Chapter Fourteen #3
Dax studied the cashier’s desk near the front of the shop. There were books there, shop records and plant care manuals, mostly charred. He tried to flip through them, and several of the pages crumbled. “Where would they go?”
“Away, if they could.” She’d seen a lot of boats leaving the city. She didn’t know if a family of florists could afford passage all the way to Belde, but they could have left as refugees to a nearby island. If so, they’d be impossible to find. Unless they left word with a neighbor?
Cradling a trembling Ree, Marin stepped out the front door.
It was hanging open, only one of its hinges still attached.
It must have been a lovely little shop once, and this must have been a lovely little square.
It had probably held a market filled with artisan stalls.
Now those stalls had been converted into tents.
People appeared to be living in them, with makeshift stoves in front and laundry lines strung between them.
Dax crossed to the nearest tent. “Excuse me,” he asked a woman with tawny fur and doe eyes. “Could you please tell us if you know where the flower shop owners went?”
“The Verdane family,” Marin supplied.
Narrowing her eyes, the woman studied them as if deciding whether they were trustworthy or not. “You from the old government or the new?”
“I’m from their greenhouse,” Ree said.
“Humph.” Her eyes widened as she studied the shrub. “Suppose you probably are.”
She didn’t know where the Verdanes were, but there were a lot of people living in tents throughout the plaza, as well as in other nearby plazas.
Everyone who could take in boarders had done so, if they had enough to pay or barter with in exchange for the living space.
A lot of people had left the city, but not as many from around this area—they couldn’t afford passage, or all the boats were already gone, or they wanted to stay and rebuild, not flee.
The woman suggested they just continue asking whoever looked friendly, and maybe they’d get lucky. Or not.
Marin, Dax, and Ree moved through the plaza, talking with whomever would answer their questions.
Many were optimistic about the provisional government.
Yes, the revolution had gotten out of hand, but change was often painful.
Life would improve soon, once the new government could spare a moment for the city’s citizens.
Others were … less optimistic. Some aggressively so.
Marin and her friends backed away from those people as quickly and politely as they could.
It took the better part of the day before they found anyone who not only knew the Verdane family but had an idea of where they might be.
Memorizing the directions, Marin headed back to Perri and Silver.
Dax jogged alongside her. He was carrying Ree now—they all agreed it felt safer to carry him and keep him close.
They’d met one other sentient plant in their search: a prickly thorn bush who had said she’d been a personal guard for a jewelry shop.
But there was so much unease in the air that both Marin and Dax wanted to keep the little shrub as close as possible. He didn’t protest.
Going through the burned-out florist shop, Marin descended the stairs—and stopped.
Perri had risen halfway out of the canal and was hissing at a pale man in charred rags who was flattened against the wall next to where they’d docked the boat.
“Let me guess,” Marin said to the man. “You tried to steal my boat.”
“For my family—” the man began.
“Yeah, that was a bad idea,” Marin said. “Perri, let him go.” She clambered onto the boat, along with Dax and Ree, and then she untied it.
“We need help—”
“And I need my boat.” She picked up the pole and pushed away from the dock. Everyone in the city was struggling. She could see that. But it wasn’t her job to help everyone, and she certainly wasn’t going to help someone who’d just tried to steal Silver. “Good job, Perri.”
Perri hissed at the man again, and the man shrieked and bolted up the steps. She heard him stumble through the shop.
“We could have offered him and his family aid,” Dax said.
“He could have ruined my family,” Marin said.
“If I’d lost this boat…” She didn’t want to even think about it.
Silver was her freedom, as well as her parents’ future.
Without it, she’d never be able to repay the debt, and her parents would have wasted their sacrifice.
She’d have to be more careful from now on.
And leave this city as soon as we can. Forget about finding jobs here; she’d look elsewhere.
Maybe Dew again. Or the island of Lyra, which had another popular job board and was nicely far from Alyssium.
“I’m sorry I brought you all here. The city’s not safe.
We find Ree’s gardeners, and then we leave. ”
No one argued with that.
It was near nightfall by the time they found the correct plaza.
Shadows stretched through the canals, and Marin felt her skin prickle.
She didn’t want to be in Alyssium after dark.
