“No?” The owner took it back, disappointed that his top draw had come up losers. “Just don’t talk it around, huh, Sprout?”
Herb grimaced. As if he’d tell anyone he had looked at that filth. He turned to leave. The clerk grabbed him by the sleeve.
“Hey, you haven’t seen the show yet. Two tender young sprouts, hardly out of the hot house.” He noted Herb’s frown. “Oh, wait. The second show is just the ticket for a sophisticate like yourself, sir. Vivacious Violet is performing in the Orchid room.” He grabbed Herb around the shoulders before he could speak and guided him down a dimly lit corridor and shoved him through a curtain of wallflowers.
Herb was left at the back of the small dark room with hard chairs filled with different varieties of males. He took a seat near the exit and slumped down, hoping no one there knew him. But if they were there, he was seeing them too, he reasoned. Even so, he kept low as the strains of the Chlorophyll Harmonica orchestra began. The harmonicas whined in rhythm as the main attraction entered and began her bump and grind.
Herb’s eyes popped out on stems, figuratively speaking. He had never seen anyone like her. Not only was she a fully matured Treeple, but her leaves had been pruned, revealing the smooth dark bark of her branches. They swayed wantonly above her head in a scentual rhythm. Sap oozed from her exposed mounds and ran down the torso of her bare trunk. Her hips moved wildly to the music as it ended in a building crescendo. The crowd of males cheered and stomped while Herb sat in shock.
And then it happened. Herb gasped as the Treeple peeled back the bark opening from the center of her trunk to display the tender bud beneath. Never had he been exposed to such lasciviousness! Even as he was repulsed intellectually, he could feel his stamen unrolling. Herb clenched his teeth together and swallowed, forcing it to the back of his mouth, and stumbled out into the bright light of the store front.
The manager, swift to observe the effect his acts had upon the customers, offered him a private room upstairs with one of several passionflowers, retained for such purposes. Herb almost wished he had the merrygolds, but declined with a shake of his head. It was difficult for him to speak at the moment so he shrugged and gestured to his pockets. The manager got the message but wasn’t ready to give up yet.
“Then how about a booth? You know. For a green thumb,” he said, leering.
Herb was appalled. It was a long walk home, but self-pollination was not something to be indulged in public houses. He had heard about such booths in school. They called them Sippers. They were provided for the exclusive use of unruly stamen. The practitioner would place the distended member over his thumb and blow until the yellow pollen erupted in a cloud of ecstacy. It could happen to the best of Veganoids, but was not something one spoke of in mixed company.
“These are class A booths. For a little extra we can run a hologram show while you enjoy your privacy,” the clerk pressed.
It was a sick proposition, and more than he could stand. Herb shook his head violently and dashed through the front door. All he wanted was to get out of that hot house.
Easier said than done. Two seedy pollitutes latched onto him as he descended the steps outside. One was a plump Vinese, the other a Treeple. The Treeple brushed her branches against him. Not again!
“Ever had it with a Treeple, Veggie? Eight limbs give a crazy massage,” she cooed.
Herb drew back in disgust. Her rings betrayed her advanced age and her leaves were withered. Dried sap clung to the material over her mounds. “No!” he snapped, and ran before she could get a better grip. She probably had root rot.
“Up your Aster,” she yelled after him, and rejoined her sister by the shop.
Herb felt sick to his stomach. What had he been thinking of to get mixed up with that bunch? Was that the life he preferred to an arrangement with Lily? As he turned the corner, he saw the symbol of a Vegetarian Temple ahead. On impulse, he went inside where an old Treeple Elder was standing by the altar.
“May I, uh, make admission, Elder?” he asked.
The Treeple nodded him toward the booth. Entering, he sat facing the Elder with a curtain of wallflowers between them. He began the ritual.
“Forgive me, Elder. I have erred.”
“In what manner, my son?” asked the Ancient.
“I was wilted this past week,” he confessed.
“Is it your habit to indulge in potting soil, or in distilled water?”
“Not usually, Elder. I mean, no, I never use potting soil. But I did absorb the water.”
“What caused you to err?”
“I’ve been depressed. Lonely.”
“Nonhabitual. Absolved.”
“Tonight, Elder, I don’t know why, but I visited a polli parlour. Infertile pollination establishment,” he added for the Elder’s clarification.
“I see. How do you feel about that?” asked the Elder.
“Low. I didn’t mean to. I was walking by and a pretty Treeple called out to me. I was weak.”
“Not premeditated. Absolved.”
“Wait. I watched a show there. A bare-limbed passionflower. My—my stamen was unruly,” he blurted.
The Elder sighed a long sigh. “If you plant the seed, you must harvest the fruit.”
“Oh no, no harvest. But, my mouth was full,” he admitted.
“Unforeseen circumstances. Absolved.”
“Thank you Elder. I feel much better now.” And he did. The dirt of the polli parlour seemed to wash away, leaving him cleansed as after a spring shower.
“Perhaps you should consider putting down roots, my son,” the Elder suggested.
“I had a girl, but we grew apart. I don’t know if she is the right Veganette for me.”
