Free Web NovelChapter 174: Gossip and Mild Chaos
They’d come back from the foundry in a tired, dust-streaked clump, and by the time they’d crossed into the courtyard the lamp in the corridor window was already burning.
That was how Mod realized the evening had progressed further than she’d thought. The courtyard still felt like late afternoon, but the light said otherwise.
Hild sat on the low section of wall near the eastern side of the courtyard. She still wore her work clothes, and a dried streak of clay crossed one knee. She’d been there long enough to look comfortable.
Beadu occupied her normal place near the garden corner, sitting cross-legged with a cloth bundle in her lap. Something warm from the kitchen was inside.
Leof stood near the far wall, turning a pebble over in one hand without seeming to notice she was doing it.
The garden section nearest Beadu was, technically, thriving. The plants had gone colors that drew the eye for all the weird reasons, and looking straight at them took more effort than looking away.
Mab beat her to the garden corner, practically jogging the last few steps. Tam wound the timer for no reason anyone could name, checked it like it had told her something, and put it away again.
Beadu was already opening the cloth bundle. Inside were pieces of bread and something wrapped in paper that smelled strongly of rendered fat and herbs. The kitchen cook had clearly been convinced to help.
"How’d it go?" she asked Mod around a bite.
"Finally sorted. Took all day, but it’s done." Tam replied.
"Good."
Beadu was already looking past her. Mab had asked something at the same moment and gotten there first in her head.
"Are the weird plants still weird?"
"Weirder."
Which was apparently the invitation Beadu had been waiting for.
She started to rant, "Okay, so, you already know about the blue one. But the second root got huge, like twice the size it should’ve been, and then just went mushy in the middle, like it gave up halfway. And the third one," she jabbed a thumb at the flower bed, "grew a second stem sideways, hit the wall of the planter, and curled itself back around into a loop. I didn’t tell it to do that. I have no idea what to do with a loop."
Beadu had to exhale to avoid choking.
"I don’t know if any of this means the work is succeeding."
She admitted sheepishly. "It could mean exactly that. It could also mean I’ve spent weeks telling seeds to become more self-reliant and they’ve misunderstood me. I won’t know till something actually finishes growing and I can poke at it properly."
Mab pointed toward the blue root.
"Can you eat that one?"
"Didn’t try."
"Why not?"
"Because it’s blue."
"Vegetables can be blue."
"They can?"
Mab looked at her expectantly.
"So?"
"So I don’t know why it’s blue."
"I would’ve taken a bite."
"I know you would’ve."
"Just a small one."
"That’s exactly why you are a child."
Hild didn’t look up from the clay drying on her knee.
"Don’t eat things from experiments."
Nobody argued.
Tam glanced toward the garden.
"So is it actually working, or...?"
Beadu’s face went through about four expressions before landing on frustration.
"Maybe. Possibly. I don’t know. And I won’t know for an entire season."
She gestured helplessly at the garden. "Right now I’m spending every afternoon talking to seeds about independence. And in return, I get a loop." She pointed at the offending plant. "So yes. Maybe. I genuinely don’t know."
Mab sighed. She lost interest in the rant and switched topics without warning.
"How’s the swamp going?"
Hild looked at her.
"Good. A lot of land."
Beadu latched onto the one part that mattered to her.
"What’s the soil like in there? I mean, some of the mud might help me."
"The outskirts might suit you."
That was the whole answer. Beadu took it as more than enough and launched into a much longer explanation.
She outlined plans for spring planting, three seed varieties she’d already picked out, and a theory she’d been chewing on all winter about whether her domain worked across a whole field as it did on one seed, or whether it would wear thin somewhere past a certain size. She was still going, hands moving as she talked, when she reached without thinking toward the nearest flower bed.
The motion looked unconscious.
The plants reacted immediately.
Every plant in that section shot upward. Two feet. Perhaps two and a half. The growth took less than two seconds. Then every plant bloomed. All at once. Flowers appeared across the entire bed and unfolded simultaneously.
Then they turned.
Every bloom rotated toward Hild.
Eight impossible flowers, all pointing at the same person.
Hild nearly fell down from surprise. The flowers continued pointing at her. Several seconds passed.
"Beadu."
"Sorry."
She was already pulling the domain effect back. The plants sank again, though not entirely to their original height. The blooms remained open. They turned away from Hild and redirected themselves toward the open sky above the courtyard, as though the previous incident had never happened.
Mab stared.
"Why Hild?"
"I don’t know."
"They pointed at her."
"I know."
"Specifically her."
"I was watching too."
"All of them."
"I noticed."
Hild folded her arms.
"I’m also interested in the answer."
The conversation drifted to the city because Mab had spent the afternoon thinking about bread prices, and Mab rarely held onto topics for long.
"Bread’s gone up again. At the nearby stall."
