River of Dreams

by Lynn Kurland

  He finally leaned against the wall near a window and looked out into the garden that was drenched in afternoon sunlight. How fortunate his grandfather was to have had that view to admire every day for the whole of his very lengthy life.

  Rùnach sighed. He hadn’t thought about the length of his own life recently, though at the moment two things came to mind that bothered him.

  First, he wondered how long Aisling would live and if she would be willing to live with him for the duration of that life.

  Second, he realized at that moment that he didn’t particularly want to die, especially at the hands of a runt who whilst powerful had absolutely no redeeming qualities. He could bring to mind scores of incidents where Acair had been cruel not even for the pleasure of it. He’d been cruel simply because he could be.

  Obviously he was going to have to determine what those markings were and why Acair wanted the book so badly.

  A pity he could think of only one place where the master of the house—or mistress, as the case was—might have the knowledge to help him with that. Fortunately for them all, it was on the way to the country under discussion. If one looked at a map in the right way. With a great deal of imagination and folded in the middle.

  He looked away from his contemplation of the garden and realized that Aisling was watching him with those fathomless eyes of hers. And he realized at that moment something that had absolutely nothing to do with his quest or her but seemed to have a great deal to do with all those days he wasn’t quite ready to surrender yet.

  He loved her.

  He pushed away from the wall, pulled her up out of her seat, then took her face in his hands.

  “What are you doing?” she managed.

  “I think I’m going to kiss you.”

  “Why?”

  Someone laughed. He was fairly sure it was his brother, so he shot Ruith a dark look.

  “I believe it’s best if you court the girl for a bit before you begin kissing her,” Sosar put in. “Just a suggestion.”

  “I don’t need any help,” Rùnach growled.

  “Well, she seems to think you do.”

  Rùnach looked at Aisling. “Are you confused?”

  “Very.”

  He sighed, then put his arms around her and pulled her close. “Very well. I’ll clarify later.” He looked down at her. “You may want to go sit by my grandmother.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m about to say something my grandfather isn’t going to like.”

  She considered, then pushed out of his arms and resumed her seat. She looked up at him. “I’ll be fine here.”

  He looked at her for a moment or two and considered. There was something different about her. Something steely he hadn’t seen there before.

  It made him a little nervous, truth be told.

  He shot her a warning look she completely ignored, then he cleared his throat and looked at the men of his family assembled there. That gave him pause, he had to admit. He was fairly sure he had made important announcements at several like gatherings during his youth, announcements having to do with plans to unman, unnerve, or unhorse—in a manner of speaking—his illustrious sire. To their credit, not a man had ever mocked his plans. His grandfather had roared, of course, because that was what Sìle tended to do when things weren’t his idea to begin with, but that had been somewhat comforting.

  He had the feeling the roar that would no doubt ensue at his current announcement was going to deafen everyone in the room.

  “I appreciate the aid,” he said, sweeping them all with a look he hoped bespoke just how much he had appreciated it, “and because of that, I’ve settled on a plan.”

  Sìle motioned for him to move away from Aisling. “She’ll be safer that way.”

  Rùnach would have done so, but Aisling reached up and covered his hand that was resting on the back of her chair with her very cold fingers.

  “Stay,” she said.

  Rùnach wished he were better at handling trouble coming from two different directions than he was. It was obviously a skill he was going to have to hone—and quickly—if he planned on spending any time with Aisling of Bruadair. He cleared his throat.

  “I’m going to go to Taigh Hall,” he said, happy to at least have some idea where he needed to wind up, “but I must resolve this issue with Acair as well. I think I can do both by traveling in a fairly straight direction.”

  “And I worry about your map-reading skills,” Sosar said with exaggerated slowness. “There isn’t anything of substance between here and Taigh Hall, if memory serves.”

  “Save Léige,” Làidir said dryly.

  “I said fairly straight,” Rùnach said. “I need to know what Acair’s book means.”

  “It’s rubbish,” Sìle said dismissively.

  Ruith cleared his throat politely. “I wouldn’t say that, Grandfather,” he said carefully. “I had a look at it earlier today, and I believe it to be actually fairly perilous.” He looked up. “Where are you planning on going to find out details, brother?”

  Rùnach took a deep breath. “I’m going to see the witchwoman of Fàs.”

  The room erupted. Actually, only one end of the table erupted, but the sound was so loud, it seemed as if the roof might soon come off the chamber.

  “Absolutely not!” Sìle thundered.

  “She’s on the way north,” Rùnach said reasonably.

  “And you will go into that harridan’s house with no magic?” Sìle roared. “Have you lost all sense?”

  “I think I’ve finally found some.”

  Sìle seemed to realize that he needed to breathe. He took a deep breath, then released a gusty sigh. “She’s a village witch. Hardly worthy of your time.”

  “She’s very powerful.”

  “Her power is of a common sort,” Sìle said shortly.

  Rùnach suppressed the urge to sigh. “Grandfather, she knows everyone and everything. There is not a more meticulous diarist in all the Nine Kingdoms. If anyone knows what these marks mean, it will be her.”

  “She looks as if rats have been nesting in her hair!”