In fact, she didn’t want to be in Alyssium at all.
The longer they stayed, the more she was convinced this was a terrible idea.
There weren’t viable jobs here; there was only fear, loss, and pain.
“Perri, guard the boat again?” she asked as she tied off.
Perri agreed, baring his teeth. He didn’t show his teeth often, but they were fearsome: silver knives set into a pearlescent maw.
“Ooh, scary,” Ree said.
Perri ducked his head, closing his mouth.
“Oh no!” Ree said. “I think it’s magnificent. I can’t look scary no matter how hard I try.” He demonstrated, stretching his branches out as if to make them prickly. He looked, at best, like a leafy hedgehog.
“Do you want to come or stay on the boat?” Marin asked Ree. “Up to you.”
“I’m coming,” he said stoutly. “I’m brave. And besides, you need me. How are you going to recognize the gardeners without me?”
That was a valid point.
“Will you let me carry you again?” Dax asked.
In answer, Ree held up several of his branches.
Dax scooped Ree up.
Together, they disembarked and climbed the steps up from the canal.
There were even more people in this plaza, perhaps because it was nightfall and many had returned from wherever they’d spent their day—working, seeking work, helping with the cleanup.
A baby was crying nearby, but there were also children playing and laughing, families chattering to one another.
It was nice that there was no screaming.
Maybe we’ve passed the screaming stage of the revolution?
She still didn’t want to be here, though.
They asked at the first few tents if anyone knew the Verdane family.
One woman nodded and began to point—
“Birch!” Ree shrieked. He rolled out of Dax’s arms and then flung himself across the courtyard, rolling like a tumbleweed until he came to a stop in front of a tan canvas tent.
Marin and Dax trotted behind him to catch up.
An older man with a cane bent over Ree. He had bushy gray hair and even bushier eyebrows.
His skin had the same golden metallic sheen as Marin remembered from her brief encounters with the gardener of Belde.
When he looked up at her and Dax, she saw he had the same eyes as well: deep green, though his were lined with wrinkles.
“You come from Belde?” the man asked them.
Marin demanded, “Are you the family of Yarrow Verdane?”
The man froze. “He’s my son, yes. Is he…”
It quickly occurred to her that she should have prefaced that differently. It must have sounded like she was bringing bad news. “He’s fine. He’s well. He sent you a letter.” She pulled the letter from her pouch and handed it to him.
The man’s shoulders relaxed. “Ahh. He did? He did. That … is unusual. He hasn’t written to us …
But I suppose these are unusual times.” Over his shoulder, he called, “Rowan? Your brother has sent a letter.” He turned back to Marin, Dax, and Ree.
“I’m Birch Verdane.” As a woman emerged from the tent, he added, “And this is my daughter, Rowan.”
She too had the same gold skin. Her hair was black and gold, like Yarrow’s, but hers was braided into three strands that hung down to her waist. “Am I supposed to be happy about this? He waited until now to reach out? It took the fall of the empire?” She then spotted Ree.
“Oh! You’re one of them! Aren’t you? One of sorcerer Laiken’s creations? ”
“He’s dead,” Ree said.
“Yes, I know, but you’re not. That’s as much of a surprise as Yarrow’s letter. Maybe slightly less of a surprise. My brother is a terrible letter writer.”
“You need to come back to Belde,” Ree said.
Rowan snorted.
“The greenhouses need gardeners,” Ree insisted. “And you can’t stay here. It’s scary.”
Marin had read the letter, and she knew Yarrow had not said “gardeners” plural.
He had requested one relative to return, to ease the burden of caring for the greenhouses.
He’d referenced the failing spells and said the situation was desperate, and he’d be grateful for the assistance of anyone who was available to help, whenever they were available.
He’d had no idea about the fall of the empire.
And he certainly hadn’t said: Everyone come.
She could see where this was going, though: they’d all want passage to Belde. They’d lost their home and their livelihood, and it had to seem like the best option. Stepping back, Marin tugged on Dax’s sleeve so that he’d step back with her.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“I don’t transport people,” she whispered back. “I’m a supply runner, not a ferry.” Maybe she’d be fine with it under ordinary circumstances, but with Iovar and the deadline?
“You took my friends from the conservatory…”