"Since when?" Beadu asked. "Like, just now, or has it been increasing?"
"Increasing, I think. Going up for weeks."
Hild considered it a moment.
"More people. Same supply."
Beadu leaned back. "There’s someone in this building who hasn’t done one thing all winter and somehow eats better than the rest of us combined. I’ve seen her plates."
Hild nodded.
"I’ve walked past Mathild twice."
"And?"
"She was standing in the corridor."
Mab looked up.
"Standing and doing what?"
"Nothing. Standing."
Leof ran into Mathild more than the rest of them, since they were both at the citadel around the same hours. She explained what she’d seen.
Mathild had been rehearsing. Just practicing what she was going to say to Beorn, whenever she actually worked up the nerve to talk to him. Alone. In a corridor. At a wall.
Leof tilted her head, "When I came around the corner, she stopped immediately, looked at me, and said, ’It’s for when I speak to the prince.’" Leof paused. "Then she walked away. As if that explained everything."
"Yes."
Mab was the one to break the silence after.
"Does she know that’s weird?"
Leof thought about it.
"I don’t think she’d agree."
"Has she actually talked to him yet?"
"No."
"The whole winter?"
"No."
"And she still hasn’t talked to him?"
"Still preparing, I guess."
Tam shrugged.
"She’s smarter than she looked at first." That was Tam’s conclusion about most people.
Leof rolled the pebble across her fingers.
"She also has a notebook."
That got everyone’s attention.
"A diary?" Hild asked.
"Wasn’t allowed to read it."
Nobody pushed. Whatever was in it, finding out meant asking Mathild directly, and nobody wanted to pay that price.
The talk had finally run out of steam when Mab’s hand found the stone still in her pocket. The one she carried for exactly this kind of moment.
"Mmm," she said, sitting up. "Game. Heat it, push it, catch it. Everybody’s in."
Mab’s heat to start it. Mod’s vacuum to send it. Beadu’s domain to catch it. Everyone agreed with the enthusiasm of people who had finished the available food and needed a new activity.
Mab placed the stone on the ground. Then she heated it. Warm. Warmer. Hot. Eventually hot enough that she pulled her hand away.
Then she looked at Mod. Mod placed her vacuum behind the stone. The stone slid forward. Not very far. Perhaps eight feet across the courtyard. It entered the garden bed. Beadu’s domain caught it immediately.
That part worked exactly as intended. Everything after that went wrong.
The plants had spent the whole winter cold, and the whole winter being coaxed toward growth by someone who valued warmth above all else. A hot stone landing in the middle of that was basically everything they wanted at once.
The nearest plant reached for it. Then another. Then several more. Within fifteen seconds the stone vanished into vegetation. Faint steam began rising from the plants. The stone remained extremely hot.
"Let it go," Beadu ordered.
Unfortunately, they’d also spent the whole winter getting lectured about independence, and apparently they’d taken it to heart. Two plants released the stone. Four refused.
Mab brightened.
"Threaten them."
"You can’t threaten plants."
"Can you ask more firmly?"
Beadu tried. Three more let go. One remained.
The final plant had grown noticeably around the stone. It seemed convinced this was permanent.
Hild leaned forward and shoved upward under the roots with her domain. The stone shot loose, faster than anyone expected, crossed the courtyard, bounced once, and came to rest against Tam’s boot.
Tam looked down. The stone was still warm. Green plant residue clung to several sections. A noticeable indentation marked one side where a stem had wrapped around it with surprising force.
"I don’t remember signing up for this part."
Mab picked the stone back up and looked it over.
"I think we won."
Nobody else agreed.
The evening quieted down after that. Beadu finished off the bread. Mab tucked the stone back into her pocket, and it would probably keep its new shape now. Hild stretched, the most movement she’d made since she sat down. Tam wound the timer one more time, glanced at it, and put it away.
"Hey," Mab said. "Is the pan-crisp vendor gonna be at the foundry gate tomorrow?"
"Probably."
"Does she sell in the morning?"
"Only during shift change."
"Why?"
"That’s when the workers come out."
Mab nodded slowly. It made sense. It was still annoying.
The corridor lamp dimmed into its lower setting. The sounds drifting from the foundry district changed as well. The afternoon roar had faded. What remained was the steadier rhythm of overnight operation.
Leof spoke into the quiet.
"I tried to find the prince today."
She wasn’t addressing anyone in particular. Mab answered anyway.
"What for?"
"Something I wanted to ask."
She didn’t explain further.
Then she continued, "He wasn’t available. I tried twice. Both times he and Heinrich were in the office with the door closed. The second time I waited."
"How long?"
"A while."
Hild nodded.
"It’ll come out eventually."
"What will?"
"Whatever question you’re trying to ask."
The lamp continued burning in the corridor window. Beyond the courtyard, beneath the rooftops of the district, the foundry moved into its overnight rhythm.
