The Apprenticeship of Julian St. Albans (14 page)

“And
now I shall have my own moment,” said Father Stephen, sounding amused. He
slipped off his shoes and stepped right onto the black earth, walking a
random-seeming pattern over the whole area and ending up back where he started.
“I agree, the binding has failed and the rest of the evil magic will fade
once we renew the wards and the blessing.”

Julian
relaxed. “Good,” he said, handing Stephen back his coffee so they
could move on. The rest of the tour was quicker, though they did linger in the
two greenhouses, with Alex and Stephen bickering about what exactly each one
needed. Julian didn’t have much to say, except to report on the plants
themselves, though he was very happy to see the ones in the virgin plant
greenhouse were all thriving, even the poor lilies.

“Will
we need to rearrange the plants?” asked Julian. “They’re not, you
know, properly virgin anymore, we’ve been in and out too much aside from the
bad magic.”

“I’ll
discuss that with Master Stone. I shouldn’t think so, but there might be things
that would be fine out in the main nursery now, to make room for new
deliveries,” said Father Stephen.

Alex
chuckled. “She’ll be put out if you don’t start calling her Mary
Margaret,” he said teasingly. “Let’s finish up, there’s just the
perimeter left, isn’t there?”

“And
the little maze of herbs in that corner,” said Julian, pointing off into
the distance. “We’ll get there on our way around, though.”

“Well,
then, off we go,” said Alex, and he and Father Stephen resumed their
good-natured quarrelling, though they paused frequently to listen to Julian’s
comments or examine the structure, then work the new information into their
arguments.

Everyone’s
coffee was gone by the time they got up front, and Alex even did his little
breath-freshening spell for the group with a cheerful whistle.

“I
think that’s the most useful thing I’ve ever seen you do with magic,” said
Lapointe. “Do I need to go outside with Jones while you guys do whatever
you’re gonna do in here?”

“That
would be for the best,” said Father Stephen apologetically.

Jones
grinned and shrugged. “I’ll take her to get something that isn’t
caffeinated to drink, maybe,” he said.
 

“We
shouldn’t be more than an hour, I can let you know when we’re done,” said
Alex.

“I
know a good place nearby, come on,” said Jones, and Raul followed to lock
them out, while Julian led Alex and Stephen to the office to all change into
their raw silk ritual clothes.

“All
right,” said Father Stephen, once they were all back, “We’re going to
do this in three phases. First we’ll do the whole place by walking the
perimeter, then Alex and I will each take care of a greenhouse and switch off,
and finally Julian will plant his clover while Alex and I give the blessings
and wardings their final touches.”

“That
sounds lovely, and Jones tells me the brownies have sent along a proper meal
for you boys for after, so we won’t have to worry about feeding ravenous
magic-users,” said Mary Margaret. She clapped her hands and rubbed them
together. “Let’s get started.”

Stephen
and Alex collected their things while Julian and Mary Margaret took the
ward-thistle that was going to be the anchor to the spot they’d decided was the
spiritual if not physical centre of the nursery. Julian’s job was to plant it
and tell it to grow deep roots and keep itself and everyone else safe, while
Alex and Stephen did whatever they were going to do. Mary Margaret, as the
owner, would stay anchoring the centre with Julian, while her assistants were
sent to stand at specific places and think, as Alex put it, protective thoughts.

Julian
smiled when he heard the first notes of Alex’s flute dancing over the plants,
though Alex was already lost to sight. Father Stephen’s voice joined the flute
in a harmonious chant, filling the nursery with music and a sense of peace and
power both. Evil wasn’t welcome here, and the very air was pushing it out and
away from them.

Everyone
had left their shoes and socks behind, so Julian crouched down barefoot rather
than sitting, so his feet were in contact with the earth. He dug a hole at the
spot that felt right, making it deep and pouring in the two packets of herbs
that he’d been given. He watered those and buried them with a little earth,
then put the ward-thistle on top and packed the remaining earth around it.

