Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
I paused near the hearth, finding her scent. I examined the baskets and various items there.
“More notes in here,” Tanix called. “‘The colors are dancing and blending like a cosmic symphony.’ That one’s actually pretty.”
“What’d I miss?” I heard as Dante showed up.
“‘I’ve discovered the hidden pattern of nature’,” Tanix read, having moved to another one. He paused. “This other one is written with the words all backwards. Weird. ‘My mind . . . has dissolved into . . . a fragile illusion . . . of nothingness.’”
“It seems our gardener moonlights as a drugged-out poet.” I spied the instruments Tanix was removing. They seemed to have clunky modifications, many taped on or glued, stuck together in odd ways. Whoever did this was no expert, and yet, despite most being broken, they were worn in, some with soot clinging to the sides or traces of dirt lining a pour spout.
“Sixten?” I asked Dante.
“She headed toward the village to see how that was going,” he said, looking around. “This is it? Just two desks being used? No tables or anything?”
“Seems so, though Mr. Poet doesn’t seem like much of a help, based on his work station,” I said. “Maybe there’s another workhouse in the village proper. They’re checking it out now.”
“These are . . . odd.” Dante stood from the appliances Tanix had brought out. “Obviously used but not as intended. Someone’s made alterations. Mr. Poet?”
I shook my head minutely, pausing as a faint light caught my notice. Pale pink glowed from within a small basket beside the closet door, strengthening slowly.
A solitary flower with a few discarded petals lay at the bottom of the basket. The petals themselves created the glow.
“Look at this,” I said, picking up the basket and holding it out for the others.
Tanix took it, his face glowing pink as he peered in. “That’s pretty. I’ve never heard of a glowing flower.”
“Neither have I, and I’ve walked within the royal garden with the queen as she mutters about her plants. She doesn’t have any like this. I would’ve noticed.” I gestured for him to keep it. “We’ll need to ask Mr. Poet what it is, if we can find him.”
“Or the woman,” Dante said, standing by a small bookcase set by the front window. “She’d surely know her ingredients. Here we go.” He held up a piece of paper. “We have our product order.” He shook it. “This is quite a list. There has to be more workstations to fulfill this. Or else the axe wielder does nothing but work, day and night.”
Nova poked her head in the door. “Alpha, we’ve got something. Looks like the finished product was kept in a storeroom in the village. The pack has it secured, along with the village. There was no push-back from the villagers.”
“None?” I asked in surprise, collecting the woman’s pack and headed for the door.
“No, Alpha,” Nova said, waiting until I exited and falling in beside me. “Some stayed on their porches, watching us walk through, but most kept to their . . . cottages, we’ll call them. No one shifted.”
I frowned at that news. We had been expecting anywhere from a little to a great deal of resistance. This was a village of shifters, after all. Our kind protected their territories, and if not their territories, at least their homes. It was baked into our blood, part of our magic. We didn’t throw out the red carpet to invasions. At least, I’d always thought that was the case . . .
“Let’s check out the garden first, as planned,” I said, continuing to ignore my desire to head to the village.
When we reached it, I stopped abruptly.
“What a . . . mess,” Dante said in disgust.
“Our scouts don’t know what they are looking at in terms of gardening.” Nova looked everything over. “That’s probably why they didn’t mention the mess. But they did mention they’d found four scents. Two were those from the workhouse, and another two from here. All four they’ve found in the village.”
“So they’ve found Mr. Poet, then?” I asked.
“Yes, Alpha.”
Her tone was sharp. She didn’t offer any other information. She handed me items to take notes with.
I nodded as I started forward again. Various plants grew somewhat wild, all mixed together it seemed, with weeds and grasses growing between and around. Garden tools lay discarded randomly, maybe used and left to the side? Tanix stepped on the end of a hoe he clearly hadn’t seen, hiding in the weeds. It swung up and slapped him in the chin.
“Goat fuckers!” he exclaimed, kicking it. Dante guffawed.
“This cannot be the garden they use for their operation,” I mused, taking samples and writing what notes I could. Nothing was labeled and I was no expert. We’d need the villagers to name the various plants. “It’s chaotic. How do they find anything?”