Tadg stabbed a finger into Barclay’s shoulder.

“Prove it, Elsie. Place in the top thirty in the practical, and I’ll lay off. I will. Even if I’m only telling you the things you need to hear.”

Tadg held out his hand.

When Tadg had shaken hands with Ethel yesterday, he’d hurt her in some way. And so Barclay was ready. He wouldn’t be tricked. And he wouldn’t lose.

When they grasped hands, Barclay thought, Wind!

A gust roared past in response, sweeping Tadg right off his feet. He landed on his back in the snow, his expression furious.

“I think I’ll keep my bet,” Viola said brightly.

Tadg muttered something to himself, then stomped off, his admirers whispering behind him.

Viola, Ethel, and Abel broke out into howls of laughter.

Barclay only basked in his glow of victory for a few moments. After all, he’d only gotten the better of Tadg because it’d been a trick.

He turned to Viola. “You’ve done the Exhibition before. You’re an apprentice.”

She nodded hesitantly.

“If I’m going to have any chance of beating Tadg and placing first,” Barclay said, “I need to get better. I need you to train me to be a real Lore Keeper.”

FOURTEEN

The next morning, barely after sunrise, Viola had gathered Barclay and the twins on a crowded main street in Sycomore in front of an apothecary shop called Bottles and Brews. Red ivy crawled up its entire front, making it difficult to find the front door amid the prickly leaves and vines.

“The practical exam will test you on a wide variety of topics,” Viola explained. “You’ll need to be able to defend yourself against different types of Beasts, to identify Beasts, and to know how to take care of Beasts.”

Abel slapped Barclay on the back. “So, you know, not much.”

“But why are we here?” Barclay asked. “To go shopping?”

“In a way,” Viola answered.

They entered the shop. It was full of rickety, slanted shelves, each of them stacked with clay pots. They had strange labels like Invisible Sap and Twelve-Leaf Clovers. Everything smelled of pungent flowers, and the vibrantly green carpet on the floor was actually a thick layer of moss.

“Dried plants and such are useful,” Viola said, “but not during the practical exam. If you need them, you’ll have to forage for them yourself.”

She led them through a back door to the greenhouse. Inside was pleasant and warm, with plants ranging from blossoming flowers to fruit trees to—Barclay noticed with delight—various clusters of fungi.

Viola bent over the first mushroom. “I thought you might like to start with this.”

Barclay had never seen a mushroom like this before. It was small and white, and it rocked back and forth gently. It grew in cluster formations, all nestled together.

“These are Stoolips,” Viola told him. “They’re Trite class.”

“These are Beasts?” Barclay asked incredulously.

Ethel cooed at one and tickled its stem. To Barclay’s shock, the mushroom giggled, and beady green eyes blinked below its top. “They’re so cute.” She rushed to her backpack for her pencil and sketchbook.