  “Her grooming leaves aught to be desired,” Rùnach allowed, “but I believe she prefers to look as if she’s just rolled out of bed. It puts her visitors into a state of underestimating her.”

  “And you never underestimate her,” Aisling said.

  He shot her a brief smile. “Never.”

  “She’s evil,” Sìle insisted.

  “She’s missing a functioning moral compass,” Rùnach said, “which doesn’t necessarily make her evil.”

  “It does make her reprehensible.”

  “But understandable.”

  “And unpleasant.”

  “She likes me.”

  Sìle looked momentarily stymied, then he shook his head sharply. “You won’t go alone.”

  “I can’t ask anyone—”

  “You aren’t asking,” Sìle said firmly. “I’m insisting. Làidir, you’ll find my crown is in the cabinet behind—”

  “Grandfather, nay,” Rùnach said, stunned. “I couldn’t allow it.”

  “Allow it?” Sìle repeated, looking as if the gale were readying for another good blow. “Who do you think you are, whelp, to tell me what to do?”

  “I believe, Your Majesty,” Aisling said quietly, “he’s someone who loves you.”

  Rùnach didn’t dare smile, because his grandfather would have made the effort to get up out of his chair so he could deliver a brisk blow to the back of a grandson’s head, of that Rùnach was certain. He wasn’t even pleased to see that his grandfather was momentarily winded. That might have been because Aisling’s next words had stolen his own breath.

  “Besides, I’m going to go along to keep him safe.”

  Sìle closed his eyes briefly before he leaned forward and looked at Aisling seriously. “You, my girl?”

  “Me, Your Majesty.”

  Sìle chewed on his words for a moment or two. “I don’t hold
with the idea of women going on quests, which I believe I said before. It’s unseemly. And dangerous.”

  “But necessary.”

  Rùnach watched his grandfather look at his wife in consternation.

  “Are you listening to this?” he asked in disbelief. “She isn’t even spawn of mine, and yet she exhibits this unsettling independence.”

  “I find it quite admirable, husband.”

  Sìle pursed his lips at her, then turned a frown on Aisling. “I don’t want to be impolite, my gel, but how will you keep Rùnach safe?” He snorted suddenly. “As if that is the question here! How will either of you be safe on this road that I can guarantee will lead you places neither of you will want to go?”

  “I can spin things,” Aisling said. “Air and water and fire. It tends to unnerve those we meet who have less than honorable intentions.”

  “Aye, Aisling, you can,” Sìle conceded, “but you’ve had the element of surprise on your side until now. What do you do if you and Rùnach come upon a clutch of mages? All seven of his bastard brothers at once? That is enough to give any mage pause.”

  “Even you, Your Majesty?”

  “Well, not me, of course, but I am not afraid of little magelings.”

  “Neither am I.”

  Which was, Rùnach had to admit with a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, perhaps more truth than was good for her. He pushed away from the wall and walked over to squat down by her chair. He looked up at her.

  “I want you to stay here.”

  She looked at him for a moment or two, then reached out and touched his scarred cheek. “I am too old to be stupid and arrogant,” she said very quietly, “but this is my quest, and I must see it through to the end, wherever that end might lie.”

  And then she leaned over and kissed him.

  On the end of the nose, but he supposed it was a start. At least she wasn’t looking at the tips of his ears any longer.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said, and by that he meant not a chance in hell.

  She only looked at him steadily. Rùnach was vaguely unnerved by her look, but he was nothing if not confident when he’d made a decision for someone else. He rose and glanced at his grandfather.

  “I appreciate your concern, but I’m going alone.”

  Sìle rubbed his hands over his face. “Brèagha?”

  “Aye, my love?”

  “When did I lose control over my progeny?”

  “Several centuries ago, I believe, dear.”

  “It seems more recent than that.”

  “I don’t think so, darling.”

  Rùnach stood back from the table as his grandfather rose and called for maps to be brought. He was happy to watch his grandmother rescue Aisling and draw her over to sit by the fire, no doubt to keep her out of the fray until absolutely necessary.

  Rùnach didn’t need to watch to know what would happen. His family would gather around the map laid out on the table, then discussion would begin about strategy. He supposed the conversation might be more involved than usual given the destination and his own particular weaknesses.

  He jumped a little when he realized Aisling was watching him. He smiled at her and had a very faint smile in return. He considered, then went to join the lads, but that was almost more of a diversionary tactic than anything useful.

  That woman was plotting something; he would have staked his horse on it.

  He had the feeling he wasn’t going to like her plan at all when he discovered what it was.

  Eleven

  Aisling wandered along the passageway, trying to clear her head. She had spent the afternoon in Sìle’s private study listening to more discussion about Bruadair than she thought she would ever hear in the entirety of her life.

  Map after map had been produced, and she’d had an education in just what her country looked like. She’d had no idea that it was so full of mountains and lakes and rivers. She supposed she should have realized as much, but the memories she had of her childhood were few and honestly not terribly pleasant, most of them having to do with her mother and yet another task to see accomplished.

