The Apprenticeship of Julian St. Albans

by Crook, Amy

Alex chuckled. “She’ll be put out if you don’t start calling her Mary Margaret,” he said teasingly. “Let’s finish up, there’s just the perimeter left, isn’t there?”

  “And the little maze of herbs in that corner,” said Julian, pointing off into the distance. “We’ll get there on our way around, though.”

  “Well, then, off we go,” said Alex, and he and Father Stephen resumed their good-natured quarrelling, though they paused frequently to listen to Julian’s comments or examine the structure, then work the new information into their arguments.

  Everyone’s coffee was gone by the time they got up front, and Alex even did his little breath-freshening spell for the group with a cheerful whistle.

  “I think that’s the most useful thing I’ve ever seen you do with magic,” said Lapointe. “Do I need to go outside with Jones while you guys do whatever you’re gonna do in here?”

  “That would be for the best,” said Father Stephen apologetically.

  Jones grinned and shrugged. “I’ll take her to get something that isn’t caffeinated to drink, maybe,” he said.

  “We shouldn’t be more than an hour, I can let you know when we’re done,” said Alex.

  “I know a good place nearby, come on,” said Jones, and Raul followed to lock them out, while Julian led Alex and Stephen to the office to all change into their raw silk ritual clothes.

  “All right,” said Father Stephen, once they were all back, “We’re going to do this in three phases. First we’ll do the whole place by walking the perimeter, then Alex and I will each take care of a greenhouse and switch off, and finally Julian will plant his clover while Alex and I give the blessings and wardings their final touches.”

  “That sounds lovely, and Jones tells me the brownies have sent along a proper meal for you boys for after, so we won’t have to worry about feeding ravenous magic-users,” said Mary Margaret. She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Let’s get started.”

  Stephen and Alex collected their things while Julian and Mary Margaret took the ward-thistle that was going to be the anchor to the spot they’d decided was the spiritual if not physical centre of the nursery. Julian’s job was to plant it and tell it to grow deep roots and keep itself and everyone else safe, while Alex and Stephen did whatever they were going to do. Mary Margaret, as the owner, would stay anchoring the centre with Julian, while her assistants were sent to stand at specific places and think, as Alex put it, protective thoughts.

  Julian smiled when he heard the first notes of Alex’s flute dancing over the plants, though Alex was already lost to sight. Father Stephen’s voice joined the flute in a harmonious chant, filling the nursery with music and a sense of peace and power both. Evil wasn’t welcome here, and the very air was pushing it out and away from them.

  Everyone had left their shoes and socks behind, so Julian crouched down barefoot rather than sitting, so his feet were in contact with the earth. He dug a hole at the spot that felt right, making it deep and pouring in the two packets of herbs that he’d been given. He watered those and buried them with a little earth, then put the ward-thistle on top and packed the remaining earth around it.

  He whispered almost silently to it as he worked, saying, “There you are, you’re a very important little plant now, you’re going to anchor our wards and blessings. Grow your roots deep, we put some nice nourishing herbs under there just for you, can you feel them waiting for you to stretch down and taste them? You’re such a healthy, strong ward-thistle, that’s why we chose you, you’re going to hold the fort for us day and night.” He watered it until it wanted no more, then just sat and praised it more, his voice taking on a singsong that worked, somehow, with Alex and Stephen’s magic.

  Julian listened as the two songs moved through the nursery, going around in opposite directions until they met up again at the front door and the music came to a crescendoing close. He reached out to the little plant and felt it glowing with pride and usefulness, anchoring the magic and feeling very healthy and happy about its new duties. “There, you’re doing so well,” said Julian. He and Mary Margaret set up the little ward-fence around it, five iron stakes with wire strung around their middles to make a pentacle. They wound more wire through loops at the top of each stake to make a little star-shaped roof over the plant; in the normal course of things the plant would grow up through the star and wind around the stakes as it sent off shoots, anchoring the magic even more firmly in the earth.

  For now, the ward-fence would keep people from trying to buy the thistle, or accidentally trampling it.

