The Power and the Glory

Book 1 Chapter XIII: Poisonous

Warning: the first part of this chapter contains references to drugs, non-consensual drug use, rape, threats to make a false rape accusation against the victim, and the murder of a baby. None of it is shown or graphically described, but it's mentioned. If you'd rather not read that, skip to the part beginning "Kitri could say with certainty..."

Murder's not a hobby for the cautious
Thoughts of violence can make the timid nauseous
-- A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder (musical), Poison in My Pocket

Few things could strike a chill into Siarvin's heart like the sight of that bottle. It was through that damn bottle's contents that Haliran had ruined his life and forged the chains still binding him today.

In small doses given by sensible, responsible, sane and normal people, varnadhur was an excellent painkiller and a mild sedative. Everyone had it in their houses in case of painful accidents or emergencies. Every apothecary sold it[1]. Apart from a bitter aftertaste it was more palatable than most medicines. It was also incredibly easy to get addicted to. Centuries ago some wiser heads had seen the problems with this. They tried to have its use restricted. By and large they failed. Even today there was nothing inherently suspicious about someone owning bottles of the stuff.

There was just one problem. In large doses it would leave a person in a half-sleeping, half-waking nightmare before knocking them out completely. In especially large doses it would kill.

Years ago Siarvin had been so foolish. He had thought Haliran was just being friendly when she found him alone and offered him a drink. He had never thought he was in danger so he took no precautions. He had never been given a large dose of varnadhur before so he had no resistance to it.

What followed was something he tried not to think about. Much of it he couldn't remember at all. For the rest he had been trapped and unable to move, forced to be a spectator with no chance to defend himself.

The next day he woke, confused and disorientated, in his own room with Haliran beside him. She'd thought her plan out well. She explained it to him as he lay, still too dizzy to move.

"I need to get married quickly," she said. Even now he remembered how matter-of-fact her tone was. "Before my former lover discovers I'm with child. You're a foreigner with no friends in this city. You hardly even know anyone. No one will believe you if you try to tell them the truth. While I--" Centuries had passed but her smile here still haunted him, "--am a noblewoman from a respected family. I can claim you drugged me, dragged me here, and raped me, and everyone will believe me. A doctor will confirm that the crime happened. So you see, you have no choice but to marry me."

It was so easy in hindsight to see he should have killed her there. Unknown to Haliran, in those days Siarvin had always kept a dagger by his bedside just in case assassins came for him as they'd come for his sister. He could have reached it and stabbed her right in the heart before she realised a thing. He should have done it no matter what the consequences would be. But he was so dizzy, and felt so sick, and couldn't believe yet that this was really happening.

When reality sank in he went to the empress. He told her the truth and asked for help. But Haliran had gotten there first with her version of events. She claimed they'd slept together while drunk, that she was carrying his child, and he was now looking for a way to get out of marrying her. Within a day her lies were believed all over the city.

Life took on a horrible haze of unreality after that. The wedding went ahead. For months Siarvin fell into a sort of apathy that not even his hatred could stir him from. What did anything matter now?