It was like no other plant she had ever felt. The life didn’t hum gently under her hands, it roared like a mighty river; crashed like a tsunami. She sucked in a quick breath as something like a song flowed into her hand, up her arm, and seemed to fill her from head to foot. She turned to Tamani with wide eyes. “So he lives forever.”
“Yes. But inaccessible to us, so it’s as if he has died. I—I miss him.”
Laurel pulled her hand away from the tree and slipped it into Tamani’s. “How often do faeries do that?”
“Not often. It requires sacrifice. You have to join the tree while you still have the strength to go through the process. My father was only a hundred and sixty—he had a good thirty or forty years ahead of him—but he felt himself start to weaken and knew he had to act soon.” He laughed morbidly. “It’s the only time I ever heard my parents argue.”
He paused and his tone became somber again. “If you join the tree, you must go alone, so I don’t know which part of the tree he chose. But sometimes I swear I can see the features of his face on that branch three limbs up,” he said, pointing. He shrugged. “Wishful thinking, probably.”
“Maybe not,” Laurel said, desperate to provide some words of comfort. After a heavy silence she asked, “How long does it take?” In her mind she saw an elderly faerie being overtaken by the large tree, his life slowly choked from him.
“Oh, it’s quick,” Tamani said, washing away the gruesome picture from Laurel’s mind. “Don’t forget that both the faerie who became the tree and the first one to join were Winter faeries. The tree retains some of that immense power. My—” He hesitated. “My father told me that you select your spot on the tree and submit yourself to it and when your mind is clear and your intentions burn true, the tree sweeps you up and you are changed instantly.” She saw his eyes wander back up to the spot where he thought he could see his father’s features.
Laurel edged a little closer. “You said the tree communicates. Can’t you talk to him?”
Tamani shook his head. “Not to him specifically. You talk to the tree as a whole, and it speaks back in one voice.”
Laurel looked up at the towering branches. “Could I talk to the tree?”
“Not today. It takes time. You have to come and tell the tree your question, or concern, then you sit, in silence, and listen until your cells remember how to understand the language.”
“How long does it take?”
“Hours. Days. It’s hard to predict. And it depends on how carefully you listen. Also how open you are to the answer.”
She hesitated for a long time before asking, “Have you done it?”
He turned to her, his eyes unguarded as she’d seen them only a few times before. “I have.”
“Did you get your answer?”
He nodded.
“How long did it take?”
He hesitated. “Four days.” Then a grin. “I’m stubborn. I wasn’t open to receiving the right answer. I was determined to get the answer I wanted.”
She tried to imagine Tamani sitting silently beneath the tree for four days. “What did the tree say?” she whispered.
“Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
Laurel’s mouth went dry as his eyes just looked at her and the living air swirled around her. Then Tamani smiled and gestured to a patch of thick grass several yards outside the shady canopy of the World Tree.
“Can’t we eat here?” she asked, reluctant to leave the trunk of the tree.
Tamani shook his head. “It’s not polite,” he said. “We leave the tree available for answer seekers as much as possible. It’s a very private thing,” he added.
Although Laurel could understand that, she was still a little sad to step out of the shadows and into the sun. Tamani set out a sparse picnic—there simply wasn’t much need to eat in the nourishing Avalon sunlight—and they both settled down in the grass, Laurel flopping onto her stomach and enjoying, for this brief interlude, just doing nothing.
“So how are your studies?” Tamani asked.
Laurel considered the question. “Amazing,” she finally answered. “I never knew how many things you could do with plants.” She rolled over to face him, her head propped up on her elbow. “And my mom’s a naturopath, so believe me, that’s saying something.”
“Have you learned a lot?”
“Kind of.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “I mean, technically I have learned a ton. More than I ever thought I could absorb in just a few weeks. But I can’t actually do anything.” She sighed as she slumped back down. “None of my potions work. Some of them get closer than others, but not a single one has really been right yet.”
“None of them?” Tamani asked, an undercurrent of worry in his voice.
“Yeardley says it’s normal. He says it can take years to get your first potion just right. I don’t have that kind of time; not here in Avalon, or before I need to protect my family. But he says I’m doing well.” She turned to look at Tamani again. “He says that even though I can’t remember, it’s obvious to him that I am relearning. That I’m catching on unnaturally fast. I hope he’s right,” she grumbled. “What about you? Your life has got to be more interesting than mine at the moment.”