  They went to wait by the front desk while the two greenhouses were taken care of, with more flute and chanting floating back to them faintly from the far corners of the big space. It didn’t take nearly as long as the big wards, even for both greenhouses, and then Julian took his potted clover and headed to the empty patch of earth. The whole lot of them followed and arranged themselves around it, waiting for Alex and Stephen to make their way over.

  “That’s good, it shows you all accept that the earth here is renewed,” said Stephen, upon seeing them there.

  “Yes, it lets us echo the other arrangement, too, let me just…” Alex went and moved people until they were in the same order as they had been around the nursery, and at something approximating their former positions, with Mary Margaret and Julian at the centre of the empty plot. “There, that’s better.”

  “More effective,” agreed Father Stephen. He raised his tools, a beautiful little pot of blessed water and a matching silver sprinkler etched with vines, which Julian found very appropriate. “Ready, Alex?”

  “Ready,” said Alex, and they began their song together this time.

  They walked around the group while Julian planted the clover, digging in the earth and adding the herbs, water, earth and finally the plant, just as before. This time he was more self-conscious, but he still talked to the plant while he worked, not wanting to stint on any part of the ritual. “You’re going to be the start of a wonderful lucky clover patch, just here, you’ve got fresh earth, sunlight, magic, and all the good things a plant needs,” he whispered as he lowered it into its new hole and packed the soil around it. “There’s herbs right under you to help you grow big and strong and extra lucky, so you’ll be the pride of our patch.”

  He sat back and looked at it, sending it an extra wave of affection and good thoughts. “You probably started out right here, didn’t you? And Alex bought you and gave you to me, and now you’ve sent off shoots that are coming home to where you started,” he said, blushing a little when he realised he’d said it out loud and the music had stopped.

  “A very fitting blessing for a nursery,” said Father Stephen. “The cycle of life has brought this clover back to bring fresh luck to the place it first grew.”

  Julian stood, handing the empty pot and tools to the waiting Raul and dusting himself off. “I hope so, sir.”

  “It’s perfect,” said Alex, with that happy-but-tired look he always got at the end of a difficult magical project. “The wards are nice and solid now, much better than before, and the blessing is strong.”

  “The wards are very good work for so little time,” said Stephen, clearly impressed. “You’ve gotten better since we last worked together.”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of reading up on warding for the flat, plus I did that ward work out at the St. Albans estate for Emmy’s wedding present,” explained Alex, but he was flushed with pride. “It’s different, warding a private space versus a public one, too.”

  Stephen and Alex talked work all the way back to the counter, where Julian washed his hands and Mary Margaret started a pot of tea. “We’ve got our own, Alys put something in it to restore us,” said Julian, “but we’ll need cups.”

  “Your house-brownie likes the two of you a lot,” said Mary Margaret, very pleased. “I’ve been hoping to get more magical creatures to move in here, aside from those pesky pixies Alex cleared out, but we’ve just got the butterfly fairies, mostly.”
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  Julian smiled. “I’ll see if Alex has any advice about that,” he said, helping her set up the tea service for the lot of them. Alex and Stephen were putting away their tools and chattering on about ward-magic, so Julian began to fill a tub with water for everyone’s feet. “Too bad we don’t have warm water, but this’ll be better than nothing,” said Julian, setting it on the ground.

  “Oh, I can fix that,” said Alex, going over and whistling a little tune at the tub. Steam rose off it, and when Julian tested it was pleasantly warm.

  “I’ll grab some shop towels,” said Eustace, one of the other shop assistants, and she headed back to the offices.

  Everyone got washed up and their shoes and street clothes back on, and then they shared tea while the three magic users ate — and how strange was it for Julian to count himself among them? Alys had sent along lovely cold herbed chicken and a potato salad made with spicy mustard, plus two oatcakes apiece which were full of sticky honey, sweet fruit and crunchy seeds and nuts. Julian ate every crumb and drank his portion of her tea and then more cool water afterward, and felt a million times better when it was done.

