The Enchanted Greenhouse(51)
“It’s ooonly funny becaaause nooo one was huuurt,” Dendy said.
“Nah, it’s objectively hilarious,” Lotti said.
“The look on his face!” The calla lily, whom she guessed was Viria, tossed their white flower back and laughed, their yellow spadix quivering. “After that, he insisted his gardeners label every single plant—hundreds of thousands of signs meticulously written out and placed in each and every pot.”
Dendy said in his deep, slow voice, “He remoooved them laaater.”
The laughter faded.
“I liked having a sign with my name,” the prickly pear said in a squeaky voice. “A gardener drew a picture of me on it. I looked pretty.”
Several of the closest plants hastened to reassure the prickly pear it was still very pretty, and the cactus told them they were pretty too—and the compliments flew back and forth, escalating until they’d all fully established that each of them was as pretty as sunshine in the springtime, after which an argument broke out between the ivy and the flytrap about whether the sun was lovelier in springtime when it was sprouting season or summer when they could bask in its heat.
Terlu interrupted them. “Since you don’t have signs anymore, can you tell us your names and whether you prefer we refer to you as she, he, or they? We’d love to get to know all of you.”
Behind her, Yarrow murmured, “Would we? All of them?”
She knelt on the walkway, and the plants bunched around her, each of them calling out their name: the philodendron was Dendy （he）， the ivy was Risa （they）， the orchid Amina （she）， the calla lily Viria （she）， the thistle Tirna （they）， the fireweed Nif （he）， the wax myrtle Ree （he）， the prickly pear Hosha （they）， the flytrap Sut （he）， the morning glory Zyndia （she）， the fern Mirr （they） … She committed as many names as possible to memory. “And how are all of you feeling? Are you all right?”
Yarrow added, “Do you need anything?”
The wax myrtle bush, Ree, launched into a sea shanty: “All I need is the wind at my back, the deck at my feet, and the seeeeeeeeeea before me!” He shook his leaves as he sang.
“Hush,” Lotti told him. “Yarrow is serious. He’s nice, and he wants to help.”
And that prompted an outpouring from all the plants: they were fine, they were a little dry, one requested a new pot, one thought the soil could taste better, one wanted more humidity, one said the ivy （Risa） snored, another said the calla lily’s （Viria’s） laugh was too loud, the chrysanthemum wanted to know when her favorite gardener was coming back, and the fern （Mirr） wondered why they hadn’t been mixed up with the other non-talking plants. They all wanted to know what they’d missed while they were asleep. Crowding around Yarrow, they asked him about gardener after gardener, by name, until Terlu thought he was going to bolt through the door and keep running until he reached the dock. He inched backward, shifting behind Terlu, as the plants crowded closer.
Lotti shooed them backward. “Give him space. I told you: he’s the only gardener here, and he and Terlu are the only two humans. Plus the various beasties and bugs that Laiken created. There’s also the cat, Emeral, but he’s a terrifying monster.”
“Not a monster,” Terlu interjected.
“But that makes no sense,” the ivy, Risa, said to Lotti. “There are hundreds of greenhouses that require care. It takes a team of gardeners, working day and night, to keep them weed-free, pest-free, properly pruned and cared for.”
Terlu jumped in. “And that’s why we need your help.”
She paused, waiting for Yarrow to ask for their assistance with his daily tasks, but instead he said, “Since Laiken’s death, many of the greenhouses have failed—the magic has failed, shattering the glass and causing the temperature spells to go haywire.”
A few of the plants gasped.
“Terlu has been translating his journals,” Yarrow said. “That’s how she found the spell to wake you. Now she’s going to find the spell to restore the dead greenhouses and save Belde.”
I am?
Well, that seemed like a lot of pressure. She hadn’t said she could, just that she wanted to see if it was possible. What if she couldn’t? I don’t want to disappoint anyone. “I’m going to try,” Terlu said quickly. “I’m not a sorcerer, so I can’t make any promises.”
“She understands the language of sorcerers and has broken Laiken’s secret code.”
It felt like all the plants were staring at her, eyeless, which made her want to step behind a pillar and disappear. She’d never had anyone depend on her before. Usually it was well-known that everyone was going to find her vaguely disappointing. Nice and friendly, but not so impressive—that’s me. “Yes, but there’s a lot of work between being able to read and being able to cast the correct spell…”
Yarrow looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, so full of hope. “But you are still willing to try?”
“Yes, of course, I’ll try. I just…” She sighed. Of course she was going to try! She just didn’t want to promise a miracle if she couldn’t deliver it. Terlu faced the plants, with their eager, perky leaves and their soil cradled in their roots. “If any of you remember what kind of spells Laiken used to keep the greenhouses stable, that would be very helpful.”