“All poisons. All of them natural poisons. We have some of this in what we’ve devised for Cabhan, but there are a number of ingredients here that are more exotic than I’ve worked with before. I’ll have to send for some, obviously. It requires water blessed by a priest, which is easy enough. Blood remains the binding agent. It’s yours we’ll need. Your blood, some of your hair, and nail clippings.”
He only grunted.
“I’d started on the amounts, and the orders. My sources conflict somewhat on both, but we’ll find the right mix. And the words need to be right. The potion will be black and dense when we have it right. It will hold no light, reflect no light.”
He reached up, massaged her shoulders. “You’re knotted up. You should be pleased, not tense. This is brilliant progress, Branna.”
“None of it will have a hope of working unless we choose the right time, and there I’ve made no progress at all.”
“I’ve thought on it. Ostara? The equinox. We tried the summer solstice, for light. Ostara is light as well, the balance of it tipping to the light.”
“I come back to it, again and again.” She pushed her hands through her hair to secure loosened pins. “But it won’t hold for me as the other tries did. It should be right; maybe it is and I just can’t see it through the other elements.”
He turned her, still rubbing her shoulders. “We might try devising the spell, and the potion with Ostara as the time, and see if it holds then. Providing we find a pregnant yak.”
She smiled as he’d hoped. “My father tells me he knows a man who can acquire anything, for a price.”
“Then we’ll pay the price, and we’ll begin. I’ve still got an hour or so, and I’ll help with the spell. But tonight, I think you could use a distraction, having your mind off all this.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I think you should come out to dinner with me. I’ve a place in mind you’ll like, very much.”
“Out to dinner? And what sort of place would this be?”
“A very fancy place. Romantic and elegant, and where the food is a god.” He twined some of her loosened hair around his finger. “You could wear the dress you wore New Year’s Eve.”
“I’ve more than one dress, and would consider going skyclad to be served food fit for gods that I don’t make myself.”
“If you insist, but I’d rather see to getting you skyclad myself after dessert.”
“Are we having a date, Finbar?”
“We are. Dinner at eight, though I’ll pick you up at seven so you’ll have some time to enjoy the city before we eat.”
“The city? What city?”
“Paris,” he said, and kissed her.
“You want us flying off to Paris for a meal?”
“A brilliant meal—in the City of Light.”
“Paris,” she repeated, and tried to tell herself it was frivolous and foolish, but just couldn’t. “Paris,” she said again, and kissed him back.
14
WHAT WAS IT LIKE? PARIS,” IONA ADDED. “WE HAVEN’T had a chance to talk about it without the guys around since you went.”
“It was lovely. A bit breathtaking really. The lights, the voices, the food and wine, of course. For a few hours, another world altogether.”
“Romantic?” Iona tied pretty raffia bows around softly colored soaps, and boldly colored ones.
“It was.”
“I wonder why that part of it worries you.”
“I’m not after romance. It’s the sort of thing that weakens resolve and clouds sense.” Branna measured out ground herbs. “It’s not something I can risk now.”