Umber

Umber sighed. Poison. Of course there would be poison - why hadn't he considered that? It was one of her favorite ploys. Of course, not having a working body for poison to affect for a few millenia had somewhat dulled his instincts in that regard. Frankly, he'd lost count of the times people had watched, struggling to hide their astonishment, as he quaffed glasses full more of wine than of poison - or of the times he'd fed on blood so tainted that it might as well have been venom.

Growling, he told Mellita to wait, and concentrated, turning his Second Sight inward. He forced his mind along the twisting pathways of the blood, focusing on it, seeking out the impurities - he could visualize them, like an oily sheen gleaming in an unhealthy rainbow, spreading swiftly through his veins. With a roar of pain and effort, he sent the white fires of purging magic through his blood. He fell to his hands and knees in the muck, retching as he forced a purge from his body. Eventually he stood, pale and trembling, but alive.

Of course, he thought, as he trudged through the disgusting sewer sludge, alert for any more hidden pitfalls, now he was even weaker than his normal mortal frame would suggest - and no doubt his love would know of his approach...