Chapter sixty

Fanemouth

 

Kathleen covered sheets of paper with sketches, drawings and formulas. She wished that she knew a bit more about botany, but she thought she understood enough to work out what might be done if she found the right kind of seeds.   However, she had very little blue essence left and so she had to be sure about which seeds she would use.

There was a little spell than Laurence used when he was trying to coax a seed into geminating and that he had used a far more powerful, but extremely exhausting, version of the same spell when he had regenerated the Zymena tree in the battle against Whitecloak. What she needed was something in between those two in strength, which would generate a mass of growing stems inside a ray. This required some very careful calibration, however, if she were to avoid the twin pitfalls of being too feeble for the ray to notice or too powerful to allow more than a single attack at any one time. 

Soon Kathleen’s sitting room and kitchen were full of tangled webs of green shoots, none of which were quite big enough.  She had been using every bowl and pan that she had in her kitchen and was beginning to dread the eventual washing up. Finally, she fixed on the winged seeds of lady’s bedstraw, Galium verum, which grew into a massive tangle of sticky tendrils.  It was all a bit hit and miss, but it was a start.

The next stage was to create some sort of force bulb – a structure made entirely of energy within which the seed could be sheltered. The bulb would have to have an extraordinarily thin pin-like point, so that when it was thrown against the side of the ray it would pierce the membrane. Then the bulb had to be made to contract and expel the seed into the ray. However, the bulb would also have to hold the growth spell in check until the seed entered the creature’s blue interior. This was all very difficult, but, not, she was hoping, impossible.  Creating an anti-magical effect in a small area was fairly easy. As always, the smaller the scale, the lower the energy and the shorter the time, the easier the magic was to perform. The problem was the number of times she had had to practice the spell – over and over. Excessive multiple spell casting could be very debilitating.

Exactly how debilitating wasn’t really obvious to Kathleen until she staggered upstairs to get a drink of water after a long struggle with the bulb mechanism of her spell. She managed to get about halfway into the sitting room before the darkness began to engulf her. This wasn’t just tiredness – this was an overwhelming need to switch off that came with an excess use of thaumaturgical power. 

She staggered, partly righted herself, and then fell over on to a pot full of geraniums. She might as well have fallen into the deepest darkest pit in the world.  She lay still and for a very long time nothing could stir her.

 

***

She was finally awoken by a loud and repeated knock on the door. She was so groggy that she acted on reflex – she got up, with some effort, and opened the door.  It was Tom, looking stern and worried. She thought that he looked a lot more attractive when he was happy.

Part of Kathleen’s mind realised that she had kelemeia; the complete mental and physical shut down that occurred when a witch was foolish enough to use magical energy continuously for too long. What she needed now was rest and sleep – without them she might be vague and non-functioning for months.  

‘Have you seen yourself?’ asked Tom

She stared up at him, hearing him but having no idea what he was talking about.  She dared not speak as she did not trust her own words. Tom leant forward and methodically removed the shards of pots, the specks of soil and the bits of leaf from her hair.

‘What have you been doing?’ he asked, staring past her to the jungle of plants in her living room.

Kathleen found herself unable to follow what he was saying at all. But he did look very nice standing there, even if he did seem a bit cross about something.  Words returned to her, unfortunately, but not the ability to control them.

‘I like plants’ she said, grinning, ‘do you like plants?’

Tom looked even more concerned. He was still trying to work out what on earth was going on in the living room.

‘Plants?’ he asked, in a hesitant voice, ‘why are you asking me about plants?’

‘I can make them grow really big!’ she said, giggling, ‘do you like big plants more or little tiny wee ones? I think I like them all, I really do’

Tom grabbed her arms just as she began to fall. She nestled against him, burrowing her face in his chest.

‘You need to lie down, Katy – I don’t think you’re entirely well…’

She looked up at him and whispered as if it was a secret.

‘I like kissing you just as much as I like growing plants – did you know that? I really like kissing you very much…it’s your lips…they are very nice lips…’

 Tom smiled, despite his worries, and looked around for her coat. He spotted it on the coatrack just next to the door.

‘Never mind about that at the moment, old thing,’ he said, ‘let’s get you into a nice comfy  bed next door’

Kathleen’s mouth narrowed into a pout, but she didn’t object as he slipped on her coat and began to usher her gently out of the door.

‘I could make you kiss me if I wanted to’ she said, with a huge yawn, ‘I know those things… I really do… but I think we’re not meant to do those sorts of spells… which is a pity… do you like kissing me?’

Tom shook his head in wonderment and confusion. He didn’t really know what she was talking about, but that wasn’t his biggest worry.  He was keen to get her out of the house at quickly as possible for he feared for her physical and mental state.

‘Shush, silly woman’ he said, feeling slightly flustered as well as worried, ‘…not now, please! Anyway, you very well know the answer…’

He manoeuvred her out of the door and then leant over to shut it. He then realised that he wouldn’t be able to lock it and he could see no keyhole anyway.  

‘Damn’ he said, ‘where’s your front door key, Katy?’

. ‘No need for that stuff’ she said. She giggled again and waved vaguely at the door

‘Baria’ she shouted, triumphantly.  

The door shut with a loud bang and Tom heard a series of clicks and buzzes, quite unlike any noises that a closing door had ever made in front of him before. Kathleen tried to look up to gauge his reaction but sleep overcame her – she had been tipped over the edge by even that simple spell. Tom shook his head and gave her a big but gentle squeeze. She began to snore at a volume that totally belied her size. Tom picked her up in his arms and carried her away.

‘Well, my dear Kathleen’ he murmured, as he plodded towards the pub, ‘you have a lot of explaining to do’