Imryll had leaned forward, resting her elbows on the scrub tree table. The bark seemed to smooth for her, giving her a gentle place to rest. Eris marveled at the level of control this woman had over the trees, control she had never even imagined. Did it extend elsewhere, or did she only have such ability here, in the heart of her forest?
There was just so much she didn’t know.
“She had me select a flower—”
“Select?” Imryll interrupted. “You do not select a flower. If you bond to a flower, it chooses you.”
Eris remembered searching for the flower. She’d spent months looking, each day seemingly wasted wandering the garden for the flower. Only, it hadn’t been wasted. That time had taught her more than she realized about the flowers throughout the garden. When she finally did select the teary star, she had been ready for what came next, even if she didn’t really know it at the time.
“Maybe it’s different for keepers of flowers,” Eris suggested.
Imryll frowned but said nothing.
“This keeper instructed me to search for a flower, letting me bring it to her when I chose one I thought I was mine…that I could bond to.” She understood the bond Imryll mentioned, though hadn’t referred to it that way in the past. Once she’d discovered the teary star, she’d mimicked the way Lira inspected the flower, going so far as to taste it. When she’d done that, she’d felt…something. Had that been the bonding?
“And you claim a bond to a teary star?”
Eris nodded.
“How is it you had such a flower? It is my understanding they aren’t in bloom for another year, unless you mean you found one six years ago.”
Eris had never really considered how Lira had the teary star blooming. They did bloom only every seven years and the flowers at the heart of the Svanth weren’t quite ready to bloom. She felt them—the energy simmering under the surface, waiting for its time—but had not seen another flower except in her dreams.
“I don’t know how it bloomed in that garden. Maybe she’d influenced it somehow…”
“A garden? You found a teary star outside of the Svanth?”
Eris nodded.
“They do not survive. No gardener has ever understood why, but teary stars cannot survive outside the Svanth.”
“They brought soil from the forest,” Eris offered.
“That isn’t enough. It has never been enough. You think your gardener was the first to attempt such a transfer? Others have even carted in rainwater along with the soil. None have managed to grow a teary star outside the Svanth.” She leaned forward, a puzzled expression on her face. “Are you certain it was a teary star?”
Eris sniffed. What she’d learned from the forest had been clear. She had no doubt about her flower. Of all that she’d learned, that was the one part she’d never questioned.
But after seeing the control Imryll exerted, maybe she should have. Shouldn’t she know more about her flower, especially if she’d bonded with it?
“I would prove it to you if I could,” Eris said.
Imryll’s frown slowly peeled away, replaced by lips pursed in a shadowed smile. “Proof? There is little you could do to prove it, short of…” She trailed off and blinked. “Yes. Proof might be necessary. I think…”
She hopped to her feet and hurried from the hut.
Eris sat watching after her, waiting for her to return. When she didn’t, she finally got to her feet and followed after, wondering what kind of proof this keeper would need.
Without returning to the Svanth, there wasn’t anything Eris could do to prove what she knew of the teary star.
Chapter 44
Imryll crouched outside the hut near the spindly svanth tree. Not as towering or impressive as the trees found in the forest, the tree shared little more than a passing resemblance. Had Eris not had the visions of the earliest svanth trees growing the forest, she might not know what it was.
“How do you have a svanth tree?” she asked as she approached.
She knelt over the ground, her hands cupped and her eyes flickering. With the question, she glanced over her shoulder at Eris. “You recognize it. Perhaps you speak the truth. Hmm. We will know soon enough, I think.”
Imryll remained where she was as Eris touched the top of the soil with her foot, delving lightly. A soft growl echoed behind her. The wolf. She made a point of ignoring it, focusing on what the forest would share.
She didn’t delve deeply into the forest. Doing so would only push her against the barrier the woman had constructed over the deepest roots. Instead, she focused on the shallow roots of the grasses. Life blossomed around her, constrained somewhat, enough that she couldn’t command great power, but she recognized what the woman was doing.
And gasped.
“You have seeds.”
Imryll looked back at her and nodded. “Proof. You said you could offer proof.”
“Like this? What do you expect me to do?”
Imryll blinked. “You said you know how the vines support the trees. That is proof. Demonstrate this.”
“And then what?”
“You will have answers.”
Answers. This woman—this keeper—might teach her. The knowledge she possessed was greater than anything Lira possessed. Possibly even enough to let Eris save her mother. For answers like that, couldn’t Eris demonstrate what she knew of the svanth trees?
But should she? The secret of the svanth trees—the secret of the teary star vines—might not be hers to share. Svanth trees grew only in the heart of the forest and nowhere else. There had to be a reason. Would Eris be sharing knowledge she should not?
She watched Imryll. A finger of deep green vine peaked up from the soil. It slowly uncoiled, swirling toward the tree.
How did Imryll get the teary star vine to grow so quickly?
So many questions. And there was little doubt Imryll was a keeper. Once she would have believed keepers could be trusted, but once she’d believed the priestesses could be trusted.
Yet, if she didn’t give Imryll the proof she needed, she would never learn from a keeper of trees.
