Chains lifted a bottle of something he’d called alchemical wine, the stuff was vicious and dark, like quicksilver. (…) [He] poured a good measure of the stuff into the empty glass, and in the darkness the wine ran like molten silver. Chains raised the glass to a level with his eyes.

‘A glass poured for the one who sits beside us unseen; the patron and protector (…)’.

The Lies of Locke Lamora