* * *
The overnight poulticesLewis prepared from Cirrus’ foraging worked wonders. By morning, the worst of the Apocrita venom had faded, restoring their mobility. They spent the early hours filling their packs with anything safe to eat. Vivienne was thrilled to find another auregranate tree, already indulging in several of the golden-skinned, ruby-centered fruits before returning to their temporary camp.
Seated in a rough circle, they picked at their meager breakfast, reviewing everything they’d uncovered.
Lewis pushed his spectacles up his nose. "We've established King Berius is a lying bastard. I don't think we can trust a single word he said to us during our audience," Lewis insisted.
"Agreed, but Montaghue might’ve let some truths slip," Vivienne suggested with a raise of her shoulders. “He mentioned that breaking the curse required collecting tributes and honoring each island’s way of life.”
Owen stroked his chin, stubble thick from days without a shave. "Meaning the curse isn’t just about gathering objects, it’s about restitution. Penance.”
Cirrus shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing we do can bring back an entire civilization.”
"I don't think any act of reparation would ever come close," Vivienne added.
Lewis mumbled, lost in thought. "Scales..."
"Scales?" Owen echoed.
“The curse,” Lewis began, his voice picking up speed. “King Berius and his weasel of a chancellor said Velorien cast the curse, right? He’s the god of justice and balance. He weighs the scales.” He mimed a set of scales with his hands. "If the curse was his way of restoring balance, then to break it, we need to add enough weight to our side.”
"Get to the point, Blume," Cirrus interrupted.
"Stay with me, Cici," Lewis pointed at Cirrus before he continued. "This island worshipped Elandra the goddess of love, fertility, and harvest.
Vivienne nodded. "She’s in almost every carving.”
"What if Velorien isn't the one who balances the scales here? What if, because this island is her domain, Elandra’s the one we need to appease?
Lewis held his hands up, waiting for them to reach the same realization. Instead, they exchanged confused glances.
"Don't you get it?" Lewis paced, marking out every step of his breakthrough. "Velorien took life. He ended bloodlines in Fendwyr because of the ones destroyed here. We assumed the tribute would be something violent, like a blood sacrifice or killing certain people?—"
"But Elandra wouldn't take life,” Vivienne interrupted, the realization hitting her. “She’d restore it.”
Cirrus raised an eyebrow. “There’s only one way I know to create life, and it would delay things by about nine months."
Lewis rolled his eyes. "First, ew Cirrus. Second, we're on an island of flora with a never-ending growth cycle."
Owen shifted in his seat. "You’re suggesting the tribute is… a plant?”
“Not just any plant,” Lewis said, snapping his fingers at Vivienne. “Show the tracing.”
Vivienne folded her arms and glared at him. "Try again."
He cleared his throat. "Sorry, Viv, I got carried away. Would you please bring out the tracing with the moons?"
She gave him a curt, appreciative nod as she laid out the parchment.
"We've determined the owl represents Fendwyr or, rather, the assholes who attacked Verdance," Lewis explained. "The moon phases at the top and the growth phases at the bottom go together.”
The lyrics of the sea shanty floated into Vivienne’s consciousness.“With moon and star and flower fair, we'll brave the endless sea.”Her eyes widened. “A moon and a flower, that’s it!”
Owen angled his head. “That’s not from the carvings.”
“It’s a song,” Vivienne said, barely containing her excitement. “The tribute must be a flower. One we have to plant under a certain moon phase.”
Cirrus blew a sputtering sound through his lips. "And do we know which flower? Where do we find it and then where do we plant it?”
