The Enchanted Greenhouse(44)

“I don’t know if—”

Terlu spoke up. “If you attach a rope to the pump handle, she could use that for leverage. Perhaps even attach a weight to it? She shouldn’t have to ever fear that she’ll be abandoned again.” No one should ever have to fear that.

He considered it and then nodded. “We’ll find a way.”

“Good,” Lotti said. And then added to Terlu, “Thank you.” She moved along the shelf, past several of the sleeping plants, including a delphinium and a thistle. “Don’t wake the orchid first. How about the philodendron? He was a steady fellow. Quiet and unassuming, despite the size of his leaves.”

Yarrow lifted the pot with the philodendron off its stand and set it on the walkway beside Terlu. She took each ingredient and combined them, twisting a stretch of grass around the packet and then knotting it as if it were a ribbon.

“Do you have a trowel?” Terlu asked. “I want to bury the ingredients between the roots. That should focus the spell on its target.” Or at least that was the theory as she understood it. She was acutely aware of her lack of formal training. Usually it took years at the university before an imperial sorcerer was allowed to experiment with spells, and even then they were supervised by multiple senior sorcerers, to prevent accidents. This was, at best, foolhardy. But she didn’t see much choice. She couldn’t leave them stuck in an enchanted sleep, not when there was a chance she could wake them, as Yarrow had done for her.

He pulled a trowel out of one of his many pockets, and he dug a small hole in the dirt, carefully so as not to break the plant’s roots. She handed him the packet of spell ingredients, and he tucked it into the hole and covered it up. “Ready,” Yarrow said.

She supposed that was it. Everything was ready.

She’d been over the spell again and again, ensured that each syllable conveyed the precise meaning she wished it to. She was confident in the words.

Why then was she so nervous? Because I’m breaking the law. Again. Willingly.

The last time she told herself it was worth it and the consequences wouldn’t be extreme, she had been very, very wrong.

This is different.

There was no one on the island who would report her. Yarrow and Lotti both wanted—even needed—her to do this. I’m not in this alone. Not this time. Furthermore, it was the right thing to do. She couldn’t leave these plants in a state of suspended animation. They were supposed to be awake and aware, and if she had the power to restore them, then she had to. She’d already been through all of this, the pros and the cons, the rewards and the risks, and it was far too late to turn back now. She’d promised, and she had no intention of breaking that promise, regardless of the consequences. Terlu took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. She shook out her hands and tried to calm herself.

I am a self-taught sorcerer.

And:

What the emperor doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Terlu positioned herself in front of the philodendron and began: “Myrd vi se hwathan. Myrd dor a chasacan. Myrd rywy. Alleca-se-ansara…” She spoke each syllable smoothly, as if this were a language she’d learned at birth. The words echoed in her head, a chorus of thought and speech, and she held the philodendron in her mind as she spoke.

Wake. I want to meet you. It’s time to wake.

She finished the final word in the spell.

The philodendron didn’t move.

Lotti shifted closer. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know.” Maybe it took time before the effects were noticeable? She hadn’t asked Yarrow how much time had passed between when he cast the spell on her statue and when she became flesh again, but then that had been an entirely different spell. Maybe this one had a delay. Or maybe it hadn’t worked. Perhaps she’d missed an ingredient. Or she could have translated a word incorrectly—Unlikely, she thought. And all the ingredients were as fresh as they could be.

Perhaps these plants weren’t asleep, at least not anymore. Perhaps too much time had passed, and they were ordinary plants now. Maybe their ancestors had been alive and aware, but that didn’t pass into their seeds. She had no clear idea how that worked. If a plant dropped a leaf and then grew a new leaf, was it still the same plant? Did the seeds inherit the knowledge and wisdom of their elder? If these weren’t actually enchanted plants but were only the children of them, maybe it wasn’t possible to wake—

Across the greenhouse, the orchid yawned.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

All around the greenhouse, plants woke up.

On Terlu’s left, a coil of ivy climbed out of its pot and wound its way, snakelike, up a pillar. The orchid rotated its pale pink-and-white blossoms as if viewing the full greenhouse with its stamen. A daisy bloomed and lifted its leaves in a stretch, while the delphinium bent as if it wanted to fold itself in half.

Lotti danced with her petals in the air. “You did it! They’re waking!”

“But they shouldn’t be—” Terlu began.

On her right, a fireweed burst into flame.

“Fire!” Lotti shrieked.

Yarrow rushed over to it and drenched it with a full watering can. It began to sputter and cough. He knelt beside it while a nearby prickly pear grew a bud that opened into a yellow blossom with a loud, “Eeeeeeee!”

Nearby a chrysanthemum let out a high-pitched yelp.