by Lynn Kurland
“That,” Rùnach said with feeling, “I do not doubt in the slightest.”
“Come in,” Uabhann said, beckoning for him to enter. “I don’t get very many visitors.”
Rùnach imagined he didn’t. He walked into the man’s chambers and blinked in surprise. He could have been standing in the midst of any suite of rooms favored by a cultured gentleman. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t seen that same style of sofa in the headmaster of Buidseachd’s private solar. He thought he might like to know how that could possibly be, but perhaps later, when he was certain he would toddle back out that doorway alive.
He accepted a seat in front of a roaring fire, then didn’t protest the further offering of what looked to be a glass of port.
“Not poisoned,” Uabhann assured him. “In case you were wondering.”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“That thought crosses everyone’s mind.”
Rùnach almost laughed, but he thought that might be inappropriate. He sipped instead, thanked his host for the excellence of his libations, then set his glass down on the table at his elbow. He looked at the man sitting across from him, wearing runes that were only barely visible, and surrounded by a darkness that wasn’t necessarily evil.
“How long have you been at this?” he asked politely.
“At what?”
“The business of nightmares.”
Uabhann smiled. “Long enough.”
“Don’t suppose you gave my father any, did you?”
“I imagine I did, Prince Rùnach.”
Rùnach acknowledged the recognition with a nod. “I should thank you, then, for he had terrible ones.”
“Most were of his own making,” Uabhann said. “Guilty conscience, you know, troubling his sleep. I just added a few threads here and there when necessary.”
Rùnach didn’t doubt it. He considered, then decided there was no sense in not asking for what he needed.
“I have a book I need to look at.”
“Something nasty?”
“Fairly. And I’m afraid that if I open it in the great hall, I’ll bring the whole place down around my ears.”
Uabhann rubbed his hands together. “Sounds delightful. Let’s have a look here, then, shall we? Sìorraidh and I have an understanding, as you might imagine.”
Rùnach didn’t dare speculate, but he imagined they did indeed. He nodded, then took the book in both hands. He had to admit that he was nervous about opening it anywhere. He had very vivid memories of his grandfather’s glamour protesting the action. Loudly.
“I’m not evil, you know.”
Rùnach looked at him. “I never said you were.”
“I make people uneasy.”
Rùnach imagined he did. Uabhann wasn’t handsome, which Rùnach supposed was his saving grace. In his experience, evil had a very attractive face, which was what gained it entrance where it might not have found an open door otherwise. He shrugged.
“You don’t bother me.”
“Not as ugly as your sire, eh?”
“Actually,” Rùnach said, “you’re quite a bit uglier than my sire, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
That was an understatement, he had to admit. He was hardly any judge of male beauty, he supposed, but he had two good eyes and he could tell the difference between a troll and a faery. His father had been terribly handsome and all the more dangerous because of it.
Uabhann only smiled. “I’ll accept the compliment. Thank you.”
“But still I don’t think you’re evil,” Rùnach added.
“Perhaps your sight is clearer than most.”
“And perhaps you force people to see things they wouldn’t like to.”
Uabhann lifted his eyebrows briefly. “Perhaps.” He sat back and looked at Rùnach. “I do like the light,” he admitted, “but I do my best work in the shadows.”
“That seems reasonable,” Rùnach said. “No darkness, no appreciation for light.”
“What do you prefer, Prince Rùnach?”
“Rain.”
Uabhann looked at him, then smiled. “I see I’ll need to plan a bit more to entrap you, won’t I?”
“Is that your goal?”
“We’ve been without a First for almost three decades now,” Uabhann said with a shrug. “Aisling comes from a long line of powerful, canny women. Don’t want her being bamboozled by a pretty face.”
“I thought the hall doors would kill me if Bruadair didn’t like me,” Rùnach said.
“Her,” Uabhann said distinctly. “They would have killed her. You, Your Highness, have a far different test to pass.”
“Any hints?”
“Do you need hints?”
“They might be useful.”
And then he felt something tugging at his soul, though perhaps that was a poor way to put it. There was something calling to him, singing with a song that was almost too tempting to resist.
Calling to his pride.
His ego.
His mighty magic.
It was tempting to trot out a few spells for Uabhann and show him just what he was capable of—
He looked at Uabhann and let out his breath slowly. “I see.”
“Oh, laddie, I don’t think you’ve but begun to see, but there you have it.” He shrugged. “I make people uneasy.”
