“Then let’s leave before that wizard thinks to circle around to check on what we’re doing,” Alianora urged.

Cimorene doubted that Antorell would think of doing such a thing, but she nodded agreement, and the two girls left the valley. Alianora was quiet and thoughtful for most of the walk back to Kazul’s cave. Cimorene was grateful for her silence. She had a lot to think about herself. From what Antorell had said, it seemed likely that Woraug was helping the wizards somehow, or at least that he had known what Antorell was looking for in the little valley. Cimorene found it difficult to imagine a dragon helping a wizard, but she couldn’t say with certainty that it was impossible. And if Woraug was involved with Antorell and Zemenar, it might explain why he had been so touchy lately.

When they arrived back at the cave, Cimorene shook herself free of her preoccupation. She and Alianora unloaded their baskets and tied the herbs in bunches to hang in a dark corner of the kitchen to dry.

“How long will it be before I can use the feverfew?” Alianora asked worriedly.

“I’m not sure,” Cimorene said in a considering tone. “It will take at least a week to dry thoroughly, but you might be able to use it in the spell before then. The directions don’t say how dry the feverfew has to be. We could try it every day with a pinch of leaves from one of these bunches if you like.”

Alianora nodded. “I really do need it.”

“I wonder if it would work without being dried?” Cimorene said. She pulled a leaf from one of the hanging plants and shredded it carefully between her fingers, then tossed it up in the air and recited the rhyme. “There! Now, light a candle or another lamp or something.”

Alianora had already lit a candle and set it on the table. Cimorene moved over and stuck her finger in the flame.

“I think it’s working,” she said, and moved the rest of her hand closer.

The sleeve of her dress caught fire. Cimorene hastily pulled her hand away from the candle and slapped at the flames, while Alianora snatched up a bucket of water from beside the sink and poured it over Cimorene’s arm. The fire went out and so did the candle, and both Cimorene and Alianora got thoroughly soaked.

“Oh, dear!” Alianora said, ignoring her soggy skirts. “Cimorene, did you burn yourself?”

“No,” Cimorene said, looking at her arm with a puzzled expression. “I didn’t feel a thing. I thought the spell worked, but nothing caught fire when we tested it before.”

“It must be because the feverfew is fresh instead of dried. And I had hoped that I’d be able to use it right away!”