Lana was silent for a moment. “You’re speaking of poisons. Not the ones for critters, I presume?”
I shook my head.
“I’d be lying if I say not a single witch has created a poison meant to kill humans,” Lana said. Her voice was grave. “But none of them have made it into the hands of non-magic folk. Except one.”
My interest peaked. Could there only be one witch-made poison above ground? “What is it called?” I asked.
“Manbane.” Lana’s face looked grimmer than I had ever seen it. Her eyes flicked to me, sharp and suspicious. “Why are you asking?”
Questions of what manbane did and what it was made of died on my lips. I’d be a fool to prod her.
I shrugged. “No reason. Is there a potion that makes someone tell the truth?”
I felt Lana looking at me. “Yes, there is,” she said slowly. “But it requires a rare ingredient.”
“Really? What?”
“Gold.”
Perhaps I could use some of my own jewelry once I beg the recipe off Lana. But my plans were crushed when she spoke again.
“Five pounds of pure gold.”
I choked on my saliva. “Five pounds?” I said, sputtering.
“That’s right,” Lana said in a clipped voice. “Five pounds. No more, no less.”
I gripped the pestle a little harder. “Can we make it?” I ventured to ask.
She snorted. “Only if you bring five pounds of gold, girl. Now stop smashing the lentils before the water boils over.”
The next fifteen minutes I spent sweat-drenched and nervous as I worked under Lana’s scrutiny. It was as if my limbs had forgotten how to function as I trembled and slipped and poured, but there was a new sensation I experienced amongst it all. My fingertips tingled as I went through the motions. A hazy swirl of purple-red filled my vision and drizzled into the cauldron like rain on a summer day.
So that was what Lana meant by pouring a part of myself into the potion.
By the end of it all, I had a glass of cloudy green liquid before me. Lana set hers beside it. Compared to hers, mine was two shades too dark and much too lumpy. My embarrassment mounted even as Lana assured me that potion making took years of practice to perfect.
“Let us test these, then,” Lana said. She rummaged through her cupboard and brought out two empty jars. I recognized them as the containers she used for her general antidote. A subtle golden glow emitted within them.
Lana uncorked her potion and poured half of it into a jar. Almost immediately, the green liquid turned amber.
“Is that the general antidote?” I said, widening my eyes.
“That’s right. The extracting potion turns into the potion it’s extracting, if done correctly. If I had more of it, I wouldn’t have to make another batch of antidote.”
“Can’t you make more? It seems like it’ll save a lot of time.”
Lana shook her head. “I don’t have enough brittlebrush oil to make big batches. It’s ridiculously rare as well, so no witch in their right mind would use so much for an extracting potion.” She paused gestured to my vial. “Try yours.”
Expecting the worst, I poured my attempt of the potion in the other jar. Nearly all of it vanished when it made contact. A miniscule drop of amber liquid rested at the bottom.
“If you made it right it would retain the same volume,” Lana pointed out.
I sighed in dismay. “Sorry I wasted your brittlebrush oil.”
––––––––
WHEN I RETURNED TOthe Strongfoots’, the house was empty. The butler informed me that Tori and Genevieve had gone for a stroll in the palace gardens and that Lord Strongfoot was in town with Vicky and Ria. I retired to my room, where I gazed glumly at my failed potion in its lumpy glory.
