by B N Miles
They were driving him crazy with just the barest touches and a few whispers of what may come. He didn't know if it was a testament to how weak-willed he was, or how good they were.
June was at the table in front of Sam's, and when the flames of her heating clamp hissed high, Sam startled and the warm, feather-light vibrations choked down the rest of his length and swirled around it. His arm jerked and one of his tubes—the one he'd been brewing his base in—went flying
The glass shattered on impact, wet powder and potent plant moisture spreading in a tiny heap on the floor.
"Sam, my boy, are you alright?" Franklin's big, concerned gaze struck Sam from across the room and the poisons master hurried over.
Sam would have picked up his mess instead of allowing his instructor to do it while he simply watched like an asshole. He would have, except if he came around the table, he was more likely to poke his instructor in the eye than be of any help.
Mattie and Drina giggled. His eyebrow twitched. The soft buzzing, and Mattie's voice, were both completely gone, as if they had never been there to begin with, as if it were his imagination.
Women, he decided, were quite evil.
Drina won the brewing contest, but it was no honorable victory. Sure, she might have brewed her poison to perfection and sure, she might have worked twice as fast as everybody else, but Sam could have beaten her, damnit, he was sure of it.
If only she and Mattie hadn't made him screw up his concoction. Twice.
Franklin was practically bouncing around Drina like a maypole, holding her vial up and crowing about 'lethal brilliance.'
And Drina stood there cockily, soaking it all up. When she caught Sam's scowl, her grin brightened and she winked at him. Then Sam got an idea and while Drina took a dramatic bow, he smirked wickedly at her. Paralysis potion, huh? He wondered how strong it tasted.
Maybe he could give it to her before outdoors class. Just a bit. She would be so mad.
He sobered when another idea hit him, a better one, a more serious one. If the thief showed up anywhere again, he could hold him down and shove the poison down his throat. If Sam could investigate this on his own and come up with proof and names, he could turn the culprit in with confidence that there would be no backlash.
Sam was far, far from a gallant knight or a light-hearted do-gooder. He wouldn't even bother if Fletch hadn't let it slip that it might be something that could put the whole country at risk.
Sam would do what he could, but he would do it carefully, patiently, quietly, and without getting his crew or himself harmed in the process. His benevolence ended where personal threat began.
Franklin pocketed the vial and glanced at the clock as the iron bell chimed across the campus. "Alright, good work today, class! Don't forget to study chapter three tonight. We're going to be working with hemlock all semester, so it's best to get nice and acquainted with its chemical properties!"
Nobody answered his enthusiastic reminder as they gathered their things. In fact, he was pretty much ignored by everybody in the school unless he was giving a lecture. Even the other instructors didn't talk to him.
Students filed from the classroom and Franklin's voice got higher as the students thinned. Drina swished her way out as well, but Mattie and Rosin stopped and waited on him. Sam shook his head.
"You two go on. I need to ask Franklin something."
Mattie lifted an eyebrow and smirked knowingly. "Not telling on us, are you love?"
Sam snorted. "And wake up to a bed full of crawlers, no thank you. It's just about the test. I'll catch you when I'm done."
"Tell on you for what?" Rosin looked between the two of them, her smile happy but confused.
Mattie chuckled and reached over to tuck an errant lock of silver-blonde behind her ear. Rosin was so white that her blush was easy to see. Mattie must have noticed, because she got this expression on her face, the one she wore when she was trying to decide whether something was worth her attention.
Sam watched the two of them intently. Rosin and the girls had been getting along very well so far, but he supposed they didn't know the blonde girl well enough yet. To Mattie, she was still probably in the category of 'maybe.' The redhead was always harsher with other women than men; that's why the crew back home had been mostly male. She'd flashed her fangs at every girl that might have been a crew prospect.
"Um..." Rosin cleared her throat and gave Mattie a bashful smile. "Sorry, did you hear me?"
"Oh, I heard you." Mattie had been playing with the tail of Rosin's braid, just looking at her for a few silent beats that lasted far too long. "I just didn't want to answer."
