The Enchanted Greenhouse(45)

It worked! It really worked! Except that they were supposed to wake one at a time. Instead, every plant in the greenhouse was stretching and twisting and waking.

The philodendron in front of Terlu was the first to speak. “Sooo.” His voice was deep and slow, each vowel stretched like caramel. “Not. Dead. That’s niiiice.”

Terlu smiled at him. “Hello. Welcome back. I’m Terlu. And that’s Yarrow, helping the fireweed. And Lotti. You remember Lotti?”

Lotti bounded over to the philodendron. “Dendy! So great to see you! I saw you before, of course, but you couldn’t see me, because you were asleep, yet now, you’re awake and so am I and here we both are! You remember me, right? Give it a second. You were just revived. I’m the resurrection rose that visited with Laiken. He’s the sorcerer who created us. You remember him, of course, and if you remember him, you must remember me.”

The philodendron said nothing for a long moment.

“Ooh, hello, welcome back!” Lotti hopped toward a thistle. Its bulbous flower was nearly twice the size of the tiny rose, and it loomed over her atop a thorn-covered stem.

Quivering, the thistle leaned back. “No! I won’t! You can’t! Don’t let her near me!”

Lotti slowed a few feet from the thistle. “You don’t understand. We woke you! You’re okay now. You’re alive and aware and alert. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Nearby, the delphinium whimpered.

She headed for the chrysanthemum. “We were friends. Don’t you remember?”

“I rememmmber her,” the philodendron, Dendy, said, so softly that Terlu had to bend down closer to hear. His leaves undulated as he spoke. “We all dooo. Sheee was Laiken’s first. Sheee … forgetsss.”

“What do you mean?” Terlu asked.

By Yarrow, the fireweed was babbling. “Wet. This is wet. I am wet. But I am fire. I am wet fire. Oh, this isn’t right. None of this is right.”

The prickly pear began to cry, loud tearless sobs.

Yarrow awkwardly patted the sobbing prickly pear with one hand while dabbing the wet fireweed with a cloth. His face was a picture of panic. “Why did they all wake at once? And why are they all so upset?”

“It’s a shock when you first wake,” Terlu said, unsure. All of these plants had been asleep for far longer than she’d been a statue, and she’d found the experience of regaining flesh to be extremely disconcerting. How are we going to explain how long it’s been without further upsetting them? And what should they say when one of the plants asked about Laiken? Inevitably, one was going to ask. She hoped they could delay that moment. It would be better if they could adjust to being awake and aware again before they learned that bit of news—it was going to be a major blow. She wished the spell had woken them one at a time, as she’d planned. Why hadn’t it?

It’s the ingredients. She’d buried the packet with the philodendron, but she hadn’t put away the other supplies. All of them were out, exposed to the air, and so the spell had drawn from all of them to affect a far wider area than she’d intended. The words hadn’t cared which items they activated.

I made this mess.

This was the difference between being a properly trained sorcerer and a self-taught one. She didn’t have anyone to tell her what not to do.

The fireweed wailed.

“Yarrow, help them!” Lotti demanded. “You’re the gardener. You’re supposed to know how to take care of plants.” She hopped from plant to plant, welcoming them and gushing that she was so happy to see them, but the plants didn’t seem happy to see her.

On another shelf, a myrtle began to sing in a deep mournful voice. Its leaves vibrated as it sang, shaking the entire bush, as well as its pot. “Oh, how my heart yearns for the sea, longs to be free as the blue, blue sea…”

The prickly pear wailed louder.

“The darkness!” the morning glory screamed. “It came!”

The ivy slithered down from the pillar and wrapped itself around the prickly pear’s pot. Reaching with a puffy arm, the cactus hugged a strand of ivy. Cradled by the ivy, the prickly pear began to calm down. Its yellow blossom closed back into a bud.

That’s what they need. “Just comfort them,” Terlu suggested. “They’re scared.” She scooted closer to the calla lily. “Hello, I’m Terlu. I’m so happy you’re awake.”

The calla lily dipped its bloom toward Terlu. “Thirsty?”

“Yarrow, I think the plants might need water?”

“That I can do,” he said, relief in his voice. He filled a watering can and moved from plant to plant, offering each one a drink of water. Some plants accepted and some didn’t.

Lotti trailed behind him, talking to each plant, explaining where they were and that they’d been woken from an enchanted sleep, yay! And then following her welcome with a barrage of questions: Did they remember anything about before? Did they know their name? How about did they remember that one time when she’d accidentally distracted Laiken while he was casting a water spell and he’d flooded half the greenhouses? No? Good.

“You’re Laiken’s pet,” the Venus flytrap said.

“I am not a pet!” Lotti said.

“She waaas the first of usss created,” Dendy, the philodendron, said. Using his tendrils, he pushed himself out of his pot and flexed his roots. He gathered up a ball of soil before plopping onto the walkway beside Terlu. Caz, she remembered, had also carried his soil in his root ball. The spell gifted them with mobility, as well as sentience. “He was raaarely without herrr.”