Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [188]
“I know,” I said. “Eyahue, at this point, the less you know, the safer you are. Only tell me, do you know of such an herb? Could you obtain it?”
He pursed his wrinkled lips. “There is one, but it is dangerous. Very dangerous. Wurari. It is the poison the blow-dart hunters use.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone!” I said in alarm.
“In very small amounts, it does not kill,” Eyahue said. “It only makes the victim unable to move for a time.” He shrugged. “But too much, and they cannot breathe—and I do not know the amounts.”
“You could try it on me, lady,” Machasu offered, her voice trembling a little. “I do not mind.”
I winced. “No. It’s too dangerous.”
“Or you could try it on small animals first,” Eyahue suggested pragmatically. “That is what the hunters do to be sure they have a killing dose.”
“A much better idea,” I said in relief. “Can you obtain it?”
He gave me a long, unreadable look. “Aye, I can. And I will do so now with no questions asked. But before you put it to its final use, I want to know what your purpose is. Do you swear to tell me?”
“I do.” I hugged him. “Thank you, Eyahue!”
He scowled at me. “Thank the Emperor Achcuatli for giving you such a wise guide!” His scowl turned into a leer. “You must have given him quite a night’s pleasure to inspire such generosity.”
Despite everything, I laughed. “You may be sure of it, old man.”
Eyahue was as good as his word. In a day’s time, a small earthenware jar sealed with wax and a wooden stopper was sent to me in care of the Maidens of the Sun. Machasu delivered it to my quarters, along with a brimming bowl of liquid made from fermented maize.
“Chicha,” she said in explanation. “The Maidens of the Sun brew it. It is drunk at all great celebrations.”
“So we are to mix the poison in it?” I sniffed at the bowl, then glanced at the half-dozen caged lizards that were to be the subject of our first experiments. “I am not sure they will drink it.”
Machasu shook her head. “It is not for drinking. The poison cannot be taken by mouth. It must go into the blood, as with a dart. Your guide said it would be better to weaken it with chicha than water.” She hesitated. “I fear you have only a day to try this, lady. Lord Pachacuti has given the order. Tomorrow we go.”
I pried at the wax sealing the stopper. “Then we’d best begin.”
It was a grim series of experiments we conducted in the courtyard under the interested gaze of my attendant ants. At my request, Machasu procured another bowl and a hollow reed while I gathered a handful of long, spiny thorns from one of the flowering plants.
First, I tested the wurari on one of the lizards. In its undiluted state, the poison was thick and syrupy. Dipping a thorn into the liquid, I pricked the lizard. Within a minute, the poor creature was dead, and I gave it to the ants.
After that, I used the hollow reed to measure out ten drops of poison into the mixing bowl. Drop by drop, I began adding chicha beer to dilute it, testing at every stage and scratching notations onto a flagstone with a sharp rock.
Silently, I blessed Master Lo for his attempts to teach me the rudiments of medicine. Although I’d not had an affinity for it, at least I understood the elemental techniques of mixing potions.
It took every last lizard we had, but after being pricked by a mixture of one measure poison to three measures of chicha, the final subject did not die. It crouched motionless on the flagstones, its scaled sides rising and falling almost imperceptibly while the restless ants circled in a stream, and Machasu and I watched intently, glancing at the sun to gauge the time. I reckoned an hour’s time had passed when the lizard began to stir once more, seemingly unharmed. I returned him to his cage, granting him a temporary reprieve.
Machasu let out her breath. “That was very clever, lady.”
I frowned. “A man is much bigger than a lizard. I cannot be sure it will work at the same proportions.”
She was silent a moment. “Then you