said.
“You
were
listening!” Patch said. “But I don’t understand….”
Sweeting brought Patch’s hand close to his face. “Good hands, nimble fingers,” he said hoarsely, laboringto bring forth every word. “But nimble minds are needed more. Remember what Griswold said. Don’t ask why they’re here … ask why they never came before. What kept them away?”
Patch looked back where Griswold had stood. Sweeting was right. Just before Ludowick arrived with his sorry tale, Patch had been getting the feeling that there was a riddle to be solved.
“I think you’re right. I feel it too. But what were the clues?” he asked.
The sound of rustling fabric caught his attention. There was a curtain behind the table, and the figure of a woman emerged from behind it. She was lovely, small and slender, with a river of glistening black hair that flowed down her back. She looked at Patch from the corner of her eye and smiled. A moment later she slipped through an archway. Patch did not doubt that this was the woman he’d seen on the balcony the night before; was it the queen?
When he looked back at Will Sweeting, the old man had slipped away again, staring at nothing and rocking gently in his chair. He did not respond when Patch called his name or took his hand.
Patch walked around the curtain behind the great table. There was a simple chair there, unoccupied. He went to it and put his hand on the wooden seat, feeling the warmth under his palm. A person could have sat there unseen, during this or any other council, and heard every word.
h
was
enough poison. Indeed, many eyebrows were raised and glances exchanged when the multitude of toxins was brought before the king and his court the next morning. There was aconite, belladonna, thorn-apple, henbane, hemlock, bittersweet, arsenic, and mercury. There were lethal extracts from laurel berries, mushrooms, tares seeds, bitter almonds, and the pits of apricots and cherries. The physicians and apothecaries hastened to explain that these were used (in only the smallest quantities, of course) for the valid treatment of various maladies, for the control of insects, the disposal of mad animals, and other perfectly legitimate practices.
“Make certain the effect of the poison is delayed,” Milo commanded, “so all the trolls may drink before any fall sick.”
The physicians and apothecaries huddled together. After a loud and vigorous debate, they agreed on a formula and mixed the poisons into the wine. “Perhaps thestrongest, deadliest potion ever brewed,” one white-haired physician said when the work was done, wiping his hands over and over with a damp cloth.
Within an hour the twelve casks were loaded on the wagon, and Ludowick climbed aboard to drive it. Patch and the others followed on foot, staying out of sight in the forest by the road. They had left their horses farther back, with a group of soldiers who waited, spears and axes in hand. If the poison only sickened the trolls, Mannon would signal the fighters with the hunter’s horn that was slung across his shoulder, and they would come to help finish the task.
“Ludowick’s putting his neck on the line for this plan of yours, tailor boy,” Mannon grumbled. Patch wanted to tell him, tell everyone, that it wasn’t a plan at all. It was only something that had occurred to him just before Milo asked for his thoughts, and he wasn’t sure in the least that it was a good idea. But things were in motion now, and he thought it would be better not to respond. Nothing he said would please Mannon, anyway.
“Don’t worry, Mannon,” said Gosling. “Ludowick’s got a dog with him. He’ll have plenty of warning if the trolls are near.” He winked at Patch.
“The trolls cavern is just up that hill,” Addison said, gesturing at the opposite side of the road. “And this is where the winemaker was attacked.” Patch looked to his right and saw the place that Ludowick had run to escape the trolls the day before.
“You
were
listening!” Patch said. “But I don’t understand….”
Sweeting brought Patch’s hand close to his face. “Good hands, nimble fingers,” he said hoarsely, laboringto bring forth every word. “But nimble minds are needed more. Remember what Griswold said. Don’t ask why they’re here … ask why they never came before. What kept them away?”
Patch looked back where Griswold had stood. Sweeting was right. Just before Ludowick arrived with his sorry tale, Patch had been getting the feeling that there was a riddle to be solved.
“I think you’re right. I feel it too. But what were the clues?” he asked.
The sound of rustling fabric caught his attention. There was a curtain behind the table, and the figure of a woman emerged from behind it. She was lovely, small and slender, with a river of glistening black hair that flowed down her back. She looked at Patch from the corner of her eye and smiled. A moment later she slipped through an archway. Patch did not doubt that this was the woman he’d seen on the balcony the night before; was it the queen?
When he looked back at Will Sweeting, the old man had slipped away again, staring at nothing and rocking gently in his chair. He did not respond when Patch called his name or took his hand.
Patch walked around the curtain behind the great table. There was a simple chair there, unoccupied. He went to it and put his hand on the wooden seat, feeling the warmth under his palm. A person could have sat there unseen, during this or any other council, and heard every word.
h
was
enough poison. Indeed, many eyebrows were raised and glances exchanged when the multitude of toxins was brought before the king and his court the next morning. There was aconite, belladonna, thorn-apple, henbane, hemlock, bittersweet, arsenic, and mercury. There were lethal extracts from laurel berries, mushrooms, tares seeds, bitter almonds, and the pits of apricots and cherries. The physicians and apothecaries hastened to explain that these were used (in only the smallest quantities, of course) for the valid treatment of various maladies, for the control of insects, the disposal of mad animals, and other perfectly legitimate practices.
“Make certain the effect of the poison is delayed,” Milo commanded, “so all the trolls may drink before any fall sick.”
The physicians and apothecaries huddled together. After a loud and vigorous debate, they agreed on a formula and mixed the poisons into the wine. “Perhaps thestrongest, deadliest potion ever brewed,” one white-haired physician said when the work was done, wiping his hands over and over with a damp cloth.
Within an hour the twelve casks were loaded on the wagon, and Ludowick climbed aboard to drive it. Patch and the others followed on foot, staying out of sight in the forest by the road. They had left their horses farther back, with a group of soldiers who waited, spears and axes in hand. If the poison only sickened the trolls, Mannon would signal the fighters with the hunter’s horn that was slung across his shoulder, and they would come to help finish the task.
“Ludowick’s putting his neck on the line for this plan of yours, tailor boy,” Mannon grumbled. Patch wanted to tell him, tell everyone, that it wasn’t a plan at all. It was only something that had occurred to him just before Milo asked for his thoughts, and he wasn’t sure in the least that it was a good idea. But things were in motion now, and he thought it would be better not to respond. Nothing he said would please Mannon, anyway.
“Don’t worry, Mannon,” said Gosling. “Ludowick’s got a dog with him. He’ll have plenty of warning if the trolls are near.” He winked at Patch.
“The trolls cavern is just up that hill,” Addison said, gesturing at the opposite side of the road. “And this is where the winemaker was attacked.” Patch looked to his right and saw the place that Ludowick had run to escape the trolls the day before.
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