DRIED MILKWEED: CURES BAD DREAMS (PLACE UNDER PILLOW BEFORE GOING TO SLEEP)
WRIGGLEWORT LEAVES: CURES STIFF JOINTS (MASSAGE INTO FEET AFTER STRENUOUS EXERCISE)
‘Got anything to summon up lost things?’ Fox asked.
The apothecary closed the door, then sat down at the table in the middle of the shack. And it was only then that Fox noticed the state of the objects strewn across the table’s surface: crusty test tubes, a broken magnifying glass, weighing scales clogged with cobwebs. It was as if the apothecary had started an experiment years ago, then abandoned it halfway through and left it to rot.
Fibber looked around. ‘Or maybe you have something in here to kill a harpy?’
‘Even if I did, I couldn’t promise it would work,’ the old man said gloomily. ‘I used to be legendary. Unmappers and magical creatures would come from across the kingdom for cures from the Constant Whinge. “Doogie Herbalsneeze will sort you out,” they’d say. “He’s the best there is.” But what’s the use of helping everybody else when you can’t help the one you love?’
The old man held two wrinkled hands over his face and, to Fox’s horror, she realised that he was crying. She watched, aghast. She’d never seen a grown-up cry before and she found it deeply unnerving, like watching the edges of the universe break apart.
‘Make him stop,’ she hissed to Fibber. ‘Immediately.’
But, when Fibber reached out a hand towards the apothecary, he only sobbed louder.
At which point, Heckle took it upon herself to reveal some innermost thoughts. ‘The old man is feeling both pain and relief in crying and—’
The apothecary wailed even louder.
‘Thank you, Heckle,’ Fibber said firmly. ‘That’s enough for now.’
When Doogie Herbalsneeze’s words did come, they tumbled out in a rush of tears. ‘I searched the kingdom for the most powerful plants and mixed thousands of potions when my dear wife, Ethel, fell ill eight years ago after trying to protect a thunderberry bush from Morg’s Midnights.’
The old man wiped his nose with a handkerchief. ‘But the dark magic of those monkeys had already seeped into her and nothing made any difference in the end.’ He looked up at the twins. ‘I couldn’t save her, so there’s no way I can help you rescue the whole kingdom.’
Fox drew out the flickertug map from her satchel and looked at the silver words, The Constant Whinge, glumly. It had brought them all the way here. For nothing. She held the map out now in case it wanted to tug her on again, but it lay limp in her hands.
She turned to Fibber. ‘Now what?’
Fibber sat down at the table; it seemed he wasn’t ready to give up quite yet. ‘I’m sorry about your wife,’ he said to the apothecary. And then, after a pause: ‘Sometimes, no matter how hard you try at something, it just doesn’t work out. But I don’t think that makes you a failure. Maybe it means that all the trying is leading towards something else.’
Fox stared at her brother. She could just about cope with Fibber being nice to the boglet. That behaviour had, after all, made the Constant Whinge appear. But apologising for another person’s pain was a step too far. What on earth was he up to?
‘You may have closed yourself off from the rest of the kingdom,’ Fibber went on, ‘but if the map led us to you it has to be for a reason. It must think that somehow something here can help us in our quest for the Forever Fern. Jungledrop needs you, Doogie Herbalsneeze. You have a part to play in defeating Morg.’
The apothecary was silent for a while and then he let out a loud sniff. ‘This is the problem with letting children into your workplace: they start teaching you to hope all over again.’
Fox looked around at the shelves. ‘But how can a bunch of useless plants help?’
Doogie wiped his eyes. ‘Plants are never useless,’ he told Fox firmly. ‘They can regrow even after they’ve been eaten. They can sprout up in pockets of the jungle where it’s too dark to see. They can live off air and mist. They can reproduce without moving. They possess more than twenty senses. They absorb carbon dioxide and release oxygen from their leaves, which people and animals need to breathe.’ There was an energy to the old man’s voice now that hadn’t been there before. ‘Plants are not just decorative furniture; they keep your world and mine alive.’
‘But there won’t be a Jungledrop or a Faraway if we don’t find the Forever Fern,’ Fibber said quietly. ‘You said you were a legendary apothecary, so you must know of something that can help us. Please?’
Fox slumped down into a chair opposite Fibber. He seemed to be getting very good at being nice. And it was starting to make Fox wonder whether maybe her brother wasn’t just trying to outwit her on this quest, that he actually meant what he was saying. But this would be going against everything their parents had taught them…
‘I suppose there is something,’ Doogie said after a while. ‘When I was trying to save Ethel, I realised that the puckleberries should be seedless before being added to the crushed smidgeroot for them to be fully effective. My Ethel was too ill by the time I made the discovery. I – I was too late… But, if consumed early on after an onslaught of dark magic, I think this cure could just be powerful enough to save a life.’
He hobbled over to a shelf, pulled off a few dusty books, an egg cup full of moss and several silver fir cones, then picked up a small, cork-stoppered bottle filled with purple liquid. Its label read: PUCKLESMIDGE SYRUP: RESTORES HEALTH IF CONSUMED ASAP AFTER EXPOSURE TO DARK MAGIC.
The flickertug map tingled suddenly in Fox’s hands, as if acknowledging that this was the reason it had led them to the Constant Whinge.
‘Pucklesmidge will be your best bet against the Midnights
