Amanita Sporewell's Arc

Chapter 9 of 14

By morning, the new loam had gone pale at the edges. Amanita pressed a finger into the ring and felt dust where the shine should be damp. The sprites huddled in the center, caps dimmer than yesterday. The first spore she had planted lay under a crust of dry soil. Grizak crouched beside her and said what Amanita already knew. "Week's end," Grizak said. "Maybe less. It needs water every day." Amanita ran through what she had. The spring was dust. The etched bottle was gone to the fairy. Her rain barrel held a finger of green scum. She thought of the willow grove, and the tall fern that grew inside the flower shop by the counter — the one that never wilted, even when the shopkeeper forgot it for weeks. Amanita had watched a drop bead on its lowest frond in the dry heat of last summer. Water came out of that plant on its own. She told Grizak to guard the patch and ran for the shop. The shopkeeper was sweeping the step. Amanita pointed past her, to the giant fern in the back corner. Its fronds glowed a soft blue-green, layered outward like open hands. A wet ring darkened the floor around its pot. "That one," Amanita said. "I need it. Or a cutting. Anything." The shopkeeper leaned on her broom. "That fern's been in my family four generations. It draws water out of the air. Feeds itself." She looked at Amanita's dirty hands, the loam under her nails. "It's not for sale." Amanita's throat tightened. "My spore will die by Friday. I have nine sprites depending on me." "Trade, then. Not coin." The shopkeeper's eyes moved to the window, to the willow line beyond the roofs. "Bring me one branch off the luminous willow. A living one, with leaves still on it. I'll cut you a rooted piece of the fern." Amanita went straight to the grove. The willow's branches trailed almost to the ground, glowing faint against the dry sky. She knelt at the roots first and asked, out loud, for one branch. She waited. A low breeze moved through the leaves. One thin branch swung down and brushed her shoulder. She took it as an answer and cut it clean with Grizak's knife. The shopkeeper took the branch without a word. She dug a young shoot from the base of the fern, wrapped its roots in wet cloth, and handed it over. Amanita ran home with the shoot against her chest. She planted it at the center of the loam ring. Within an hour, beads of water rolled from its fronds and darkened the soil around the spore. The sprites climbed onto its leaves and drank. By dusk, the whole patch was damp. Amanita knelt at the edge and watched the first green thread push up through the crust.