Page 33 of Kilty Until Proven Innocent
“Di! Ecce hora! Uxor mea me necabit!‘Tis much easier to take some gold down into the marketplace and exchange it for some apples. I can turn the tiniest piece of gold into an entire bushel of barrels, which is a useful skill, I’d warrant. Ha! And my father said I’d amount to naught! Well,In culina, nemo audit te clamare!”
It took a moment of expectant waiting for Drum to realize the sorcerer was done speaking and wasn’t going to make any more sense. He blew out a breath. “Look, I’m here because I want to ask ye about a poison.”
“Oooh, poisons. Aye, I can do poisons, but only on Tuesdays. That’s the day I get my cauldron going and I can make up any brew ye want.”
“Is yer cauldron no’ going now?” Drum asked curiously.
“Och, aye, but that is just my lunch.” Charles the Thirty-Seventh rubbed his hands together, an excited look on his face. “So, what kind of poison do ye want? Nightshade? Hemlock?”
“Nay, I’m seeking information about a poison.” Drum wished he had a bottle or some kind of evidence, but all he had was the story of what had happened last week when the Queen’s lady—Brigit’s partner—had saved the King yet again. “ ‘Twas a sickly-sweet smelling poison, dissolved into wine.And when the wine was poured atop an apple, the apple smoked.”
“Hmmmmm….” The court sorcerer stroked his beardless chin. “Ye’re certain ‘twas an apple? Was it red or yellow?”
Shite, what color had it been? “Red, I think.”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh, and was it bigger than yer fist? Was it shiny?”
Drum couldn’t recall. “What difference does it make?”
“Och, none at all, I’m just hungry. So…” The man began to pace. “Sickly-sweet-smelling, wine as the delivery method, and made an apple smoke. I’m assuming ye’re speaking of the recent assassination attempt on the King?”
Drum startled. “Ye’ve heard of it?”
“Of course! Everyone in court has! The King wasmostappreciative to Lady Avaline for saving his life once more. Nowthere’sa lovely lass—or used to be, at least, afore the burning. That’s why I always wear a mask when I’m working with fire.Calcei maioris aliorum sunt semper in medio, and all that.”
“Uh…aye. Aye, that makes sense,” Drum lied. “Has anyone asked ye about it? What kind of poison it might be? Something ye recognize?”
“Something Irecognize? Of course ‘tis! ‘Tis my favorite! Nae one’s come to ask me about it, though, which is a shame.” The other man bustled about, collecting scraps from tables and throwing them in a bowl. “I am the expert after all.”
Drum stepped closer, excitement spiking in his chest. “Ye’re saying yedoken it?”
“Ken it? I made it!” Charles thrust the bowl toward Drum. “Snack?”
There was somethingalivein there. “Um…I’m no’ hungry.” Drum shook his head. “Yemadethe poison which was used to kill—to try to kill the King?”
“Oh, it wouldnae have killed him.” The sorcerer was smiling as he popped something from the bowl into his mouth, crunching it. “Just made him smoke a bit.”
Smoke a bit.
Like the apple, when the poisoned wine had been poured atop it?
“So ‘tis…no’ a poison. Just a show?”
Charles waved at the dissipating smoke, grinning proudly. “A simple chemical reaction. Och, it’ll curse yer stomach—and yer arse—if ye accidentally eat it. Ask me how I ken,” he prompted helpfully.
Drum pressed his lips together.No’ for all the golden apples in this place.
The other man shrugged and poked through thethingsin the bowl. “So ‘tis no’ a poisonper se, but no’ pleasant. ‘Twould have made his trips to the garderobe unpleasant, but mainly ‘tis for show.”
So Avaline didnae save the King’s life after all, because the assassin hadnae actually been trying to kill him?
Drum’s thoughts were whirling, trying to piece everything together. The crossbow had been stolen from the guard on the parapets. The corridor where the ambush was made wasn’t heavily frequented. And now the poison wasn’t actually poison?
Very carefully, he ventured, “Ye saidyemade the no’-a-poison? Did ye sell it to someone?”
“Quantum materiae materietur marmota monax si marmota monax materiam possit materiari?”
‘Twas clearly a question, but Drum didn’t understand it, so he shook his head then reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Eyes closed, he asked again, “Charles? I have a verra large sword and a verra short temper. Who did ye sell it to?”