“Actually, no, it’s really not. It’s been very quiet at the gate. Too quiet.” He was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, looking at the World Tree. “I’ve been doing a lot of scouting lately.”
“Yes. But inaccessible to us, so it’s as if he has died. I—I miss him.”
Laurel pulled her hand away from the tree and slipped it into Tamani’s. “How often do faeries do that?”
“Not often. It requires sacrifice. You have to join the tree while you still have the strength to go through the process. My father was only a hundred and sixty—he had a good thirty or forty years ahead of him—but he felt himself start to weaken and knew he had to act soon.” He laughed morbidly. “It’s the only time I ever heard my parents argue.”
He paused and his tone became somber again. “If you join the tree, you must go alone, so I don’t know which part of the tree he chose. But sometimes I swear I can see the features of his face on that branch three limbs up,” he said, pointing. He shrugged. “Wishful thinking, probably.”
“Maybe not,” Laurel said, desperate to provide some words of comfort. After a heavy silence she asked, “How long does it take?” In her mind she saw an elderly faerie being overtaken by the large tree, his life slowly choked from him.
“Oh, it’s quick,” Tamani said, washing away the gruesome picture from Laurel’s mind. “Don’t forget that both the faerie who became the tree and the first one to join were Winter faeries. The tree retains some of that immense power. My—” He hesitated. “My father told me that you select your spot on the tree and submit yourself to it and when your mind is clear and your intentions burn true, the tree sweeps you up and you are changed instantly.” She saw his eyes wander back up to the spot where he thought he could see his father’s features.
Laurel edged a little closer. “You said the tree communicates. Can’t you talk to him?”
Tamani shook his head. “Not to him specifically. You talk to the tree as a whole, and it speaks back in one voice.”
Laurel looked up at the towering branches. “Could I talk to the tree?”
“Not today. It takes time. You have to come and tell the tree your question, or concern, then you sit, in silence, and listen until your cells remember how to understand the language.”
“How long does it take?”
“Hours. Days. It’s hard to predict. And it depends on how carefully you listen. Also how open you are to the answer.”
She hesitated for a long time before asking, “Have you done it?”
He turned to her, his eyes unguarded as she’d seen them only a few times before. “I have.”
“Did you get your answer?”
He nodded.
“How long did it take?”
He hesitated. “Four days.” Then a grin. “I’m stubborn. I wasn’t open to receiving the right answer. I was determined to get the answer I wanted.”
She tried to imagine Tamani sitting silently beneath the tree for four days. “What did the tree say?” she whispered.
“Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
Laurel’s mouth went dry as his eyes just looked at her and the living air swirled around her. Then Tamani smiled and gestured to a patch of thick grass several yards outside the shady canopy of the World Tree.
“Can’t we eat here?” she asked, reluctant to leave the trunk of the tree.
Tamani shook his head. “It’s not polite,” he said. “We leave the tree available for answer seekers as much as possible. It’s a very private thing,” he added.
Although Laurel could understand that, she was still a little sad to step out of the shadows and into the sun. Tamani set out a sparse picnic—there simply wasn’t much need to eat in the nourishing Avalon sunlight—and they both settled down in the grass, Laurel flopping onto her stomach and enjoying, for this brief interlude, just doing nothing.
“So how are your studies?” Tamani asked.
Laurel considered the question. “Amazing,” she finally answered. “I never knew how many things you could do with plants.” She rolled over to face him, her head propped up on her elbow. “And my mom’s a naturopath, so believe me, that’s saying something.”
“Have you learned a lot?”
“Kind of.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “I mean, technically I have learned a ton. More than I ever thought I could absorb in just a few weeks. But I can’t actually do anything.” She sighed as she slumped back down. “None of my potions work. Some of them get closer than others, but not a single one has really been right yet.”
“None of them?” Tamani asked, an undercurrent of worry in his voice.
“Yeardley says it’s normal. He says it can take years to get your first potion just right. I don’t have that kind of time; not here in Avalon, or before I need to protect my family. But he says I’m doing well.” She turned to look at Tamani again. “He says that even though I can’t remember, it’s obvious to him that I am relearning. That I’m catching on unnaturally fast. I hope he’s right,” she grumbled. “What about you? Your life has got to be more interesting than mine at the moment.”
“Actually, no, it’s really not. It’s been very quiet at the gate. Too quiet.” He was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, looking at the World Tree. “I’ve been doing a lot of scouting lately.”
