“Small party or big, that’s the question, i’n it? Big party, well, big target. Makes a lot of noise, disturbs a lot of plants. ‘Other hand, small party doesn’t shake too many leaves, but you get in a pitched battle…” he let that last comment hang there while he drained a full tankard in one long drought.

“So? Which do you recommend?”

The guide shrugged, jiggled the empty tankard. Sefrin sighed, waved for the bar boy, and held up two of her fingers. 

“Much obliged,” said the guide, trying to keep his belches quiet. “Much obliged.”

“And?”

“And?” he repeated, taking another pull from one of the new tankards.

“Small or large? How many?” 

“Depends,” he said, putting the tankard back on the table. 

Lally noticed he didn’t let it go and leaned slightly over the other one. He let out a sigh. That earned him a scowl from Sefrin. Lally's sarcasm wasn't going to win any friends, and they needed a guide.

“I been through The Wall more times than I can count. You find someone who’s done half that.” He drained the second tankard and half slammed it down.

“You still have all your fingers?” Lally asked. 

“Course,” he replied, wiggling them before reaching for the third tankard.

“Ok, so that means at least eleven times, then.”

Sefrin glared at him, but apparently the guide didn’t catch the insult. He looked like he could probably rip Lally in two. Hedie chose that moment to walk up. Change of watch, she thought with relief.

Hedie sat right next to her on the bench, facing out, and murmured into her ear. “Found someone.”

“Right,” Sefrin said aloud to the guide. She reached into her coat, fished a silver fillet out and placed it next to the empty tankards. “We’ve got to attend to some other business. Stick around a day?”

The guide shrugged again, picking up the fillet and slipped it inside his belt. “If I don’t get a better offer. Lots ‘a people looking for guides right now.”

“It’s a risk,” Lally said with a drawl. “I’ll settle accounts.” He stood abruptly and headed to the cashier.

“It was a pleasure to meet you. If we decide to go, we’ll be here tomorrow, early.”

But the guide was already draining the third tankard and looking around. He didn’t bother to belch quietly this time.

Oen was waiting outside, leaning against the corner and watching the passersby. He didn’t move until they walked up, then fell in silently.

“So who is this guy?” Sefrin asked.

Oen grunted. “Gal.”

Hedie picked up the tale when it became clear Oen had nothing further to add. “She’s a nice old lady. She likes plants, so she spends a lot of time on the other side of The Wall.”

Lally stopped suddenly. “Wait, what? A nice old lady who spends time north of the Khapijanin Wall? Are you daft?”

Hedie grabbed his wrist and pulled to catch up with Oen, who hadn’t broken stride. “Wait till you meet her. She isn’t like other old ladies.”

“She lives in the library?” he asked, seeing where they were headed.

“Behind the library, where the college is.”

“Oh, she’s an artefex, why didn’t you just say so?”

“Not exactly,” she replied. 

“Just shut up and you’ll see soon enough,” Oen said from three steps ahead. “Never understood why you Palaji waste so much time speculating on things you can just go see. It’s like you can’t stand a minute of silence.”

Lally rolled his eyes and shook his head, but Oen wasn’t looking back.

Trisken Frie lived above her workshop, set back from the campus near a large greenhouse with several airlocked entryways. Lally walked over to peer through the translucent walls while the others waited to be let in the stone laboratory.

‘Little old lady’ turned out to be a misnomer. She was Omo, from the plains, and stood nearly Oen’s height. It all makes sense, now, thought Lally. The Omo were tight.

She was clearly getting on in years, if the wrinkles and hair were any indication, but her grip and her smile were firm. Lally felt the callouses through the handshake. There was no hint of age in her fluid movement as she swept them all into the lab.

“I study plant life for the artefexis at the college. Our research is the premier source of information on the flora of the northern jungles. It forms the basis for the textbooks all the way to the Ildrach.” She turned back to them with a smile. 

Lally made a small whistle, though he wasn’t exactly sure how impressed he should be about that. Academics weren’t in his wheelhouse.

She rummaged around one of the tables piled high with samples and instruments and gathered a handful of face masks. “Better put these on,” she said, handing them out. “Wait.” She pulled out a crock filled with suet. “Smear some of this on your face first, to make a good seal.” 

Hedie looked with distaste at the fat. “Uh, it kind of smells.” 

“Sorry, Oen. With that big beard of yours, you’d have to gunk it up pretty well to make a seal. I think you had better stay outside.”

“Works for me,” he said and turned back.

“This protects us from their poison?” Lally asked, wrinkling his nose and rubbing fat around his nose and mouth.

“Just the airborne stuff, and only for a while,” she replied, helping him to adjust the headbands. She put on her own mask. “There are many kinds of spores, pollens, toxins, and signaling chemicals in the jungle. Some put you to sleep, some paralyze you, some are just the way the plants talk to each other.”

“They can talk to each other, then?” Sefrin said, following her into the greenhouse.

“Yes, but not with sound. With scents,” she leaned down and Sefrin could tell she was smiling behind that mask.

“So, we need to stay downwind?” Lally said with his drawl. 

“Unless you want to become lunch, yes.”

“Do all the plants in the jungle eat meat?” Hedie was wide-eyed as they passed through the inner door of the airlock into the greenhouse. 

“Just the bloodeaters,” Trisken said, “but the others can still be dangerous. They help each other out, you know, and the pollinators are in on the game.”

“What are pollinators?” Hedie’s voice was quiet and muffled behind the mask. She shrank back from the plants on either side of the narrow aisle.

“Don’t worry about these,” Trisken said, putting a light hand on Hedie’s shoulder. “This is a very mild section of the greenhouse. No bloodeaters, no contact toxins. And pollinators are everything from bees to butterflies to sip dragons. Northern jungles are much more cooperative than anything in the south. The trees down there are all asleep.”

“Asleep? So, you mean they’re alive?” asked Lally.

“Of course they’re alive, you idiot,” snapped Sefrin. “They’re plants.”

Lally gave his signature eye roll. “You know what I meant. Smart.”

“Together, they are in a way,” Trisken said. “Down south, they’re dormant. You can walk through a pine forest and nothing is going to hurt you except in some very dark, dense places with a very wide range of species. Up here, there’s so much biological activity. Your presence can be communicated via pollinators and chemical signaling with lightning speed across leagues. Vines and bushes can alter their shape to drive you in a particular direction. Poisons might be released as you pass making you drowsy. You brush up against a liana,” she gently stroked the back of Lally’s arm. “Thousands of tiny needles tear your skin open, injecting a paralyzing toxin. You go down, but the blood causes the liana to react, twisting suddenly and wrapping you up. It starts to consume you while you are still drifting off.”

Hedie backed quickly toward the door. “I need to get out, I can’t breathe,” she said, panic creeping into her voice. 

“I’m sorry,” Trisken said in a rush, hurrying over to lead Hedie out to the airlock. “That was stupid of me. Come on, let’s go outside.” 

Lally and Sefrin needed no prompting, though they did look back once at the big, red blossoms that turned slightly toward them as they retreated.