She was a chef now, master of a kitchen, and not a negligible one.But for how long?She doubted there was anywhere to go from here but down.She might have tried to poison Umbriel, but she knew in her gut that any such attempt would fail, and she'd lose any chance she had of accomplishing anything.But if Attrebus was right, if Umbriel, the ingenium that kept it aloft, and the Histlike trees Mere-Glim had discovered were all connected by a flow of soul-force, then she ought to be able to poison the whole system.Lord Umbriel was likely untouchable; she knew where the ingenium was, but Glim hadn't found any way to reach it other than through the apparently deadly connexion at the bottom of the sump.But the trees — them, she could reach.And so she began making a poison.Some believed that poison was the antithesis of food, but AnnaГЇg knew better.Most food was poison to one extent or another, especially plants, many of which had to be pounded or soaked or boiled or all three to divest them of enough toxins to make them even edible.
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Too many beans eaten raw could be fatal — the same was true of almonds, cherry pits, apple seeds.Nutmeg, when taken in large amounts, could give strange visions, and in higher doses, death.
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Alcohol, while pleasant, was indisputably a poison.The body dealt with these things, but over time, eventually, the body failed.Everything one ate brought one closer to one's last meal, and not just in a metaphorical sense.So while she hadn't made much in the way of poison, it came as naturally to her as cooking or concocting tonics to allow flight or breathing water.And in learning how to use the stolen souls that pulsed through the cables of Umbriel, she now had the knowledge to create a venin of a more than merely physical nature.