That evening, around when the sun sank low enough to warm the back of Mara’s head, Eli transferred Nick to her shoulders, told her to keep the sun behind her, and disappeared into the woods to the north. He returned an hour later with two hares, already skinned and dressed.
“You preparing a feast?” she asked, trading him her son–who was much easier to carry than she’d expected, but nonetheless made her neck ache–for the hares.
“I’d like to die with some meat in my belly.”
“Deep depths,” she groaned, rolling her eyes skyward. “For the last time, the serum is not going to kill you.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Or accidentally. I’m more competent than that. Worst case scenario, you get a bit of a belly ache.”
“Vomit myself inside out, you mean.”
“But not so much you die,” she said, nodding cheerily.
With an exasperated sigh, he stopped and plucked Nick from his shoulders.
“Let’s get these hares cooked before I lose my appetite.”
They meat the hare into thin strips and roasted it over a small fire, eating quickly before smothering the fire and setting back out. Eli had explained their first day in the woods that it was best not to bed down where they ate dinner, but it felt odd to her, getting up to move after they finished eating. Dinner was a door one closed at the end of the day to separate public time from private time. One did not put on shoes and venture out between dinner and bedtime. It just wasn’t done.
That night, it took Eli even longer than usual to find them a suitable campsite, which was odd since there wasn’t much to distinguish one part of the woods from another. At least not to Mara’s eye.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” she asked, after the third rejected campsite.
“Doing what?”
“Taking eons to find somewhere to stop. If you don’t want to take the serum, you don’t have to. There’s no need to be sneaky about it.”
“I want to take the serum. The ground back there was just uneven.”
“And the spot before?”
“That branch overhead was about to fall.”
“Mmhm.”
“Here’s good,” he declared, speeding up to lead her to a group of three Loftland firs that had grown together, so close the roots of one were indistinguishable from those of another. “Out of the wind.”
It wasn’t windy, but Mara kept that observation to herself. Following their established pattern, she took Nick with her to gather firewood and returned to find the campsite as she expected–shelter erected, small fire burning.
She fed the fire until it crackled and spat, and then left Eli to tend it while she prepared Nick for bed.
Nick had grown used to her crawling right into the blankets with him, so she had to lay on the mat for a while, cuddling him close while his breath grew deep and slow. When she was sure he was asleep, she carefully extracted herself from the blankets and crawled back out into the night.
Eli sat by the fire, staring into the flames. Bringing her pack with her to sit on, she joined him.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked softly–earnestly, she hoped.
He flicked his gaze to her then back to the fire. “Yes.”
“I don’t want you to feel you have no choice. Serums are dangerous when they’re administered without true consent, and even if they weren’t, I have strong beliefs about this sort of thing.”
He sighed. “You have my consent.”
She expelled a breath and clapped her hands on her thighs. “Then I’d better get started.”
She extracted her ingredients from the bag, setting the gods’ breath leaves to simmer in a tin cup while she prepared the rest.
The ronobon root she washed, scraping away the outer layer with her knife before crushing it between two rocks. To the pasty result of that exercise she added the wilted ringfeather leaves, crushing them as well until the two came together into a thin mush. She scraped that into the bottom of the second tin cup, then scooped out the flesh of willibut caps, sifting carefully through what she’d extracted to make sure it contained no flash of red. If anything in this concoction threatened her victim’s life, it was the red skin of the willibut mushrooms. Though she really didn’t think it would kill him in such small quantities. Just make him miserable for a while.
“The ronobon is the base of the thing,” she explained as she worked, mostly because she was starting to get a little nervous herself. “It has powerful compulsive properties. But it can be a bit, uh… maddening? I guess you could say?” She didn’t dare look up, but she could feel Eli’s gaze burning into the side of her face with that announcement. “It’s a stimulant, I mean. On its own. So if you want to make a truth serum, you combine it with a relaxant. Cat’s tail is the best, because its efficacy is roughly the same as ronobon root, so they balance each other nicely. But that doesn’t grow here, so I’m using ringfeather and willibut instead. It’s not quite the same, but ringfeather is a mental depressant and the willibut will calm the physical symptoms.”
