“Isthere a cure for snakebites?” the king’s other advisor asked. He was tall and broad and, compared to his colleague, looked half asleep. There was no lace on his cuffs, and except for the exceptional quality of the fabric, his clothes looked like the sort that any moderately prosperous merchant might wear.
“Not as such. Not something you can take and be perfectly fine afterward.” I took a sip of wine. “A great deal depends on the snake and how much venom they secrete. They’re as different as humans in a way.”
“Healer Anja has a chime-adder in her workshop,” the king said.
Everyone was looking at me now. I felt the urge to shrink back in my chair and squelched it. “Chime-adder venom speeds the heart,” I explained. “And also hurts like the devil. But distilled, I have managed to make a drug that makes the heart beat harder. I am hoping to expand it into a medicine for people with weak hearts.” So much attention was a trifle embarrassing, so I took a rather larger swallow of wine. “As for snakebites, it depends on the type. For a rattleviper, take off any rings you’ve got on or boots or stockings, if it hit the leg. The swelling is the worst of it. The bite’s survivable, but the gangrene won’t be, if the blood gets cut off by a ring. For chime-adders, I’d suggest taking laudanum immediately. Slowing the heart may stave off the worst of the effects.”
“And if it doesn’t, at least it’ll hurt less,” Lady Sorrel said, and everyone laughed, even Snow.
The conversation circled for a few moments about snakes, as it tended to when the topic came up, and then the king said, “I have read that Emperor Hadrach drank snake venom in wine to build up an immunity.”
I shrugged. “It wouldn’t help. Anyone can drink snake venom, provided they don’t have any ulcers in their mouth or stomach.” It’s a street performer’s trick that you see sometimes, where the performer milks a snake’s fangs into a cup, then drinks it while the crowd gasps.
“And what of scorpions, drowned in oil?” the king asked, his lips quirking. “I’ve heard he ate that, too.”
“I cannot swear that it does not work,” I said with some asperity. “It is always possible that the emperor had access to a better class of scorpion. But in my experience, it does no good.”
“Saints bless us!” Lady Sorrel said. “You tried that?”
“When I first began studying, I tried almost every antidote that had ever been written down. Bezoars, amethysts, a dozen different recipes for theriac…”
“And?” asked the energetic advisor.
“And the vast majority were…” I tried to find a tactful way to phrase it. “A triumph of enthusiasm over medical knowledge.”
The tall advisor laughed so hard at that that the king had to pound him on the back. “You should hire this one as a diplomat,” he said, wheezing.
See, Isobel? Icanbe tactful.
“I’ve heard that unicorn horns can cure poison,” Snow piped up, her high voice carrying over the conversation.
“Many classical writers say so,” I said. “I’d very much like to test it. Unfortunately I’ve never been able to find an actual unicorn horn, so I’ve never been able to find out for myself.” (This was also tactful. What usually gets sold as a unicorn horn is taken from scimitar oryx. Oryx are beautiful antelope, but they’re no more immune to poison than any ruminant. Actual unicorns seem to be as rare as honest men.)
“So whatdoeswork, then?” the energetic advisor asked.
I took a moment to admire Lady Sorrel’s skill at managing dinner conversation. She had successfully pulled the most reclusive member of the table into talking and gotten everyone else involved, regardless of social status. Sadly, it meant that I had to actually answer the question.
“Every time? Nothing. It depends on how the poison is taken, how strong the patient is, how long the poison has had to work…” I spread my hands helplessly.
“What wouldyoutake if you were poisoned?” the king asked.
“Clay.”
“Clay?”His eyebrows slammed together like castle doors.
“Terra sigillata,” I said. “The ancients knew it well. I’d also try charcoal—or ground-up toadstones, if I could get them.”
“Why those?”
I was beginning to feel as if I were being interrogated for crimes against the crown. “Because most of the roosters survive.”
The main course arrived and saved me from having to admit that curing poison is actually mostly guesswork. “Enough of poisons,” said Lady Sorrel. “I want to eat my dinner without worrying.”
As I bent my head over my food, I caught a glimpse of Snow at the other end of the table, and I wondered what she thought about the adults so blithely discussing a topic that might be killing her.
CHAPTER 9
The next morning, I took full advantage of the bath and presented myself at Snow’s door, well scrubbed and professional. Hopefully professional. Professional-esque, anyway. I was staking a lot on those green scarves.
