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“Good gods, that’s an awful smell. Look—the surface is covered with algae.” She pointed to the water.
We could easily see the other side, but there was no way in hell you’d pay me to cross it without a sturdy boat. For one thing, I couldn’t swim. Not really. For another, the lake was covered with a thin slime of greenish algae. Pond scum. Delightful. Oh yes, I wanted to go mucking around in that Jacuzzi just about as much as I wanted to get into a four-legged race with Speedo, the neighbor’s basset hound. Speedo not only bayed all night long, but he told me secrets I really didn’t need to know. Such as his owners had a thing for spanking. Each other—not him. Too much information, I’d told him, but he was intent on figuring out just what they enjoyed about being smacked on the butt when it was so clearly a punishment for him when he forgot his manners and piddled on the carpet.
After a quick check around the immediate vicinity, which produced only hazards of the normal kind, namely spiders, snakes, and a snarling tuskwort, Smoky and Morio stood back, letting Iris take over.
Camille and I sat on a log. We were as good as useless when it came to hunting herbs. Camille grew an herb garden, but it was tidy and neat, and she knew what everything was because the seedlings had come with labels. I was hopeless when it came to plants. I didn’t even like eating them. Vegetables weren’t my forte, and Camille had to bribe me to eat my broccoli and carrots.
Morio walked alongside Iris, while Smoky kept a watch over the forest, making sure we weren’t taken by surprise by anything nasty. The morning wore away into noon, and the sun was shining, though not particularly warmly. As we listened to the low thrum of insects, I realized that we weren’t hearing the incessant pounding of traffic, or the blaring of the television or stereo, or even the hum of electricity that rolled through the wires.
“I haven’t heard it this quiet since . . . since we first left.” I leaned back, closing my eyes, savoring the silence.
Camille nodded. “I know. I miss this. But I’d miss things from Earthside, too. I’m afraid that if I was forced to choose where to live, I’d have a hard time making up my mind. I’d probably pick Otherworld, of course . . . but . . .”
“But Mother’s homeland has rubbed off on you,” I said, giving her a rueful smile. “Me, too, I’m afraid. And Menolly likes the dark city streets.” I kicked a stone with my foot, watching it roll down the embankment, into the pond. “Do you think we’ll ever come back here to live? Permanently?”
Camille frowned. She stared at the water, breathing so softly I could barely see the rise and fall of her chest. Finally, she said, “I don’t know, Kitten. Truthfully, I don’t know if any of us will live through the coming war. We’ve had a lot of close calls already, and who’s to say that one day . . . one slip and . . .” She shrugged. “I think we should just enjoy each day as it comes.”
“One day at a time, huh? I didn’t know you were a philosopher,” I said, grinning.
She blinked. “A year ago, I wouldn’t have been. But with everything that’s happened . . . Today we revel in the fact that we’re home in Otherworld, even if it is only to hang out in Darkynwyrd. Tomorrow, we’ll enjoy being home with Maggie, in the city. It’s the only way I can see for us to keep our sanity.”
Iris waved from a patch of thick grass, twenty feet to our left at the edge of the water. “I found it! Delilah, come here.”
I slowly rose, dusting my hands on the butt of my jeans. “How’s your hand doing? You aren’t getting too tired, are you?” I asked as I reached for Camille, offering to help her to her feet.
She jumped up on her own, shaking her head. “It stings, but it’s healing. I’ll be okay, Kitten. Don’t worry about me. Sharah knows what she’s doing. Now go talk to Iris.”
While she joined Smoky on guard duty, I meandered over to where Iris had parted a large patch of wild grass. She was pointing to a large plant. The leaves reminded me of a geranium’s leaves—scalloped and fuzzy, not shiny. The smell was musky, thick and close, rising from tiny purple blossoms on spiked flower heads. The plant was a good three feet high, and almost reached Iris’s chin.
“This is the Panteris phir plant? Looks a lot like rose geraniums. Siobhan has them on her balcony.” I knelt beside the plant, examining it. The roots were thick and ropy, the stalk of the plant had lignified for the first foot out of the ground, and I had the feeling that as it grew, the remainder would turn woody and hard, too.
“Aye, this is the Panteris phir. Panther’s fang, when you translate it from the language of the northern elves. This is a potent plant, Delilah, and you can’t take the entire thing, or it would punish you for doing so. You must take several cuttings—I’m positive I can get at least one of them to take root—but you have to leave an offering in its stead.” She produced a trowel and a pair of cutting shears from her backpack. “I can’t do this for you. You were told to harvest it yourself, and so you must do it.”
“How do I do that without hurting the plant or cuttings?” I stared at the plant, not quite knowing how to go about this.
“You have to give it an offering, and then I’ll show you where to cut.” She produced a plastic bag that had a few holes punched in it. There was a paper towel inside, and she poured a bit of water over it and wrung it out.
“We wrap the cuttings in the moist paper towel and then tuck it into the plastic and zip it closed. That will keep it alive till we get the cuttings home and root them in water. When they’re ready to plant, we’ll create a special place in the garden for it. You’ll also want to take home enough of the leaf for your tea until your plant is strong enough to withstand monthly cuttings. It only takes a small pinch to infuse a cup of water.”
I considered the plant. What could I give it, in return for part of its body? And then I glanced up at Iris. “My blood and hair? Would that be an acceptable offering? After all, I’m tearing up part of its body and taking it with me.”
She smiled, gently. “You’ve learned a lot, Delilah. Yes, that would be most appropriate. By the roots. That will strengthen the cuttings’ connection with the mother plant. Go ahead, then, and say whatever comes into your head that feels appropriate.”
Still uncertain, but feeling my way through what felt like the right course of action, I took my blade and gouged a hole next to the root system of the plant. I held up a small lock of hair and cut it with the dagger, slicing unevenly through it so that I had odd, uneven bangs on the right side of my head. I dropped the hair in the ground, pushing it deep, hoping no one else ever found it. Hair and blood were potent forms of magical connection. I knew that much from listening to Camille.
Then I held up my hand and slid the blade down my palm, cutting an inch-long gash in the fleshy pads under my fingers. It wasn’t deep, but it bled enough for my purposes, and I held my hand over the hole and let the blood trickle over the lock of hair.
“My blood and my hair I offer to you in exchange for your children, for part of your body. May we both find strength in this communion.” I couldn’t think of anything else, and it sounded good to me. I shot a glance at Iris, who nodded.
“Very good . . . that should be fine.”
“You don’t think anybody will come along and find my hair, do you? I know witches and sorcerers can use hair to bind people to their will. We have no idea who might be watching from within the forest.” I pointed to the edge of the woods. “There may be some creature worse than the winged centaur in there right now, listening and waiting.”
Iris considered my words, and as I filled in the hole with dirt, she marked a rune on top of the soil and held her hands over it. “Sink deep. Bind and protect. Curse any who would misuse this offering.” A flash of light crackled from her hands to infuse the rune, and it glowed briefly, then vanished. “That should take care of it until your hair has a chance to decompose and go back to the land. Now, here. You hold the stem like so, and then cut on a diagonal—no—not like that, look at how I’m holding the knife.”
As she guided me through the steps, I tried to focus, but my thoughts kept slipping back to the fact that we were in Otherworld, and we would soon be returning Earthside, and we hadn’t found Father, Trillian, or any clue as to whether I’d had a twin at birth. The latter wasn’t nearly so important as the former two, of course, but still . . .
“No! Now, look at what you’re doing,” Iris said, reaching out to shift my hand position by a quarter inch. “See how the angle changes the direction of your cut?”