“Physical symptoms,” he echoed, tone dry as a salt well.
She winced. “From the ronobon. Heart racing, sweating, shaking, that sort of thing. But that’s the point of the willibut, is that you won’t have those symptoms because the mushrooms will counteract them.”
“Mm.”
“Oh, we’re back to grunting?”
“Words escape me.”
“Not for long!” she quipped. Even with everything that had happened, everything that was still happening, brewing excited her. Or maybe she felt so comparatively light-hearted because making the truth serum gave her a goal other than simply to stay upright rather than surrendering herself to the cool, forgiving depths.
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Pouring the boiling gods’ breath tea over the pasty mixture and swirling it with her knife, she looked up at Eli, who was playing the role of ‘reluctant martyr’ with uncharacteristic dramatic flair–all slumped shoulders and faraway looks. Not that she had any idea what was characteristic of Eli and what was not. Perhaps this obviously theatrical display was typical of him. It wouldn’t be a complete departure from what she felt she truly knew–not if this was his way of masking genuine unease.
“Eli?” she asked, letting the knife rest in the cup. His gaze slid to hers. “You know you don’t have to do this. I didn’t know you were oathbound when I hatched this idea. The last thing I want to do is put your life in danger.”
He smiled, the expression flickering in his eyes before he turned them back to the fire. “You’re not putting my life in danger,” he said to the flames. “I intend to deliver you safely. I wouldn’t jeopardize that.”
Mara’s own mouth tugged into a smile. “So you’re just being morose for the gods’ amusement?”
His teeth flashed in a brief grin, eyes flicking to her and then back to the flames. “I don’t think you’re going to kill me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not frightened of you”
Mara opened her mouth to answer the teasing note in his voice. Then she closed it. “I have no intention of hurting you,” she said earnestly. “I just want to ask you some questions and know that your answers are truthful.” A tall order, she knew, in a world where magic so routinely painted lies as abject truth.
“I know,” was all Eli said in response, and Mara wondered if he did, but didn’t have time to ruminate. Some herbal mixtures used such powerful plants they required little of their brewers beyond a pair of hands to throw them all together. If she’d had cat’s tail, for example, this truth serum would practically have made itself. Without it, she needed to lend a little extra power to the relaxant element of the equation, which required concentration.
Turning her attention back to the serum, Mara resumed stirring, breathing calm into the mixture as she stirred. She had been practicing in the tunnel, and in the days since they’d emerged into Loftland, the magic came easier than it had in months. Still just a trickle, and at her most adept she’d never have the instant, effortless command of an innate user. Nonetheless, she was able to conjure what she needed for this brew–leaden limbs, contented sighs, heavy eyelids, warmth. She rocked herself half to sleep with her own meditation, and when she felt her own body began to sway in her seat, she knew that was enough.
“Alright,” she said, shaking herself awake. “Last step. We’re almost ready.” Securing a sheet of cheesecloth loosely over the top of the empty mug, she poured the contents of the other through it, filtering out the solid matter. She let it drain, then loosened the cloth and shook its contents into the fire. They hissed as they landed, transforming with a puff of angry steam into glowing curls of ash.
Mara swirled the serum and breathed in the steam before holding it out to Eli. “There you have it,” she declared. “Field ready truth serum.”
Eli took the cup and gazed down into it as if she’d filled it with squirrel urine or horse saliva or some other bizarre and noxious substance.
“It really is safe,” she said. “I promise. And I promise only to ask you questions relevant to our situation. I won’t go digging around, and after you do this, I’ll be a much easier travel companion. It’ll be worth it.”
He offered her a weak, half-hearted eye roll. “You’re not a difficult travel companion.”
“Good, good. Get the lies out now, while you still can.”
With a single, exasperated snort, he tipped the cup up and took a sip. Lowered it with a dramatic wince.
Mara cringed. “Is it bad?”
He smacked his lips a little and glared down at the cup. “It’s not good. Do I have to drink all of it?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I wish I had some honey.”
He took another sip and swallowed a cough. “Honey wouldn’t help.”
Still, he dutifully drained the entire cup while Mara sat in respectful, cringing silence.
