Mirabeth got her hands on me not long after my morbid talk with Mishtaw. I let her tend to my wounds while I glared at the cave’s floor with gritted teeth. She had a brusque manner, but still her actions were edged with a gentleness that other healers could never manage. She cared about her work—and not just because she was driven to obtain good results.

The old woman bound my arm to my side despite my protests so that I couldn’t aggravate the shoulder injury further. I could understand why she did it, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be restrained on an unfamiliar mountain, especially when Mishtaw said there could be more death bringers on the loose.

The Peacekeepers had cleaned up the large encampments that the Fangs had controlled. Apparently, some other groups had fallen in with them as well as they gained power in the Cut, swelling their numbers beyond what was normal for a band. Between that and the few who managed to flee the initial assaults, like the group who had run into us, the Peacekeepers had their work cut out for them to make sure there weren’t any stragglers.

And Jin was living up to her title as the Enforcer. She had taken over command and was busy using her illusions to entrap and bring justice to the Fangs as quickly as possible. So the new Seedlings had been abandoned again. I hoped they were enjoying their respite from her “teaching” even if it made me feel like she’d suddenly appear out of the corner of my eye.

At first I had been surprised that she had let Mishtaw and Eliss go so that they could rejoin us until I realized they fit nearly as poorly into what her expectations of what a whisper woman should be as I did. They didn’t adhere neatly to the power structure—Mishtaw wasn’t even a Peacekeeper—and they were associated with me. Troublemakers, all around. Really, when I thought about it like that it was surprising she hadn’t cut them from the operation as soon as she took command.

Mirabeth snapped her fingers a scant from my face to get my attention. I recoiled slightly and glared at her. She ignored the look as she jabbed a finger into my chest before holding it up.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I knew I only had one body. I knew I needed to take of it even without her jabbing her finger into my chest, but that didn’t mean I could ignore everything else. Kuma would have been dead if I hadn’t gotten between her and the knife.

Then the healer did something unexpected. She slipped the knot holding my poisoner’s pouch closed free, slapped my hand away when I tried to stop her, and blew a disappointed breath out when she saw what was inside.

She gave me a look that said if I moved from my mat there would be dire consequences before she rose and left the cave. I was sorely tempted to get up anyways and go join Prevna in the guest tent so the healer couldn’t poke and prod wherever she wanted anymore but I stayed where I was. Partly out of curiosity, partly because I wanted to snap at her when she returned for touching my things.

Her other follower, the man, Dahrii followed one step behind her as Mirabeth stepped back into the cave. She pointed accusingly at my pouch before signing something to him as they both stood over me.

His face was inscrutable as he swept his gaze over me. “She says you’re neglecting your craft.”

“My craft?” They couldn’t mean healing. Surely, that bit of history wasn’t obvious just by looking in a pouch.

He held out a wrist, all slow precision. On that wrist was the only imprecise thing about him. Three leaves unfurled around the dot on his wrist. The poisoner’s mark, though his was lumpy and not quite centered, like it had been someone’s first attempt at a tattoo.

I stared up at him. “But only huntresses are supposed to use poisons.”

Mirabeth signed something else that he acknowledged before he focused back on me. “My sister taught me, though her interest lies elsewhere now.” His lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “One of the reasons we left with Mirabeth.” He withdrew his wrist. “So. Knowledge for knowledge? Or supplies?”

I still knew all thirty three recipes that Rawley had taught me despite never using them. They were tucked away in a special spot in my memory tent. I could trade one or two of them now and possibly fill up my pouch with things I could use. Things that it might be difficult for me to acquire without questions, otherwise. But there was also the fact that I’d be trading away Rawley’s hard won knowledge for things I wasn’t even sure I wanted or would use.

Dahrii gestured with two fingers to the back of the cave. “Perhaps you would like to see a bit of what I have first?”

A look couldn’t be construed as healing. I rose to my feet as gracefully as I could despite the awkwardness of my trapped arm trying to throw me off balance. He took that as acceptance. He had a lightning quick silent conversation with Mirabeth before he led me down a narrow tunnel that I had ignored when we first entered the cave.

The tunnel deepened into shadow quickly but I didn’t have any trouble navigating the uneven floor with my dark sight while Dahrii got by on pure familiarity. It wasn’t long before he turned onto an offshoot and then a corner before we ended up in a small cave that had what remained of the evening sunlight streaming in from a hole in its ceiling. Dried plants also hung from the ceiling while a woven mat covered at least half the floor. Jars and small sacks were stacked neatly around its perimeter while a mortar and pestle, a very worn sitting cushion, and other small tools were arranged near its center. I recognized some of the plants and handmade tools but not all of them.

Dahrii settled on the cushion and indicated I should sit across from him on an empty pat of the mat. My eyes narrowed a bit at the clearly unequal seating arrangements but I swallowed the barbed comment that poked at the tip of my tongue and waited to see what he would do next as I sat.

