But Aspen looked less certain. “Aconite is really toxic. Like, deadly.”
“I know, but I’m sure this is right.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Something is wrong. We don’t have enough information. We have the ingredients, but we don’t know the order, and the order will determine the spell.”
“Spell?” said Dorian through uneasy laughter. “Is that what we’re doing here?”
“The root of pharmacology is spell,” I said. “Isn’t that right?”
“We could try a few permutations and see which works,” offered Lexi, but Aspen shook her head.
“That could be dangerous. Already we’re dealing with a very poisonous plant.”
“What if you just included theGlycyrrhiza uralensis?” asked Finn. “We have to assume you drew it for a reason, right?”
“What isGlycyrrhiza uralensis?” I asked Aspen.
“Licorice root. Usually it’s treated by dry-frying it with honey.”
“Why would I want to add licorice root to the formula?”
A slow smile spread across her face. “You were modifying it.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you didn’t want to die?”
“What?”
Aspen nearly sputtered her words she was so excited. “This is brilliant. If you took aconite alone, you almost certainly would have poisoned yourself—potentially fatally. But herbal formulas can always be modified. Aconite is highly toxic, right? But for centuries, honey-fried licorice root has been used to reduce the toxicity of aconite. Isabelle, you modified the recipe to detoxify it.”
“Do you have any down here?” I asked, and as I reached out for her hand, she grasped mine with equivalent excitement.
“Of course. It’s a common ingredient.”
“This is it, isn’t it?” I asked, my heart poised somewhere between excitement and terror.
“You ready?” she asked.
I nodded.
It was time for the night birds to take flight.
4.6OUROBOROS
All things began in order, so shall they end, so shall they begin again according to the ordainer of order and the mystical mathematics of the city of heaven.
—SIRTHOMASBROWNE,THEGARDEN OFCYRUS
Aspen and I made quick work of locating the ingredients we needed—first, the beautiful but poisonous purple aconite blossoms, then the licorice root, followed by the tiny white constellations of angelica. That left only one ingredient, the hoopoe’s blood.
“Where’s the silphium?”
“This way,” she said.
I followed her to a secret cache in the back of the garden, where she retrieved a parceled-out portion of silphium. It was dried, and there was only a small amount of it, but still it was stunningly beautiful, somehow otherworldly.
Once we’d gathered everything, I headed into the garden house kitchen, pulled out a pot, and filled it with water.
