“Cut that out!” came a clear voice through the fog of what Benji could only assume was the afterlife. The vines ensnaring his body loosened, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity his lungs filled with a desperate gust of air.

  When his vision returned, he was laying on a cold stone floor on his stomach, an overturned magelight glittering dimly beside his head. Another light came from above him. It was still painful to look up, but when he did, it was Nella’s face above him, shadows stretching upward and making her face appear inverted, if no less welcome.

  “Lucky timing.” Benji’s voice was barely a rasp.

  “Nothing lucky about it,” Nella said. “I felt a disturbance and came running down from my office. It’s a good thing I did.”

  She helped Benji to his feet. He blushed as she fussed over his injuries, glad to find none of his bones broken. The ribbon of red around his throat was the worst of it, although deep breaths still sent a flash of pain through the ribs on his left side.

  “Many have fared worse in their first encounter with one of these,” she said.

  “Speaking of which . . .” He trailed off as he stared at the three massive flowers looking imperiously down at him. “What in Arren’s name is this thing?”

  Nella dusted one last bit of vine residue off the shoulder of his jacket. Her gold-flecked eyes still glowed with concern.

  “There are lots of names for them,” she said. “I came across this chap while conducting research for the Living Plant Collection, down in the ruins around Eith. They’re really more suited for that climate.”

  “They don’t thrive on proximity to knowledge and wisdom?” Benji asked.

  “Too humid,” Nella responded, giving his joke exactly the amount of attention it deserved.

  “Ah, I thought you might have meant that it doesn’t have access to enough idiots who wander into its cave. It seems to have plenty here.”

  “I wouldn’t call you an idiot,” Nella said. “I would just ask what you’re doing here.”

  The flowers watched, studying the conversation with every bit as much understanding as the Trugs. Leaves began unfolding themselves, coming out from their defensive curled postures, relaxing at Nella’s arrival. Benji’s insides were doing the same thing.

  “It happened by accident, at least at first,” Benji said. “I found the passage in the plantworking building—it was left open—and wanted to know what was down here. Then the passage disappeared and, well, then I really wanted to know what was down here. So I used the passages from Warren’s teashop.”

  “From the teashop?” Nella’s incredulity suggested she thought there was only one viable route down to this cavern. “How in Arren’s name did you manage that?”

  “Well, there were quite a few Trugs along the way, but I managed.”

  “Trugs?” Nella looked stricken, as if the fact that even someone with Benji’s limited magic could find this place meant just about anybody might walk in. He didn’t have the conviction to argue this point.

  “I noticed you were getting more stressed out recently, and thought this might be the reason. I wanted to help.”

  “This is definitely the reason.” The flowers reared back. She shot them an apologetic glance. “I don’t really know what you can do to help. This is my situation to deal with.”

  “Why are you stuck dealing with it? You said you were bringing it to the Living Plant Collection. Why didn’t you leave it there?”

  Nella tugged on a half-aquamarine, half-orange strand of hair. “When I sent word ahead that I was bringing him from Eith, the curators told me in no uncertain terms to leave him behind. In fact, I believe their exact wording was ‘incinerate thoroughly, then bury the ashes in separate corners of the Unified Coast to prevent them from growing back together,’ not that I ever would’ve followed their instructions. I simply told them I left it behind and then, well, I brought him here.”

  Benji massaged his sore wrists. “Nella, why didn’t the Living Plant Collection want this plant? Not to ask the stupid question, but is it dangerous?”

  “Well, no. Not with proper care and a bit of plantworking. All plants require the right circumstances to grow—correct humidity and so on.”

  “Nella . . .”

  “And I’ve been caring for it, you know. Ever since I got back. As much as I can, only, it’s hard to give it the plantworking it needs often enough. At some point it just wants to grow and I’ve got to prevent it from growing too much and—”

  “Nella,” Benji said again, gently taking hold of her arm as if to pull her out of the spiral of her own words. “What kind of plant is this?”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  She took a deep breath. “I told you, Benji, there are a lot of different names. But I think the one that it’s most commonly known by, at least in Thelanel, is a Worldeater.”

  Benji stared hard at Nella.

  Then he sat down on the stone floor, heedless of his bruised butt against the hard surface. He looked straight ahead, eyes unfocused against the mass of vines consuming the whole room.

  “Like I said, they’re only dangerous if they don’t get enough plantworking on them,” Nella said.

  “Very reassuring. What happens if they don’t get enough?”

  Nella considered, before saying in an alarmingly calm tone, “Well then I suppose he’ll grow anywhere from three to four miles across, and begin to consume anything and everything above him.”

  “Ah,” Benji said. “Only three to four miles?”

  “It’s only happened a few times. We can’t say for sure.”

  “Ah.”

  “I admit it’s a bit of a problem.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ah.”

