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As they continued through his groves, Cassia found Argyros’s botanical commentary scholarly but understandable. She could see why Lio’s teacher inspired his admiration. She felt disappointed when they came to the end of the last row.
Argyros halted and turned to face Cassia. He put his hands behind his back.
Now Cassia knew where Lio had learned the gesture, which he always made when he was uncertain. How very telling.
“Thank you for showing me your trees,” Cassia said. “It has been a real pleasure. Your orchard is wonderful.”
“Alas, it is utterly lacking.”
“How can you say that? You have so many different trees here, and all so healthy.”
“Do you notice what is missing?”
“I cannot think what could possibly add to such a collection.”
He scowled. “Coffee.”
“Oh! So coffee comes from a tree.”
“Fromthetree. The tree of life for my craft.”
“You have such a fine orchard here, I could easily believe your craft is gardening.”
She had meant it as a compliment, but he was quite stone-faced as he corrected her. “These trees you see before you are but a stepping stone toward the greatest goal of my craft: to grow coffee in Orthros. This orchard is merely an experiment. Allow me to show you the results.”
She followed him back in the direction of the house. Above the treetops rose its peaked roofs and square towers. Cassia had seen in her dictionary that Argyros’s name meant silver, and she thought his home befitted its namesake. Its granite walls, pillars, and buttresses ranged from dove gray to the gray-black of thunderheads, while its vibrant windows gleamed into the night like flashes of insight. How many of them had Lio made for his uncle’s family?
Cassia hoped she could gain more insight from Argyros tonight, and his orchard was a pleasant avenue into more difficult subjects. “I have so much to learn about Imperial flora. How interesting to discover coffee comes from trees. Do you import it, as you do with spices like cassia?”
Lio’s uncle nodded. “The Empire cultivates the trees and harvests their berries, which we process to yield beans. I can roast the beans to my satisfaction, blend different varieties in infinite ways, brew them to perfection, and finally, provide my fellow Hesperines with a true coffee experience through how I serve the beverage. But I am ultimately at the mercy of our Imperial suppliers. I cannot grow my own coffee.”
“I can imagine how frustrating that is.”
Clearly Argyros and Lio both devoted the utmost concentration and effort to anything that captured the interest of their extraordinary minds. No wonder they got along so well. Most of the time.
Argyros shot a disgusted glance at the modest greenhouse that neighbored his orchard. “The situation is unacceptable. After sixteen hundred years, we have yet to overcome this limitation.”
Cassia suppressed a wistful sigh as they passed his greenhouse by. She proceeded cautiously, wary of insulting the elder firstblood’s pride. “You have many skilled gardeners here, such as Princess Konstantina. I take it that these notable Hesperines have had no more success than you at growing coffee.”
“Alas, none of our best efforts have been enough. I have consulted with every expert among our people. They have been generous with advice based on their centuries of experience and supportive in their provision of research materials. I have pored over their greatest works. I have taken countless journeys throughout the Empire to consult with families who have grown coffee for generations. I even earned a degree in agriculture at the Imperial university with a specialization in coffee.”
“A whole degree in coffee? Your studies must have been fascinating.”
“I have given the problem of coffee trees as much investigation as I have given magic itself. But even I have failed. Behold.”
He opened another pair of glass doors and led her back into the library. The smells of paper, ink, and coffee wrapped around her again. The family’s voices drifted between the shelves from somewhere farther in the room. Argyros showed her to a stately desk that dominated a corner where two rows of windows met. Their stone tracery held panes of clear glass that provided a view of both the terrace and the orchard.
Argyros rounded the desk and put both hands on the object that occupied it. He slid it across to Cassia.
“My most successful attempt at growing a coffee tree,” he announced.
It was a wretched, shriveled remnant of what might once have been a sapling. Cassia stared in dismay at the pathetic creature. It had never grown taller than her forearm, to be sure. What leaves it might once have had were long gone. But the soil in its pot was moist. It was clear its doting papa continued to water it each and every day.
“I keep this on my desk,” said Argyros, “to maintain my resolve. There is no hope of saving it. But the next one may yet be a success.”
“That is true dedication. I’m sorry it has gone unrewarded for so long.”
“I shall not give up hope. That, I must admit, is my ulterior motive for showing you my trees tonight. Would you be so kind as to lend me your expertise, Cassia? I need a fresh pair of eyes. All I ask is that you have a look at this and tell me what you see.”
