Unto Dust

022.

Perhaps Orithin felt the shift in her demeanor, as he stilled and forcibly exuded a sense of calm. He held her firmly by the shoulders and shook her once. "Listen well, Fiona. Listen twice. It will grab at whatever's at the forefront of your mind. It will twist your perceptions and distort your judgment. Imagine a basin of water and sand. You cannot allow the sand to settle. Allow yourself to be angry but do not fixate." He released her and turned to Yubi. "I would gladly play games with you," he said quietly. "But not in this way. Fiona is petitioning---for her life in two days."

Her laugh was coarse. "Just as you had? Aren't you afraid she'll oust you, like you did me?"

Though her head pounded with blood, Fiona watched their exchange with wary eyes. Yubi was accusing Orithin of overthrowing her position, and he was not denying it. She felt someone should have warned her about the nature of Yubi's relationship with Orithin. Dislike did not seem to encompass it properly. It was not so much a prejudice based on nationality or even skin color. Her anger due to being dosed with wovic fern was fleeting and redirectable. This was deep-seated and personal.

"Master---oh." Suli had come. Shock played clear across her face as she surveyed the scene within. She was holding a small pouch of something. When Orithin gestured, she passed it along, stepping gingerly around the spilled tea and broken pots.

At her arrival, Yubi's face had contorted in fury. "How dare you," she spoke, her voice strained. "You think she will sway me?"

"She is my ilor." Orithin's voice carried with it a thick layer of frost. "Not my pawn, or yours." When Suli tried to draw closer to Fiona, her master blocked her way with his arm. "Give her space, Suli." He glanced around and located a small cup. He gave it to her, saying, "Draw some water."

Yubi watched on wordlessly as the young witch flitted by with the cup clasped in her hands.

"I know why you have done this," Orithin said. He ­untied the twine holding the pouch closed and poked into its contents with a slim finger.

More impatient than she had ever been, Fiona hopped on the spot, craning her head to see what Suli had brought. Black powder. Ground charcoal.

"It isn't as though we do not have similar goals, Yubi. The truth is bound to be exposed eventually."

Fiona looked between the two, debating which of them to tackle first. While she wouldn't be able to string a coherent incantation to save her life, she could probably get a good swipe in before they stopped her.

"...Not a single day." Yubi was speaking. "That is the death they deserve." She crooked a finger in Fiona's direction without taking her eyes off the tall mage. "Just as they did to Heaffen. I will do to them."

Suli was back, walking slowly and steadily so as not to spill precious stillwater. He took the cup from her and tipped the water into a bowl. Then he took several pinches of the charcoal and scattered it onto the water. He gave the bowl a good swirl.

Bayit hef wovic.

She watched a tendril of steam rose from the bowl and yawned. For the first time, she was not impressed by his spelling in silence. He handed the bowl to Fiona. "Drink. All of it."

Stiffly, she took the bowl, fighting the sudden urge to dump the contents over his head. There was a haplessly desperate part of her that was trying to reason still.

Look, you can't even reach his head. Just drink the damn thing!

With limbs that didn't feel like hers, she slowly brought the bowl closer to her face and stared down into the contents. The sloshing liquid was a muddy greenish black. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing it would taste exactly like its contents: pond water and charcoal. The first sip nearly caused her to chuck the bowl, swamp water and all, at Orithin's face.

Redirect! Redirect!

Fiona thrust her anger elsewhere. At Yubi, for doing this to her. Another sip. She prodded deeper into her mind. Her father, for disowning her at her weakest moments. A determined gulp, then deeper still. Her half-sisters, who had watched her ruin with glee. She tilted the bowl higher. Iley Hargrove, the boy who had not kept his promise of forever. Fiona held it nearly upside down above her mouth, catching vile droplets with her tongue.

To her chagrin, Fiona found her anger went further and deeper still but before she could unearth it, she had run out of medicine to drink. She swept her finger about the rim and licked it clean, swallowing even the last granules of charcoal. Finished at last, she let go of the bowl, which shattered as it hit the floor. In grim satisfaction, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, streaking the white with black.

"There is no true antidote," said Yubi, staring at the shards of her broken bowl. "I believe you are aware of that."

"A suspension of charcoal was administered in a timely manner," Orithin said. "It will be effective."

Her mouth twisted in a sneer. "I hope for her sake---and her petition---it is."

Orithin gathered up her muddied clothes in his arms and motioned to Fiona. "Let us take our leave." He paused at the doorway, his back to Yubi. "We will talk soon, yor Magus. Your concerns are duly noted."