Page 21
Terlu didn’t know how she was going to keep her promise. After three days of struggling with the coded texts, she wasn’t any closer to cracking the cipher. Sighing, she rubbed her neck and stretched her arms.
Across the workroom, Lotti was muttering to herself as she, using a leaf as if it were a thumb and fingers, flipped through one of Laiken’s journals. He’d kept many. They dominated three-quarters of his shelves, plus Yarrow had found more in a chest under the stairs.
The problem was Laiken hadn’t intended his notes for anyone else’s eyes, especially as time went on.
The early journals from before he created the greenhouse were written in a slightly archaic version of island standard, but as he aged, his paranoia had increased, and by the later journals, which appeared to hold the majority of his spells, he seemed to be employing not only a code system that she was becoming increasingly convinced relied on a codebook but also the occasional mirror writing or backward writing or, worse, both.
And then there were the pages he’d destroyed: ripped out and presumably burned.
Yarrow had found more half-burnt scraps beneath the stove.
She had no idea what had been lost and whether the spell she needed still existed.
Lotti flopped backward and waved her petals in the air. “Gah! This is hopeless!” She shouted up to the ceiling as if the sorcerer were upstairs and could hear her, “Laiken, you’re the worst!”
“When is that journal from?” Terlu asked.
“The era where Laiken decided that he’d torture future readers with his experiments in sketching.
Brilliant man. Genius sorcerer. Terrible artist. Look at this!
” Scooting around the book, she propped it up so that Terlu could see.
“Is that a rabbit? Is it a cat? Is it a fish? Is it a human liver with eyeballs? Who knows?”
Terlu grinned. “I think it’s a bird.”
Lotti trotted around to the front of the journal. “It would need wings.”
“The word next to it is Ginian for ‘sparrow.’”
“Ginian?”
“It’s a language that was spoken on the island of Ginia before the fourth emperor of the Crescent Islands Empire wiped it out about three centuries ago.”
Lotti gasped. “The empire wiped out a whole island?”
“Not the people, but they, like many the empire conquered, lost their language and a lot of their culture. Ginia was one of the islands who fought back against joining the empire, but they didn’t do it with ships or armies.
Instead they turned their entire island into a labyrinth to trick and trap the imperial soldiers.
Every building visible from the ocean was a facade, and you had to solve a puzzle to access the true homes, deep inside the mountains.
It took an entire decade before they were conquered, and when they were, the emperor was determined to prevent this from ever happening again.
All teachers, all elders, all keepers of wisdom—they were removed and rehoused to other islands, separated from one another, and he sent in imperial teachers to ensure the next generation wouldn’t rebel. ”
“How sad.”
“Empires are not…” She trailed off before she said anything truly treasonous.
Librarians of Alyssium were trained to be impartial, but how could anyone who studied history not have feelings about it?
She’d never understood that. History was full of people, all of whom had lives and dreams that were affected by the dry laws and military actions that filled university textbooks.
Emperor Mevorin liked to insist every action taken by the empire was for the good of its people, but far too many of its actions throughout history had been for the good of the empire, which was not —regardless of what the emperor espoused—the same thing.
An empire, unchecked, was a selfish beast of insatiable hunger.
Terlu took a deep breath and dredged up a smile.
“It wasn’t all lost, though. You’ve heard of hedge labyrinths?
Gardens with bushes shaped like mazes? The Ginians invented them, and so their legacy lives on. ”
“Laiken built the most magnificent maze,” Lotti said. “It fills an entire enormous greenhouse. Or it filled. Who knows if it survived.”
From across the workroom, Yarrow spoke up. “It did, so far.”
“Huh.” Terlu scooted closer to Lotti to study the journal with the poorly drawn sparrow.
“According to legends, the Ginians placed their greatest treasures in the hearts of their mazes. Centuries later, treasure-seekers still show up on the island, thinking they’re going to find gold and jewels.
” Considering, she looked at the date on the journal.
“Do you know when Laiken made this maze?” This journal was from the period when he’d just begun to use codes. She showed the date to Lotti.
“I don’t know,” the rose said.
“Could it have been around then?”
“Sure. Maybe. I’m a plant. I don’t own a calendar. I know it took a few seasons before it was finished to his satisfaction. He never let me help, of course.”
She wondered…
Hopping back to her papers, Lotti asked, “What did the Ginians keep in the hearts of their mazes if not gold and jewels?”
Terlu, the former Fourth Librarian of the Second Floor, East Wing, smiled at the little rose. “Books, of course, the ultimate treasure. All their stories. And their knowledge.”
“Ah, and the emperor destroyed that, I assume.”
Terlu shook her head. “Even he couldn’t bring himself to do that.
He stole it. It was housed in the section of the library that I was assigned to—that’s why I know about it, even though the Ginia Rebellion was excised from the official history books, due to how much it embarrassed the emperor.
” The more she thought about Laiken’s labyrinth, the more she wondered…
She had a very strong hunch about what a sorcerer would consider a treasure.
“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?”
Table of Contents
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- Page 21 (Reading here)
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