  “Your Alys is a miracle worker,” said Stephen, closing up the lunch box with a satisfied sigh. “I feel quite restored.”

  “She knows what she’s about with food and drink,” agreed Alex. “And there was some fairy magic in the food, too, not just the tea.”

  “So you’ve really got a brownie?” said Raul curiously; they’d mostly talked amongst themselves, and Julian didn’t know any of the assistants that well yet, since he spent a lot of his time either learning from Mary Margaret or putting what he’d learned into practice with the plants.

  “Yep,” said Alex smugly. “They moved in right after Julian’s case was over, and they like him a lot.”

  “Wait, you have two brownies?” said another of the assistants, who Julian thought was named John or James or something very ordinary like that, and could as a consequence never remember.

  “They’re a couple, Nat and Alys, he fixes and she cooks,” said Julian. “Since Alex is a mage and he’s got wards on the flat, they struck a proper deal with him, so we’re allowed to talk about them.”

  “But not to thank them, still,” said Alex wryly.

  That led to a few stories of their pranks, which finished off the tea and their excuses for stalling. “I suppose we’d best be off to the crime scene,” said Julian.

  “Jones and I ate while you guys were busy,” said Lapointe, tossing her cup in the trash.

  “Then it’s time,” said Alex with a sigh. He made sure they’d gathered up everything, and they took their leave.

  Lapointe followed in her own car, having given Jones directions earlier, and they settled into a comfortable silence as they moved through the city streets. Julian watched the buildings go by and thought about how different his life was, and the things he missed and the things he liked better now. It was strange to have a real purpose that he’d chosen for himself, instead of inherited like the estate duties, but it made up for the times he missed his apple trees.

  His life was still pretty luxurious, too, even if Alys cooked more traditional food than the St. Albans chef, and he lived in a little flat instead of a huge manor house. Alex didn’t skimp on the small things, so everything in their space was quality. At least, now that they’d redecorated and gotten rid of his ratty old furniture, which Julian had been pleasantly surprised that Alex hadn’t even argued about.

  He sighed and snuggled up, pressing a kiss to Alex’s mouth.

  “What was that for?” said Alex, “Not that I mind.”

  “I was just thinking that you could have argued instead of letting us redecorate,” said Julian. “You’ve made space for me in every corner of your life and half the time I don’t even have to ask.”

  “You moved into the city for me, and left your beloved orchards behind,” said Alex, giving him a kiss back. “That deserves a little extra consideration.”

  Father Stephen just sat and smiled at them, looking perfectly at peace with the world. It wasn’t much longer before they pulled up to the old Temple, where Lapointe had arrived first and made sure there was a space for Jones to park in amongst the still-present cop cars. Their comfortable silence stayed with Julian after they got out, and he followed wordlessly as Lapointe led them into her crime scene.

  The body had been cleared out yesterday, but the crime scene techs were still buzzing over everything like dedicated bees in search of every last grain of pollen. Julian felt the same sadness from some of the plants, and anger from others, and he let that lead him away from the group to a tiny grotto where wilting water plants crowded around a natural spring. Julian knelt down and listened to them, sending back sympathy and promises that he’d make sure they got some plant food.

  “Oh, there you are,” said Lapointe behind him. “Alex and Father Stephen are back to arguing, so they haven’t noticed yet.”

  Julian chuckled and stood. “These were drained, like the greenhouse plants, they’ll need special tending,” he explained.

  “I’ll make a note of it, I’ve got another of those maps and I was hoping you’d do a walk-through for me anyway,” she said, pulling out her little notebook. “Let’s go interrupt the two of them before they drive everyone batty first, though.”

  “All right,” said Julian, following her to the main meditation garden, where there was old blood splashed liberally on the damaged greens. This garden had paths and benches instead of grass, and the murder had taken place in the middle of a big patch of ground-covering clover. There was a hole dug off-centre of the trampled area, and Julian asked, “They found another seed?”

