He put the cup away, took out a small vial, and turned it in his hand. After pouring out a little, he returned it to his medicine chest.
The escort convoy continued along the Kingsroad toward King's Landing.
Throughout the journey, Mace drank milk of the poppy several times a day. Whenever he complained of pain, Qyburn gave him some. Whenever he could not sleep, Qyburn gave him some then, too.
"Maester Qyburn, why do I feel sleepier and sleepier? My body grows weaker by the day, and my wound isn't healing." It was not until the third day that Mace finally regained a brief moment of clarity and asked in a feeble voice.
Mace's complexion had turned ashen, deep dark circles had formed beneath his eyes, and his lips were pale.
"Those are merely the side effects of milk of the poppy, Lord Mace," Qyburn explained with a smile. He handed him a fresh cup and said, "You simply need more rest to recover faster. Besides, wounds take time to heal. You mustn't rush it."
Mace found Qyburn's words perfectly reasonable. He nodded, took the cup, and drank another serving.
What he did not know was that milk of the poppy should only be used in small doses. Drinking too much caused addiction, and by now, going even a day without it would leave him craving it desperately.
But he was merely an ignorant fool, a "Lord Inflated Fish" who would help count the money from his own sale.
As Qyburn watched him drink, a barely perceptible glint flashed through his eyes. He put the cup away and checked the wound on Mace's shoulder again. Not only had it failed to heal, but it was now showing signs of infection.
On the fifth day, just after the convoy passed