The Enchanted Greenhouse(36)
“Laiken never said what his treasure was that he placed at the heart of his maze,” Lotti said. Her petals tapped the notebook that had been frustrating her. “You said before he could have used a codebook, and I said I never saw one, but just because I never saw one doesn’t mean he didn’t use one. I wasn’t with him all the time, and I … I know I don’t remember everything. Do you think—”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think.” Terlu jumped to her feet. A codebook would explain why she was making so little progress. “Or at least I think we should find out. Yarrow?”
He grunted, but it sounded like a yes.
* * *
The maze, Yarrow said, was his least favorite greenhouse.
“Why?” Lotti asked, bouncing beside him.
Terlu was carrying the winged cat, draped around her shoulders again.
He ticked off the reasons on his golden fingers. “It has no logic. It has no purpose. The plants aren’t unique and don’t service the mission of the greenhouse. And I get lost in it.” He mumbled the final reason.
“You haven’t solved it?” Terlu asked. She had been counting on that.
Yarrow shrugged. “It’s never been necessary. Laiken laid his most elaborate spells on that greenhouse—the plants are spelled to grow on specific paths so they never need to be pruned; the enchanted windows, stove, and fans regulate the temperature without the need for intervention; a spelled stream keeps the plants watered; and the dragons keep the flowers pollinated.”
Terlu halted and gawked at him. “The— How? Why? What?” She pictured the dragons of Ilreka, with their jeweled scales, spiked tails, and sixty-foot wingspans. The wind from their wings alone would shatter the glass of a greenhouse. How could—
“Very tiny dragons.”
She shook her head. “Those don’t exist.”
He shrugged again. “Don’t let Emeral chase them.”
It was a significant walk to the maze, through an apple orchard greenhouse, a citrus grove （with Eanoan oranges!）， and a greenhouse filled with vines in motion: as she watched, they braided themselves into elaborate plaits. Half of the greenhouse had woven itself into a living blanket, and the rest was braiding itself into thick ropes. Green mice with leaves instead of fur scampered to the tops of the ropes. The leafy mice squeaked to one another as Terlu and Yarrow passed beneath them. One of them dropped a pink fruit, and it splatted on the walkway.
If there are leaf mice, why not tiny dragons? She had no real idea what kind of wonders were squirreled away in the Greenhouse of Belde, either drawn to the enchantments or created here. Maybe, when the spell was done, she’d have a chance to explore and find out. Maybe, just maybe, Yarrow would want to show her.
“Do you take care of the creatures as well as the plants?” Terlu asked. She thought of the color-changing butterflies and the diamond dragonflies.
“Mostly they take care of themselves,” Yarrow said. “Laiken spelled them that way. Even the ones he didn’t create are enchanted to live in harmony here.”
She watched the leaf mice play and thought of the citrus grove. “Will there be ripe oranges in time for this year’s Winter Feast?” Terlu asked.
“You want a Winter Feast?”
“You don’t celebrate?” She supposed it wouldn’t make sense to, on his own. The solstice celebrations were all about coming together with loved ones, to rejoice in the light together. Also, there was lots and lots of food. “The Great Library closes to outsiders for the Solstice Feasts, both Summer and Winter, but the Winter Feast was always my favorite. For the Winter Feast, all the librarians are invited to the head librarian’s office. She resides at the top of the tallest spire. Eighty-six steps from the top level of the stacks to her office, and each step would have a tray with a different delicacy on it. Each recipe was from a different island in the Crescent Islands Empire, selected by the librarian in charge of the food history section of the Great Library. There were crab puffs from Dault, stuffed figs from Tirza, marinated beef skewers with pearl onions from Blaye. You’d gather everything you wanted and, when you reached the head librarian’s office, she’d wish you light in the darkness.”
“Must have gotten crowded up there,” Lotti said.
“Oh no, that was the best part.” Terlu smiled, remembering it. “Each librarian would leave the office through the window, lowered in a gondola lit with twinkling lights—magical lights—all the way down to the canals. You could then feast with others by the water, if you wanted.” A few stayed, and they’d talked and laughed late into the night until all the solstice lights dimmed and were replaced by stars above. It was her favorite night of the entire year.
“Eighty-six delicacies?” Yarrow said.
“The tricky part was not dropping your plate while you were in the gondola.”
“Huh,” he grunted. Then: “You should put on your coat.”
There were two dead greenhouses to cross before they reached the door to the maze. These were absent of plants, either dead or alive, and Terlu wondered if Yarrow had been able to rescue them before the temperature plummeted. She hoped so.
At the end of the second greenhouse was a door that didn’t match any of the other doors she’d seen. It wasn’t wreathed in delicate ironwork. Instead it was made of interlocking plates. Halting, Yarrow stared at it and grunted again, a less happy grunt this time.