Looking up at the three-quarter moon, the only one currently gracing the sky, Lucy decided it was time to return to the palace for a visit. She’d informed the other leaders of Liam and Rafal’s report that, having arrived at Wylie earlier than expected, they’d destroyed the cache. Now came the hard part: to identify their leak. She knew it couldn’t be Jerrett or Velia. They’d both proven themselves beyond reproach time and time again over the years. But that still left a number of other options. She decided she’d start with emphasizing to them all, the importance of maintaining confidentiality. Perhaps it was a simple matter of someone’s carelessness. Gracious Ehyeh, but she certainly hoped so. In the meantime, she needed time to think.
She ran to the dormitory in search of Vida and Clarimonde, so as to inquire whether they wanted to return to the palace. They did not. So with nothing else to keep her around—for now anyway—it was time to go.
Seconds after spinning her magic, she landed in the vestibule of the palace. She glanced up as Bane bolted toward her, growling, his hackles raised.
Her hands up, she ordered, “Down, Bane!”
The wolf slowed, then circled her, sniffing at her feet.
“Go on,” she ordered as she pointed down the hall that led toward the kitchen where he stayed in a room next to the larder.
Having recognized her, the wolf dropped his tail and then panted, offering her his strange canine smile.
“Oh, it’s you!” Adele said, as she entered. “I thought I heard some commotion.”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “Goodness, but is he always so . . . so—”
“Aggressive? Protective?” Adele completed her question. “Yes, to both. I have him stand guard when I’m busy.”
“I see.”
“Why are you back so soon? We didn’t expect you for a few days yet.”
“I just need some time to think,” Lucy said with a sigh. “Are Leala and Fidel still up?” she asked as she headed toward the kitchen.
“No,” Adele said, following behind. “They both went down for the night some time ago. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Lucy entered the kitchen, then approached the larder. “Probably not. I’ve just had such trouble sleeping of late. Too much on my mind, I guess.” She reached in and grabbed a labeled bag of herbs. “Oh, good.”
“What is it?”
“My valerian, hops, and lemon balm mix,” she said, bouncing the bag in her hand. “I could use some of this.” She dropped it on the counter. “Is there still hot water on?”
“Always.”
Adele went to the hearth and filled a cup from a pot of water that hung over it, then brought it to Lucy. “Here you go.”
Lucy pulled out a stool and sat. She opened the sack, and then rummaged for a tea ball that sat on the counter nearby, just out of easy reach. Once in hand, she filled it.
Her eyes narrowed as she pulled back, looking closely at the tea. Then she drew it nearer and sniffed it, expecting the almost putrid smell of valerian, the weedy scent of hops, or perhaps, a whiff of citrus. Her head cocked, she sniffed again.
“What is it?” Adele asked.
“This isn’t my valerian tea mix.” She dropped the tea ball on the counter, scowling. “Honestly, Adele, what is this?” she asked, grabbing the bag and waving it in the air.
“I— I’m sorry, Lucy. I know I told you that I’d have Barbara Jo help me with organizing all the herbs, but we just haven’t had time.”
“Look, if she’s not working out for you, I can find someone else.”
“Oh no, she’s the best help I could ask for! The thing is that she’s also responsible for cleaning—and that’s taken most of her time and attention of late.”
Lucy frowned. “Still, we discussed this all weeks ago, Adele.”
“Yes, but with all Vida’s children here now—and without her and Clarimonde here to assist with them—” Adele sighed. “Well, it’s been hectic, to say the least.”
Her jaw clenched, Lucy shook her head. “This is important, Adele. The wrong thing taken by someone, or something used by someone at the wrong time, could be . . . deadly.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lucy went back to the cupboard. “I’ll just use chamomile, I guess.” She rummaged about, finally pulling out another item. “It’ll help me to relax, even it if it’s not nearly as effective a sleep inducer.”
She slapped it on the counter, resumed her seat, emptied the tea ball of its former contents, and then filled it from the bag of chamomile. All the while she held her jaw tight.
“I’m sorry,” Adele tried again.
“Never mind. I guess I’ll just do it myself.”
“I’ll get at it tomorrow. I promise.”
“No, I’ll do it.”
“Lucy—”
She sighed. “It’s all right, Adele. I know I promised you more help. I’ll see what I can do about that. It’s just that—” She grabbed the sack and waved it again. “We depend on the proper medications for the proper purposes. This is chamomile. I can tell by the look of it and by its characteristic smell—of apples. It is generally harmless—but in the hands of someone with allergies to certain types of plants, it could cause respiratory problems. That could be dangerous.”
She dropped the bag, then swished the tea ball in her cup. “As to valerian,” she said, “it is a powerful sleep inducer—but once again, it can be dangerous. Taken the wrong way, at the wrong time, or in the incorrect dosage, it can cause nausea, headaches, and even dizziness—all of which could prove seriously problematic.”
“I understand.”
“Besides,” she huffed, “keeping these dried things in bags—in a kitchen— Well, that’s just— It’s not good practice. If they get moist, they could mildew, and that could cause another set of problems altogether.”
Adele nodded.
