“Ah.” Rasker’s expression smoothed over. “I understand a little better, now.”
“Good.” Holly nodded, feeling jittery, exposed. Half of her wished she’d shut down his questions and walked away. The other half was relieved to have spoken out loud tosomeoneabout what had been making a mess in her mind for weeks. Hopefully, she hadn’t made a mistake in choosing him to be that someone.
Before anyone could say anything else, the door swung open and a short man with a shock of white hair stood in the opening. “I cannot take it any longer,” Harry said, one hand over his heart and eyes narrowed in mock outrage. “If you two are going to have an intense, personal conversation, have the decency to do itinside, so I can hear it. I cannot read lips, you know!” He bustled them through the door, then shut it firmly behind them. He spread his hands and sighed with what looked like relief. “Now, what brings you to my humble shop?”
Twenty-Four
Harry’s Fungi Haven was averyunique shop.
The room was circular, not very bright, but filled with an earthy, pleasant smell that reminded Holly of rain-soaked forests during Canadian summers. Dozens of transparent cylindrical habitats rose from floor to ceiling throughout the space, each one home to a different variety of fungus, in various stages of growth. The cylinders were illuminated differently depending on what each species required. Some glowed with bright white light. Others pulsed with soft blues or warm ambers or deep violets. The effect was almost otherworldly, like walking through a vibrant, bioluminescent forest.
The habitats varied wildly in size. Some were narrow enough to wrap your arms around. Others were as wide as the two-hundred-year-old oak trees in the station’s forest. Inside each one, mushrooms sprouted from different substrates. Beds of dark soil. Logs of decomposing wood. Nutrient-rich gels that Holly couldn’t identify. Some of the fungi were small and delicate, clusters of tiny white caps no bigger than her thumbnail. Others were enormous, their shelflike brackets jutting from the sides of their containers like stairs. Some alien varieties undulated in brilliant colors like undersea corals.
In the center of the shop stood a circular lift that Holly knew from a previous visit led up to Harry’s living quarters above.
Harry himself had clearly been in the middle of some kind of work, as evidenced by his green jumpsuit sporting a vivid mushroom print, a pair of goggles perched atop his wild white hair, and a compact respirator hanging around his neck from straps. Holly took in the whole package and winced. “Oh, no. We disturbed you from your work.” She gestured to the respirator. “Do you need to deal with spores or something?”
“Not at all, not at all.” Harry whipped a hand through the air. “I was about to harvest a particularly, ah,spicymushroom, but that can wait. Guests cannot,” Harry said, rubbing his hands together. “Now. What brings you to my humble establishment with a baking dish and matching expressions of distress?”
Holly lifted the pot pie slightly. “Um, the oven in the hotel lounge unexpectedly quit. I made this for the guests, but I have no way to cook it. Rasker says you have heating units for your mushrooms and I was wondering if you could?—”
“Bake it?” Harry’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Absolutely. Only one of my four units is in use right now. Mostly they’re for dehydrating, but they can most certainly bake pies.” He waved a hand. “Follow me, friends.”
He led them through the maze of glowing cylinders, weaving between the habitats with the ease of long familiarity. Holly followed more carefully, with Rasker close behind her, both of them trying not to bump into anything.
The back of the shop opened into a workspace with a curved counter lined with several stools. Behind the counter was a larger area filled with devices and equipment that Holly peered at curiously. Tubes and valves and tented off areas, all dedicated to the cultivation of Harry’s beloved fungi. Among the unfamiliar machinery stood four heating units of various sizes.
Harry took the pot pie from Holly’s hands and examined it with an approving eye. “This looks marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.” He selected one of the heating units and placed the dish inside with care. “Don’t worry, my dear. These units are sterilized after every use. Your pie will be perfectly safe.”
Holly told him the temperature and time required from the recipe, and added, “until the crust is golden.”
Harry nodded and inputted the setting. “Consider it done.” He turned to them with a bright smile and whipped off both the goggles and the respirator. He tossed them into a decontamination bin and placed both hands on the counter. “Now, sit down, both of you. You’ll have some mushroom tea while we wait.”
Holly and Rasker exchanged a glance as Harry bustled about behind the workspace, humming to himself. There was no refusing their host, and Holly didn’t really want to. He was just gracious and friendly, and they settled onto two of the stools at the curved counter.
Harry emerged moments later with an ornate silver teapot and three delicate teacups balanced on a tray. The teapot was beautiful, etched with a pattern of curling vines and tiny mushroom caps that caught the colored light from the nearby habitats.
“This blend,” Harry announced as he poured, “is wonderful for the skin and promotes healthy hair growth.” He set a cup in front of Rasker and gave him an appraising look. “Not thatyouneed to worry about that. Lovely hair. Very thick and shiny. Is that natural, or do Nakrians have some kind of secret?”
Rasker accepted the cup with a slight curve to his lips. “Natural.”
“Figures.” Harry poured Holly’s tea next, then his own. He settled onto a stool across from them and cradled his cup in both hands. His eyes sparkled with barely contained curiosity.
“So,” he said, leaning forward. “What were you two talking about outside my door?”
Holly felt heat rise to her cheeks. She wrapped her hands around her teacup and avoided Harry’s gaze.
“Nothing important,” Rasker said smoothly. “Business stuff.”
“Lies.” Harry waved a dismissive hand. “I may not be able to read lips, but I can read body language. That was not a ‘nothing important’ conversation.” He looked between them as a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. “The two of you are adorable. Don’t you worry—your ‘business stuff’ is your private matter.” He winked at Holly. “I’m not one to pry.”
The tension in her shoulders eased. Harry was teasing them, not interrogating them. She took a sip of her tea and winked at him. “Now who lies?”
He waggled a finger at her. “I like you,” he said. “You’re a breath of fresh air here, on the outpost.”
Rasker snorted. “Fresh air is in short supply under this dome,” he muttered, slanting a grin toward Holly as he took a sip of tea. She scowled back, but before she could inform him that the air was soon to change with the arrival of a new turbine, Rasker made a noise of surprise and lifted his teacup. “Harry, this is surprisingly good.”
“What do you mean, ‘surprisingly?’” Harry said, raising one bushy white eyebrow. “I know my fungi blends.”
