“Fine, you’re not ‘wooing’ anyone.You’re bringing her to a concert minus thewoo.”
“Thank you,” Corinthia said, stealing an M&M.“But how do you invite a rare bird to a concert?”
“Practice your birdcalls.Leave a trail of birdseed.No—wait,” Stevie said.“Use your spiffy new magic powers.”
“I could just walk to the green cottage at night.”
“Too easy.Where’s the fun in that?”
“You just want to see me accidentally magic my own hair off or something.”Corinthia held out her hand.“More M&Ms, please.”
Stevie doled out a few.“Why don’t you have your own chocolate?”
“Rosemary ate most of it.I haven’t refilled the auxiliary Cabinet of Chocolate yet.”
“There’s your answer, then.Summon her up, offer her some chocolate and a concert, and she’ll fall at your feet.”
“First of all, I’m not ‘summoning’ a fellow human being—”
“Bird-being.”
“Second, I don’twanther to fall at my feet.I want her to accompany me, by choice and with dignity, to a cultural event.”
Stevie rolled her eyes.
“But… the rest of your theory is solid.”
“So you’re gonna work some of that magic?”
“I,” Corinthia said, with more calm than she really felt, “am going to leave a message with the forest.”
19
ThePollinatorGardenborderedthe Refuge, so after lunch it was easy enough to follow one of the sand paths down a slope, through a gap in the low fence, and into the outermost fringe of the Refuge itself.
A secondary trail, not marked on the map, led quickly into a stand of thick, impenetrably tangled oaks, their green walls rising on either side of the path and blocking the view of anything but the cloudy sky above.
“I need a likely tree,” Corinthia said.
“A likely tree,” Stevie echoed, running her hands over various branches as if shopping for the perfect 7-foot Christmas spruce.She stopped and looked at Corinthia.“What constitutes ‘a likely tree,’ anyway?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”As silly as it sounded, it was absolutely true.Self-assurance was beginning to take root in Corinthia, as if she had begun to put to use a new technology she had been learning about.How different was this, after all, than a Boolean search?Or a card catalog, from back in the day?
“Just close your eyes,” Corinthia said to herself, remembering the forest bathing instructor, “and hold out your hands, andfeel, until you notice something.”
There was only the steady pressure of her feet on the ground, the rustle of the leaves, and the subtle scent of floral, smoky honey in the air.Even with her eyes closed there was a visual sense of silvery energy woven through everything, occasionally brightening in spots like tiny sparks.
Corinthia had done some more reading about the flora and fauna of the upland forest, and had learned that some oak trees interconnected their roots with their neighbors, forming a strong, linked community that did not fall even in hurricane-force winds.Rosemary’s tidy green cottage was just as much a part of it as the stand of trees in which Corinthia stood.
“Corinthia?”Stevie said.
“I’ve got it,” Corinthia said, and smiled to herself, because she did, indeed, have it.Every fiber of her had been linked to this place, and she felt the movement of the trees like her own fingers wiggling.She touched one of the oak branches, but it was almost a formality—a way to show respect and willingness.
I would like to invite Rosemary to the concert tonight at the Outdoor Amphitheater.
Her words became images wrapped in memories and feelings, and Corinthia released them into a network she was only beginning to understand.A vibration passed outward, echoed off the farthest reaches of the Refuge, and returned to her in pulsing shivers.Goosebumps rose on her arms.
Corinthia opened her eyes.
