She started taking jars out of her cabinets in the little kitchen. She didn't keep much in the way of food, but herbs were an interest and a specialty. And while she couldn't cook, she certainly knew how to dry them. Unfortunately, she didn't have matching cups. So out came a short, stout blue mug, along with a high, narrow purple one, with a cracked handle.

"I'll make a blend with spearmint, lemongrass, tilia, blackberry, hawthorn, and rosebuds," she said, adding a pinch of each ingredient to each of the mugs as she spoke. "It would be better with chamomile, but I haven't been able to find much of that here. Not yet, anyway."

And even better with orange blossoms. But Trench didn't really have the climate for oranges.

She started to fill her kettle with water, before carefully lighting the stove with a long match. Ariadne hated fire. It was a necessary evil, but she always regarded it with a certain amount of wariness. And she was quick to put out the match, as soon as the stove blazed to life.