Page 78 of The Well of Ascension

Zane looked away. “No.”

Straff nodded. “I’m glad we both understand that.”

“You should just attack,” Zane said. “We can find the atium once we control Luthadel.”

Straff smiled, then sipped the tea. Thepoisonedtea.

Despite himself, Zane started, sitting up straight.

“Don’t presume to think you know what I’m planning, Zane,” Straff said. “You don’t understandhalfas much as you assume.”

Zane sat quietly, watching his father drink the last of the tea.

“What of your spy?” Straff asked.

Zane lay the note on the table. “He’s worried that they might suspect him. He has found no information about the atium.”

Straff nodded, setting down the empty cup. “You’ll return to the city and continue to befriend the girl.”

Zane nodded slowly, then turned and left the tent.

Straff thought he could feel the birchbane already, seeping through his veins, making him tremble. He forced himself to remain in control. Waiting for a few moments.

Once he was sure Zane was distant, he called for a guard. “Bring me Amaranta!” Straff ordered. “Quickly!”

The soldier rushed to do his master’s bidding. Straff sat quietly, tent rustling in the evening breeze, a puff of mist floating to the floor from the once open flap. He burned tin, enhancing his senses. Yes…he could feel the poison within him. Deadening his nerves. He had time, however. As long as an hour, perhaps, and so he relaxed.

For a man who claimed he didn’t want to kill Straff, Zane certainly spent a lot of effort trying. Fortunately, Straff had a tool even Zane didn’t know about—one that came in the form of a woman. Straff smiled as his tin-enhanced ears heard soft footsteps approaching in the night.

The soldiers sent Amaranta right in. Straff hadn’t brought all of his mistresses with him on the trip—just his ten or fifteen favorites. Mixed in with the ones he was currently bedding, however, were some women that he kept for their effectiveness rather than their beauty. Amaranta was a good example. She had been quite attractive a decade before, but now she was creeping up into her late twenties. Her breasts had begun to sag from childbirth, and every time Straff looked at her, he noticed the wrinkles that were appearing on her forehead and around her eyes. He got rid of most women long before they reached her age.

This one, however, had skills that were useful. If Zane heard that Straff had sent for the woman this night, he’d assume that Straff had simply wanted to bed her. He’d be wrong.

“My lord,” Amaranta said, getting down on her knees. She began to disrobe.

Well, at least she’s optimistic,Straff thought. He would have thought that after four years without being called to his bed, she would understand. Didn’t women realize when they were too old to be attractive?

“Keep your clothing on, woman,” he snapped.

Amaranta’s face fell, and she laid her hands in her lap, leaving her dress half undone, one breast exposed—as if she were trying to tempt him with her aging nudity.

“I need your antidote,” he said. “Quickly.”

“Which one, my lord?” she asked. She wasn’t the only herbalist Straff kept; he learned scents and tastes from four different people. Amaranta, however, was the best of them.

“Birchbane,” Straff said. “And…maybe something else. I’m not sure.”

“Another general potion, then, my lord?” Amaranta asked.

Straff nodded curtly. Amaranta rose, walking to his poison cabinet. She lit the burner at the side, boiling a small pot of water as she quickly mixed powders, herbs, and liquids. The concoction was her particular specialty—a mixture of all of the basic poison antidotes, remedies, and reagents in her repertoire. Straff suspected that Zane had used the birchbane to cover something else. Whatever it was, however, Amaranta’s concoction would deal with—or at least identify—it.

Straff waited uncomfortably as Amaranta worked, still half naked. The concoction needed to be prepared freshly each time, but it was worth the wait. She eventually brought him a steaming mug. Straff gulped it, forcing down the harsh liquid despite its bitterness. Immediately, he began to feel better.

He sighed—another trap avoided—as he drank the rest of the cup to be certain. Amaranta knelt expectantly again.

“Go,” Straff ordered.

Amaranta nodded quietly. She put her arm back through the dress’s sleeve, then retreated from the tent.

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