"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean...that is...um..." Rosin stuttered, her blush now uncomfortably red along her cheeks and neck.
Sam's eyebrows rose and he shot Mattie a warning look. If she saw it, she didn't react.
Mattie shot her a bright smile and her whole countenance changed to something bright and happy. "At least not publicly, but walk with me and I'll tell you all about it."
She looped her arm through Rosin's and practically dragged the stunned blonde out of the classroom like a mutt on a leash, joining the handful of students trickling out the door.
Franklin's voice was almost a shout, chasing the last student into the hallway. "And remember to wash your hands thoroughly! You never know when a stray nettle will—"
The door closed. Franklin deflated. He muttered, "—sneak up and surprise you."
Franklin sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the door. He apparently hadn't noticed Sam. Truthfully, Franklin wasn't the most observant teacher, as was evidenced by the way Mattie and Drina openly sabotaged him right in the middle of class.
Franklin huffed and looked at the ground, still rubbing the back of his neck. He muttered, "They're learning, that's all that matters," before he turned to trudge to his desk.
Sam almost felt bad about what he was about to do. He liked Franklin, no doubt the older man would assume somebody was playing a mean prank on him when he discovered what happened. He'd probably been picked on when he was a kid—Sam could spot it easily. It was a certain softness, a pliability, and it would have made him an obvious target for the boys made of sterner stuff. Probably the girls too, poor man.
Still, Sam needed that potion. There was no way he or, admittedly, Drina, could make such a thing without stealing a large amount of ingredients, which would be much worse.
As Franklin moseyed to his desk, Sam calculated a quick contingency should he get caught. He'd have to talk his way out of it and steal it later from Franklin's quarters, when the chances of getting caught were much higher. Best not to get caught now, then.
Franklin's eyes alighted on Sam. His posture straightened and his eyes widened. "Oh! Young Mr. Croft!"
He looked around the room, probably to see if anybody else was around that he hadn't noticed. When the instructor saw no other bodies, his attention flew to Sam and he smiled a cheeky, sheepish smile. "Do forgive me. I have a habit of talking to myself..."
Sam waved off the concern. "Don't mention it. I think everybody talks to themselves."
Well, he didn't, and nobody he knew did. The sweet-rock addicts and the old, addled homeless did, but Franklin was a middle-aged man with no friends and no lover. He had to talk to somebody.
"Too true. Why, my mother used to have entire conversations with herself while she did housework! And the cat." Franklin chuckled, walking to his desk. For such a tall, slim man, he took short and quick steps. Probably so his big cloak didn't catch around his feet.
"She sounds lovely." Sam smiled benignly and held up his poisons tome. "Mind if I ask you a few questions about something I'm having trouble with? I won't take up too much of your time."
Franklin’s eyes lit up and a pit of guilt truly opened up in Sam's belly. He hated using people like this, especially people like Franklin, who genuinely wanted human conversation. But the possibility of his country's ruin was on the line, so he'd have to tou
ghen up and get it done. He'd make it up to Franklin somehow. Maybe stay behind tomorrow and let the old man jabber away about whatever he liked.
Sam opened his book and flipped to a random page. Storytime, his crew used to call it.
First, the hook. "To start with, I know we haven't gotten this far in our lessons, but I'm utterly fascinated with brewing, so I hope you'll forgive me for jumping ahead."
"Ah! Not at all, dear boy! Brewing is a greatly underappreciated art form. Why, some of our most notable victories in the war have been because of a good brew."
Sam smiled and came around the table to stand on Franklin's left side, placing the open book in front of him.
Second, the context. "One of my very good friends, Cody, used to take me out to the forest when I was small. We'd gather all manner of plants." He glanced down at the plant...well, mushroom. The label read Visier Bellot "But I was always more fascinated with fungi. It's been a long time, but I believe Cody told me this specific species was the active ingredient in one of the most powerful poisons north of the forbidden southlands."