“How long does it take?” he asked, sloshing the gritty dregs into the fire and setting the cup aside.
“Not long. Maybe half an hour. Would you like some water?” She was already holding out a flask, which he took with a grateful nod. She watched him swish the water around in his mouth before swallowing. “I really am sorry.”
He waved off her apology and took another drink.
“Would you like something to eat?”
“No,” he laughed, shaking his head hard. He winced and rubbed at one eye. “But thank you.”
She studied him, tilting her head. “Is it already working? Do you feel anything?”
“Other than nauseous?”
“Other than nauseous.”
“Then no.”
“Oh.”
They lapsed into silence for a long time, nothing to fill the air but the crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of small creatures scampering through the dry needles. Behind them, slightly muffled by the canvas, Nick began to snore, and Mara’s lips tilted up in a fond, reflexive smile. “Can I ask you something?”
Eli didn’t look away from the fire. “I don’t think it’s working yet.”
“Not that kind of question.”
“Oh. Sure.”
“What was Davy like? As a kid?”
She watched his answer as much as she listened for it, saw the way his shoulders unbunched a little, eyes staring deeper into the flames.
“Wild,” he said after a long moment of contemplation. “Brave. Fun.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “He was always making up new games and stories, so every kid at the Enclave worshiped at his feet.”
“And were his… were his parents good to him?” Perhaps it was purposeful, asking this when she knew he still had the capacity to lie. She wasn’t sure if she wanted the truth. Not if it meant imagining her Davy, young and vulnerable, with parents who didn’t care for him properly.
Eli’s expression drew inward, almost pained, and she had at least part of her answer. The part that made her chest hurt. He looked at her, and she realized she’d pressed her palm to her sternum.
“They loved him,” he said, “and they were proud of him. They never let him forget it.”
Something in the answer felt like a lie, but not one she had the strength to challenge. Instead, she just pressed for more comforting lies. “So he was happy? He had a normal childhood?”
Eli grimaced, shoulders bunching and relaxing like he’d felt something crawling up the nape of his neck. “I wouldn’t call it normal. There were the trials.”
The trials, Mara knew, were a way of forcing children to manifest their magic early. Usually, innate users manifested around puberty, but enough stress could induce manifestation in children as young as three. The Order ran trials occasionally. The rebellion ran them of necessity. Mara didn’t approve of the tactic–would never allow Nick to be put through something so ghastly–but she was familiar with the argument. Order officers entered the ranks as children, without exception. Infiltrating the ranks required child soldiers, and child soldiers needed weapons they were capable of honing.
“What were his trials?” she asked. “Do you know?”
Eli’s brows drew together, shadowing his eyes from the firelight as he peered at her. “You want to hear this?”
No. “Yes.”
She thought it was convincing enough, but apparently he didn’t agree, so she added, “Please,” and hoped he heard the truth in it. Of course I don’t want to know, but I feel as if I need to.
He sighed. After tonight, she’d endeavor not to make him sigh so much. “He only had to endure three. Being left alone in the forest at night did nothing. Neither did small spaces. He’d kill me for telling you, but it was spiders that finally pushed him far enough to manifest.”
“Spiders?”
“Many of them. But yes.”
He was silent, and in the quiet she began to plan the dressing down she would deliver to Davy’s parents once she finally met them. For frightening their innocent child. For treating him like a tool instead of a son. For sending him off into danger, so broken he thought it was just a game. For living in some distant, safe enclave while he risked his life for their cause.
“Mara?”
She flinched. Looked to Eli, who still sat beside her, still perched on his pack, elbows on his knees. But his posture was looser somehow. Like someone had turned a crank and unwound all of his muscles just a bit. Just a turn and a half of the crank.
“Is it working?”
“I think so,” he said, blinking slowly at the fire. “Ask me something.”
She’d already decided where she’d start. She didn’t know the answers to any of her big questions, so she wouldn’t know if he was lying. Better to start small, with a question he likely wouldn’t want to answer honestly, but she could accurately guess the answer to.
“Alright,” she said. “Trial run. What’s one bad thing about me that Davy used to tell you?”