“But I didn’t leave.”
“Right, but he didn’t expect that. And the spell wasn’t complete anyway. The delay worked, yes, but when it kicked in… He hadn’t finished perfecting it, so when the spell was triggered, it didn’t do what it was supposed to do.”
Yarrow frowned at the coded spell and at her scribbles in the margins. “What was it supposed to do?”
“It was supposed to isolate the entire greenhouse from the rest of the world. He thought it was the only way his creations could be safe—if they were severed from everyone else. Alone.”
Yarrow snorted.
“I know, right? Exact opposite of what he should have done. But fear consumed reason. Anyway, he hadn’t completed the spell, and so instead of isolating the greenhouses and making them self-sufficient, the spell destabilizes the existing enchantments.”
“And destroys the very thing he wanted to protect,” Yarrow said.
“Yes, ironic, I know, but I believe his half-finished spell is stillactive, and every few months—that delay he was testing, you see—it triggers again and destroys another greenhouse.”
His eyes widened. “That… makes sense.”
“So the question is how do we stop the spell?” She paced around the cottage, certain this was the answer. They’d stumbled on it by accident, while experimenting just like Laiken had. “We discovered the answer the other day when we, you know, nearly died. If we can destroy the ingredients, it’ll break the spell.”
Yarrow crossed to her, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her.
The ghost was not helpful.
Terlu nibbled on the leftover honey cake as she glared at the grimy mirror in the late sorcerer’s bedroom. “I know you can hear us. Ask again, Lotti.”
Perched on the bedside table, the little rose implored, “Please, dear Laiken, sorcerer supreme, if you could grant us an answer to one teensy-weensy question—”
Yarrow leaned closer and murmured in Terlu’s ear, “Teensy-weensy?”
“Shh,” Terlu whispered back. “Let her do it her way. She knew him best.”
Spreading her leaves dramatically, Lotti said, “We would be so enormously grateful and in awe of your brilliance and benevolence. You’d be the Hero of Belde, saving all your wonderful creations. All you have to do is tell us where to find the ingredients. Are they here in the workroom?”
They waited, but there was no sign that the ghost was even listening.
“Are they in the greenhouse?” Lotti tried.
No response.
“Are they on the island?”
The bedroom stayed silent and still. No breeze. No shiver of cold.Terlu wondered briefly if asking the question had caused the ghost to move on. She’d heard stories about that—once whatever emotion was holding the remnants of them was satisfied, they’d dissipate. Perhaps he’d only stayed until he’d finished being irritating. “Ask him if he wants us to save the greenhouses.”
Lotti raised her voice. “Do you want us to save the greenhouses?”
A wind raced through the bedroom, stirring the sheets and blankets on the bed and knocking Lotti a few inches to the side. Yarrow helped her right herself.
“That was a yes,” Lotti said.
“Are you sure?” Yarrow said. “It only seemed emphatic.”
“A yes smells like a rose. A no is skunk cabbage.”
“How…” Terlu began. She stopped herself and shook her head. She wasn’t here to study ghost behavior. All they needed right now were answers. “Never mind. Ask him: Does he know where the ingredients are?”
A sad breeze ruffled the curtain and did, in fact, stink faintly of skunk cabbage, now that she was aware of it.
Yarrow snorted. “How can he not know?”
