Page 86 of Lake of Sorrow

“Is it safe?” Frayvar called from down the hall.

“What’s your definition of safe?”

“Protected from and not exposed to danger or risk. Harmless. Offering safety from danger or difficulty.”

“I said your definition, not the dictionary definition.”

“They’re the same. I’m a faithful devotee of dictionaries.”

“Yeah, yeah. The plant isn’t any of those things. Come to the hole, and hand me the pot anyway.”

Since the branches and vines, despite waving in the air, weren’t threatening her, Kaylina risked taking her gaze off them to lie beside the hole and lower her hand down.

“I’m not sure why you didn’t bring your ra— your new friend for this,” Frayvar grumbled as he approached slowly.

“I didn’t want him to be killed.”

“Naturally, you’re saving that fate for your little brother.”

“The plant doesn’t hate you.”

“It’s knocked me unconscious before.” He glanced from vine to vine, not looking up at her, as he stopped under the hole and held the pot overhead.

“Not hatefully.” Glad for his height, Kaylina reached down and gripped the handle.

“So comforting.”

The water sloshed, the ladle clinking against the lip, as she pulled the pot up. Before she sat back, vines stretched toward it.

“Don’t be greedy. Give me a second.” Kaylina set the pot down next to the huge planter and grabbed the ladle.

The vines didn’t obey and dipped into the water. One brushed her hand, and she jerked back, the memory of the last time the plant had touched her springing to mind.

But it only wanted the honey-water and didn’t reach for her.

“If it understands our language,” Frayvar said, backing down the hall, “it might not appreciate you giving it orders. The same way you don’t appreciate certain lords giving you orders.”

“It’s a wise plant.” Kaylina plucked out the ladle. “I’m sure it knows they’re only suggestions.”

“Maybe you should bow and add my lord when you speak to it.”

“You think it’s an aristocratic plant?”

“It’s something. It might appreciate your obeisance.”

Kaylina eased closer to ladle her fertilizer over the soil around the inches-thick stem of the plant. The trunk, she amended. It didn’t look anything like a tree, but that was a very stout stem.

The purple glow intensified. She hoped that meant the plant liked the honey.

A vine lifted from the pot, water dripping from the tip, and drifted toward her face.

Kaylina skittered back, almost dropping the ladle. “You’re welcome. No need for touching. Thanks.”

The vine paused, as if considering her words.

“My lord,” she added in case her brother was right. “Or lady. Or high plantness.”

A snort drifted up from Frayvar, but he didn’t suggest another title.

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