Ranix held his blade out toward the apothecary and took a calm but forceful step toward Edward. His eyes flashing, his confidence did not diminish a tick. "I serve a cadre of powerful mages, apothecary, men and women more worthy than an ailing merchant and his whelp. We have...connections, and one such connection will be the influence and power I will wield as Tobias Tobelle. Of course, I wish to have no quarrel with you. I'm sure you're quite competent with that steel of yours...but I'm sure we can come to some mutually beneficial arrangement."
Doran's workspace was still set for the brewing. The ingredients were bottled and divided. Exact measures of each. Once, Doran had told Narav that in a different combination, these ingredients would make a powerful anesthetic. If mixed improperly, and in large amounts, the resulting concoction was more likely to kill Edward than help him. Of course, as the Tobelles paid for the medicine and ingredients, Doran did not go for want of the material to use. Normally they might be used for pain killers, even drugs...but each harmful substance had its inverse. There was science to all decadence.
He was closer to the vials than his dagger ad one look at the way Ranix was standing, the way that Doran was standing...both men near enough to cross blades at any time, he would be skewered the moment he dropped for the blade. What had begun as a fledgling admiration for the chemist had turned Narav's blood cold. They were negotiating, clearly negotiating, for the life of himself and his father. He'd seen enough of the way his father spoke with other merchants to know a negotiation when he saw one. Doran was testing Ranix for leverage, something tangible he could use to justify the betrayal. If there was enough value in it, Narav had no doubt that Doran would turn on him.
That could not be allowed to happen.
Narav moved suddenly, his body bursting with terrified speed and nerves. Instead of the dagger, he instead leaped at the table and took hold of the bottles in his arms. Ranix sneered, his face a mask of both surprise and disdain...clearly not about to extend himself to pierce Narav if he would need to worry about the opening he'd provide to Doran.
Those moments where neither Doran nor Ranix would lower their guard to each other was the time Narav needed to hurl the bottles at the ground between the two men, ingredients spilling out and over each other on the chamber floor. Immediately they reacted, hissing loudly as a white-green smoke coiled out of the mess and up towards the two men. Doran knew it immediately, the powerful anesthetic that just such a reckless concoction might make. Even to a Mortalborn such as himself, a dose of this magnitude might be enough to stop his heart.
Narav spun away from the mess and snatched at his dagger, hurling himself the distance between where he stood and the bed of his father. Edward was already beginning to stir as Narav scrambled onto the edge of the bed and menaced Ranix with the blade.
The mage was snarling, leaping away from the smoke and clawing with his free hand. He had no knowledge of what the chemicals were or even what their reaction was to each other. But the confusion in the room afforded him an opportunity he could not afford to miss. Coiling back on his foot he thrust the blade through the plume of smoke toward Edward's rising body. Instead the sword caught Narav in the side, neatly piercing through his fine clothes and exiting from the back, narrowly avoiding a home in Edward.
Narav screamed, his entire side cold and hot at the same time, dropping his blade and desperately holding both sides of where the sword pierced.
He breathed short and fast, curious to find that the pain was already ebbing away.
Of. Of course. The smoke.
And Narav fell from Edward's grasping hands face first off the bed onto the stone ground, paralyzed. He did not feel the fall but felt the jarring thud. It was as if his body were surrounded by clouds, distant clouds, and he couldn't touch a single thing. Was he still bleeding? It was impossible for him to tell.
Ranix, meanwhile, staggered, his own sword arm numbed by the concoction. Cursing, he backed toward the door, slicing at the smoke and unable to grab his bearings. He would regroup, had to, maybe approach the apothecary again...perhaps not. But first he needed to escape.
Barreling toward the door, Ranix found that his right leg would no longer respond to his commands. He went down to his left, cursing, coughing.
Narav was in a distant place now, very far from anything and everything occuring. Did he get them both? Would his father be safe? Would he? Even the ability to question seemed to slither from his ears as the tumult continued above him.
Wait.
He could feel something.
Cold.
Doran's workspace was still set for the brewing. The ingredients were bottled and divided. Exact measures of each. Once, Doran had told Narav that in a different combination, these ingredients would make a powerful anesthetic. If mixed improperly, and in large amounts, the resulting concoction was more likely to kill Edward than help him. Of course, as the Tobelles paid for the medicine and ingredients, Doran did not go for want of the material to use. Normally they might be used for pain killers, even drugs...but each harmful substance had its inverse. There was science to all decadence.
He was closer to the vials than his dagger ad one look at the way Ranix was standing, the way that Doran was standing...both men near enough to cross blades at any time, he would be skewered the moment he dropped for the blade. What had begun as a fledgling admiration for the chemist had turned Narav's blood cold. They were negotiating, clearly negotiating, for the life of himself and his father. He'd seen enough of the way his father spoke with other merchants to know a negotiation when he saw one. Doran was testing Ranix for leverage, something tangible he could use to justify the betrayal. If there was enough value in it, Narav had no doubt that Doran would turn on him.
That could not be allowed to happen.
Narav moved suddenly, his body bursting with terrified speed and nerves. Instead of the dagger, he instead leaped at the table and took hold of the bottles in his arms. Ranix sneered, his face a mask of both surprise and disdain...clearly not about to extend himself to pierce Narav if he would need to worry about the opening he'd provide to Doran.
Those moments where neither Doran nor Ranix would lower their guard to each other was the time Narav needed to hurl the bottles at the ground between the two men, ingredients spilling out and over each other on the chamber floor. Immediately they reacted, hissing loudly as a white-green smoke coiled out of the mess and up towards the two men. Doran knew it immediately, the powerful anesthetic that just such a reckless concoction might make. Even to a Mortalborn such as himself, a dose of this magnitude might be enough to stop his heart.
Narav spun away from the mess and snatched at his dagger, hurling himself the distance between where he stood and the bed of his father. Edward was already beginning to stir as Narav scrambled onto the edge of the bed and menaced Ranix with the blade.
The mage was snarling, leaping away from the smoke and clawing with his free hand. He had no knowledge of what the chemicals were or even what their reaction was to each other. But the confusion in the room afforded him an opportunity he could not afford to miss. Coiling back on his foot he thrust the blade through the plume of smoke toward Edward's rising body. Instead the sword caught Narav in the side, neatly piercing through his fine clothes and exiting from the back, narrowly avoiding a home in Edward.
Narav screamed, his entire side cold and hot at the same time, dropping his blade and desperately holding both sides of where the sword pierced.
He breathed short and fast, curious to find that the pain was already ebbing away.
Of. Of course. The smoke.
And Narav fell from Edward's grasping hands face first off the bed onto the stone ground, paralyzed. He did not feel the fall but felt the jarring thud. It was as if his body were surrounded by clouds, distant clouds, and he couldn't touch a single thing. Was he still bleeding? It was impossible for him to tell.
Ranix, meanwhile, staggered, his own sword arm numbed by the concoction. Cursing, he backed toward the door, slicing at the smoke and unable to grab his bearings. He would regroup, had to, maybe approach the apothecary again...perhaps not. But first he needed to escape.
Barreling toward the door, Ranix found that his right leg would no longer respond to his commands. He went down to his left, cursing, coughing.
Narav was in a distant place now, very far from anything and everything occuring. Did he get them both? Would his father be safe? Would he? Even the ability to question seemed to slither from his ears as the tumult continued above him.
Wait.
He could feel something.
Cold.