He
whispered almost silently to it as he worked, saying, “There you are,
you’re a very important little plant now, you’re going to anchor our wards and
blessings. Grow your roots deep, we put some nice nourishing herbs under there
just for you, can you feel them waiting for you to stretch down and taste them?
You’re such a healthy, strong ward-thistle, that’s why we chose you, you’re
going to hold the fort for us day and night.” He watered it until it
wanted no more, then just sat and praised it more, his voice taking on a singsong
that worked, somehow, with Alex and Stephen’s magic.

Julian
listened as the two songs moved through the nursery, going around in opposite
directions until they met up again at the front door and the music came to a
crescendoing close. He reached out to the little plant and felt it glowing with
pride and usefulness, anchoring the magic and feeling very healthy and happy
about its new duties. “There, you’re doing so well,” said Julian. He
and Mary Margaret set up the little ward-fence around it, five iron stakes with
wire strung around their middles to make a pentacle. They wound more wire
through loops at the top of each stake to make a little star-shaped roof over
the plant; in the normal course of things the plant would grow up through the
star and wind around the stakes as it sent off shoots, anchoring the magic even
more firmly in the earth.

For
now, the ward-fence would keep people from trying to buy the thistle, or
accidentally trampling it.

They
went to wait by the front desk while the two greenhouses were taken care of,
with more flute and chanting floating back to them faintly from the far corners
of the big space. It didn’t take nearly as long as the big wards, even for both
greenhouses, and then Julian took his potted clover and headed to the empty patch
of earth. The whole lot of them followed and arranged themselves around it,
waiting for Alex and Stephen to make their way over.

“That’s
good, it shows you all accept that the earth here is renewed,” said
Stephen, upon seeing them there.

“Yes,
it lets us echo the other arrangement, too, let me just…” Alex went and
moved people until they were in the same order as they had been around the
nursery, and at something approximating their former positions, with Mary
Margaret and Julian at the centre of the empty plot. “There, that’s
better.”

“More
effective,” agreed Father Stephen. He raised his tools, a beautiful little
pot of blessed water and a matching silver sprinkler etched with vines, which
Julian found very appropriate. “Ready, Alex?”

“Ready,”
said Alex, and they began their song together this time.
 

They
walked around the group while Julian planted the clover, digging in the earth
and adding the herbs, water, earth and finally the plant, just as before. This
time he was more self-conscious, but he still talked to the plant while he
worked, not wanting to stint on any part of the ritual. “You’re going to
be the start of a wonderful lucky clover patch, just here, you’ve got fresh
earth, sunlight, magic, and all the good things a plant needs,” he whispered
as he lowered it into its new hole and packed the soil around it. “There’s
herbs right under you to help you grow big and strong and extra lucky, so
you’ll be the pride of our patch.”

He
sat back and looked at it, sending it an extra wave of affection and good
thoughts. “You probably started out right here, didn’t you? And Alex
bought you and gave you to me, and now you’ve sent off shoots that are coming
home to where you started,” he said, blushing a little when he realised
he’d said it out loud and the music had stopped.

“A
very fitting blessing for a nursery,” said Father Stephen. “The cycle
of life has brought this clover back to bring fresh luck to the place it first
grew.”

Julian
stood, handing the empty pot and tools to the waiting Raul and dusting himself
off. “I hope so, sir.”

“It’s
perfect,” said Alex, with that happy-but-tired look he always got at the
end of a difficult magical project. “The wards are nice and solid now,
much better than before, and the blessing is strong.”

“The
wards are very good work for so little time,” said Stephen, clearly
impressed. “You’ve gotten better since we last worked together.”

“I’ve
been doing a lot of reading up on warding for the flat, plus I did that ward
work out at the St. Albans estate for Emmy’s wedding present,” explained
Alex, but he was flushed with pride. “It’s different, warding a private
space versus a public one, too.”

Stephen
and Alex talked work all the way back to the counter, where Julian washed his
hands and Mary Margaret started a pot of tea. “We’ve got our own, Alys put
something in it to restore us,” said Julian, “but we’ll need
cups.”