  There was a long, awkward silence, broken only by Nella’s shuffling as she continued to nervously braid one loose strand of hair. The aquamarine dye on one side had begun to fade, now looking less like a bolt of lightning and more like an unintentional blot of discoloration.

  When it became clear that Benji would be incapable of speech for a while, Nella stepped toward the flowers. The middle one opened and arched toward her. She stuck out an arm. It gently folded itself over her, all the way down to her shoulder. Benji’s stomach lurched. Nella’s expression was soft, almost loving, as she muttered the words of an intricate plantworking. The plant relaxed further, leaves unfurling as the stems connecting the flowers grew less rigid. Nella had her eyes closed. Her voice was as soft as if she was reassuring a stray animal.

  Benji stood and approached, careful not to make any sudden movements that might spook the plant again.

  “You kept referring to the plant as a ‘he,’” Benji said. “That would seem to contradict my understanding of floral biology.”

  “Plant genders are more a state of mind and being than based on physical characteristics,” Nella said. “I know he considers himself male because he told me.”

  “He told you?” Benji didn’t entirely succeed at not spluttering.

  “Well, yeah,” Nella said. “Worldeaters are some of the more intelligent plants out there. It’s part of the reason I couldn’t bring myself to light him on fire.”

  “And I thank you for that,” came a voice, not from the flowers, but rather from the hollow where the flowers had been resting before Benji disturbed them.

  “He was so cute then, too,” Nella said, not noticing that Benji had jumped back in alarm. “Barely bigger than me, and with only the one developed flower. Not that Worldeaters need their flowers. They’re more than capable of swallowing entire city blocks with just the vines.”

  “What the fuck!” Benji had finally reached his limit. “So, this Worldeater convinced you that he needs to live, and you believed him because he was cute at the time, and only marginally capable of destruction?”

  “Something like that,” came the plant’s voice from the wall. “I had always wanted to make the acquaintance of a talented plantworker. Our conversations were so engaging that I left my dormant state and began my adult growth cycle.”

  Nella looked sheepish. “Honestly, it was the first time I’d ever been called too interesting. And, you know, it’s by a plant so I’m not sure it really counts.”

  “We’ll put a giant Arren-blasted pin in that,” Benji said.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said the plant. “I gather your name is Benji. My name is Rick.”

  If the image of this plant somehow being cute had pushed Benji past his limit, this so obliterated any concept of a limit that he would have to come up with a new one entirely.

  “Hi, Rick,” Benji said. “It’s nice to meet you, please don’t kill us all.”

  ***

  Nella led Benji up the passage back up toward the plantworking building, explaining the remaining details about Rick with feverish speed.

  “So, ideally we’d do the plantworking three times a day. It’s tough for me to get down there that often without drawing suspicion. I’m worried if I leave him for too long, he’ll keep growing. He’s not a problem at this size yet, but if he doubles in size, or outgrows the passages around him, we’re going to have a problem. Or, I guess, I’m going to have a problem.”

  “I will also have a problem,” Benji said. He smiled grimly. “I’ll help however I can.”

  Benji was shocked to see the hint of tears in Nella’s eyes. She quickly wiped them away. “You don’t have to. If the faculty realize I’m hiding this, literally anyone who knows about it will be expelled, if not sent straight to the Constabulary. Worldeaters are illegal for a reason.”

  “How bad of a metalworking partner would I be if I didn’t help you harbor a dangerous plant fugitive?”

  “You’re sure?”

  Benji nodded. “Unfortunately, I think doing dumb shit like this might’ve been the reason I was accepted to the university.”

  In the end, Nella had a few concrete requests, all of which Benji agreed to without question. First, and obviously, was to keep Rick’s existence quiet until she could figure out how to move him somewhere safer. Second, and slightly less easy given his relative skill with magic, was to stop in at least once a day and use a plantworking Nella would show him. This would prevent him from entering his growth phase, keeping him an at least somewhat manageable size.

  “And finally, and believe me, this is something I feel bad even asking,” Nella began, “is there anyone else you would trust to help out? We could use at least one more person, if not two, otherwise our trips here are going to draw suspicion. The teashop entrance helps in case the plantworking entrance is being watched, but if I disappear at the same time every day, eventually someone will notice.”

  “I’ll think about it. I don’t really feel comfortable pulling anyone else in without them knowing just how risky it is. I can decide for myself, not for anyone else.”

  “Very fair.” Nella placed a hand on the solid wall where the upper opening had been. She breathed a few words of some kind of working that was beyond Benji’s first-year coursework.

  As the wall began to open outward from the center like a puckering mouth, Benji said, “It seems like I need help figuring out how to open every door in this school. Can you please show me how to open this one?”

  Nella nodded. “It’s the least I can do.”