The Magician's Witch

Progression and Movement

The next two and a half weeks passed by in a blur. The foundation of the addition to the house had been shaped and leveled, and the walls were slowly taking shape.

Erik came by for a couple of days after the court had landed in Mazandaran. When he arrived that first day, he had been agitated and waspish, a symptom Eilis quickly attributed to the Shah and Khanum's proximity to Erik, the new palace construction, and the Alborz Mountains. He was trying to maintain as much distance as he dared from his malicious employers.

"She commissioned me to build her another hall of mirrors," Erik hissed as he paced the floor of the cottage. Eilis sat at the spinning wheel, turning out more yarn. By now, she felt nearly expert at this particular skill, her speed increasing as well as her consistency.

She sighed and paused the wheel, setting aside the clump of wool in her hand, turning in her seat to watch him pace up and back.

"You said you had plans to alter the original construction. What were those plans?"

Erik continued to pace. "Two things. I am adding a scorpion—a mechanical one—to the...set, if you will. Its stinger will be a syringe filled with a poison that will be injected into them, but it won't kill them," he added quickly when he heard Eilis draw her breath in. "It is a compound similar to the one Juliet took, the one that led everyone including Romeo to believe that she had perished."

Eilis gasped. "Mad Honey disease! From the rhododendron plant!"

Erik turned to her with a look of astonishment and a curious twinkle in his eye. "How did you know that?"

Eilis grinned. "Sherlock Holmes. He is a detective who lives on Baker's Street in London. Or he will, once Sir Arthur Conan Doyle writes his series beginning in 1887."

"Huh," Erik mused. "This detective knows his poisons. Or, Sir Conan Doyle does."

Eilis snickered to herself.

"So, they will seem to die—their heart will slow, they will appear to stop breathing—but they will still be alive."

Erik nodded. "The trick will be to get the dosage right for each victim. If I give them too much, then they will die. If I give them too little, then they won't pass out."

"What is the other change you are making," Eilis asked.

Erik went and stood staring out the new window, leaning on the sill; one had been cut out of the front wall to the left of the door, just across from the fireplace. Having a window to ventilate the stuffy interior of the room had been a huge relief. There was no glass in it yet, but shutters had been added, which hung open presently.

"I am adding a trap door beneath the tree. If the victim finds the release, the heat will shut off and the door will open, and water will fill the room. Not enough to drown them; just enough to relieve the heat. And just when they think they have been saved, the scorpion will sting them."

Eilis shuddered. "So, they either meet their true demise by hanging themselves on the tree, or you fake their demise by injecting them with poison that won't really kill them—how long do the effects last?"

Erik shrugged. "A day, maybe two."

"How do you plan to snag their bodies? And where do you plan to hide them while they're...inert?"

"The bodies are usually just thrown in the streets," Erik said woodenly. "Picking them up won't be a problem. But hiding them may prove a challenge. "

"And then what? Leave them some food and water for when they wake up? Maybe some stolen clothes, and then let them go on their own way," Eilis asked.