by Jacqueline Goldblatt
The crafting of a good lie always begins with four things; a smattering of the truth, a feather, a bottle of India ink, and a piece of salt water taffy. The flavor of the taffy doesn’t matter, just as long as it’s sticky and sweet and tastes like tears, bitter and briny. Lies should be honeyed after all, but not saccharine. There is always an acrid quality that is a part of their being, no matter how sugary their wording. Feathers of any sort will do as well, just so long as they are light and fluttering, able to lift an idea, false or factual, off the ground. Truths, or the client’s version of them anyway, are included in the payment. The ink must be black, however. Those who require our services aren’t in need of white lies, after all. No, to see a liesmith is to have a truth twisted, warped, corrupted. It’s not a pretty undertaking in the conventional sense, but, after a time, one finds beauty in it. In order to survive, one must find beauty in whatever they can, and lies provide that beauty, even if it comes at a price. And, as to that price…
Payment always comes before the crafting. The customer may whine and mope, rage and cry, but stand firm as an oak against a summer storm. Greed is not your intent. In fact, by demanding payment first, you are being generous. You are giving the customer the opportunity to see what they will lose, should they continue with the transaction. Some things are easier to part with than others. A lock of hair, a kiss, three pennies, and a stray matchstick; all easy. The memory of your first child being born, feeling the sun on your skin, being able to sleep soundly at night without a weary mind and heart; much, much harder to sacrifice. I remember one notable occasion, many years ago, where the price was so high I thought the customer would balk and turn away. After all, the instinctive memory on how to breathe is necessary for survival. However, much to my surprise, the client returned the next day, affairs having been placed in order and proper arrangements having been made. I was but a young thing then, just having graduated from my white robes to the traditional grey, unaware of the lengths people will go to distort reality, so, naturally, I was shocked. Still, reagents are reagents, and during those times they were not as easy to come by, so I accepted the payment and gave him what he asked for. He had just enough time to disseminate the lie before the Great Equalizer came for him. Amazing what men will do for their political views, but who am I to question them? Besides, lies and politics are invariably intertwined, so for a tenderfoot such as myself, it was the perfect assignment. Oh, but look at me, rambling about the past again. The point is that all’s fair in love and liesmithing, at least between customer and crafter. What the customer does with the lie afterward…well, that’s on their conscience, not yours.
Once the customer has paid the necessary sum, the crafting can begin. Have the customer whisper the truth into a thick glass bottle, the customary roses and serpents having been carved into its sides beforehand. As soon as the last word falls from their lips, stop it immediately. You do not want the truth escaping. It will struggle and squirm, batter against the sides of its cage, claw at the cork, do anything within its disposal to escape, but, assuming you’ve carved the symbols and done everything correctly, its efforts will prove fruitless. Once it realizes this, and it will, the little truth will weaken, wilt, and eventually die, having been strangled by the wicked rose thorns and suffocated by the serpents hiding under the delicate blooms. Do not worry about the snakes devouring it; the truth never was to their taste.
Pour the limp little body of the truth into a bowl of ink and stir it round with a feather, chanting the necessary incantations for whatever affect the lie is meant to achieve. You’ll know the mixture is ready when it forms soft peaks, much like a meringue, though a far less palatable one. This is where the taffy comes in. Dip the sweet into the mixture until it is fully covered, and then return it to the customer. Assuming you’ve performed everything correctly, once they eat it, the lie will flow freely from their lips and out into the world. And what a world it is, where men can buy and sell lies as grocers sell produce. Did you know my mother grew up in a world without The Craft? How horrible that must have been! Why, I can’t even- Oh! That’s the door! Come, apprentice. This next customer, methinks, is one you should serve. You are certainly more than ready for your first crafting. Oh, don’t give me that look! Trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you, would I?