The vine released him and returned to the trellis it had adorned before Briar had come into the greenhouse. Berenene watched it go. “I take it this happens to you fairly often,” she commented wryly.
“Only till they get used to me being around,” replied Briar. “They’re like kids—children,” he explained. “They get all worked up, and they need time to calm down. You should see them around my teacher, Rosethorn. They can’t not touch her when she’s by. It’s like she’s the sun, except then the moss and funguses would stay clear of her, and they don’t. Are those potted palms?” He wandered over to the stand of large, tree-like plants, hoping to distract her from thinking about plants on the move. In his travels he had discovered that some people reacted oddly to it. Stopping next to the nearest one, he ran an appreciative hand over its trunk.
“It’s vanity, I know,” said the empress. “But it’s so satisfying, knowing I have a bit of southern warmth when winter shrieks down off the Syth.”
Briar smiled. “Winters are always hard if you like seeing green things about you,” he admitted. “I tried to get my teacher to visit Dedicate Crane’s greenhouse—he was my other plant teacher, back at Winding Circle—but she’s old-fashioned. She growls how plants are supposed to have their own season, then surrounds herself with potted plants all winter long. She just can’t get the tropicals to thrive in her workshop.”
“I’ve read Crane’s book, you know,” Berenene said, leading him farther back into the greenhouse. As they walked, the gardeners continued to work. When the empress moved inside the palace she was followed and preceded by bows and curtsies. Idly, Briar wondered, How long do you s’pose it took her to break her gardeners of the habit?
There was a wave of motion here, but it was directed at Briar, and it came from the plants. He called some of his power up and let it trickle away in the tiniest of threads, running to every plant and tree in the building. He did the same in the next greenhouse, and the next, and the next. The empress had a complex of them, each closed by its own doors and connected to its neighbors by wooden halls.
“The things you learn,” Berenene said as she led the way into yet another greenhouse. “Mites. I had two greenhouses that connected, and the treacherous little nalizes got into everything. Once again I had to start from scratch. That’s the problem with gardening. One mistake will do more than just teach you. It can wipe you out.” She stood back and smiled. “I understand you have an interest in shakkans, Briar Moss. Would you care to grant your opinion of mine?”
He had seen bigger collections in the imperial palace in Yanjing, but nowhere else. This greenhouse had been divided in half with glass and yet another door. In one half, miniature trees and the gear to care for them were arranged with an eye to the light that filled the greenhouse. A number of the step-like shelves on Briar’s left were empty, but the marks that water, earth, and light left on the unstained wood indicated that upward of twenty plants were missing. “Your pines?” Briar asked, nodding toward the empty spots.
Berenene favored him with a warm smile. “Exactly so. When I think they have a chance, I bring them onto my windows and terraces. I tend to be more cautious with the ones that are not evergreens. It’s not unknown for the Syth to blow in a night’s frost even this late in the spring.”
Looking around, Briar saw a miniature forest of Quoy maples, each perfectly set in its large, flat tray. He was drawn to it like iron to a lodestone. The emperor of Yanjing would wilt to have something like this, Briar thought as he touched the miniature leaves with gentle fingers. He can’t grow maples at all, let alone a forest arrangement. The trees nearly purred under his touch, welcoming the gentle trickle of his green magic as it flowed along their stems. From there, Briar found several shapes of rhododendrons, all blooming beautifully. A step away he found miniature apple trees in bloom. He moved from dish to dish, tree to tree, noting which had been wired to follow a particular shape, which trees displayed new grafts, which were very old and which were only made to look old. He lost all track of time and his companion as he inspected each and every plant. All were lovingly tended and in the best of health.
When he looked up, Berenene was gone. Briar frowned. How long did I pay her no mind? Did I vex her, ignoring her like that, and she went stomping off? he wondered. She seemed to understand a fellow might get caught up, but it’s hard to tell what way empresses will jump.
Then he saw spring green motion through the blurred glass of the divider. She had gone into the other half of the greenhouse. He followed her, passing through the glass door and closing it in his wake. This side of the building was hot and damp, as hot as the jungles of southern Yanjing. It was an entirely different world, filled with wildly gorgeous, complex flowers. There were as many different containers for them as there were colors and shapes of flower, ranging from pots to stick holders and slabs of cork. The empress handled the blooms very carefully, inspecting them for problems, shifting them if she felt the light was too strong.
There were rolls of muslin at the inside top of the peaked roof, each with a cord that dangled to within arm’s reach at the center of the room. Briar noted small, ship-like cleats on the metal strips between panes of glass.
Curtains, he guessed. In case she thinks the light’s too strong in one part of the room, she can pull down the curtains and secure the cord so the muslin’s close to the glass. And when she says so, they roll them up again.