“Must it be a Veganette? Cross pollination is no sin within a compatible union. I have grafted many such couples in my time. True happiness can be found in variety.”
“That is not the problem, Elder. I have not limited my interest on the basis of species.” He thought of the young Vinese girl he had met in the polli parlour. “I just don’t know if I’m ready to plant a commitment yet.”
“You will be sure when the time comes, my son. My advice to you is to plant your seed in a sanctified union, raise a family, and take vitamin C.”
Herb went on his way, vegetating on the Elder’s words of wisdom. He would turn over a new leaf. He would certainly try!
6
New Moon
Spring dried her eyes and accepted the cup of hot clear broth from the gentle servant girl standing solicitously by her bedside.
“Thank you. What is your name?” asked Spring, waiting for the broth to cool.
“Companion Iolanthe, my Lady.” The girl smiled shyly. Her dark straight hair was tied back primly, and she was dressed in the long loose tunic uniform of all the Companions of New Moon. Spring guessed her age somewhere between fourteen and sixteen. She was a humanoid, and a rather pretty one, at that. Spring wondered what such a young woman would be doing devoting her life to service in this secluded Order? Well, they all had their reasons.
“Iolanthe,” Spring repeated. “Yes, Flower.”
“You know the meaning?” the girl asked, pleased. “It’s an Old World name, from the ancient times.”
Spring nodded. “Greek. I’ve made a study of botany, plants, and flora. It’s sort of a crossover study, though most of the scientific names are in Latin. Another ancient language from that era.” Spring sat down the cup and leaned back against the pillow.
“I should not be taxing your strength with questions. Companion Alma is always admonishing me for my glib tongue. You need solitude after your ordeal. I will return later for the cup.” She turned to go.
“No, stay. Actually, I would appreciate some company. My father was the only family I had, and I feel so alone now.”
Iolanthe looked at the older girl with compassion. “Have you had any sleep?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Yes, I think so,” Spring answered. Awake, asleep, what was the difference? No
thing would change, she thought.
“I don’t think you have slept at all. I am going to request some medication for you right now,” the young girl said, and opened the door.
“No, please don’t do that,” Spring said. “I don’t like to take drugs of any type. But, if you will hand me the small pouch from the tray on the table, I will do some relaxation exercises with my crystals. That works just as well.”
Iolanthe brought the pouch, and stood by curiously while Spring removed several small stones and held them in her palm.
“Jewels!” Iolanthe exclaimed, obviously impressed.
Spring smiled. “Not exactly. These are healing stones. They aren’t worth all that much monetarily. Their value lies in their application. My father—my father was a renowned crystallogist. I assisted him in his practice on our home planet until—until I came here,” she finished, tears glistening in her eyes.
“How do the stones work?” asked Iolanthe, hoping to take Spring’s mind off the sad subject for a few moments.
Spring held up a small purple gem. “This is an amethyst,” she explained, pressing it to the small space on her forehead between the eyes. “I place it here, on my sixth chakra. Chakra is a term for an energy center. Some people refer to this spot as the third eye, because it is the center for intuition and spiritual awakening. I don’t want to confuse you. Let’s just say there are chakras that correspond to various parts of the body, and different stones work for each.”
“But, what do they do for you?” Iolanthe pressed, glad to have Spring expressing an interest in anything again. For days, she had stayed alone and silent in her room, hardly acknowledging Iolanthe’s presence.
“To put it simply, they contain energy, and so can project thought, heal, protect, whatever the intent of the user. Now I will visualize a peaceful scene, and attempt to sleep.”
“Yes, that is good,” Iolanthe said. She stayed for a short while watching as Spring shut her eyes and breathed deeply, closing out her surroundings. The servant girl walked quietly through the door, closing it behind her.
Spring tried to concentrate on the visualization, but all she could see was her father’s face. Her father. He had always been her strength. How was she to go on alone without him? The deep sorrow swelled up to sweep over her again as she remembered the last time they had been together.
Word had reached her through the Society that her father was dead. The official version was that he had been fatally injured in a Turbocar accident, but a trusted source revealed that his office had been found in shambles and traces of blood were definitely his. Spring knew it had been no accident.
It had to be Zygote. He had friends in high posts who could have easily initiated a cover-up. Of course, her father had friends also, and that was why she had learned the truth despite their efforts. But his friends could not help her now. No one was to learn the secret, so that left it all up to her. Zygote would never profit from her father’s death!
She needed no warnings now. Her father need never fear she would betray him for one foolish night of passion. Love was the last emotion she was capable of feeling at this point.
It was late when Iolanthe completed her rounds and remembered to look in on Spring to retrieve the cup and see how the young lady was resting. It was with surprised consternation that she found Spring not only wide awake, but pouring through some questionable reading matter spread across the bed covers.
“You promised to rest,” she scolded gently.
“Rest?” Spring laughed mirthlessly. “Yes, I will rest, but not until—” she stopped abruptly, finding the page she wanted in the index. “Here it is.”
Flipping to the page, she read hastily, then spoke. “Will you post a letter for me, Iolanthe?”
