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before morning.”

Sooth carefully examined the wound. The arrow had pierced Omar’s left lung and was

sticking completely through his body.

“Give a mother hope, my alchemist,” GoGo said. “You are the greatest in all the realm.”

“The wound is profound,” Sooth said, and then used his hand to lift Omar’s lip and open

his mouth slightly, revealing his black gums and pus forming on his tongue.

“The arrowhead is actually a vial of poison. The archer’s intention was not to wound. If the

arrow missed the heart the toxin would still reach it through the bloodstream.”

“Can you not just pull the arrow out?” GoGo asked.

“Ill advised. I’ve seen these arrows before,” Sooth said. “They’re constructed with a

hollow shaft lined with cotton. The poison drains down from the tip. We would have to break the

shaft to remove the arrow. Passing the broken piece through his body would release the poison.”

He touched the arrow’s feathers. “These feathers are the mark of the Sabutans.”

“I have heard the Moroccans use Sabutan mercenaries,” Daka said.

“In Hebrew we call them kawsh-shawf,” Zuba said. “They worship a god of blood called

Pown Ma.”

“They are sorcerers!” Cane said.

“I don’t care what they are!” GoGo snapped. “Is my son going to die?”

“I don’t know,” Sooth said. “I have filled him with cures, Stygian Root, Star of Hunan, and

bathed his skin in Emollient of Manganese to draw out the toxin. But I’m battling the arrow and

the poison.”

“And time,” Daka said.

“If it were only one or the other,” Sooth said and shook his head in frustration. He looked

up at GoGo. “And I should have foreseen the timing of Ramoth’s treachery. The king’s Albaka