Philomina lifted the pot of blackened soup and poured it into the place where she had hidden earlier. Then she set the pot and lid on the ground, followed by all the other pots, bowls, and utensils in the kitchen, arranging them to look as though they had been shaken off their shelves.
That way, no one would discover that someone had tried to poison this pot of soup.
But Philomina suddenly frowned. There was no second pot of soup for her to poison, and she was going to look for a target to assassinate next anyway, so what had been the point of cleaning up the scene of her failed poisoning attempt?
Smack!
Philomina slapped her forehead. She felt that hiding among the kitchen waste must have addled her brain with the stench.
But recalling everything she had done over the past few days, she felt rather embarrassed to shift the blame like that. She glanced again at the kitchen waste pit in the corner, and her face actually grew hot.
She had never thought much of it before, but her experiences after being separated from the others this time had given her some understanding of the look Kallen used to give her:
Oh, so he was looking at an idiot.
If only I had a Jerry too.
That was what Philomina thought, because she envied Richard for being able to have an insect in his brain.
She drew the Nightmare Blade, then slipped it into the sleeve of her clerical robes, holding it snug against her arm. Lowering her head, Philomina left the kitchen as though she were hurrying somewhere. Soon, she encountered clerics running in panic up ahead. After blending seamlessly into their ranks, she quickly scanned them for those who seemed less flustered and began following