“Steel flakes in suspension,” she said, wiggling the vial. “Since when have you carried one of these?” Wax asked, taking it from her. “Since about six months ago. I put one into my purse in case you might need it.” She raised her other hand, displaying two more. “I carry the other two because I’m neurotic.” He grinned, taking all three. He downed the first one, then nearly choked. “What the hell is in this?” “Other than steel?” Steris asked. “Cod-liver oil.” He looked at her, gaping. “Whiskey is bad for you, Lord Waxillium. A wife must look out for her husband’s health.”
