For the first time in a while, Zenithral feels an inner peace and calm flow through him. He is not alone here.
"Bene telemara! It's not poisoned. It's reasonably good fare for this place." The raven calls down from the top of the bookcase. "But if you don't want it, I know a guy who will. Handsome, intelligent, witty..." Another indignant squawk of pain. "Just eat it already!"
Indeed, the food is not poisoned. It looks to be some kind of blue sporebread topped with spicy red lichen paste, alongside a some strips of something that looks like tree bark, but is seasoned with salt. There is also a glass of water that once had ice in it, but is now as warm as the surrounding air.