“It's a remarkable piece of research,” he said at last, “but I cannot help you. I haven't heard of anything like this happening before. Leave me a copy of your work, and I will look into it further.”

  Amanda gave him the copy she had prepared. It was exactly the same as the original she had brought for him to read. He took it and sat it on the desk in front of him.

  “I'll call you,” he promised, already reading the text once more.

  “Thank you,” Amanda said, and left.

  Her teacher said that, since the results of her experiments were inconclusive, she would be marked down on her project. Amanda brought the pottery fragments to him the next day.

  “I'd like to change my project,” she said, handing him one of the fragments.

  She watched as he took it and held it up to the light. After a moment of silent study, he looked away from the fragment.

  “To this?” he asked.

  Amanda nodded.

  “Yes, I would like to investigate the pottery's origins,” she told him.

  “Where did you find it?”

  “In the same field that I took the soil samples from,” she replied.

  Her teacher frowned.

  “Only in that field?”

  Now it was Amanda's turn to frown.

  “I only looked in that field. It was the only one where the plants were dying.”

  She did not add that the animals had avoided the field as well.

  Her teacher studied the fragment once more, then shrugged.

  “You know a research project will not bring as many marks as an experiment,” he said.

  Amanda tried to hide her disappointment.

  “I know.”

  “You could combine the two,” the teacher added, after a moment's thought. “See if the pottery fragments are connected to the soil failing. That would bring about a conclusive result, and any history you find on the fragments would be pertinent to the project. I can't see you losing too many marks if the results on the fragments affecting the soil are negative and, if the fragments do prove to be connected to the soil's failing, then so much the better.”

  “Thank you,” Amanda said, relief flooding her voice.

  “Not at all,” her teacher replied, handing back the fragment.

  Amanda began her experiments the next day. She introduced a fragment of pottery to half the seedlings growing in the potting mix. Nothing happened for three days, and then the familiar yellowing appeared on their leaves.

  The plants were dead by the end of the week. Those to which she hadn't added the fragments continued to thrive.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  She studied the pottery pieces for poisons, for anything that would contaminate the soil. She ran tests on the spoiled plants, on the pottery-affected potting mix, on the pigmentation on the fragment. She discovered nothing. She gave her results to the teacher.

  He frowned as he read her notes.

  “This is strange,” he said. “I hope you're going to follow it up.”

  “I will,” Amanda promised.

  “You don't have to,” he told her. “Your experiments conclusively show that the pottery causes plants in contact with the soil containing it to die. Your project will pass even without you finding out why this occurs. Of course, if you should find out why the fragments affect the soil ...”

  Amanda nodded. She didn't need to hear him finish the sentence. Following the project through could only help her marks rise further. She held out her hand for the sheaf of notes he held.

  He looked at her, but paused, rereading her results.

  “You know,” he continued, “you would definitely enhance your marks by including a little background history of those fragments. If you can find it, that is.”

  “I'll do that too,” Amanda told him.

  “Good,” he said with a smile.

  * * *

  Amanda looked for information on the fragments in the school library. When she found nothing there, she tried first one city library, then another.

  She found information on pottery and fragments. She found information on different dyes and designs used by ancient cultures. None matched the pattern of whorls on the fragments she had found.

  When the museum library could not help her, Amanda decided to go back to the university. She took the fragment, and a number of pieces like it, to the lecturer she had seen before. She also took him the results of her experiments with the fragments.

  After reading through her notes and conclusions, he took one of the fragments in his hand and turned it over, studying it through a magnifying glass. As he looked at it, then looked again, Amanda saw his aura of polite interest change to intense curiosity.

  “Where did you get this?” he asked.

  “From the same field I took the soil samples from,” she replied.

  He studied the fragment and looked at her again.

  “This isn't my strongest field of study,” he said, standing up, “but I think I know someone who can help. If you would follow me ...”

  Amanda followed him along the quiet hallways of the university at study, then out and along a path that led to the lecturer's residences. As they walked, he explained who they were going to meet.

  “Professor Marie Zaubfiend,” he said, “has spent a lifetime studying pottery fragments from around the world. I think she may be able to help us with these.”

  In his hand, the sword's song heard the name of an old enemy, and hummed through the fragment. The blue-whorled design glowed, unfelt and unseen.

  Amanda followed the lecturer along a narrow path between two gardens, and into a courtyard bordered on four sides by four small cottages. He led her along a flower-bordered path to the front door of one of the cottages.

  The woman that answered his knock was not what Amanda expected of a professor. She was younger for a start, and she was good-looking and well-dressed to continue.

  “Jamie!” she cried, then looked at Amanda, “and what do you have for me today?”

  The lecturer gestured at Amanda.

  “This is Amanda. She brought me a copy of the soil experiment she was carrying out at school, and she brought me this.”

  He handed her the fragment, and Marie looked at it.

  “A pebble?” she asked. “Jamie, you know I know nothing about geology. That's more your field than mine.”

  Jamie looked at the pebble she was holding in her hand.

  “But that's not ...” He paused, looking at Amanda. “You did give me a piece of pottery, didn't you?”

  “Yes, sir, I did,” Amanda said, staring at the fragment in Marie's hand. “It's still there. I can't see a pebble.”

  Marie looked at her sharply.

  “You're sure?” she demanded.

  Amanda glanced at the fragment in the professor's hand once more. She noticed the pattern's gleam on its surface.

  “Of course, I'm sure,” she said. “I can even see the pattern.”

  “Pattern.” Marie said this quietly, matter-of-factly. “It has a pattern,” she repeated in a tone of voice that suggested she should have realized.

  “Yes,” Amanda confirmed.

  Marie stepped quickly into the cottage, holding the door open for them.

  “You'd better come in.”

  Amanda followed the professor into the cottage, Jamie behind her. They walked through a neat sitting room, where a cup of tea still steamed gently on a saucer on a coffee table, and where a book lay open on a nearby sofa.

  A short corridor took them past a door that led to a kitchen, then to two closed doors facing each other.