The water turned a brilliant emerald green for a flash as it hit the boiling liquid. It dissipated into a muddy brown. He continued the boiling until the tubes’ contents formed a thickened sludge. He added a dash of a thin white liquid and continued for the afternoon. Anticipation built in the house as the hour neared for them to go to the Daleroch’s estate.
“What ye’ makin’, doc?” Fearchar eventually wandered over to look at the little tubes.
Antidote, he explained, holding the tube up for Fearchar to look at.
“Poison medicine,” Seonaid supplied, coming over to join her husband.
“Poison medicine?” Fearchar asked, looking at the vials skeptically.
For you, Eoin handed them both one of the vials.
Fearchar’s eyebrows raised. “D’ye want us ta…eat…drink this now?” the man eyed the sludge with disgust.
No. Take it immediately if they make you drink the wine, Eoin elaborated, pushing a cork into Seonaid’s tube.
“Don’t drink the wine, Fear,” Seonaid looked at her tube solumnley before shoving it in her pocket. “This is if we have to.”
“Whate’er ye say, doc,” Fearchar handed his vial back to Eoin, who promptly corked it and handed it back to him. Fearchar frowned at it and shoved it into his pouch which he had formed at his stomach with his great kilt. They were trying, impatiently, to wait out the afternoon and into the evening. The festivities would begin at midnight with the first footing.