“Your
house-brownie likes the two of you a lot,” said Mary Margaret, very
pleased. “I’ve been hoping to get more magical creatures to move in here,
aside from those pesky pixies Alex cleared out, but we’ve just got the
butterfly fairies, mostly.”

Julian
smiled. “I’ll see if Alex has any advice about that,” he said,
helping her set up the tea service for the lot of them. Alex and Stephen were
putting away their tools and chattering on about ward-magic, so Julian began to
fill a tub with water for everyone’s feet. “Too bad we don’t have warm
water, but this’ll be better than nothing,” said Julian, setting it on the
ground.

“Oh,
I can fix that,” said Alex, going over and whistling a little tune at the
tub. Steam rose off it, and when Julian tested it was pleasantly warm.

“I’ll
grab some shop towels,” said Eustace, one of the other shop assistants,
and she headed back to the offices.

Everyone
got washed up and their shoes and street clothes back on, and then they shared
tea while the three magic users ate — and how strange was it for Julian to
count himself among them? Alys had sent along lovely cold herbed chicken and a
potato salad made with spicy mustard, plus two oatcakes apiece which were full
of sticky honey, sweet fruit and crunchy seeds and nuts. Julian ate every crumb
and drank his portion of her tea and then more cool water afterward, and felt a
million times better when it was done.

“Your
Alys is a miracle worker,” said Stephen, closing up the lunch box with a
satisfied sigh. “I feel quite restored.”

“She
knows what she’s about with food and drink,” agreed Alex. “And there
was some fairy magic in the food, too, not just the tea.”

“So
you’ve really got a brownie?” said Raul curiously; they’d mostly talked
amongst themselves, and Julian didn’t know any of the assistants that well yet,
since he spent a lot of his time either learning from Mary Margaret or putting
what he’d learned into practice with the plants.

“Yep,”
said Alex smugly. “They moved in right after Julian’s case was over, and
they like him a lot.”

“Wait,
you have two brownies?” said another of the assistants, who Julian thought
was named John or James or something very ordinary like that, and could as a
consequence never remember.

“They’re
a couple, Nat and Alys, he fixes and she cooks,” said Julian. “Since
Alex is a mage and he’s got wards on the flat, they struck a proper deal with
him, so we’re allowed to talk about them.”

“But
not to thank them, still,” said Alex wryly.

That
led to a few stories of their pranks, which finished off the tea and their
excuses for stalling. “I suppose we’d best be off to the crime
scene,” said Julian.

“Jones
and I ate while you guys were busy,” said Lapointe, tossing her cup in the
trash.

“Then
it’s time,” said Alex with a sigh. He made sure they’d gathered up
everything, and they took their leave.
 

Lapointe
followed in her own car, having given Jones directions earlier, and they
settled into a comfortable silence as they moved through the city streets.
Julian watched the buildings go by and thought about how different his life
was, and the things he missed and the things he liked better now. It was
strange to have a real purpose that he’d chosen for himself, instead of
inherited like the estate duties, but it made up for the times he missed his
apple trees.

His
life was still pretty luxurious, too, even if Alys cooked more traditional food
than the St. Albans chef, and he lived in a little flat instead of a huge manor
house. Alex didn’t skimp on the small things, so everything in their space was
quality. At least, now that they’d redecorated and gotten rid of his ratty old
furniture, which Julian had been pleasantly surprised that Alex hadn’t even
argued about.

He
sighed and snuggled up, pressing a kiss to Alex’s mouth.

“What
was that for?” said Alex, “Not that I mind.”

“I
was just thinking that you could have argued instead of letting us
redecorate,” said Julian. “You’ve made space for me in every corner
of your life and half the time I don’t even have to ask.”

“You
moved into the city for me, and left your beloved orchards behind,” said
Alex, giving him a kiss back. “That deserves a little extra
consideration.”

Father
Stephen just sat and smiled at them, looking perfectly at peace with the world.
It wasn’t much longer before they pulled up to the old Temple, where Lapointe
had arrived first and made sure there was a space for Jones to park in amongst
the still-present cop cars. Their comfortable silence stayed with Julian after
they got out, and he followed wordlessly as Lapointe led them into her crime
scene.