Page 56

In the wake of Yarrow’s relatives’ arrival, the workroom had been transformed—drying laundry hung on strings that crisscrossed the room.

The table was covered in stacks of recently cleaned dishes, as well as a pile of lettuce heads.

She thought of Yarrow, going to check on the lettuce harvest. It looked as if one of his relatives had already been there.

She wondered how he was going to feel about that.

A mound of mushrooms was in a basket in the sink, waiting to be washed.

Blankets and quilts and pillows were everywhere—every inch of the workroom had been used for sleeping.

Seeing her observing all of this, Rowan said, “Mmm, we kind of invaded. Sorry about that.”

“We’ll be moving into the cottages soon,” Ambrel said. “I’m about to head out to work on the chimneys.”

“Ambrel used to do metalwork in the city,” Rowan said. “She knows a lot about chimneys and forges. Everyone agrees Ambrel is useful. And smart. And beautiful.” She nuzzled her wife’s shoulder.

“Most of my work in Alyssium was ornamental,” Ambrel said to Terlu, “but I can fix hinges and nails and other practical work. In fact, it’s often the most satisfying kind of work. I will eventually get a forge set up for all of that, but first step is to fix the chimneys.”

“Sounds like you’re planning to make this home,” Terlu said.

“I’d been looking to leave Alyssium even before the violence began, so this isn’t a hardship for me,” Ambrel said. “Coming here was more difficult for some of the others who were more attached to city life, but we’ll all adjust. And if we can make this a viable place to live…”

Rowan hushed her. “That’s a later idea.”

“What’s a later idea?” Terlu asked as she scooted aside a stack of folded laundry in order to surreptitiously study the spines of the journals stacked nearby. If they didn’t leave, she’d try to take a few back to Yarrow’s cottage to examine.

Ambrel shot her wife a look and answered, “We weren’t the only ones to lose homes. If this place works out, there are some friends we’d want to invite to come start lives here.”

“Only if the island can support it,” Rowan said quickly, both to Ambrel and to Terlu, “and it’s not guaranteed that it can, especially with the greenhouses dying.

We won’t ask too much of Belde.” She shed her sleep dress and pulled on a tunic-like top.

“Contrary to what my ornery brother thinks, we do care about this place.”

Terlu wondered how Yarrow would feel about more people coming to live on the island.

It would be good if it became a true community.

Wouldn’t it? There was still the issue of her illegal spellcasting.

Fixing the greenhouses was going to require a lot more magic.

And the more strangers who came, the less safe she’d be. She didn’t know what to hope for.

Lightly, she said, “Guess we’ll have to see what happens.”

“Do you want us to distribute the rest of the honey cakes?” Ambrel offered.

“That would be wonderful. Thanks.” Her eyes slid to the notebooks. If they left, maybe she’d have a chance to peek at a few…

Rowan wrapped a ribbon around her braids. “If you’re looking for something fun to read, that’s not it.” She nodded at the journals.

“Oh, I’m just… Yarrow wanted me to pick up a few things, while I was here. Notes. His notes. On the plants. He… forgot them.” Terlu tried not to wince at how unconvincing she sounded. She wasn’t used to lying about books. Or lying about anything, really.

Ambrel tugged on Rowan’s arm. “Let the woman be. She has things to do, and so do we.”

Do they know? Terlu wondered. About my spellcasting? It was possible they’d guessed after seeing the sentient plants. Still, no one had said anything to her yet.

“You’re welcome to join us for dinner,” Ambrel said. “Vix is fishing so we should hopefully have an actual meal to offer.”

She’d been right that that was Vix.

“Bring Yarrow if he wants,” Ambrel said.

“Or bring him even if he doesn’t want,” Rowan said. “He can’t keep avoiding us. Or maybe he can. He’s good at that.”

“Rowan,” Ambrel scolded.

“Sorry, but I thought I’d get at least a reunion if not an apology.”

Terlu bristled. He was trying his best! And he’d made honey cakes. Never mind that she’d also expected a reunion. It’s not up to me or Rowan or anyone to decide what he’s ready for. “He was the one left behind,” she pointed out.