“Did you get to practice long before you went off to blacken your lips?”

“Long enough.” I didn’t like the way he had phrased the question. Like becoming a Seedling was inconsequential.

He plucked up a jar and pulled off its lid to show me what was inside. Dried dark leaves pounded into dust and little pink petals left whole.

“My newest creation. I’m still testing its potency but I think it’ll help difficult patients keep…calm.”

I stiffened. “You don’t follow proven recipes?”

He did that two fingered gesture again towards some small bags behind him. “I do.”

But it wasn’t all he did. That was clear. I wanted to ask how he tested his new recipes but I kept that question quiet as well. Likely it wouldn’t have a pleasant answer.

Instead, I pressed the conversation in a different direction, one that might be more useful. “What else do you have?”

Dahrii set his experiment back in its spot before plucking up another jar and showing it to me. This one was filled with a green and brown paste that smelled strongly of something nutty. Then he spooned out a bit and mixed it with water in shallow cup. “This helps me focus on long nights. Not a true poison but something I found along the way. Do you want to try it?”

“I’m fine.” There was no way I was trying something random just because he recommended it.

He set the cup aside and then walked me through the different bags of poison he had made. Some to slow and muddle, others that sapped the body’s strength, and still more that immobilized a target through pain or locked muscles. Those were the same or similar to most of the ones I had learned from Rawley. Then he had a handful of others that brought on more unusual symptoms like blindness or an inability to get warm.

Dahrii took obvious pride in his poisons as he showed me each one though towards the end his demonstration shifted more towards the plants and other ingredients he used and the unique things he had discovered about them through attempting to modify his poisons. That was the part I enjoyed most.

He even held out a handful of the seed we had found in the hidden storage area. “No one could even go in the inner valleys before I realized what these could do.”

I smiled back at him. “And what’s that?”

He curled his fingers back over the seeds. “That’s not a secret most bands in the Cut even know, but let’s just say they can’t do much like this or on their own.”

I kept my smile in place despite his refusal to part with the one bit of information we needed to keep our search going. “What would you like to know in exchange?”

He raised his eyebrows in return. “What are you willing to share?”

So I told him a few of the basic poison recipes that Rawley had taught me to gauge his reaction, but he didn’t seem remotely impressed by those. I wasn’t sure I had any knowledge that would impress him given that what I knew of poisons was much shallower than healing. Perhaps my knowledge of plants and other ingredients would useful but I wasn’t sure if all the ones I knew even grew in the Cut or these mountains.

I quickly debated offering myself as a test subject, but I wasn’t desperate enough for that. The few times I had been poisoned was enough for me to avoid it if I could, and we could still get the information or the connection we needed to the band in the inner valleys through the Red Hand.

I shifted the conversation again. “Do you know why Mirabeth shoved her way into my pouch?”

His almost smile twisted onto his mouth again. “She recognized the pouch as one that some huntresses carry and, after she saw the mark on your wrist, she thought you might have something I can’t get here.”

My jaw set. “And if I did?”

“Then we’d exchange for it, like we are now.”

“I never said I wanted anything.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t gained anything.” Dahrii gestured to the sacks and jars he had showed me. “Anything you want to trade for?”

I shifted though the movement felt more stiff than it should have been. Perhaps hauling the old man around had made me even more sore than I would have thought. “I like to learn about poisons more than I use them.”

He nodded and covered the bowl he had wanted me to drink from in the beginning. “That’s just as well. Stay here awhile. Think on it.”

Dahrii rose smoothly to his feet and I tried to follow him but my limbs felt like they were encased in stone. I gritted my teeth and tried to force myself up but my free arm buckled under my weight.

I glared up at him. “What did you do?”

“Poisons are interesting things. If you had drunk from the cup you’d be perfectly fine now, especially with that dash of sweet dust I added. Well, until later.” He considered me. “But the paste is something I modeled after the fog. Incapacitates you with every breath unless you have the antidote. With the amount I gave you your body will lock up until something important stops working.”

“Why?”

He nodded like he had been anticipating the question. “Mirabeth heals. I get a test subject per group. The old man would have been the safest choice but how often does an injured whisper woman’s apprentice show up?”

“My injuries weren’t fatal. They know that.”

Dahrii shrugged one shoulder again. “Healing can be so tricky. Maybe you’re bleeding internally, maybe your attacker’s knife was poisoned? You were attacked by death bringers after all. For now Mirabeth is treating you in a private cave, doing her best to keep you alive but it’ll all be for naught.”

I lowered my head. He might have thought it was in defeat as he strode out of the room but, in reality, it was to hide a grin. However unpleasant things were about to get I couldn’t help but look forward to the moment when he realized he had chosen the worst possible person for this experiment.