“Look,” Lucy said, waving her hand toward the larder, “this cannot go on. So I’ll get to it tomorrow.” She scowled. “I suppose, in truth, I’m probably the right person to do it anyway, as I’m well versed in herb-lore. That way I’ll be certain it gets done correctly.” She caught Adele’s eye. “If you’d like to learn a bit about it, you can assist.”
Adele smiled, falteringly. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” Lucy swallowed the last of her tea. “We’ll get started first thing in the morning.”
“Have we got enough glass jars?” Lucy asked as she stood examining the items on the table.
“I believe so,” Adele said.
“Very well then, let’s get at it.”
Lucy started removing items from the larder shelves, handing them off to Adele, who in turn handed them to her assistant, Barbara Jo, who then set them on the table.
“There are a few more left,” Lucy said as she paused to look over the pile of goods. “Can you move those jars over a bit farther to make more room?” she asked, pointing.
“I’ll do it,” Barbara Jo offered.
Having returned to the larder, Lucy continued emptying it. Finally, she handed the last items to Adele.
“That’s it,” she said as she proceeded to the table and then, with her hands on her hips, stood looking at it all. “What a mess.”
“It looks about like it did right after the raid on the compound,” Adele agreed, grimacing.
“Well then—” Lucy glanced Barbara Jo’s way. “You make the labels. Please be certain they’re legible.” Then she turned to Adele. “I’ll identify the items. You will put them in the jars. There’s a wide mouth funnel there to use to keep the mess down.”
“Understood.”
“Wash and dry it out well after each item. We don’t want one jar contaminated with what belongs in another—and we don’t want any moisture getting into any of the jars. It could mold.”
“Got it.”
Lucy grabbed the first bag. “Do you know how these got so out of order?”
“After the raid on the compound, things were in a shambles. I think some of these,” Adele said, holding up a handful of the bags, “just got tagged with whatever someone thought was correct.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yes, and it wasn’t until back when the children were ill, right after we arrived here, that I became aware that there was anything wrong.”
“Hmmm. So, they’ve been like this for several months now. Gracious,” Lucy muttered. “All right, well . . . this label says ‘bay laurel.’” She opened the bag and removed a few long, narrow leaves. Still green, but very dry, they cracked in her hand. “This is bay laurel, all right.” She handed the item off to Adele to jar, as Barbara Jo made an identification tag.
“I use it in stews,” Adele said as, having filled the vessel, she placed a cover on it. Then she wrapped the label, tied to a leather cord, around its top.
“That’s right,” Lucy said. “Now here’s . . . dried borage flowers.” She handed the next item over after sniffing at it. “Fortunately, it was marked correctly.” Then, “It’s good for colic, cramps, and urinary disorders, among other things,” she added.
As Adele and Barbara Jo completed jarring the item, Lucy handed over another. “Dill,” she said. “There’s no mistaking its look or smell. See these little green bits?” She put some in her hand and held it out. “These are leaves. The plant itself is almost . . . fern-like.” She passed the bag off.
“What’s it used for?” Barbara Jo asked.
“Medicinally? Mostly to calm the digestive system. But it’s also great for adding flavor to foods—especially fish.”
She moved to the next one. “This is lavender—another easily recognizable look and scent. It’s got a clean, floral fragrance. Well, so far, so good.”
“I use it for cleaning,” Barbara Jo said. “Now and again, I’ll bruise a handful and leave it in a stuffy room to help freshen it up.”
“Yes,” Lucy agreed, “there are a lot of great uses for lavender. Cooking. Cleaning. You can use its essential oil in candles for a good scent, or for a quick and powerful remedy for a burn, and its dried flowers in soaps give them an exfoliating quality.”
Opening the next bag, she took a look, then sniffed at it. “Yes, this is tarragon.” She offered it to Adele. “Can you smell something a bit like anise?”
Adele agreed that she could.
So the women worked through the morning. Although they found a few mislabeled items, most of them, to Lucy’s satisfaction and relief, had been marked correctly.
After taking a short midday break, they continued.
“What are you all up to?” Leala asked, as she entered the kitchen.
Lucy looked up. “Just getting some order to things around here.” She paused, biting her lip. Then, “Say, are you and Fidel available for dinner this evening?” she asked.
“I am, and so far as I know, Fidel’s got nowhere else to be. He’s no spring chick, you know. He doesn’t get around so easily these days.” Leala chuckled. “Why do you ask?”
“I’d just like to discuss some things.” Lucy turned to Adele. “Maybe we could finish the rest of these tomorrow,” she suggested.
“If you don’t mind, Lucy, it would be best to wrap this up. I’ve got a lot of things I need to see to, and truth to tell, I’d appreciate having this mess out of my way.”
“No, you’re right, of course.”
Barbara Jo picked up one of the bags. Glancing at the label, she scowled. Then she opened it and sniffed. “Ewww,” she said. “What is in this?”
“Hand it over,” Lucy said.
She did.
Lucy read the label and smiled. Then she took a whiff of its contents. “Yes, this is right,” she said. “Dried magic frog juice.”