“You know the rules, Lady. No outside communication while under the sanctuary of the—”
“Yes, yes. I’ve heard all that before. But I also know you have posted letters for others here at the sanctuary.” Actually, she didn’t know this, but felt it likely from observation of the kind hearted girl. Her bluff turned out to be correct.
“I should not have done so,” Iolanthe answered contritely.
Spring scribbled on the sheet of paper and copied the magazine’s address onto the sealer. She tucked in the paper along with some standard Planetary Payment notes and sealed it, passing it over to Iolanthe.
“Lady—” the girl began to protest.
“Please, Iolanthe. This is important. I know you don’t understand, but my life may depend on the answers I receive from this letter. This is no time to balk.”
Iolanthe sighed, but tucked it into her tunic, then looked with disapproval at the lurid magazines scattered across the bed. “I don’t see how anything sent to that type of publication could be so important.”
“And how would an innocent young thing like yourself know about such magazines? Don’t tell me you Companions have your own secret library? I found these here, under the bed.”
Iolanthe looked scandalized. “Here? I don’t know how they came to be. This room was that of a former Companion.”
“Could be why she’s former,” Spring teased.
“That is not for me to say,” Iolanthe answered primly. “But I do know that no good can be coming from this.” She patted the sealer beneath her tunic as if it were tainted, and excused herself.
Spring looked after her departing figure, thinking aloud. “I hope you’re wrong, Iolanthe. I’m betting my life on it.”
7
A Tangled Vine
The tri-moons were just peeping over the horizon. It was a peaceful summer evening with only the sound of the soft warm breeze playing in the trees. A lone dogwood barked in the distance. It was a night made for romance in Paradise.
Herb and Lily sat entwined in the swinging vine on her parent’s front porch. His arm rested comfortably around her shoulder. Her head reclined against his chest while they swung gently to and fro in thoughtless pleasure. Lily was the first to break the silence.
“It feels so natural being with you again, Herb. I missed you while you were away. All my dreams were tied to you. My heart withered, and I simply went to seed.”
Herb shifted and sat up straight. “You weren’t—!” His heart plunged into his stomach.
“Of course not; don’t be silly.” Lily smiled in embarrassment. “You know as well as I that we never,” she paused, “never.”
“Yes, I know,” Herb said, but he still felt a wave of profound relief at the negative confirmation. At the time, it had been a major source of annoyance to him, but now he was honestly glad they had waited. What if she had become with child? Lily was an innocent, and probably didn’t even know about proper prevention. It very well could have happened. Thank the Founder for her high morality.
“I thought we should see if we could grow together again,” Herb said. “But, union is a serious step, and I don’t think we should plant in haste. You do understand, Lily? I wouldn’t have suggested we see each other again if that wasn’t understood?”
He was babbling and knew it well, but he had no intentions of being pushed into something again.
“Yes, Herb, you’ve made that completely clear. It’s just that we’ve known each other for so many seasons, and if you don’t know how you feel about me by this time, I don’t see how another season will change that.”
Herb could see that strong will beginning to surface again. “It’s not the situation which must change, but me,” he said. “And who can say? You may be the one to call it off. You may grow tired of waiting.”
“I will wait, Herb. I believe the fault was mine that you felt you must transplant. I was raised to hoe a straight row. There are many wild flowers out there to tempt a man, and if you have wandered, I must accept my share of the blame.” She sighed.
“No,” Herb said uncertainly. “That was not the only reason.”
“Then you admit it was a reason,” Lily exclaimed, pouncing upon his lack of conviction.
“It wa
s,” he reluctantly admitted. Herb hated to think he was so shallow as to discard seasons of a good relationship simply on the basis of sexual frustration. “I always admired your strong principles. It proved to me that you were a nice girl.”
An odd look came over Lily’s face. Herb wondered what he could have said wrong now. After all, he had just paid her a compliment.
“You mean,” she pondered briefly, “if I didn’t bed with you, then you knew I wasn’t bedding others?”
She certainly had a way of getting to the root of the matter, Herb thought. “Yes, I guess go. That is what I meant.” He was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.
“And, what if I had bedded another?” she asked softly.
Herb looked surprised. That notion had never crossed his mind. He had always assumed she was unsoiled. The arrogance of the male ego had dismissed any possibility that she might simply have preferred someone other than him.
“I see. Well, that makes no difference to our friendship now, Lily,” he managed to say. He noticed that odd look was still on Lily’s face.
“Oh,” she said. “You forgive me?” Was the tone slightly sarcastic?
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, there is nothing to forgive.” What was she trying to do?
That answer seemed to satisfy her at last. “Yes, Herb, that is so, for I have not bedded with any other.”
That stripped away the last of his patience. “Then why the blight did you even bring it up?” he asked in exasperation.
“Because I know as a man you must have bedded others, if not before, then in your absence. It also makes no difference to me. But, I didn’t know if that was an issue still between us. Now I see it is not. We can make a fresh start together.”
She smiled possessively and squeezed his hand in hers. Herb began to see light dawn. It was her way of saying that she would overlook his past, but now expected fidelity since she was pledging hers. Smart girl.
The Secret of Spring Page 5
