A Million Roads to Nowhere

A Lesson, A Dream, and a Picnic

The next day, Alistair knocks on Patrick's door to wake him, telling him that their first lesson will start in a half hour. Patrick scrambles around the castle, trying to get in a decent state before he's late. He runs a cloth over his body, dresses, and flees to the kitchens to find something to sate the gnawing in his stomach. He goes to Lena's room, but she isn't there, and makes his way to the courtyard without her.

In the middle of the garden, a large wisteria tree stands, connecting all the gravel pathways. The tree emits a low hum, courtesy of the bees. Alistair stands under the tree, shaded by the purple flowers.

"It's a good day today," Alistair says. "The sun is bright."

Patrick nods. "Where is Lena?"

"Runningwind is helping her ride. She's out with her and the brats."

Patrick can only assume that Alistair is referring to the twins.

"Shall we begin? How well do you know your plants?" Alistair asks, leading Patrick into the garden.

Many of the flowers Patrick isn't familiar with. Lena would call them rich people flowers, flowers that are bought to look pretty rather than eat or use as medicine.

"Um, I know the ones around my town," he answers.

"Hmm," Alistair hums.

It's a necessity to know the plants of the forest when you're poor and it's your only source of income and food. Patrick can name all the plants and their uses: yarrow for fevers and colds, ginger for stomach problems, feverfew for tea, witch hazel for any kind of skin irritation, starflower for oil, speedwell for coughs, fireweed for swelling and wounds, violet for eating and abrasions, more plants with more uses. He knows what to stay away from. He knows anything that's a nightshade is deadly: petunias, angel's trumpets, belladonna, moonflowers, etc.

So, when Alistair leans over and picks an angel's trumpet off the tree nearest to them and hands it to him, he's a bit startled. Patrick takes the poisonous flower as if it will kill him with a touch and twirls it between his fingers. The flower is the size of his hand and the color of dawn. The edges curl ever so slightly.

"Angel's trumpet," Patrick says. "Nightshade. Every part of it is toxic."

Alistair smirks a little and Patrick is unsure whether he is pleased or not. "Now, I want you to eat it."

"Excuse me?"

"Angel's trumpet is poisonous, yes, but it can be used to awaken magical powers."

Patrick stares. He can hear Lena screaming 'horse shit' in his head. "I'd rather not."

Patrick doubts one angel's trumpet will kill him, but he knows that even one is enough to cause fits of vomiting, hallucinations, and fever. Patrick remembers one little girl who was wandering in the woods with her father and ate an angel's trumpet. She vomited and passed out. The poison was enough to kill her in less than a day. It was the talk of Vertbank for weeks on end. The plant was uprooted soon after.

"It won't kill you."

"I know."

Alistair looks at him and Patrick looks down at the flower.

"Don't you trust me, Patrick?"

"No," says Patrick without thinking.

Much to his surprise, Alistair laughs. "Why are you here if that's so?"