Belladonna

couldn't keep sliding around the question of where I was going each day. So I told Lynnea where I've been going — and that led to telling her why."
    Michael ladled the soup into bowls while Sebastian put the sandwiches on plates. "And she told Nadia." Which explained the food.
    "It's made them hopeful — and that has given them all a lot of energy."
    The way Sebastian smiled gave him a very bad feeling.
    "So who else knows?"
    "Just the people you'd expect. Family — and close friends."
    Lady's mercy. That wasn't all of it. He sensed there was more, but whatever else Sebastian wanted to tell him was something he really didn't want to know.
    When they were halfway through the soup, Sebastian said, "It's spring. I was told it's time to tidy up the gardens."
    "What's that mean?"
    "That means it's not going to rain here tomorrow, Magician, so you'd better be home and you'd better be prepared."
    Michael blinked. "For what?"
    Sebastian shook his head and sighed. "Four women, which includes your aunt Brighid, who like to play in the dirt and grow green things."
    "Uh-huh."
    "They will be here tomorrow — along with me, Teaser, Jeb, Yoshani, and Lee — to help you tidy up the walled garden, and plant a few flowers in the personal garden."
    Michael plopped his spoon in the bowl, slumped in his chair, and stared at Sebastian. "There's close to two acres of land in the walled garden, and that much or more that could be considered the formal grounds around the house."
    "Uh-huh."
    "All of it? We're going to tidy up all of it?"
    "Uh-huh."
    He felt the blood draining out of his head. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He wasn't a gardener, and didn't pretend to be, but the gardens didn't look too bad to his untrained eye. "So what's to be done then?"
    Sebastian held up a hand and began ticking items off with his fingers. "Weeding, mulching, raking the leaves that were neglected last fall —"
    "Raking leaves ? Why?"
    "Because they fell off the trees and are now on the ground. We can rake them up or we can tack them back onto the trees, every single one of them. That's a direct quote."
    Michael braced his head in his hands. "Lee doesn't want to come here. His arm has been out of the plaster for a while now, but I'd think he'd use the excuse of a healing bone to get out of coming here."
    "He tried," Sebastian replied dryly. "He was told, and I quote, 'You don't need two hands to pull up weeds.' "
    "Lady of Light, have mercy on us."
    "Well, I hope someone does, because Aunt Nadia is pretty ruthless when it comes to cleaning up the garden. And Lynnea isn't much better," Sebastian added under his breath.
    Michael fiddled with the spoon for a moment, then pushed the bowl aside. "If you could go back and make that choice again, the one that has you tidying up gardens because a particular woman wants it of you ..."
    "I'd make the same choice," Sebastian said. "I chose love, Magician. Just like you. Isn't that why you're here?"
    He nodded. "That's why I'm here." He studied what was left of the soup in his bowl. "Did Glorianna like this soup?"

    "It was her favorite. Aunt Nadia calls it comfort soup." Sebastian looked at the other jar of soup on the counter and then looked at Michael. "Magician, I have an idea."

    *
Crying softly, the Eater of the World wrapped the tatters of Its shirt around Its wounded arm.
    There had been bushes of ripe berries. Succulent. Sweet. It hadn't wanted many, just a few. Just a taste of something good.
    But the humans had found the berries too, and their minds had been too clotted with greed and viciousness to hear anything else. They trampled each other and tore at each other in order to get to the berries. They stabbed at each other and stoned each other as they fought to stuff handfuls of the ripe fruit in their mouths. They destroyed the bushes and mashed half the berries underfoot in their efforts to have as much as they could — more than anyone else.
    And when It had tried to move among them and get Its own small share of the berries, they had turned on It, attacked It, ripped at Its clothes, and driven It away.
    They had hurt It. And there was no one — no one — in this landscape who had the kind of heart that would have taken It in to tend the wounds and look after It.
    Well, there were hearts in this landscape that were able to feel kindness and compassion, even if only a little, but those feelings just withered without ...
    World? It whimpered. World? Where is the Light?

    *
"Come on, wild