The Inkwell presents: Once Poisoned, Twice Willing

By The Inkwell

This month, we decided to let our writers be intentionally cruel to their characters. And by "let", please read "gave an excuse". How did we do this? Well, we had them poison their characters. Not only once, dear readers, but twice.
Isn't that the human condition, though? To make a mistake, and then do it again, whether intentionally or not. We "poison" ourselves, suffering the consequences and either buckling under or coming out stronger. And whether our actions are literal or not, the scars are often all too plain to see.
So, this is where we ask, vial in hand, knowing full well what happened before - will you dare poison yourself? Again?

The Peddler’s Apprentice - Leaving a liar in charge can be the most honest of choices.
A Poisonous Kiss - Not all affection is wanted or healthy.
Ultimus Hostis - Some consequences are worth the cost.
Four-Leaf Love - How far will one smitten fairy go to impress her girlfriend?
Horrible Things We Do To Those We Love - The things we hold the dearest are the hardest to let go.
Gobbodotes - The only way for a goblin herbalist to learn new treatments is trial and error.
Wild Ride - Every plan requires a drink to send it off.
The Only Way Out - Be careful what you choose to read. You never know where it will take you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Inkwell
• Release date: Sep 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215473566

The Inkwell

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Book preview

The Peddler’s Apprentice

Written by Ros Forbes

Gery was certain his master Edmur’s call to fame—selling a pair of glass slippers to a noble woman whose daughter then became their current queen— was a lie, but it was too late to call him out on it. After all, he’d signed a contract with the man for seven years’ work, and while he could leave, he doubted anyone was lining up to hire someone known for lying. It was unfair, he thought. No one was ever harmed by his joking that a wolf was roaming about. They were annoyed when the lie unravelled, but again, no harm done. Except for all the farm animals that went down the wolf’s maw. His trick may have cost someone some sheep. Possibly even a cow. Or several prized chickens. Fine, he supposed, everyone in his little farming village held a grudge against him. This was what had brought him to Edmur’s little shop of oddities, and he had made a place for himself well enough.

After all, Edmur sold all sorts of unconventional items, and Gery had just the honeyed tongue to open pocketbooks. Though his master was paid in unusual ways, the customers who frequented their little establishment in the near-forgotten corner of Atbury often were on the eccentric side. Sometimes, Edmur was paid with the most wondrous of things; everlasting strawberries on cheesecakes that never seemed to spoil, potions that could change your appearance, and once, a talking donkey his master was all too happy to unload upon an unsuspecting, unlucky patron.

This incident Gery remembered well, it had been his first lesson in reading all the labels in the shop. Edmur had shouted at him to locate a potion that could silence the beast, and he was too entranced by the smell of the potion to resist a sip. It had worked on him and the donkey, so much so that the old woman praised the beast for its silence before leading it away. He, on the other hand, had endured the laughter of his pock-faced master for several hours before the effects wore off.

You should’ve known to always read labels.

I did, he’d insisted, but Edmur hadn’t believed him.

Most people didn’t, if he was being honest. But at least with this job, it didn’t really matter, and Edmur, for all his brows furrowing at every word out of Gery’s mouth, still left him to tend the shop. There was apparently some trouble with giants or the like, and Edmur—ever the entrepreneur—had gone to see if there was something he could sell someone to help solve, or exacerbate, the problem.

Edmur hadn’t locked the door to the study when he left, Gery observed, and figuring he had some time before market day started, decided he should see what secrets Edmur kept inside. His first thought upon entering the study was that the room smelled delightful. Potions bubbled on the desk, separated out by colour, and his eyes were drawn to a deep golden one that looked and smelled like mead. Did that mean Edmur also dabbled in being potion-master?

Gery quickly scanned the notes by the potions, discovering a list of virtues—humility, honesty, patience— and rolled his eyes. Did Edmur also want to be a priest? Staring at the golden potion, he inhaled the honey scent, already tasting the sweetness in his throat. Surely his master would not miss just a sip?

The drink tasted as lovely as it smelled, except for how his tongue stung a bit as he swallowed. It must be alcoholic, he thought with a shrug, and placed the flask, missing one sip, back beside the rest. Then he tip-toed out the room and went to get the stall set up for the day.

There were several things he needed to get rid of, he thought, the first being this spinning wheel. It was payment from some gnome, and the carvings on it were intricate enough that Edmur wanted a handsome price for it — and today was the day Gery would get rid of the thing. Shivering, he planned to touch it as little as possible. There was something about the carvings on the wheel hub that gave him hives just thinking about them.

What do you have there?

He would recognize that smell anywhere. Little Red’s basket of baked goods for her grandmother, courtesy of her mother, who wanted her and her questions out of the house for a while, was heaven on the breeze.

A spinning wheel, he said, placing the item at the front of the stall. Then, he frowned. Normally, ignoring the girl was the better choice. Red loved a captive audience, and it didn’t take much for her to engage.

Can I see?

Her foot pressed hard on the wooden treadle, imitating how one would spin wool, and he heard the sharp crack of wood splintering. Gery took a deep breath. Normally, he would convince her to run off, tell her a story about wolves in the forest to make her run all the more faster, and he was about to do it again, except what came out of his mouth was—

The only reason your mother sends you to granny’s is she’s sick of you, he snapped. For just