“By choice,” Rowan said. She then held up her hand. “I know, I know, he could say it was my choice to leave. I can forgive if he can. But he has to talk to us.”

“Give him time,” Terlu pleaded.

“Humph,” Rowan said.

Ambrel tugged her out of the door. “Come on.”

Following them to the door, Terlu asked, “Out of curiosity, what does Laiken’s ghost think about this—about all of you, coming back?” It felt odd to talk about a ghost, especially the ghost of a sorcerer of immense power, as if it were a commonplace fact.

Wrapping her scarf around her, Rowan shrugged. “Don’t know and don’t care. He’s caused enough problems. I don’t think he gets a say anymore.” She waved as she headed outside with Ambrel and the rest of the honey cakes.

Emeral waltzed in through the door as they departed. He was carrying a fish in his mouth. Depositing it on the hearth, he purred as he tucked in to nibbling at its side.

“Good for you,” Terlu told the winged cat.

Relieved to be alone at last—which was, she thought, a novel feeling, given how much she used to hate solitude—she pulled another one of the books off the shelves and began to skim through it.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to find—a treatise on exactly the information she needed?

How had Laiken solved the problem of making the bubble permeable to humans and air but keeping the temperature in?

He had to have done it, because it was repeated in greenhouse after greenhouse. She wished she could ask him.

She eyed the stairs and wondered if she could. She’d never met a ghost before. How much did they remember of who they were and what they’d once known? And how much could they communicate with the living?

I could find out simply by going upstairs.

If she could communicate with him and if he wanted to be cooperative, it could cut her research time down significantly. Perhaps it could even be the key to saving the greenhouse. Or maybe she was just hoping for a miracle.

Leaving the notebook open on the desk, Terlu walked up the twisty, narrow stairs.

She felt colder as she walked up and wasn’t sure if it was a ghostly cold or just because she was farther from the stove.

Wasn’t heat supposed to rise? It should be warmer upstairs, but instead it felt dark and drab.

Like it should have a ghost. She shivered and hugged her arms as she looked around.

Yarrow’s relatives had sprawled their belongings over the upstairs too—heaps of clothes on the bed, a hairbrush on the dresser, a tiny statue of a gryphon on the bedside table—but somehow it still felt gray and unwelcoming.

She noticed that no one seemed to have slept in the bed, which was odd.

It wasn’t as if Laiken needed it anymore, and it had been years since he’d died.

She would have thought practicality would have won over sentiment.

Crossing to the bed, she asked softly, “Sorcerer Laiken? Are you here?”

She didn’t hear an answer or feel anything other than the chill of the room.

“My name’s Terlu Perna, and I’m trying to figure out the spells to save your greenhouse. The magic is failing, and your plants are dying. If you help me…”

She heard a sigh like the wind in the trees.

“Sorcerer Laiken?” She turned toward the window. Had it been the ghost, or had it been the wind? “Just point me to where I can find the answers. Can you do that?”

Silence.

She began to feel ridiculous. Either he didn’t understand or he didn’t care. Or he isn’t here. She’d never seen a ghost, and she’d certainly never heard of one contributing to anyone’s scholarly studies. Of course if she could find a way to communicate…

Perhaps if she brought a few of the books up here…

“One second. I’ll be back.” It might be a waste of time, but she was certain she’d sensed some kind of presence in his bedroom. If he retained any of his old self, he’d want to save his greenhouse, wouldn’t he?

Terlu trotted downstairs. If he could indicate which book she should focus on—

Before she could select more than a handful of volumes, the door to the workshop slammed open and Dendy lurched through the doorway, his leaves sprawling across the floor. “Terluuu! Aaanyone else here?”

She rushed to him. “Just me and Emeral. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Another greenhouse is faaailing! Caaalling everyone tooo come help.” He darted back outside, swinging himself out by his tendrils.

Terlu dropped the notebooks on the table and followed, grabbing her coat as she passed by it. “Which greenhouse?” she yelled after him. “Where do I go?”

“The siiiinging one,” he called as he hurried toward the dock.