Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [47]
The men dragged Alec back to the anvil and secured his chain with a new, larger lock. At Yhakobin’s nod, one of them grasped Alec’s left wrist and jerked his hand up. Yhakobin produced the bodkin from his sleeve and pricked Alec’s finger again, as he had that day at the slave market. He performed the same procedure, collecting a droplet of blood and somehow igniting it. It licked up in a long tongue of dull red fire this time.
The alchemist murmured something in his own tongue, sounding pleased, then went to a table near the forge and came back with a small lead triangle inscribed with symbols of some sort, and fixed with a small bail, like a pendant.
“You will sit still while I do this.” Yhakobin pointed meaningfully at the whip, which lay in easy reach, then bent and affixed the triangle to Alec’s collar with some wire and a set of pliers.
When that was done, he took a tall, thin flask from a row on a nearby shelf, broke the wax seal, and poured out some liquid into a silver beaker.
“You will drink this. Every drop,” he ordered, holding it out to Alec.
“What is it?” he demanded without thinking.
Yhakobin slapped him, hard.
Alec clamped his lips tight together and kept his eyes averted.
“Drink.” The cup was thrust under his nose. The contents looked like plain water.
“Please, Ilban, what is it?” Alec braced for another blow.
“Don’t turn up your nose at it, boy. That is Tincture of Lead, and noblemen have paid a great deal for smaller doses than this.”
“Why? Ilban,” he added hastily, still suspicious and not inclined to believe him. Who would pay to drink something as common as lead?
“It is the first step of your purification. It drives out foul humors. Drink, Alec, or I will whip you again.”
The alchemist held the cup to his lips and the man holding Alec’s head pulled it back by the hair, making it hard to keep his mouth shut. Yhakobin tipped some of the tincture between his parted lips and it seeped through his clenched teeth. It had a faintly metallic taste and was oily against his tongue. Alec gagged and tried to turn his head away.
Yhakobin gave another curt order. Alec was thrown down on his back, and a leather funnel was forced between his teeth to the back of his throat. The alchemist pinched Alec’s nose shut with one hand and poured the rest of the draught into the funnel with the other. Alec had to swallow or choke.
“There now, was that really worth a second beating?” Yhakobin asked.
“No, please!” Alec gasped, but men held him down and the alchemist gave him five more lashes across the soles.
Alec managed to hold back his cries this time, but the pain was even worse as the crop fell on already swollen flesh. He was panting harshly through his teeth by the time they dragged him up to his knees.
“That is all for today. I will see you the day after tomorrow in the morning, Alec, and you will be given another draught. I suggest you remember the lessons of today.”
His guards pulled him to his feet and Alec choked back a cry of pain. His feet were swollen from the beating and burned like fire. They laughed as they hoisted him by the arms and dragged him from the room.
By the time they reached the cellar stairway he was beginning to feel queasy, and by the time they reached his cell, his bowels were boiling and his throat was filled with bile. He barely made it to the slop bucket before erupting at both ends.
The bastard did poison me! he thought in despair as spasm after excruciating spasm ripped through him. What a shameful way to die.
He didn’t die, but ended up sprawled shuddering on the floor, one cheek pressed to the cool bricks. Ahmol appeared soon after and quickly cleaned up the mess, carrying away the muck. Alec was too weak to resist or care when the man returned with a basin and cleaned him, then dragged him onto his pallet and threw the quilts over him.
“Ilban say, this good,” Ahmol told him in halting Skalan.
“This is not good!” Alec groaned.
Alec lay there panting and cursing Yhakobin for a liar as the servant finished doing whatever he