Saraore and the Trial Poisons

"How long until he wakes?"

"I do not know, my lord. He's the only one who has even thought of attempting this for each of the Trial Poisons.."

"But you are actively monitoring his state? I would not lose someone of his caliber- as you said, there are very few people who would even think of that as an opportunity once, let alone endure it twice."

"Of course," the stern faced Rhythiat replied coolly. "And I might add, I've been watching him myself. I have to say that I am rather curious as to how this turns out. If I dare say it, he will be one of our greatest."

The second Sage watching Saraóre nodded his agreement. "The future promises great things for this one, if his ideas do not kill him first." he said before leaving for the moment.

Rhythiat had his back to Saraóre, working on his most recent of research projects when a low groan emanated from the only occupied bed in the infirmary. "Saraóre?" he asked, setting aside his thick tome and notes.

The man's eyelids flickered open, revealing bloodshot pupils. "How long?" he muttered, allowing his eyes to fall shut once again.

Rhythiat answered immediately having expected the question. "Two days- it's the third of the month."  He replied as he pulled off his over-robe and restrained his flowing sleeve preparing to attend to the prone man.

Saraóre nodded silently, shifting slightly as Rhythiat approached, small vial in hand. "Do you want this now, or later?" the Healer Sage asked.

"Now," Saraóre answered with a grimace. "I remember drinking the antidote... what happened after that?"

Rhythiat handed Saraóre the vial and turned his attention to checking his pulse and also examining each of  Saraóre fingernails for the discoloration that would imply imminent permanent damage. "As I recall, you had enough time to set down your cup, before crashing to the floor. Unconsciousness was immediate. Though, it looks like you've managed to pull through yet again."

"Good,"  Saraóre said. "Four more to go then."

Rhythiat paused, shocked. "You're not serious, are you?"

Saraóre shrugged minutely. "I was."

Rhythiat took a deep breath, lacing his fingers together behind his back as he paced back to the head of  Saraóre's bed, looking down at his temporary charge. "And you are aware of the increased risk that you're putting yourself at during this recovery period? I mean.. you were out of it for a good day longer this time then last. At least wait a few weeks, for your own sake."

***

That of course, had been over twenty years ago. One thing had led to another, and Saraóre had been content – or perhaps, distracted long enough- to forget his original plans.   Now, mere minutes ago, Saraóre had alerted Rhythiat of his intents to repeat that process before he had drained the vial of deadly poison. With pursed lips, Rhythiat watched, double checking Saraóre's counting before the daring Sage drank the previously prepared antidote.  Once the cup was empty, Saraóre stumbled to the nearest chair and collapsed, his body still tight in it's fight against the pain that racked the muscles. Rhythiat sighed, waiting a heartbeat before lifting him to the bed nearby, already checking the time and monitoring his pulse.