“What?” Adele asked. “I’ve never heard of such a—”
“Actually,” Lucy said, laughing, as she pulled a stick out from the bag, “on each of these sticks, is dried frog venom. It comes from a far off land and thus, is quite difficult to acquire.”
“What does it do?” Barbara Jo asked.
“Some say it’s an antidote for snake bites. Others say it can help with fatigue, and even certain addictions. It’s also an extremely powerful pain killer.” She dropped the stick back into the bag and handed it off. “It must be kept dry and free of mold. So let’s get it jarred.”
As her assistants set out to do her bidding, Lucy grabbed the next bag. “Oh, here’s another one you’ll like. It’s called ‘Talking Rock Orchid.’”
“‘Talking Rock?’” Barbara Jo repeated.
“Orchid. Yes. It can be used for gum disease. Hence, it’s name.” She handed it off.
“All right then, next we have—” She picked up another item and read the label. “‘Bee balm.’” She reached inside the bag and pulled out some of its contents. “No, this label is wrong.” She sniffed. “Right. This is . . .” Her eyes narrowed.
“What?” Adele asked.
She sniffed again. “Oh, I know. It’s crushed feverfew leaves.” She handed the item off for labeling. “Bee balm can have a bit of a minty or even peppery smell. It can be used to help with symptoms like sniffles.”
“And feverfew?”
“It’s got a musty, sometimes bitter, smell.”
“Yes, and it’s used for headaches,” Leala piped in.
“That’s right,” Lucy agreed. Then, whilst Barbara Jo prepared a tag, and Adele filled a jar with the herb, she readied the next one.
“This says ‘lemon balm,’ but it’s actually marigold. The first is for upset stomachs, among other things, the second is for sunburn and other skin conditions. It also can be used for gastric problems and joint pain.” She paused, in thought. “I recall that my mother used to make an infusion of it for women to treat . . . female infections. You know?” She pursed her lips, then looked back at the others. “In any case, like we discussed with chamomile last night, some people can’t use marigold. If they take it internally, it can make them wheeze—cause difficulty with their breathing.”
“Good catch,” Leala said.
“Now, here’s one marked ‘parsnip root,’” Lucy said, grabbing another bag. She opened it and sniffed at the contents, then stopped cold, scowling. “Wait. This isn’t parsnip root. This is . . .” She reached in for a pinch, then dropped it in her other palm. She stood, staring at it.
“What is it?” Adele asked.
Her gaze danced Leala’s way. “Take a look,” she said to her, handing the bag over. Then she turned back to Adele. “Do you recall the type of tea that Saga regularly requested?”
“Yes. She drank parsnip root tea—for her arthritis. She told me so herself. She brought some along with her to the compound, but she ran out.”
“And do you know . . . Did you give her some of this?” Lucy asked, taking the bag back from Leala whose brow was furrowed.
“I don’t recall that I did.” She frowned. “Wait a minute. If memory serves, I asked Barbara Jo to do it.”
“Yes, I got her tea for her,” Barbara Jo said. Then her gaze danced from Lucy to Leala. Noticing the look in their eyes, she stepped back. “Well, that’s what it was marked. Right?”
“Yes.”
“So, yes, I . . . I must have.”
Lucy and Leala exchanged a glance.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Look,” Lucy said, “it’s not your fault.”
“What? Oh, gracious Good One!” Barbara Jo drew her hands to her cheeks. “What is it?”
“It’s . . . hemlock,” Leala said.
“Wh— Hemlock? Oh, no! You mean I— I killed Saga?” She dropped into a nearby chair.
Lucy put her hand on her shoulder. “Look, it was an accident. You couldn’t have known. I don’t blame you. No one would.”
“I killed her!” Barbara Jo muttered. “I— I murdered someone!”
“Stop it!” Lucy scolded. “You did not take her life with premeditation. It was an accident. Nothing more.”
Barbara Jo sat with her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide.
“Come on, we’re not through here yet,” Lucy said. “Like Adele said, we need to wrap this up.”
“But—”
“Barbara Jo—enough. It was an accident. It could have been at anyone’s hand. Now, I don’t want to hear any more about it. But we do have to do everything possible here to make certain that something like that doesn’t ever happen again. Understood?”
Slowly, she nodded.
“Good.” Lucy turned back to the remaining herbs. “Now, here’s another.” She read the next label, opened the bag, and then sniffed the contents. Suddenly, all the color drained from her face. Her hand to her mouth and her eyes wide, she sat down—hard.
“What is it, Lucy?” Barbara Jo asked.
“Oh, gracious Good One!” she exclaimed.
“What, Lucy? What is it? What happened?” Adele asked.
Lucy dropped the bag, jumped to her feet, and then ran from the room. She had to get word to her. She had to inform her of the mistake.
Oh, dear Good One! No, no, no!
She’d known, when the twins were in The Tearless, before heading to the City of Light, that she’d likely meet her there. Concerned that the tea she needed might not be readily available in the city, and knowing she’d likely be out of the supply previously provided to her, Lucy had taken some along with her from the compound shelter.
But it was marked wrong. I gave her the wrong thing!
She rushed through the vestibule and up the staircase. She’d pack her things immediately, and then head back to the city. Maybe Velia could counsel her on the matter.