He pointed at the picture and leaned in as closely as Franklin. The old man's brows furrowed, and he pushed his spectacles up his nose.
Sam's hand brushed feather-light against his robes, feeling around until he met something solid beneath the black layers.
"I can't remember what he called the poison...would you have any idea?"
His hand slid into the folds of Franklin's robes, but they were so deep. Too deep. Sam bent his knees slowly, his fingertips desperately stretching toward the floor.
"Generally, poisons don't contain hallucinogenic properties at all, much less as an active ingredient." Just a little more.
Franklin looked up at him and Sam froze, resting his chin in his palm and staring deep into the older man's wizened grey eyes.
"Perhaps your friend Code just scrambled up categories? Generally, hallucinogenic potions are known as feravenum, which is distinct in that the potion is not meant to cause death, only prime a target for mental conditioning, temporary insanity, incapacitation, or hypnosis."
"Ah."
Franklin turned back to the book and tapped his chin. Sam continued to reach. His fingers brushed something cool and small, and he grasped it with two fingers like a crab's pincer.
"Perhaps Gorgoco Bestia? Commonly known as 'Scramble' among the rank and file?"
Sam drew his hand out and stuffed the vial down the back of his pants as he smiled brightly. "Yes! I remember now! That was definitely it."
He grabbed his book and closed it. Franklin startled at the swiftness of the movement.
"Thank you so much, I would have never guessed it."
Franklin blinked up at Sam, straightened his spectacles, then smiled. "You're quite welcome. I'm quite happy to help. Do you have any other questions?"
"No."
Franklin's smile stayed tacked onto his face, but his shoulder visibly sagged. "Ah."
"Well..." Sam felt a bit too guilty to just leave. Mattie would laugh at him for this. "Well, I do, actually, but I think I'd better save them for next time. Dent will flay me alive if I'm late again."
Franklin visibly perked up and his grin was set to cleave his face in two. "Of course, of course! Come to me any time, I'm happy to share my knowledge with a budding apothecary."
"Alchemist, actually." Sam smiled as he backed away.
"Oh! Marvelous. The world needs more of those!"
"You've got that right."
As Sam backed away, Franklin kept talking as if he weren't leaving. His next instructor really would flay him for being late; verbally, anyway, and in several different languages. Finally, he was out of the room and shutting the door behind him, cutting Franklin's voice off.
He moved to trot down the mostly empty hallway, his book clutched under his arm. Language class wasn't far at all and he was already at the halfway point, he'd make it in time before Dent could have the chance to mark him tardy.
He stopped.
Franklin had called Sam's companion Code. Granted, Sam was only talking out of his ass, but he distinctly remembered saying his friend's name was 'Cody.' He didn't know anyone named Cody. But he used to know a Code.
Maybe it was a coincidence, a slip of the tongue, but the chance was far too uncanny not to be unsettling.
"There he is."
Sam whipped around and Delcan stalked from the shadows, Brie and June slinking behind him with matching smirks. He sure moved quietly for having such a large frame.
"Piss off, Delcan," Sam huffed, less than threatened. He wouldn't do anything right in the middle of the main corridor.
"Aw, don't be that way. We just wanted to make sure you were okay," Brie cooed. It was the first time she'd ever spoken directly to him. Or looked directly at him. Her skin was dark russet, like baked clay, her hair crimped, long, and golden brown. Both of her eyes were dark, but they were different hues.
"That was a nasty burn Delcan gave you," June said, her voice sticky and saccharine.
It didn't escape his notice that they were circling him like vultures on carrion.
"It was pretty bad." Delcan sucked air through his teeth as if he could see the dressed wound on Sam's back. "What did the nurse say? Is it going to leave a hideous scar?"
Sam didn't answer. He kept his eyes on June when she got too close for comfort. But Brie was at his back, pressing her hand into his bandages. Sam clenched his teeth and stilled his body from flinching.
