The Orchard of Hope (23 page)

After two hours of observing the
sorcerer at this meeting, Nicholas was very tired and a little
bored with hearing the same story over and over. He asked to stop
the lesson. Moss agreed that it was more than enough work for one
day. He smiled as he slumped down in his chair, his fingers playing
with his green beard as he reflected on the information.

“I’ve been watching him, and he’s
told the same story to at least four different people,” Nicholas
explained. “It’s the exact same story every time. Almost every word
is identical.”

“But he’s telling different
people. The audience isn’t the same.”

“Why is he doing that?” Nicholas
asked. “He could have told everyone at once. They were already in
the same room together.”

“It wouldn’t be
the same for him if he only told it once. Sometimes a story needs
to be told a second or third time, or even more.
It
’
s not
because the person listening needs to hear it again.
It
’
s because
the person telling the story needs to speak it aloud to keep it
alive. Words are powerful things, Nicholas.”

“So perhaps we need to study the
story a bit more closely,” Nicholas suggested. “I don’t understand
why it would be important to him or why he’d want to keep it alive.
It’s a children’s story.”

“Stories aren’t just for
children,” Moss insisted.

“This one is,” Nicholas replied.
“It’s told to children all the time.”

“But that doesn’t mean it can’t
have other meanings,” Moss said. He started to mindlessly braid and
unbraid his beard as he thought. “Or other purposes,” he
added.

“Although,”
Nicholas added thoughtfully,
“
he
’
s
changed the ending. In the original story the wolf was ungracious
and replied that not eating the crane was enough of a favor. So the
wolf never did actually repay the favor.”

“That’s an important point,” Moss
said and then added, “Is it hot in here?”

“Take the socks off your ears,”
Newton replied. “They look silly, anyway.”

“You’ve never experienced cold
ears.” Moss swatted the air in Newton’s direction as he
spoke.

“Try being made of stone and
sitting on the roof of a 12-story gothic cathedral in the winter,”
Newton retorted. “You don’t know what cold is until you don’t have
a circulation system to keep you warm.”

“Well, you’re alive now,” Moss
replied. “And we don’t need to debate about being cold when it’s
hot in here.”

“It’s not hot. Take off the
socks,” Newton said again. Moss reached up and snatched the socks
from his ears as he glared at Newton.

“What’s he doing right now?” Moss
asked the next day when Nicholas was scrying again.

“He’s telling that story again,
but there’s no one there to hear it.” Nicholas could feel the
darkness from the sorcerer’s castle. He wasn’t there physically,
but the darkness felt tangible, and it made Nicholas
uncomfortable.

“And what do you see? What’s he
doing?”

“There are huge bottles of foaming
things. He has thin glass tubes that spiral in circles and connect
the glass bottles. He also has some giant silver cauldrons.”
Nicholas could hear the liquid bubbling through the glass tubes. It
created an effect of white noise.

“Cauldrons? Or kettles? It makes a
huge difference.”

“Cauldrons. He’s cooking something
and watching the temperature very closely. It’s thick, but not like
oatmeal. It’s more like a scummy pudding with bits floating in it.
After he cooks it, he strains out the stuff floating in it and puts
the liquid into the big glass bottles where it stays for several
days or weeks.”

“How big are these
bottles?”

“As big as me,” Nicholas said,
“and I can see timers on them. This is some sort of process that
goes in stages, and I think he has several batches
going.”

“Is it anything to eat?” Newton
asked hopefully.

“No,” Nicholas said. “It smells
terrible.”

“You can smell it?” Moss and
Newton asked at almost the same time. Nicholas continued to
concentrate and didn’t see Moss and Newton exchange
glances.

“Yes. It smells a little like
bread that’s gone bad mixed with old sneakers. It’s very
sour.”

“And the more it bubbles the more
it smells. Am I correct?” Moss asked.

“Yes. Some of the glass bottles
are bubbling more than others.” The atmosphere in the laboratory
felt creepy to Nicholas. It wasn’t well lit, and when Nicholas
moved around, he got a tingling feeling in his spine that felt like
tiny spiders walking up and down his back. The laboratory was a
dark and unpleasant place. He wished he could leave.

“Can you see anything that might
go into the first pot when he begins the cooking process? Do you
see anything on the shelves or counters?”

“There’s a bag that looks like
grain, but I’m not sure what it is. It could be a ground up
mineral. It’s difficult to see.”

“Go in closer,” Moss said with
urgency.

“I … I can’t, Nicholas replied.
The thought of getting closer was too disturbing to him.

“You can,” Moss
insisted.

“No.” Nicholas shook his
head.

“Leave him alone, Moss. This is
hard work,” Newton said. He walked across the table over closer to
Nicholas. “What else is in the laboratory? Look around in the
places where he’s not. If I know the sorcerer, this isn’t his only
project. He’s got several things going on at once.”

“Don’t tell him what to do,” Moss
said.

