"P'intastoretas, vintostmante erasdeat tomirenticas!"

A vertical line appeared down the center of the wall, dividing it into equal halves. Then the gap grew wider as the two sections slowly slid to opposite sides, eventually revealing another wall covered by a gigantic chart.

The chart was arranged in dozens of horizontal rows. Each row held hundreds of individual squares, and each square was its own color. The color of each row darkened slightly in hue as it ran from left to right.

As Shailiha looked up, she saw that the top row was all descending hues of violet, each of the squares becoming lighter as one's eye followed along to the right. And as one looked down the rows from top to bottom, the colors of the rows changed gradually, following the order of a rainbow. After the violet rows came others in blue, green, yellow, orange, and finally red. Each of the individual, colored squares seemed to be labeled. A ladder was propped up over the chart, topped with wheels that lay in a track running along the entire length of the chart.

"I give you the Chart of Herbal Hues," Lionel said proudly. "Master Faegan and I created it."

"It's beautiful," Celeste said. "But what is it for?"

"It uses the color of the herb to help us identify the family it comes from," he explained.

From the top of the table he took up a clear glass globe that had a wooden, vertical handle mounted at its bottom. In the center of the globe could be seen a vertical rod with what looked like a miniature weathervane mounted at its top. Carrying the odd globe upright, Lionel walked to the ladder and climbed about halfway up.

He pointed to the equalizing spoons that still lay on the table. "Please bring me one of those," he asked. "For our purposes just now, any will do."

Celeste retrieved one of the spoons and handed it up to Lionel. The color of the herb in the spoon was a soft yellow-green. Lionel looked down at the herb, and then he raised an eyebrow.

"Not an altogether simple one to start with, but it should prove an interesting challenge," he mused. Asking Shailiha to push the ladder, he directed her to a spot about midway across the face of the chart. Placing the spoon down carefully on one of the ladder steps, he used both hands to twist the handle at the bottom of his globe. It popped open. Carefully, he sprinkled a pinch of the yellow-green herbs into the base of the open handle, then twisted it closed again. He handed the spoon back down to Celeste.

"Now we shall see what we shall see," he said with a wink.

Holding the device before one of the many rows containing the yellows and greens, he closed his eyes.

"W'ntesirare ostumae, ventarntateratu, oderastic!"

Almost at once the familiar glow of the craft began to surround the globe, and the little weathervane within it began to spin slowly. Lionel held it still for a moment, then he started to move it horizontally, along one of the yellow rows. As he did, the vane started to turn more rapidly; then it went faster still, until it revolved so quickly that it became a blur. He kept it in place for a moment, taking note of the spot on the chart. Then he moved the device a bit to the right, and the vane began to slow. When he moved it back to the left, it sped up again. Lowering the globe, Lionel took note of the writing beneath the colored square before which the vane had spun the fastest. The azure glow surrounding the globe finally faded and disappeared.

"Y267," he muttered to himself as he climbed down the ladder and waddled back to the stool at the table. Hopping up on it, he placed the globe on the tabletop, next to his equalizing spoons. "Y267, yes, it is," he chattered to himself, as if he were in danger of forgetting it. Quickly he made a note of the letter and numbers on a sheet of parchment. Only then did he seem to relax.

"What did you just do?" Shailiha asked. Bursting with curiosity, both she and Celeste walked over to the table and bent over to examine the odd globe.

"That device is called a hue harmonizer," Lionel said simply. "Yet another invention of the master's. It senses the color of the herb in its handle, then matches it to the one most closely represented on the chart. It is enchanted to make allowances for the passage of time, since once the herbs are dried and ground their colors generally fade somewhat. This can, of course, also be attempted by the human eye, but the results are far more vague-oftentimes even dangerous. Anyway, once the correctly colored square is found, one makes a note of the code written below it. In this case, our herb is of the yellow family, square number 267. Interesting, is it not? But we are not quite finished."

He looked to the wall containing the vast library. "Source Book of Herbal Families, please," he said loudly. "Yellow Family, code numbers two hundred through three hundred."

Almost immediately a dusty, ancient book slid out and came soaring through the air. It landed gently on the table in front of him. The thick, gilt-edged book looked as old as time itself.

Thumbing through the text, Lionel finally found number 267. "Ah, at last," he announced proudly. "Yellow number 267 is the blossom of the witherwood tree-a rarity employed primarily for the relief of pain in the joints, particularly in the upper extremities. Probably nothing that Abbey needs, but with herbmistresses, one never knows." Then he looked at the bags lying on the floor.

"Perhaps after having seen these procedures, you can better understand the immense nature of the task ahead," he said sadly. "Yes, the herbs can be isolated. But do you you realize how long it took to identify a pinch of just one? There are thousands of herbs in those bags, and they are all mixed together. And making things even more difficult is the fact that Abbey has a particular list of things she requires, and she needs them now. But because they are so mixed up, there is just no way to give priority to searching for the ones she wants. We must simply go through all of the bags, one by one, and trust to luck that we come upon those she needs, and soon enough to be of help." He shook his head for a moment.

"Frankly, the task is monstrous," he added quietly. "And I'm glad I'm not the one who has to explain all of this to my master."

Shailiha looked skeptically at Celeste. All Wigg's daughter could do was shake her head.

Then the princess saw a curious look come over Lionel's face.

"But we still do not know the effects upon the witherwood's potency from having been mixed with so many other herbs," he said. "It would be most interesting to find out, don't you think? And it would provide a ray of sunlight for Master Faegan, to be sure, oh yes, to be sure. Being able to tell him the potency of at least one of them might soften his mood when he hears about all of this, yes, it might."

Taking another small pinch of the dried witherwood blossom from the spoon, he eagerly walked to another table at the far end of the laboratory. There he dropped it into a flat, gold pan.

"One of the best ways to determine an herb's purity is to test the sample with fire," he called back to the women. "The amount I have here is far too small to cause much reaction. Still, it should tell us something."

Striking a common match against his trouser leg, he held the small flame to the herbs. Celeste and Shailiha cringed instinctively.

As the match burned, the top of the tiny pile of herbs began to singe and smoke a bit, but nothing more. Finally the match went out.

Smiling, Lionel turned to them. "See," he shouted triumphantly. "I told you so! The potency must be so weak that-"

The explosion that followed sent Lionel flying through the air. He landed hard onto the tabletop near them. Beakers overturned and fragile glass tubing shattered, their contents pouring out as the gnome came to rest on his back in the slick, multicolored mess. Flames shot upward into a giant red ball, its concussive force so great that it shattered a section of the ceiling, sending smashed glass raining down. The roiling smoke was at first so thick that Shailiha couldn't see a thing.