Free The Tasters Guild by Susannah Appelbaum

Peps had found one of his trunks and was rummaging inside it, capes, furs, and velvet cloaks flying.
    “Ahh!” Peps shouted, his voice muffled by the fine tailoring. He turned, a look of triumph on his face. “And now I am quite ready to present to you, Ivy Manx, a great token of my appreciation.”
    “Peps!” Ivy was appalled. “I don’t even know what I did.”
    “Nonsense. I’ll hear none of that, young lady. Modesty is so overrated!” He dug his pudgy fist into a small pocket of a particularly elaborate morning coat from the trunk, ending his frantic search. “Hmmph.” A slight look of worry, then triumph, passed over his smooth face, and soon his fist was an open palm—and upon it a small shiny thing caught the light from the round portal.
    “What is it?” Ivy leaned in, curious despite herself.
    It was thin and delicate, with a dark oval hole through one side.
    “A hatpin?” she asked.
    “An embroidery needle?” Rowan suggested.
    “Hardly! What are they teaching you these days? It’s a birdcall. A silver birdcall. A charm, of sorts. It, er, belonged tosomeone quite dear to me. It will bring you good fortune.” Peps smiled, looking remarkably like his marble bust and treating the room to his gold tooth.
    Axle grabbed his brother’s hand and peered into it, a look of surprise and then fury flashing across his bearded face. “Peps!”
    Peps looked momentarily sheepish.
    “You never told me you had an alewife’s charm!”
    “You never asked.”
    “What do you do with it?” Ivy asked, examining it.
    “You mean, besides wear it?” Peps shrugged. He took the thing, which was threaded upon a silken ribbon, and tied it around Ivy’s neck.
    “Well, thank you, Peps. I suppose I could use all the good fortune I can get.”
    “It’s a potent charm,” Axle warned. “I should like very much to study it—”
    Rowan cleared his scratchy throat. “Um, could someone tell me what an alewife is?”

Chapter Twenty
Troubled Waters
    T
he Field Guide to the Poisons of Caux
was the preeminent reference book of the land, containing in its vast pages the antidotes to poisons, the secret meanings of flowers, and even a few magical, hidden passages. But in some ways it was maddeningly incomplete.
    The book was written by Axlerod D. Roux in response to the poisonous regime of the Deadly Nightshades and the rise of the Tasters’ Guild, and it was used as a tool by those wishing to remain alive in the treacherous land of Caux.
    It was also the favorite book of the truly wicked Queen Nightshade. Because it was so widely read by friend and foe alike, Axle wisely chose not to include anything controversial—favoring instead the purely factual—lest he be labeled a heretic and imprisoned in the dungeons for treason. Still, some things were too important to Caux’s history to omit, and these he secretly buried within the text. Rowan had discovered such a passage detailing the sad history of King Verdigris.
    But the alewives eluded him for a different reason.
    Axle did not write of them because there was simply too much heartbreak surrounding their disappearance.
    The trestleman cleared his throat and nodded slightly.
    “Alewives,” Axle began, “rule over troubled water.” He appeared to be gathering his thoughts. “They were inhabitants of Caux, and when the Doorway to Pimcaux stood open, they were invited in. But it was an unspeakable trick—and Vidal Verjouce slammed the Doorway shut behind them.…” His voice trailed off.
    Peps took over.
    “They were our wives,” he explained simply.
    Ivy was wide-eyed. Here was another reason to get to Pimcaux, and she said so. They must hurry to Rocamadour.
    But the taster scowled. Rowan somehow could not muster the same urgency to get to Rocamadour as the others did. He was miserable beside Six, who he was sure was menacing him when Ivy wasn’t looking. And he missed the bettle boar Poppy greatly—traveling anywhere without her seemed somehow wrong.
    In fact,