“You’re too focused on one thing,”
Newton replied. “Not to be critical, but sometimes you forget to
look at the big picture.”

“And what do you know about the
so-called big picture?”

“Gargoyles usually have the big
picture. We spend a lot of time on rooftops overlooking the city.
That’s the big picture, and there’s a lot of it to see.”

“Then perhaps you don’t understand
the importance of details in a situation like this.”

“Looking at the big picture may
help you to figure out the kinds of details to search for in the
lab.”

“I know about details,” Moss
insisted.

“You do not! You can’t even match
your clothes.”

“I can. You’re
color-blind.”

“You’re pattern-blind,” Newton
said with a slight taunt in his voice.

“Stop it!’ Nicholas shouted. “No
more arguing. I’m going to look around.”

Moss exhaled forcefully and tapped
his fingers on the edge of the table.

“Is anyone else hungry?” Newton
asked as he scratched the top of the wooden table with one of his
talons. It made a small screeching noise when he did
this.

“No,” Moss immediately
snapped.

“I’m looking through the far
doorway,” Nicholas said, hoping to distract them from arguing
again. “He has a greenhouse.”

“Plants?” Newton asked.

“It’s probably some exotic herbs
for his spells,” Moss concluded.

“They’re flowers,” Nicholas said.
He glanced around at all the blooming plants. Despite their bright
sun-like coloring, they gave Nicholas a feeling of
despair.

“Different kinds of
flowers?”

“They’re all the same. Thousands
of them.

“Can you draw a picture for me
when we’re done?”

“I don’t have to. They look like
small yellow daisies,” Nicholas explained. “I’ve seen them around
the kingdom. They’re practically a weed.”

“Can you see anything else in the
greenhouse?”

“Nothing that I can see, but I
smell something,” Nicholas replied.

“What?”

“The smell from the other room. I
think he’s cooking it for the plants.”

“No,” Moss shook his head. “Plants
are used to make spells.”

“What if the plant is the spell?”
Nicholas asked.

“If the plant were created from a
spell, it wouldn’t be real, and he wouldn’t need a
greenhouse.”

“What if the
plants were real, but he was putting a spell on them?”
Nicholas
asked as he
glanced up from the
sc
rying bowl. “If he
did that, would the spell multiply when the plant
reproduced?”

Moss loudly slapped his hand on the
table, and Nicholas lost his connection to the sorcerer’s
laboratory. He immediately felt as if a weight had been lifted from
him, and his mood improved. Moss stood up from the table and began
pacing.

“No one has ever embedded a spell
into the genetic makeup of another living thing. But if this is
what he’s attempting to do,” Moss said as he continued to move
about in an agitated manner, “then we may be able to figure out the
sorcerer’s battle strategy. He may be planning something big. If
he’s harnessing the natural systems, that’s important.”

“Why would he want to do
that?”

“Who knows? If we knew the reasons
why he does the things he does, we might be able to predict his
next move and stop him,” Moss said as he stopped pacing and stood
in front of Nicholas. “The story that the sorcerer was telling … it
has to be important. What else do we know about it?”

“It’s common. We’ve all heard it
before,” Nicholas replied. “Everyone knows the story. That’s why it
doesn’t make sense that the sorcerer would keep telling it so many
times.”

“I think that makes it a clue, but
as to what, I don’t know. What does the story accomplish for
him?”

“The wolf in the story …” Nicholas
hesitated and then continued, “Do you think it has anything to do
with the orchard?”

“Perhaps,” Moss answered. “I think
there’s a lot we still don’t know. We’ll need to keep studying
him.”

Nicholas felt the weight in his
stomach falling again. He dreaded his next lesson.

Chapter

15

Of Hope-Filled Dreams

Kelsey and Maggie
didn’t wait to find out what was making the sound in the
woods behind them. Instead, they quickly descended the steep,
grassy slope toward the valley where the orchard was situated next
to a large stone abbey. Maggie slipped a few times on the grass as
they walked, but she managed to right herself before she tumbled
very far. After the second time she stumbled, Kelsey reached over
and took her hand to help steady Maggie as she descended the slope.
It had been a long walk to the abbey, and Kelsey knew that Maggie
wasn’t used to the exercise. Kelsey had noticed that for some time
now, Maggie was having trouble picking up her feet and occasionally
fell behind a few paces while they were walking. The length of the
journey had taken its toll on her. Roland was with them but was
taking calmer steps.

They passed through the orchard on
the way to the front door of the abbey. Kelsey reached up to touch
the fuzzy green striped fruit. It felt like cool velvet as her
fingertips brushed over the round surface. When she squeezed
gently, it felt firm like a baseball, and she wondered if the fruit
was ripe. It smelled sweet and sharp, like a citrus tree. The scent
was invigorating, and she breathed it in deeply. She also couldn’t
resist touching the waxy leaves, and she enjoyed the contrast
between the soft fuzz of the fruit and the smooth leaves. The
flowers were small and appeared very delicate, so she didn’t touch
them.