"I like a man with a battle scar or two," June muttered, draping an arm around his shoulders, laying her head upon him like they were a couple.
"Me too," Brie said, her hand trailing up the base of his neck, her fingers threading in his hair. Sam kept his eyes on Delcan, waiting to see if he actually had the bravery to attack Sam so openly.
Suddenly, Brie's fingers twisted into his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat.
"I think he'd look so handsome with one on his face."
Sam's nostrils flared and he kept his eyes pinned to the blonde man, daring him to do it.
Delcan sneered, his arm lifting in what seemed like slow motion. "Who am I to deny a lady?"
He was mad, they all were. Delcan had to be bluffing. If he actually did what he was implying, Sam would scream in pain and people would come out of the classroom. The blonde would get immediately expelled.
Delcan's hand stretched and hovered in front of Sam's face, the air between them getting hotter by the second.
The door behind Delcan swung open and Franklin's startled eyes met Sam's over Delcan's shoulder.
"What is going on here? Unhand him!" The older man's voice wasn't warm and high like usual. Instead, it was bordering on angry.
Sam was released and Franklin rushed to him as his three tormenters ducked away. They would get demerits for sure, and that would be two for Delcan. Maybe he'd get expelled before the semester was over with.
"Are you alright, Samson?" Franklin held him by the shoulders, his eyes bouncing all over Sam's face.
"Yeah. They didn't do anything, they were just bluffing." I think.
Franklin glared at the empty hallway beyond Sam's shoulder and shook his head. He muttered, "Honestly, what is wrong with that boy?"
"Inferiority complex, I think." Sam shrugged. "Makes him feel bigger."
"Oh, I know the type. Come, I'll walk you to class."
The classroom door was only a few yards away. Sam tried to thank him and tell him that he could walk on his own, but Franklin was insistent. In the end, Sam supposed it was alright to let his teacher fret over him. He was a grown man, but sometimes it was nice...knowing somebody cared that much.
13
Sam showed the girls his prize after class. Right off the bat, Mattie assumed he was going to give it to Delcan. He wasn't. He was going to save it for the thief. No reason Delcan can't have just an itty bit as well, Drina said. She was right.
He liked to think he was above such childlike pettiness, but as he
chewed on the idea throughout the day, some vindictive part of his brain challenged him to come up with a reason he shouldn't do it.
There was no reason. A quarter of the poison was potent enough to do the job, so a half was more than generous enough to use on two people. And Delcan deserved every bit of humiliation Sam could give him. He wished, more than anything, that Delcan would leave his sycophants somewhere and do something, walk somewhere, be somewhere outside of his room alone. Then Sam could corner him when he wasn't bolstered by the boldness of numbers and ask him what his damn problem was.
Was it truly only the comment about Delcan's mother? Sam found that hard to believe, given Delcan looked intent on committing acts of expulsion. The blonde wouldn't risk the ultimate punishment on somebody who had just insulted his dead mother. Or maybe he would, Sam couldn't possibly know. It could be that Delcan didn't even want to be here, that his family pressured him into attending. Perhaps the blonde wanted to go home, dishonored or not.
"I'll get Brie," Drina said casually, shoveling her dinner into her mouth.
"You already said that," Mattie pointed out.
"Yes, well, you were eyeballing her just now, and I'm reiterating."
Mattie laughed, "I'm eyeballing all of them. What's got you so fixated on her?"
"Fixated? Me? Ha." Drina snorted. "I do not get fixated. I would just rather have her scowling at me than June."
"Please don't tell me you like her," Sam said dryly.
"Pft. As if. No, Brie just hates commoners. I hear her talking about it all the time, so I don't know, I just have this burning need to piss her off more than the other one."
Rosin had been quiet thus far, but she chose then to pipe up. "I still think this is an awful idea. If Delcan hits the floor, Franklin will know what happened, and who did it, and you'll get a demerit."
Sam glanced at the head of the room. Franklin was sitting at a huge round table with the rest of the instructors. There were a number of empty chairs between him and his peers.
