Rather than climb the stone steps into the library as he’d planned, Alexander crossed the Quad, deciding it was time for a break. Clouds skittered across the sky as a stiff breeze swept through the city. Alexander cut through the Wilkins Building and down the street beyond, toward the greenhouses. He entered, not wanting to admit that he was curious about the vine that had caused so much trouble.
Distracted by the rush of color and humidity upon entering the glass structure, Alexander walked into an elderly man with dirty trouser knees leaving the greenhouse. A terracotta pot shattered on the ground, and the dark earth scattered, exposing white, spidery roots. Apologizing, Alexander knelt down and helped him scoop the dirt back up.
“And why are you bustin’ into my greenhouse, mister?” the man growled. He was old and wrinkled, his red face weathered by years spent outdoors.
“I came in to take a look,” Alexander said, a little taken aback by his tone and a lot taken aback by the filth layered under the man’s fingernails. He must be the caretaker. “Miss Everleigh suggested examining some of the species found here.”
Eyes narrowed, he asked, “You with University College?”
“Yes, sir, biology.”
“Everleigh sent you, you said?”
Alexander nodded.
The caretaker studied him another moment before huffing and muttering, “Fine,” before slouching off.
Alexander carefully picked up the little plant with his handkerchief. It was a vine, with heart-shaped leaves. He recognized the noxious shade of yellow. He examined it until the man returned, wondering which part was the most dangerous. He had barely been able to look at the xolotl leaves when he found Saffron in the office, and had quickly disposed of them without any observation.
The caretaker returned and knelt next to him with a muffled groan. He dropped the vine into the man’s hands, which Alexander was grateful to see were now covered with gloves. With a brush and dustpan hanging from a nearby hook, Alexander swept up the rest of the spilled dirt.
The older man set the plant on the top of a worktable, then began shuffling things about beneath.
Eying the plant as he dumped the fallen dirt into a garden bed, Alexander said, “I’ve heard that plant is particularly poisonous.”
“Hm!” the caretaker grunted again. He straightened with a groan and set another pot on the table. “The blasted police want a sample of it. Then they’ve gone and asked me all about it. Who can get at it, if anyone’s been around askin’ questions about it … not my job to know. I just have to keep ‘em alive.”
“Of course,” agreed Alexander, suddenly wanting to know the answers to those questions, too. Summoning the appropriate manner for a chat, he added, “They can’t expect you to keep up with what isn’t your responsibility.”
“Humph! Too right!” the caretaker said, huffing as he patted dirt into the pot. “Who bloody cares about those pointy, poisonous things? Plenty of nice green outside, things that actually flower or give fruit you can eat.”
“Indeed. But still, this place is full of odd people with odd interests. I have a colleague who studies the insides of horses. He goes on and on about what different kinds of grass do to their digestion,” Alexander said, feigning disgust. He didn’t enjoy hearing about horse excrement, but it was a sound way to get information about their intestinal flora. “I’m sure you’ve seen all sorts of bizarre things in here.”
The caretaker took the bait, giving Alexander a dark look. “Don’t get me started! Between Maxwell and Berking and the lot bringin’ back strange foreign cuttin’s and tellin’ me the dreadful things that happen to people who look at ’em funny, and random characters walkin’ in askin’ about this or that—enough to drive me to drink!”
The caretaker apparently didn’t consider him a random character. “This one, for example.” Alexander gestured to the little yellow vine in the caretaker’s gloved hands. “I’m sure it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
“This thing …” The caretaker scoffed as he glared down at it. “Been very popular these days. Don’t know why. It’d been growin’ in the corner of Greenhouse Five for years, nobody payin’ it no mind. Then the past few weeks everyone suddenly wants it.”
That was very interesting. “Those botanists are mad for all plants, of course.”
“Aye, they’re an odd bunch, that. But they know not to mess about with it.” Alexander opened his mouth to ask who exactly had been asking about the plant, then, but the caretaker snapped his gloves onto the table and growled. “Now, I have to give the blasted thing to the blasted police. Don’t touch nothin’ in there, young man, unless you want to get pricked or cut or poisoned.” He made a long-suffering face and stumped off.