“Yes, sir.”
“Then recite the deadliest poisons that have no known antidote.”
“Veninspire, and rictal powder: no known antidotes. Death occurs within minutes, although death from aspiration of veninspire kills by allergic suffocation. Rictal powder attacks the veins in the body, causing them to erupt, and is the most painful death known. Bladewort has an antidote, prepared from the leaves and stems of the mulberry tree, but it is only somewhat effective. Bladewort kills in hours, at longest, and if the antidote is not given in the first hour, there is no chance of survival. Bladewort survivors usually perish from related heart conditions within a year. Adderbane paste—”
Thorn interrupted. “Which you are making today.” I nodded. The ingredients set out on the two tables in the room were for the poisons and the antidote. It was Guild practice to ensure an adequate amount of antidote was on hand when teaching students the darker poisons. Students were never allowed to handle bladewort. Not even the instructors carried veninspire or rictal powder, ever since a group of the most powerful assassins, all holding seats on the mysterious Assassins Council, had been poisoned years before.
“Thorn, do you carry those poisons on you?” I had already learned that the cloaks the Guild assassins wore weren’t for warmth or for show, although they did make the members look mysterious and brooding. They were mobile medicine chests, harboring enough poisons and antidotes to work with for a year, if necessary, all packaged up individually and sealed in wax. In their last year of training, students received their apprentice’s cloaks, which had some of the same herbs, but not all.
He didn’t answer, and I wasn’t sure he would. I went ahead and crushed the first two ingredients for the antidote to adderbane, making certain to grind each dried leaf and stem to a uniform powdered consistency.
Finally, he said, “I do. All but the rictal powder and veninspire. Only the Guildmaster is allowed to create those poisons.”
“And does he?” A thought occurred to me. “If he opened one of those packets, and got the poison on him, he would die, too, Thorn. Why bother with it?”
“He wears gloves,” Thorn answered. It was true; every time I’d seen the Guildmaster, he’d had his hands covered. “You should, too, Roya. When you handle any of those four poisons, or any at all, keep your skin safe, even if the antidote is close by.”
Then he'd handed me the first of many gifts he would give me over the years: a pair of small, supple, calfskin gloves, that had been treated with some sort of beeswax-like finish so they would wash clean.
“Thank you.” I was having a hard time not crying, as this was the finest gift I’d ever received. It wasn’t a pretty frock, or a jeweled hair comb. It was something useful, and beautiful as well. A gift designed to help me learn how to be even deadlier.
“What is this, Roya?” Kavin’s warm hand on my arm tore me away from the past, and I stared down at the twinned red berries attached to a thorny stem that lay on his palm.
“I’m not sure, let’s take it back to camp.”
Kavin walked beside me, peppering me with inquiries about the details of almost every plant we saw, its uses, and my experience with it.
“Are you writing a book?” I asked after a half hour of question and answer. “One on herbs?”
He looked down, shuffling his feet slightly in a manner I found irresistibly adorable. “I might. I know it’s not the sort of thing a warrior does. But I love knowledge, and I feel this compulsion to share what I know, what I’ve learned, with others.”
“You would make a good teacher.”
“Or a good father,” Altair added. “I never knew my own father, but Roan stepped in and taught me the things my father would have. He was constantly learning, and teaching, like you.”
“I would love to be a father,” Kavin mused. “Someday.”
I swallowed hard, imagining him with some woman, her heavy with his baby, her arms holding a child they had made together.
“Roya?” Altair asked softly, and I realized I had been growling. I stopped.
“Sorry, just thinking.”
Altair smiled breezily, carrying the barrel full of fresh water back toward the huts. He insisted on taking extra turns now, so he could build his muscle back up. It was working; I found myself staring at the lean, firm flesh of his legs and ass….
Altair’s voice brought my eyes back to his face, and I blushed at the knowing twinkle in his gaze. “What about you,larkial? Do you want a large family?”
I sighed. “No. I don’t think I can have children.”
Altair’s hand on my arm was gentle as he turned me to face him. “What happened?”
“I took herbs,” I said, “for a very long time. Years. They’re not dangerous for women to take for weeks or months, but it’s well known that ingesting them for more than a year… Well. I wouldn’t have made a good mother, anyway. Maybe the Goddess knows what she’s doing.”
Kavin’s voice was raw. “You will be a phenomenal mother, Roya. Anyone can see it. You’re generous, smart, loyal, brave to a fault—”
“Kavin, she just told you she can’t have children.” Altair sounded deeply angry. “You’re being cruel.”
“But… But…” Kavin stammered, looking confused. I stared up at the giant warrior, as he ran his hands through his blond and red beard, almost pulling out strands in agitation. What was wrong? “Youcanhave children, Roya,” he finally said. “You can, and you will! I told you on the ship that Omegas have different biology, different reactions to herbs like those.” He broke off, something in his eyes scaring me more than a little.
