Why wasn’t that more comforting?
A hint of movement caught her eye, and she glanced over to see a cat-size gryphon swoop beneath a branch. It held a fish in its beak, and its lion tail swished behind. A lone feather fell from its wings as it brushed against the needles of a pine tree. Iridescent black, it drifted down onto the snow. She crossed over to it and picked it up.
She was going to have to trust that whoever answered the letter cared about the plants and about Yarrow and that would be enough to override whatever devotion they felt to imperial law, or whatever moral qualms they had about aiding and abetting a criminal.
It was that or continue to let Yarrow try to save the world on his own.
I said I’d try to help, and I’m going to.
Feeling more resolved if not exactly better, Terlu walked back to Yarrow’s cottage. As she knocked the snow off her shoes, the winged cat stretched sleepily in her bed. She tossed the gryphon feather to the cat. With a delighted “Murp!” Emeral wrapped his paws around it and lazily chewed on the tip. He purred as he munched and kicked his hind paws.
“Once I send this letter, we could have a new visitor. Are you ready for that?” she asked him. “Do you think Yarrow’s ready?”
Granted, it was possible that none of Yarrow’s relatives wouldcome, and it was even more possible that, if one did, it would be weeks from now. It was unlikely that anyone would just abandon their life in Alyssium and rush to the remote island of Belde. If anyone came, it would be at their convenience, when they had a gap in their responsibilities. More likely, there would be a few letters exchanged, with a visit planned for the spring or summer. Given the magnitude of what they were asking—for one of Yarrow’s gardener relatives to return to their distant home for an unspecified amount of time—this wasn’t going to be an immediate solution, so she should finish up the letter as quickly as possible and then return to scouring the sorcerer’s notebooks for answers.
Sitting back down at Yarrow’s desk, Terlu picked up the pen. She dipped it into the inkwell and wrote without stopping. It was the best way to do it, keeping the quill tip to the paper—it kept her second thoughts and third thoughts from interfering with the sentences. When she finished, she blew on the ink until it dried, then folded the letter and tied a ribbon around it. Yarrow had already prepared a tag with the name and address of his aunt and uncle in Alyssium, the florists. She fixed it in place with a bit of resin that she melted over the fire. He’d said he didn’t want to read the letter when she finished it—she had offered, but he’d insisted that she send it as soon as she was done, before he changed his mind. He’d left her a pouch with payment to give to the supply runner to deliver the letter.
She wasn’t going to tell him she had doubts too. This was the best course of action for the sake of the plants, regardless of their personal concerns. Yarrow couldn’t do it alone.Or even alone with a former librarian and multiple sentient plants.
Maybe especially then.
“I’ll be back as soon as it’s sent,” she told the cat.
At leasthedidn’t seem concerned.
After banking the fire, Terlu put her coat back on and this time walked in the opposite direction: toward the dock. Yarrow had said to bring it there to send it and leave it with the payment, which should be half the pouch he’d given her. She didn’t stroll this time;she strode. She didn’t want those pesky second and third thoughts to turn her around. Once the letter was off… well, then it would be done, and it would be up to others to choose whether to be kind or not.
Terlu heard the sea before she saw it, rhythmic bursts like steady drums as the waves crashed into the rocks. Salty sea air mixed with the crisp pine of the forest, and she smiled as she stepped out from between the trees to view the expanse of dancing blue.
The waves seemed to say:Don’t worry.She felt the tension in her shoulders loosen. In the distance, the silver sails of a boat reflected the sunlight.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice said. “The sea.”
She jumped and noticed the two-foot-tall shrub that wasn’t rooted in the ground. Squatting on a rock, he held his root ball beneath a wad of leaves.Ree the wax myrtle,she remembered. “It is,” she agreed.
“Yarrow said you’re writing a letter to his family,” Ree said. “I told him I’ll deliver it myself.” He fluffed his leaves, and she had the impression he was puffing up his chest. His voice sounded young. She wondered how old he was.
“You will?” She tried to figure out how to politely askhow. “It needs to reach Alyssium, which is…” She wasn’t certain exactly where Alyssium was in relation to Belde. “… far.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Ree said. “I’m a halophyte.”
“Ah, congratulations?”
“I’m salt-tolerant,” he translated. “Also, I’m brave.”
“Ah.” That was all very nice, but it didn’t explain how he was going to deliver a letter across the sea. He couldn’t be planning to swim, could he? Could a shrub swim? She tried to imagine it and had to press her lips together hard so she wouldn’t laugh out loud.
“There’s a flag in the box at the end of the dock,” Ree said. “If you raise it, a supply-runner ship will know to come by. When it does, I’ll go with it.”
Suddenly, she didn’t feel like laughing. “You want to leave Belde?”
“Oh yes,” he said, the longing clear in his voice. “I’ve always wantedto see the world, to sail the sea, to feel the salt on my leaves and the wind on my bark. Laiken never understood. But Yarrow… He said if it’s what I want, then it’s what I should do.”
Terlu thought of Laiken’s daughter and wondered if Ree had known her and her dream. He must have heard the story—and heard how the daughter had never returned.
“I have to find my place,” the shrubbery said. “My purpose.”
She understood that completely. “Raise the flag, you said?”
