Then Abel shrugged and lifted his beaker to sniff it, but Viola grabbed his arm. “Don’t smell that!”

But it was too late. Within moments, a rash erupted across his face, bumpy and dark like a blackberry. He lifted his fingers to touch his cheeks and let out a word that was forbidden in Dullshire.

“Well, Miss Dumont,” Floriane said, sighing. “Would you like to inform your friend what he just smelled?”

“It’s Glowsap,” Viola answered, even as whispers circulated the room at the mention of her name. Barclay often forgot, until moments like these, how famous his friend was.

“Dumont like Leopold Dumont?” someone murmured.

“Daughter of the Grand Keeper—”

“Cyril Harlow’s apprentice?”

Viola’s face flushed, but she continued, raising her voice so Floriane could hear her. “Glowsap is honey made by Stingurs, a beelike Trite class Beast. The Stingurs glow in the dark, which makes their honey do the same. It’s used as a lure to summon certain Beasts, because lots of Beasts love its taste and smell. It’s toxic for humans, though.”

“Toxic?” Abel moaned, rubbing at his skin.

“But not deadly,” Floriane added. “You’d still best go see the doctor.”

Across the room Tadg let out a loud snort. “I guess they don’t have common sense in the middle of nowhere in the Woods. Can’t say I’m surprised—I heard they don’t even have outhouses.”

A round of snickers spread across the inn, and Ethel shot Tadg a mean look and led Abel outside.

“Well,” Floriane said, shaking her head, “if any of you learn anything today, I hope it’s not to sniff something when you don’t know what it is.” This earned laughter all around. “Now, if you could put on your gloves, we’re going to make a lure for Trite and Familiar class Beasts. Traps are handy for all Lore Keepers, but especially for those like me, who need Beast by-products but don’t always want to go searching for them in the Woods. We’d rather the Beasts come to us.”

Floriane passed out a number of flower-infused waters and oils to combine with the Glowsap. Within minutes the innkeeper let out a screech.

“Anthorns! Murrows! Arachadees!”

The students all stopped their work to look. A swarm of antlike Beasts with gold bodies swept across the room’s floor toward their tables. Mice like the kind Barclay had seen with Selby at the Woods’ edge scurried beneath barstools. Spiders descended from webs along the ceiling, white as snowflakes.

Many of the students screamed and dashed out of the Beasts’ paths as they made for the Glowsap mixtures. The innkeeper swatted at the mice with her broom.

“What were you thinking, letting vermin into my restaurant?” the innkeeper shouted at Floriane, who was pulling spiders out of her tangled hair. “You only told me you were brewing potions! I would never have agreed to this! High Keeper Erhart is going to hear—”

With many apologies, Floriane ushered the students and their beakers of Glowsap outside, all sorts of Trite and Familiar class Beasts following in eager pursuit. By the time they’d dumped all the Glowsap in a cider barrel and sealed it, three students had fainted. Several had spilled the concoction on themselves, making their skin swollen like Abel’s but worse—letting out a bright, eerie glow. Barclay and Viola grew sweaty lunging away from Murrows.