“That is rather sad,” Almadel said, but there was something about the way he said it that expressed interest. He’d pieced together his idea of a story, and memorized the unique names that Davie had provided. He was a retainer of knowledge, even such of which he knew or cared little about already.
And yet, he seemed interested in this. “Do you mean to tell me that the plant you are trying to trade me will grow up to have some terrible, malodorous aroma to it? And that I must feed it
flesh?”
He tapped his finger on the table and leaned forward. “That’s very interesting, I like that. Perhaps I will make a trade. You said you liked botany, I have a few items that might interest you? I’ve got trimming shears that never go dull, I’ve got watering cans that never empty. Pots–actually, this might be the most interesting, but feel free to tell me if you’re in the market for something else.”
He moved away for a moment and returned with what appeared to be a ceramic pot, glazed in a deep brown color. He’d been storing something in it, and though it was old, it seemed in good condition. “I have a pot here–it is
far too big for me to keep carrying around.
But. I can guarantee that anything you grow in here will be healthy and bountiful. There’s an enchantment on it, it creates strong, fruitful plants–and they grow at two, maybe three times the rate you might ordinarily need for such things. If you’re a botanist, put a sick plant in here. Watch it become healthy again. Growing a seedling? It’ll take a fraction of the time. What do you say?”
Reply
