She turned to face him and he saw that the fondle-mush had completely worn off and she was herself again—also it was clear that she was both angry and frightened.
“He’s going to shoot you if I don’t do it,” she said, her voice shaking. “And I can’t have that, Dra’vik. I can’t…can’t lose you! I’m sorry if whatever drugs they make from these plants are bad for people, but I’ve never wanted to leave anywhere so damn bad in my life as I want to get away from this hellhole! So please, just let me do this so we can go—okay?”
Slowly, Dra’vik nodded. He could see her point—that bastard Sin’estor had the drop on them. Dra’vik was big and strong, but you couldn’t fight a blaster that could blow a hole through you. As shady as this business was, hopefully they could put it behind them once they left the planet.
We can always make a call back and report Ostensio and Sin’estor to the Lix’dorian government, he thought. Better than getting killed over it for no reason.
“All right, little girl. Heal the plants and let’s go,” he said shortly. “In fact, I’m coming with you.”
He started to step up beside her but the snub-nosed blaster was suddenly pointed at him again.
“I don’t think so, Monstrum,” Sin’estor said coldly. “Let the Viridi Femma do her work alone. I don’t want your negative energy affecting my dreaming tendrils.”
Dra’vik didn’t like that one fucking bit, but as he opened his mouth to object, Iyanna had already moved to the back of the stage where rows and rows of potted plants were sitting on tables.
“It’s all right, Dra’vik,” she said, speaking over her shoulder. “This shouldn’t take long. After all, these plants aren’t dead like the other ones I brought back—they’re just sick with some kind of blight.”
Dra’vik curled his hands into fists but what could he do? The blaster was pointed right at him and Iyanna was already out of arm’s reach. He wished she would have stayed with him—he didn’t trust Baronet Sin’estor, who was a slippery fucker.
But there was nothing to do but stand there watching her, hoping things would work out.
FORTY-ONE
Iyanna found many, many plants sitting in gray clay pots. They ringed the back and both sides of the stage, sitting on long, low tables. Aside from their drooping appearance and patchy gray color, they reminded her most of pea plants, with long, twining tendrils that were all wound around the long wooden stakes thrust into the center of each clay pot.
“Let’s see now, what’s wrong with you guys?” she muttered, talking to them, as she always did when she was tending her plants back home.
She was beginning to think that she was getting more control over her new Viridi Femma powers. When she touched the plants, she could feel their unhappy condition. A blight had taken over them—a kind of fuzzy gray fungus that ate away at their leaves and weakened their stems. The few dream pods that had developed were a dingy, grayish-orange, the color of rotting pumpkins.
“All right, I see the problem,” Iyanna muttered, nodding to herself. “Now let’s see if we can fix it. And let’s do it fast—I want to get the hell out of here!”
Tangling her fingers in the tendrils of the nearest plant, she envisioned the gray fungus shriveling up and dropping away. Then she pictured the stalks growing thick and the leaves becoming plump and healthy. The pods would lose their rotten pumpkin color and become the vivid orange they ought to be.
Lastly, she pushed these visions of health and healing outwards. Despite being in different pots, all of the plants were touching their neighbors on both sides. Remembering the way touching just one of the upright glows had affected all of the glows on the Dark Side of the Kindred Mother Ship, Iyanna sought to duplicate that effect.
“Be healed,” she whispered, her eyes closed tight as she envisioned what she wanted to see. “Be free of the blight. Be as you should be.”
“By the Gods, it’s working! She’s actually doing it!”
The cry from behind her startled Iyanna and she opened her eyes to see that the gray and drooping plants had transformed themselves.
Rows and rows of healthy stems and leaves greeted her eyes. Blue-green tendrils climbed their support sticks, twining around and around as their leaves plumped up and lost their coating of gray fuzz. Bright orange pods popped out all over the place, plump and shiny and gleaming with health.
“By the Gods!” Baronet Sin’estor crowed again. “Just look at this!” He strode over to the plant nearest him and examined its leaves. “The blight is completely gone! And these pods—so full of juice! Why there’s twice—no, three times the amount of a normal harvest here!” he exclaimed to Ostensio, who was standing by and smiling uncertainly. “Just think of all the dreaming liquid I’ll make! Think of the profits!”