"And here," Jorani went on, pointing to a number of glass vials arranged on a shelf, "are the more usual poisons-arsenic, bitter apricot, quicksilver, ergot, dried mushrooms…"

"What is this?" Ilsabet asked, pointing to what looked like a huge urn of sand that gave off a faint, sweet odor.

"The source of battle confusion. Deep inside the urn is a colony of cave ants. These creatures never see the light. When they do, they become frantic, confused. They secrete a drug that rubs off on the sand. I grind their bodies and the sand together to a fine powder. Released upwind from an enemy camp just before a battle, the powder raises the enemy's fear. The ant colony is much smaller now, their sacrifice hardly worth it."

"Such simple things," Ilsabet said with disappointment.

"Most things are simple at their core. The real talent comes in the combinations. I'm considering mixing ergot with the ant sand to see if there is a way of driving troops into a frenzy in which they would see their comrades as the enemy and kill one another. But now that the war is over, it would have no use."

"Just knowing would be reason enough," Ilsabet said.

"I also have no subjects for my experiments. The rebels are all being freed."

Ilsabet said nothing. There would be great poverty in their battle-torn land, and criminals in plenty soon enough. She pictured murderers and thieves in their underground cells, driven mad by the powders and potions, afraid of their comrades, the dark, the cells themselves. What remarkably fitting justice. The thought made her tremble, and she turned toward Jorani with her face pale, her lips slightly parted. "When will you start to teach me?" she asked.

"As soon as Peto leaves. In the meantime, there are things about this castle that I can show you, child."

She did not correct him as she had Greta. He was her teacher. She would have to prove herself to him. She'd do so soon, she vowed.