Chapter 9 #3
I study her for a moment, and realise she truly is a valuable ally. ‘We have a deal, Tessa.’
Dusk is a quiet time at Killmarth, lending it a subtly menacing quality.
The sky has darkened to a bruise, the sea thrashing angrily, white-tipped waves reaching with impatient, greedy fingers to curl over the rocks and seaweed.
The poison garden is outside the walls of Killmarth, hidden from view of both Hope Hall and the castle itself.
We have to cross the courtyard, as though leaving to go back to Hope, and skirt the outer walls of the castle over the uneven granite.
‘Should have worn boots,’ I mutter after nearly twisting my ankle for the second time. The rain begins, a slow patter at first, which soon increases to a steady thrum.
‘I did warn you,’ Tessa calls to me as we round the wall to the far side of Killmarth and discover a set of slippery rough steps carved into the rock.
Her dark, voluminous hair has come loose from the tortoiseshell hair clip at the nape of her neck, streaming around her brown cheeks.
‘Grandmother insisted I pack a pair. Wouldn’t tell me why.
She’s the one who trained me, really. Completed her second Ordeal in twenty minutes flat, the fastest any hopeful has completed an Ordeal. ’
‘How did she do it?’
‘She’s a masquier, like me.’ Tessa shrugs. ‘Impersonated a member of the Crown with such startling accuracy, that no one questioned where she went, or what she did.’
I whistle slowly, impressed at the tenacity. ‘Impersonating royalty, that’ll do it.’
She’s shorter than me, so she’s struggling with the deeper steps, needing to crouch down on nimble feet to descend.
Below us are a series of gardens, some symmetrical, containing what look to be herbs and root vegetables for the kitchens, as I suspected when I first ran around the edges.
Another is framed with gaunt-looking palm trees, the sea air blasting them until they hang crookedly overhead, devoid of colour in this harsh, grey autumn.
Every garden we walk through is tidy and well maintained, and I imagine a small army of gardeners and kitchen staff out here each day, with scissors and clippers, steadily taming the wilds in the face of the storms that rattle Killmarth through the cold seasons.
‘According to the history book on Killmarth, it’s in a walled garden.
Through a locked gate.’ We turn back and forth, considering which garden to try.
They are set at different levels, walled or boxed in with hedges, with no signage that we’ve discovered.
I shiver as the rain finds the back of my collar, snaking down my neck to drip along my spine.
Sniffing, I point out a walkway we haven’t tried yet. ‘This way?’
Tessa nods. ‘Makes sense to hide it away, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t want the kitchen staff confusing the plants for vegetables.’
In the end, we find it by accident. Stumbling through a gate with a rusted chain, we come upon a garden much smaller than the others.
The wind and rain seem to die down, the distant rush and wail of the sea dimming to a sigh.
The light is fading fast to twilight, the raised beds within pulsing with a luminous glow.
I realise it would have been hidden on my runs, the walls too high to know what lies behind them.
‘Wolfsbane, foxglove, carrow, hemlock, nightshade …’ she says, looking around and ticking them off on her fingers. She bends to examine a flower unfurling as darkness descends. The petals are a deep purple, tips pointed as they spread for the moonlight. ‘I don’t recognise this one though.’
I narrow my eyes, raking my memory over a lecture I once attended at the Serpentine library about flora and fauna in the woodland running like a seam through the middle of the territory.
This one … I’m sure it’s a Kellend native.
A flower that blooms in the woodlands of the north.
‘Alphemera?’ I ask. ‘Did you make notes on all the specific plants?’
‘Oh, I already knew about the other poisons. Part of my grandmother’s preparations.’ She chews her lip, leafing through her notebook, her eyes widening as she places a finger on a page, angling it towards the plentiful moonlight.
She reads aloud, ‘ The alphemera flower can be both antidote and poison. Use it to counter the effects of most varieties by sucking on a single petal. But beware mixing its intoxicating effects with the plant that holds no taste or scent. This will stop your heart in two short beats. ’ She looks up at me, smiling.
‘Greg copied out particular passages on varieties of poison plants and antidotes this afternoon.’
‘Helpful.’ I swallow, drawing out a handful of tiny vials that I found in the trunk, along with my things.
It seems these will come in handy to use for more than just the Collector’s marks.
‘And from the look of the carrow plant, it hasn’t been harvested.
In fact, the only ones that have been are nightshade and wolfsbane. ’
Carefully, I use a pair of sewing scissors to snip at the velvety petals and drop them in the vials.
I hand half to Tessa who pockets them immediately.
‘That alone may get us through tomorrow,’ she says, turning to me.
‘I could owe you my life by tomorrow evening. And Greg’s. I knew you’d be useful.’
‘Thank you for sharing what you found with me,’ I say, holding out my hand. ‘Looks like we might survive the first Ordeal after all. I promise, if I can help either of you tomorrow, I will.’
Tessa searches my face and smiles, shaking my hand before stepping further down the path.
‘If that history book is correct and these are indeed all the poisons used throughout history in the first Ordeal …’ she hops back as a thin vine lashes for her ‘… we’d better get to work.
We need to memorise them all and there’s only so much a reference book can teach.
Even if it looks as though only two plants have been harvested, I don’t want to take my chances. ’