Irrigo tastes of loss and frost, and other delicacies not easily distilled, while violant burns the tongue as it burns the mind, and only the bravest have a taste for it; apocyan, they say, is light but lingering, and differs from peligin only in how deep a draught you dare to drink, and how much it weighs on you when the cup is empty.

Cosmogone is sweet until it grows bitter, and connoisseurs of nostalgia have traded emperors’ fortunes for even a diluted drop; Viric is sweeter still, piquant as the fruit of dreams, and it will leave you ravenous.

Gant tastes of nothing at all, and you will never forget it – no matter how long you live, no matter how desperately you try.