<hr/><div align="center"><em>Autolycus mixes a drink for Sorcha<br/>Infirmary</em></div><hr/><br/>From the looks of it, the Pict had swallowed part of the guards ear. Autolycus had found another chunk on the floor, bloody and mangled and useless. It had ended in the waste bin. And so there was nothing left for him to do but clean the wound, stitch it up, then dab a little honey on it to sedate it, prevent infection. “Don’t touch it. Don’t wash it,” he instructed as he helped the guard to his feet and escorted him out the door. “Leave it like that and come see me again tomorrow.”<br/><br/>He closed the door and walked back into the room where the Welsh slave was still sleeping peacefully, talking now and then in that strange language of hers.<br/><br/>And then there was the Pict.<br/><br/>Autolycus looked to creature in the cage and smiled. Yes, now, finally, he’d have time to deal with that one. Tricky of course, such a feral thing. He wanted, very much, to examine her more closely but he’d have to be careful. He was rather attached to his body and did not want to lose any parts of it. Turning away, he went to his workbench. That place with the dried herbs and mysterious little flasks and bottles. He began to sort through them, thinking.<em>Opium poppy of course… Mandregona… </em>Make her sleepy, woozy, easier to handle. Of course it was also likely to make her hallucinate and other things besides.<br/><br/>He worked carefully, wanting to get the mixture just right. Not too much, she was but a small thing. Finally, he declared himself satisfied and poured the resulting liquid into a small flask, then went to the table to poor himself a well-deserved drink.<br/><br/>The drink was called<em>oxos</em>. A sour wine enriched with vinegar, honey, spices and water. A little something he’d learned to make in his time on Kos. Healthier than regular wine. Cheaper too. And easily as tasty. He drained his cup and sighed contentedly, all the while looking at Sorcha with his pale green eyes. She was thirsty too, he was certain of it. The Spanish sun, all that dust on the road to the ludus… He stood up and poured a second cup, his back to the Pict so she would not see him adding a few drops of the special mixture to her drink.<br/><br/>He put the cup down outside the cage where she’d just be able to grab it through the bars.<br/><br/>He stepped back, waiting to see what she’d do.