The broad-leaved plant called Dumbcane laughs and replies, “That’s because they burned her at the stake, Moonseed.”

“Be careful what you ask to know, Master Weed, for knowledge can be dangerous. So sayeth Moonseed.”

“True—but the people who are afraid of knowledge are more dangerous still.” The seductive voice comes from close behind me. Startled, I turn.

“I am Snakeweed,” the delicate, lacy shrub croons. “Not every poison is bitter, Master Weed. Remember that.”

“I bet he already knows,” chirps Larkspur. “I bet he knows plenty about poison—”

“Quiet, sprout,” Dumbcane says. “Now make your request, Master Weed. You must have a reason for coming here. Everyone does.”

“Some are so unhappy they wish to die,” Moonseed says dreamily.

“Others are so unhappy they wish to kill.” Snakeweed’s voice holds a sneer.

“And some are so unhappy they wish to forget who they are, and what the source of their misery is, and even who it was they once wished to kill.” Larkspur laughs in delight.

“I come seeking a cure,” I begin. “Not for myself. For a young lady. Jessamine Luxton is her name. She lies in her sickbed, feverish and weak. I do not know what ails her. Will you help me?”

“And what about your usual friends? The chamomile? The peppermint? The feverfew? I suppose they are of no use to you today.” Snakeweed’s yellow flowers tremble with fury. “You prefer them to us—until you need something only we can give. Then you crawl to us, like ivy.”

“Poison ivy, you mean!” Larkspur’s giggle pierces my ears.

“What you say may be true,” I confess. “But I must find a cure for her, and I do not care where it comes from.”

“Your kind do not come to us for cures,” Snakeweed snarls. “You come seeking power over life and death, for life and death are what we have to offer.”

“And our assistance comes at a price,” Moonseed adds.

“I offer you everything I have.” Knowing I have nothing, I add, “And anything you ask for, I will give.”

Dumbcane laughs, deep and mocking. “No need to be dramatic. All we ask is that you perform a few simple tasks. Merely to prove your resolve.”

“Even if what you bid me do is impossible, I will find a way,” I declare.

“How righteous he sounds, and how brave!” Larkspur’s giggle rises to nearly a shriek. “Lucky for you, the first task is an easy task. The hardest part is doing nothing.”

“Tear a leaf from me, Master Weed,” Moonseed instructs, “and I will guide you.”

“With pleasure,” I say, and rip the leaf with as much brutality as I can.

You must not eat those, Prince Oleander. They are dangerous.

Do you mean these delicious berries, plump and black as ebony pearls? You are mistaken, Jessamine. Look, I eat them all day as if they were sweets. Would you like to try one?

Father always warned me—