  It was odd how few memories she had of her father. He had been there, she was sure, but she honestly couldn’t remember him having spoken overmuch. Then again, her mother had never taken a breath, so perhaps he had never been able to find an appropriate space in which to insert a comment or two.

  After maps in the king’s chamber had been studied to everyone’s satisfaction, the conversation had turned to kingdoms and rulers, and how the latter had affected the former and what was perhaps to be found once the dust had settled.

  By the time the sun had set and a vibrant twilight had covered the garden outside King Sìle’s window, the talk had turned to mages, and she had turned to the door. The queen had decamped an hour earlier so Aisling didn’t feel too terribly guilty about abandoning the men to their talk of things she didn’t want to listen to. The queen had promised to return after she’d seen to preparations for supper. Rùnach had made her promise to return as well, which she supposed she should do—to keep him from escaping, if nothing else.

  She considered going back to her chamber and fetching the book King Nicholas had given her, but she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t find more unsettling things inside, so perhaps that wasn’t a safe idea either.

  Not that safety was going to be factoring into her future any time soon.

  She walked more swiftly in an effort to escape several truths that were nipping at her heels, but it was futile. She couldn’t outrun them, couldn’t elude them, couldn’t avoid facing them.

  The first truth was, no matter what the lads down at the pub in Beul had said, she had the feeling it would take an army to overthrow Sglaimir, and that army would be well-served to have quite a bit of magic at its disposal. Sneaking back across the border—if such a thing could even be done successfully—and marching up to Sglaimir sitting on his throne to tap him on the shoulder and ask him politely to go sit somewhere else wasn’t going to work. She doubted that, even with the superior qualities of the elven bows she’d shot that morning, she was going to be allowed to simply walk into his audience hall and put an arrow through his heart. And somehow, the thought of Rùnach slipping into the palace to attempt to stab Sglaimir whilst he was about his morning ablutions was one she simply couldn’t contemplate.

  But to do nothing was, now, unthinkable.

  How could she possibly leave her country in the state it was when she knew what it could be? And how could she leave the man who had volunteered to save that country to see to the deed alone when she might be of use to him?

  She rubbed her hands over her face and considered briefly going to bed early, but she knew that wouldn’t serve her for she would dream. After the things she had seen in Rùnach’s book, she was genuinely afraid of what might find its way into those dreams.

  She stopped suddenly and frowned. Just what had he meant when he said he thought he was going to kiss her?

  “My lady, are you unwell?”

  She blinked and realized that Giollan was standing in front of her, looking at her carefully as if he feared that startling her might send her into some sort of fit. Given the fact that she couldn’t seem to string two thoughts together in any semblance of coherence, she thought he might have something there. But how was she to ask a lad about the ridiculous statements a grown man had made?

  He couldn’t have meant that he wanted to kiss her. He was a prince, and she was, well, she was a weaver from a country that might be the cause of his death. If he had any sense, which she knew he did, he would satisfy his chivalry that wasn’t all that rusty and then hastily hurry off to some salon or other where he would find a lengthy line of very eligible maids from noble houses waiting for their turn to have his attentions.

  Damn them all anyway.

  “Who, my lady?”

  She looked at Giollan in surprise. “Ah, no one, lad. Just thinking aloud.” And hopefully not so loudly that he’d he
ard all her thoughts. She attempted a smile. “I’m fine. How is the conference going?”

  “They’re still closeted in King Sìle’s solar. I was sent to watch over you and see to your needs.”

  “Very kind,” she said. “I think I’ll make for the library for a bit. I can find my way back, I think.”

  He nodded but didn’t move. She nodded back, then walked away in the direction she thought she should have been going. It only took one glance over her shoulder to find that her page was following along behind her at a discreet distance. She wasn’t sure if she should have been offended that he didn’t trust her to get anywhere without aid or moved that someone had obviously sent him after her to . . . well, if it had been Rùnach to do so, it had been to make sure she didn’t do something untoward.

  It was unusual, she had to admit, to have someone looking after her. Unusual and somehow quite lovely.

  She found the library after only a mistaken turn or two, then presented herself at Leabhrach’s desk. He smiled pleasantly.

  “Mistress Aisling, what can I provide you with?”

  She hesitated, then supposed there was no reason not to be frank. “I was wondering if I might see the queen’s paintings again.”

  “Of course,” he said, not looking the least bit unsettled by the topic. “I have them right here.”

  She took the large leather case, then hesitated. “I’m not sure this is appropriate,” she said slowly, “but I would like Prince Rùnach to see these. If that might be possible.”

  He waved her on. “Take them with you, of course. The queen gave specific instruction that you be allowed free rein with them.”

  “Did she?” Aisling asked in surprise. “She is very kind.”

  “She is that, my lady. And if you’re interested, she is the one who came down last night and suggested that there might be things you might want to see.”

  Aisling was somehow unsurprised. She thanked him, then left the library, Queen Brèagha’s paintings under her arm. She made her way slowly back to King Sìle’s study, only having to look at Giollan twice for the slightest tipping of his head to indicate the proper passageway to turn down. An elf stood guard at the door, but he opened it for her without hesitation. Aisling smiled at him, then stepped just inside the doorway and paused to judge how things were proceeding.