Then, in front of the trembling boy, the Physician solemnly uttered a few gravely-spoken nonsense syllables, and passed his free hand before him as he gazed deep into his one good eye, and put the cup into his grasp.
"Drink!" he smiled encouragingly, crinkling his eyes again in the most engaging and kindly manner, although it screwed up his whole face into a mass of hairy wrinkles. "Drink every drop, and praise the gods. It is all you have to do."
The boy took it, held it up, and then began to drink. It was -in Si'Wren's knowledgeable estimation- possessed of an almost intolerably bitter taste, but the fine white wine would no doubt commute the bitterness with it's rare ethers. The boy gasped for air, and declared bluntly, "It burns in my stomach!"
"Finish it," Habrunt urged firmly.
"Hut!" said the Physician, stopping the boy before he could obey.
The Physician took the cup from the boy, swirled it's contents expertly to stir up the remaining powder from the bottom, and reached it up to the child's lips as he soothingly breathed the words, "Drink quickly now!"
The boy gulped down the rest.
"Now—sit," the Physician said, taking the cup from the boy's hands.
Obediently, the child tried to sit down, and would have fallen clear over backwards had his mother not anxiously enveloped him in her arms and ample bosom as she crouched quickly behind him.
In a shy, soft voice, the boy exclaimed breathlessly, "It's bitter!"