She dug into the roots with her trowel, hacking at them—better a wounded plant than no plant at all. The tree sang louder, a kind of wailing keen, as its petals shriveled into brown husks. The faint floral smell deepened into a medicinal kind of odor, the stench of decay.
Yarrow returned and the three of them unearthed the tree. They dragged it by the branches to the doorway and through. Yarrow slammed the door. He turned on his father who, without his cane, was sagging against a pillar. “What were you thinking?” Yarrow exploded. “I said to get out!”
“I couldn’t leave it,” Birch said. One of the cousins handed him his cane, and he clutched it. “I left before. I’m not going to do it again.”
“Your heart—”
“—is fine.”
One of the others gasped, and they broke off their argument to look to the door. Frost spread over the glass, and then a second later, it melted away. Terlu sank to the ground and panted.
“Nasty spellwork,” Birch said.
“What do you mean?” Terlu asked, looking up.
He waved his hand at the door. “That’s not natural.”
Well, obviously it wasn’t. None of the greenhouses on Belde were natural. “I think it’s a cascading failure,” Terlu said, “stemming from a single weak point in—”
“There’s no evidence of any enemy at work,” Yarrow said to his father, over her. He was scowling at Birch, and his hands were clenched at his sides. “I’ve been here longer than you, and since you left, there hasn’t been a single soul to step foot on Belde in—”
Terlu got to her feet. “Wait, what enemy? What are you talking about?”
“It’s one of the many things we disagreed on,” Birch said. Heleaned heavily on his cane, and she noticed that his muscles were shaking. He’d pushed himself too hard, too fast. She glanced around, looking for a chair to shoo him into, but he wasn’t budging. Continuing to shake, he scowled at his son. “I believe that the failures aren’t natural. They’re caused by a spell, cast by a rival sorcerer.”
“And I say there’s no rival sorcerer,” Yarrow snapped. “How could there be? Laiken spoke to no one, and there’s no one but us on the island. It’s simply the old spells decaying. That’s all. Entropy, a natural occurrence. If we can revitalize the spells—”
“They’ll still fail.” Birch stabbed the ground with his cane for emphasis. “I am telling you, there’s something rotten at the core of this island. Say you’re right, and there’s no rival sorcerer. Only Laiken. Still doesn’t mean it’s natural. It could be his fault—he could have sabotaged his creation. He didn’t want the greenhouses outlasting him and so he ensured they’d die.”
“You’re wrong,” Yarrow said. “He wanted them to last forever. In fact, it was his major concern.” He turned to Terlu. “You’ve studied the spells. Tell my father it’s just time and decay.”
Terlu froze. She hadn’t told any of Yarrow’s relatives that she’d studied Laiken’s spells. What if Birch askedwhyshe’d studied them? What if he connected the plants’ activities to her? What would he say when he realized she broke the law?
But Birch didn’t even glance at her. He was too busy glowering at Yarrow, his bushy eyebrows so low that they nearly swallowed his eyes.
Maybe he doesn’t care that I’ve cast spells?
Or maybe he was too distracted to care now, but he would later when he’d had a chance to think about it.
“The island’s cursed,” Birch insisted. “We should have never come back, and you should have left with us.”
“There’s no curse,” Yarrow said.
Mulling it over, Terlu frowned at the door to the dying greenhouse.Actually,she thought,it would explain a few things—the suddenness and randomness of the failures, for example.What if there wasa spell intended to cause the failures? If there was, then no matter how many greenhouses they fixed, they’d still continue to fail.
“And no rival sorcerer,” Yarrow said stubbornly.
She’d seen no evidence of any spellwork that didn’t originate with Laiken. But she couldn’t let go of the idea that the failures were deliberate. She didn’t know why anyone would want this, but it was possible. There was, of course, one person who would know for certain. Or, more accurately, whoknew.
“I say it’s—” Birch began.
Stepping between Birch and Yarrow, she said, “I need to talk to the ghost.”
Yarrow stopped glaring at his father to blink at her. “What?”
“To do that, I need your help, both of you,” Terlu said. “Laiken doesn’t know me. I know neither of you want anything to do with him, but he might have answers, and he’s more likely to listen to one of his gardeners than to me.”
Yarrow shook his head. “He didn’t have any interest in his gardeners.”
