I wish I could heed her warning about the poison garden. I wish I knew what she fears, and why. But the Poisons say there are two more tasks for me to perform before I have earned her cure, and I cannot flinch now.

Even Mr. Luxton agrees. He was seized with joy when he saw the bundled remedy the Poisons provided. Even as I boiled the water to brew the mixture into a tea for Jessamine, he carefully copied into his book a faithful rendering of every leaf, twig, and seed in the mixture the Poisons had given me.

“If we are to save Jessamine, we must learn everything we can,” he said, blotting the pages. “You must keep up your courage, and go back, as many times as is required. Her salvation lies within the walls of that garden. Her life is in your hands.”

Now she sleeps. I pray this remedy will give her at least one night of peace and badly needed rest. I do not know how many hours she has before her illness returns in full force. There is no time to waste. I will enter the poison garden at dawn to face the second task the Poisons have set for me.

I fear this task will be even more difficult than the first, for the moonflower vine outside my window is weeping, and will not tell me why.

17

THE EARLY MORNING IS COLD and dark as Mr. Luxton leads me to the poison garden. We walk in silence except for the jingle of his keys.

Silence for him, at least. I choose not to hear the sobs, the warnings, the cries of fear that accompany our journey. Every blossom, tree, and blade of grass in Northumberland seeks to prevent me from arriving at the very place I am hell-bent on going.

“If Jessamine wakes, do not tell her where I am,” I say as Mr. Luxton and I reach the gate. “She would be distressed if she knew I had returned here.”

“I doubt she will wake soon. She slept fitfully, and called out during the night.” Once more he slips the key into the iron lock. Then he turns to me. “I have come to believe that you possess a kind of genius about these plants, Weed. What I must painstakingly accomplish with years of study, you seem to perceive in a flash—like Isaac Newton and his apple! Be resolute. Learn what you can. I will be waiting.”

I step through the gate, and the mist envelops me once more.

“Welcome back, lamb killer.” Snakeweed’s voice coils around me, and I shiver with disgust.

“Don’t be offended, Master Weed; I am sure she means it as a compliment.” Dumbcane chuckles. “Your second task may suit you better than the first. Tell him, Larkspur.”

That piping voice trills, “Oh, it is a very heroic task. You must defend the weak against the strong. Are you willing?”

“I am.”