Sonnet - are reclaiming their lost territories,” Suzé continued.

“Them and everyone not asleep on the other side of the road,” said Jo.

“Feel like I’m some sort of tomcat or bear,” said Jay.

“Cat’s on the right line,” said Suzé. “Bear might belong to a different house…”

“As long as it’s not a tarantula. I couldn’t handle it at the moment.”

“You wanted a sword called Tarantula,” said Jo, “more or less had one for three unforgettable weeks.”

“I wanted a gharial but it couldn’t stay in the house.”

“Gharial?” Jo repeated. “What in all Mirrininnies is a Gharial?”

“I could say the same what Mirri-what’s-it- hang on,” Jay said, looking around. “Where’s Suzé?”

“Right behind you,” Suzé yawned as Jay leapt into Jo, who just missed the gate in his own evade-sprint. “Ready to go?”

“You’re telling me that’s it?” said Jo, pointing at the still glowing posts. “They don’t - go off?”

“They’ll quieten down in an hour or so.”

“An hour?” said Jay, rubbing an arm. “People will be taking nocturnal self-fishes.”

Jo and Suzé both looked at Jay.