The vine started up the tree, touching the trunk and trailing upward. The trunk was one corner of the house, but not as large or imposing as the pine and elms. The svanth branches dangled more weakly than they should. The tree was nearly as tall as it would ever get alone. Probably taller than it should be, supported by the surrounding trees.
The vine continued to snake its way up the tree. It wouldn’t provide any support growing this way, certainly not enough to help pull moisture toward the svanth and let it reach its full potential.
“Not like that.”
Without thinking more about what she did—ignoring her concerns about Imryll, this keeper—Eris leaned forward and touched the vine. The barbs growing along the stalk pulled away from her as she knew they would. She ran her hand along the vine, demanding its attention. As she did, she felt what Imryll did, how she stimulated the teary star vine to stretch out of the soil. Could Eris do the same?
Imryll stepped back, letting Eris interrupt, and watched.
Eris instructed the vine to shift, to twist around the trunk, winding in a particular pattern. Not fully encircling the tree—doing so risked strangulating it—but weaving it up the side of the trunk and around, mirroring the patterns she’d seen growing around the svanth trees of her garden, remembering from her visions how the first keeper had guided the vines. Eris made subtle changes, recognizing a difference to the soil and the air, shifting the way the vine embedded itself along the trunk.
It grew and grew. Eris pulled from the energy of the forest, borrowing from the life around her. The svanth tree gave freely, lending its strength, as if the tree itself recognized what she did for it. Branches no longer drooped, slowly stiffening with moisture and opening gaps in the woman’s hut as they did. Leaves filled with water the vine helped pull from the soil, drawing it toward the topmost branches. With more time, the svanth would send deeper roots, drawi
ng even more water and letting the teary star vine grow ever higher. But for now, this was enough.
She sighed, running her hand along the barbs of the vine, the vine letting her touch it, pet it as her father petted his hounds. The work left her feeling drained—had she used her own energy in the growing of the vine?—but otherwise satisfied. A piece of familiarity returned.
Eris stepped back and looked up. Already the svanth tree reached higher. With enough time, it would take over this part of the forest, stretching higher than the other trees, rising like a tower in this forest. Standing where she was, hand atop the vine, Eris sensed the soil would welcome other svanth trees, but doing so would change the composition of this forest, altering it in such a way that this woman would no longer be able to serve as its keeper.
“That was dangerous what you did,” Imryll breathed. “But impressive. Even unskilled as you are, you manage great power.” The remark sounded nothing like an insult, merely an observation.
“Dangerous?”
Imryll nodded. “You draw too much, pull from yourself as you do. The trees have much to lend. You can use it instead.”
Eris had sensed the svanth tree lending its strength as she’d gone. She hadn’t meant to draw on herself. She didn’t even know how to do that. “I don’t know how.”
Imryll sniffed and nodded. “Keeper of flowers. They cannot teach this. They draw differently than us. It is cooperation with the trees, not a demand. You will see.”
“I haven’t really been taught anything.”
Imryll frowned. “You pull from yourself only? Very dangerous, then.”
Eris shook her head. “I think I borrowed from the trees, but I don’t know what I’m doing. I returned to Eliara hoping to learn, but I couldn’t get her to teach me. I don’t know how I ended up here. Only that my sister stabbed me, and then I had visions and ended up in your forest…”
She rambled and trailed off, shaking her head. “There is much I need to know. I would like to help my people. Saffra—the Conclave—attacks. Can you teach me what I need to know to help them?”
Imryll stiffened as Eris mentioned the Conclave and shook her head. “The Conclave,” she said the word disdainfully, “cannot harm us here. You are a keeper of the trees, not flowers. You serve the trees, and they serve you. That is how it has been. How it will always be.”
“I don’t understand.”
Imryll nodded. “That is obvious.”
“Will you help me to learn?”
Imryll glanced at the forest, cocking her head as if listening. Her brow furrowed, clouding her face like a storm washing over her. Then she nodded. “We can help, but you must help us.”
Eris sighed. Did she have the time to work with Imryll? While she was here, her family suffered. Her mother lay dying. How much time did she have remaining? Enough for Eris to learn something—anything—that might help? And her brother fought a losing war against Saffra and the Conclave. And Ferisa…could Ferisa be a traitor? Eris still couldn’t believe her sister had stabbed her. More than anything else, that surprised her.
More than whether she had time, did she trust Imryll to teach her?
After seeing the way the keeper moved through the forest, the way the trees obeyed her, could she dare not trust her?
If only Terran were here. There wasn’t anything he could do, but at least she felt better with him nearby. Without him, she felt…as if she missed a part of herself. She pushed away the sentiment. She didn’t know if he shared the same feelings or if he saw her as only his keeper.
“Where is your gardener?” Eris asked.
Imryll stiffened again and blinked strangely. “Gardener? So many years since he’s been gone. Too many. Without his aid, I am weakened.”
“I’m sorry—”
She shook her head. “No. You didn’t know—how could you?—such things are still hard to think about. The trees are so empty without him.”
“He was…more…than your gardener?”
Imryll frowned. “So much to learn.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They are always more than just a gardener. That is how the bond works.”