  “Bindweed this time,” said Alex, making a face. “It was already sprouting, they put it in one of those magic-proof boxes.”

  “We’re spoiling their plans, hopefully,” said Lapointe. “Is the clover significant?”

  “It’s common white clover instead of luck-clover this time,” said Julian, thinking back to his studies. “Good for the earth, and it’s good for breaking curses, though not like this.”

  “I believe the Temple was using it as a ground cover here to restore the soil,” said Father Stephen. “We also use the blossoms in certain potions.”

  “Right,” said Alex. “It’s a Sun plant, good for purifying and dispelling evil.”

  “So that’s a weird choice,” said Lapointe. “I mean, why do something evil on top of a plant used for dispelling evil?”

  “That’s a very good question,” said Alex.

  “Maybe they didn’t think of it as evil?” said Julian. “I mean, the plants aren’t angry about it, they’re just sad, like before. Maybe the person thinks they’re doing something for the greater good?”

  “That’s a very wise thought,” said Father Stephen.

  Julian knelt down and put his fingers in the earth just at the edge of the clover patch, ignoring the conversation swirling above him so he could listen to the plants. He could feel their emotions so much more clearly now, even without Alex’s charm; something had clicked for him the past few days with all the needful work he’d been doing. He thought rather sadly that he’d not have minded waiting, if it meant no one died to give him practice.

  “Murielle tells me you have something else to show me?” said Father Stephen, when Julian stood.

  “The water-plant grotto will need magical fertiliser and tending to if they’re going to recover,” said Julian. “I can show you while we walk the Temple, Murielle wants me to listen to all the plants and see if there’s any other areas of damage.”

  “I’d be happy to lead you around, that way you won’t miss anything,” said Stephen, his voice full of humour. “Perhaps you’d both like to join us?”

  Lapointe chuckled. “Are you implying the busy bees haven’t found all the honey yet?” She put away her notebook. “I’m game, they don’t need me to stand here. Alex?”

  “Yes, though I might be listening, so don’t worry if I seem distract
ed,” Alex said, mostly for Father Stephen’s benefit. Julian and Murielle were quite familiar with his ways, after all.

  “Let’s start at the entrance, it’ll be the easiest way to walk you through everything,” said Stephen. They trooped back to the start, then wound their way through the whole space. Unlike the main Temple, this one had either earth or flagstone floors nearly everywhere, and most of its rooms were dedicated in one way or another to nature. There were over a dozen of the small grottoes, each with a different theme to the plants, but the purifying spring was the only one that had been drained.

  “It’s just like in the nursery, the way it skipped over the rest of the plants and just drained the virgin greenhouse,” said Julian. “Is the spring okay?” he asked Alex and Stephen anxiously.

  The two conferred briefly, then Father Stephen nodded. “Everything seems to be in order here, other than needing some tending,” he assured Julian.

  “If someone can bring the fertiliser, I don’t mind tending to the plants,” said Julian. “If Alex thinks I haven’t overtaxed myself, anyway.”

  Alex tangled their fingers together and whistled the now-familiar little tune he used for simple diagnostic listening. “You seem fine,” he said, kissing Julian’s hand before letting it go.

  “I’ll call over to the Temple and see if they can spare anyone,” said Father Stephen.

  “Jones could go pick it up,” volunteered Alex, and they made the arrangements.

  “All right, let’s finish our tour so Jones doesn’t have to hunt us out in this maze,” said Lapointe wryly. They’d already found two rooms the techs hadn’t been in yet, both hidden culs de sac designed more for the priests’ use than those seeking solace here.

  “Of course, my dear,” said Father Stephen. There weren’t any more drained plants, though there was a stray smear of blood where no one expected it to be.

  Julian stepped back while the other three focused themselves on the evidence and the magic, Father Stephen’s jocular persona swept away by a sense of purpose that Julian hadn’t seen before. Julian knelt down again and put his fingers in the dirt between the flagstones, listening to the tiny moss that grew there, finding the places where it had been disturbed. “Try under that one,” said Julian, pointing.