“There is a bond.” Did Terran know?
Imryll nodded. “You bond to tree—or flower—and the gardener bonds to you. That is how it has always been.”
Eris thought about how Terran was brought from his home, summoned by Lira to work with a keeper—with her—without knowing anything about the keeper. Had he known that was how the bond worked? “Is it the same with a keeper of flowers?”
Imryll shrugged. “Much is different with keepers of flowers. As I said, their roots do not run as deep. They do not live long. Sometimes only a season, though others will bloom each year. But with trees, you much have depth to your connection. They are not just a gardener.”
Eris thought of the dream she’d had at the heart of the Svanth, of the way the first keeper had felt about her gardener. Was that what was destined to happen with her and Terran? Did he know? Did he even want that?
Did she?
Eris pushed away the thought. She didn’t have time to think about what she wanted. She needed to learn what she could from Imryll and use it to help her mother. Maybe even help push the Conclave back from Eliara. Help peace return.
“Where is yours?” Imryll asked.
Eris swallowed. “Terran.”
The woman frowned, shaking her head.
“His name. Terran.”
The woman blinked and glanced around the trees, one hand touching the teary star vine. Eris noted the barbs didn’t recede as they did for her. Did they do that because she’d bonded the flower or was there a different reason?
“Where is this Terran? Did he leave you? A gardener should not do that, you know.”
“He didn’t leave me. He’s probably worried about what happened to me.” Especially if he found a pool of blood in her room. How would that be explained?
Then there was Ferisa. Eris needed to know why she’d stabbed her.
“Not so worried to reach for you.”
Eris didn’t even know if he would be able to find her. At least when he’d found her in the Svanth, he’d known, generally, where she was going. Now, he might not have any idea.
She ignored the worry. Trapped as she was within this forest, she finally had an opportunity to learn from a keeper of trees. Eris would take advantage of that opportunity.
“Do you have your proof?” she asked.
Imryll looked back at her, thin eyes narrowing to nearly slits. “I am convinced.”
“Then will you teach me?”
In answer, Imryll whistled. The wolf came bounding toward her.
Eris tensed.
The wolf stopped across from the woman and watched Eris with an uncanny intelligence. Its tongue lolled out, and an ear twitched as it looked at her. Eris’s heart raced.
Imryll walked over to the wolf and patted his head. She whispered something softly, and a low whine escaped the wolf’s mouth. Then she stood and turned to Eris.
“We will teach you what we can.”
Chapter 45
The moon filtered through the overhead trees more than Eris was accustomed to seeing. In the Svanth, the thick canopy prevented any moonlight from reaching the forest floor and left the forest covered in a cozy darkness. Here, at the heart of Imryll’s forest, where the trees created a small clearing, the moon sent slivers of pale silver light streaming down the trunks of the trees. The newly strengthened svanth tree seemed energized by it. Already it had grown nearly a foot. Eris wondered how much of that was in response to what she’d done.
She sat along the trunk of the tree, feet pressed into the dirt. The svanth tree was the only one in the forest that let her delve deeply into its roots, the barrier preventing her from reaching into the rest of the forest not present within this svanth.
Eris savored the connection to the tree.
As she delved, she recognized something woven into the roots, and she t
raced it.
It took a moment, but she found a story woven there. As she followed it—the young age of this svanth making it relatively easy for her to do—she almost gasped.
The story woven into the roots was about her.
Eris delved carefully, wondering how such a thing was possible. She had only touched the teary star, had only coaxed it rather than the tree itself, as the vine grew alongside the tree. That shouldn’t have influenced the roots of the tree. But it had. More than that, the roots of the svanth mingled tightly with tendrils reaching down from the teary star vine. They twisted together, becoming one.
Farther from the tree, she felt around the barrier formed by the elm and pine and birch. In time, she suspected the svanth would mingle its roots with those others. Did that mean she would eventually be able to access the power stored within this forest? Would what she’d done destroy this forest or strengthen it?
The keeper stood on the far side of the clearing, her back turned to Eris. A deep green cloak covered her, similar to the one she’d given Eris to ward off the growing chill of the night. Eris hadn’t seen any sign of the wolf since the woman agreed to teach.
Really, Imryll hadn’t said much else since then. She’d offered Eris a collection of berries and edible stalks, which she’d gladly accepted, and left her alone as night drew long. Eris wondered when the lessons would start. How long could she spare?
Thoughts of Terran back in Eliara, likely worried about where she’d gone, troubled her. Would he think she’d run off without him, or did the connection—the bond— Imryll claimed formed between keeper and gardener let him know she was well?
Eris reached through the shallow plants of the forest, touching on the grasses and shrubs, pushing through those roots. She didn’t know if she could press all the way to Eliara, so instead she tried sending a message, an impulse really, nothing more than a lightning bolt in a storm cloud, speeding along the roots as they raced south. Even if Terran didn’t understand, perhaps Lira would.
“You are noisy.”
Eris looked up. Imryll stood above her, the hood of the cloak pushed down around her shoulders, and her hair pulled back. In the light of the moon, her eyes seemed to glow.
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