“I can see why.”
Uabhann looked at him. Well, through him, actually. Rùnach decided that perhaps he would do well to tread carefully around that one who was obviously not precisely what he seemed to be.
“Your half brother has dark dreams.”
Rùnach wondered if he should not bother looking any further at his book when apparently a veritable font of tidings was sitting right there in front of him. “Are you encouraging that?”
Uabhann smiled. “The idea has occurred to me.”
Rùnach suspected it had done more than just occur to the man in front of him. “How did you come to be here?”
“My father was a dreamspinner,” Uabhann said, “and his father before him. Where our line began, I hesitate to say for the source is not pleasant.” He paused and looked at Rùnach. “My grandfather’s grandfather was reared . . .” He paused again. “The locale is not pleasant either. Let us simply say that it gave him a unique perspective on evil and all its incarnations.”
“I won’t speculate.”
“You likely shouldn’t.” Uabhann gestured toward Rùnach’s book. “Let’s discuss that instead. What is it besides something nasty?”
“A book I created of spells to counter my father’s spells,” Rùnach said slowly, “a book I didn’t realize had been lost. When I found the book where I hadn’t left it, I quickly realized the innards were missing and had been replaced with what the covers currently hold.”
“Who lost the book?”
Rùnach considered. “Lost was perhaps a poor choice of words. I left it in the care of the witchwoman of Fàs, but she didn’t guard it very well.” Or at all was what he didn’t add and likely didn’t need to add.
“I’ve wandered in that woman’s dreams. They’re as tangled as her hair, if you’re curious.”
“I was and I’m utterly unsurprised. The twistings and turnings of just her conversation are alarming.”
“I believe you. So, what’s inside your little book now?”
“Scratches.”
Uabhann rose. “Bring it over to the table by the window, if you like.” He shot Rùnach a look. “It keeps the sunlight lovers happy.”
Rùnach imagined it would. He took his book over, set it down on the table, then looked at Uabhann briefly. Bruadair’s spinner of nightmares only watched him without expression. Rùnach cast caution—and his hope of continuing to breathe, it had to be said—to the wind, then opened his book.
The chamber didn’t shriek, but he felt something shift. Uabhann peered at the contents, then whistled softly.
“Isn’t that interesting.”
“Is it?”
He looked at Rùnach from the same ageless eyes Aisling had. “You don’t have a clue what’s there, do you?”
Rùnach leaned on his hands. “I’m guessing it might be a map of portals.”
Uabhann laughed a little. “Portals. Haven’t heard them called that in years. Sounds like something Muinear would call them.”
“What would you call them?”
“Doorways,” Uabhann said with a shrug, “but I haven’t much of an imagination. I like my nightmares to be fairly straightforward without undue fuss accompanying them.”
Rùnach would have laughed, but he suspected Uabhann was utterly serious. Suddenly, Uabhann turned and made a bit of a bow. Rùnach looked over his shoulder to find Aisling standing there just inside the doorway.
He was tempted to make a bit of a bow himself.
He wondered if she would bloody his nose if he did so, but decided that he would chance it. He made her a low, courtly bow, then hoped he wouldn’t straighten to find her fist in his face. Instead, she was looking at him with less irritation than an expression that seemed . . . unsettled. He frowned immediately.
“What is it?”
“I felt something . . . shift.”
“What does Bruadair have to say about it?” he asked, then he shook his head. He could hardly believe he was talking about a country as if it were an entity. At least in Tòrr Dòrainn, the flora and fauna were all that made their opinions known. He was beginning to think that Aisling’s entire country had a mind of its own.
Aisling smiled at Uabhann, then looked at Rùnach. “It’s silent on the matter,” she said, but she looked almost haunted by the fact. She looked at Uabhann. “I hesitate to speak.”
“In front of me?” Uabhann asked in surprise. “I’ve heard things that would turn this wee elven princeling’s hair white, if that eases you any. You may say whatever you like. I guarantee you I won’t be shocked.”
“I don’t want to erode any confidence in, ah, or rather about, ah . . .” She stopped. “I don’t want to speak amiss.”
Uabhann gestured to the book on his table. “You’re not going to do anything worse than the author of that has already done.”
“I don’t want to do anything worse than what he’s done.”
Uabhann smiled. “And that, my lady, is one of the many reasons why you’re the First.”
Rùnach leaned against the table and looked at Aisling. “I think you may speak freely here.”
She took a deep breath. “I think Bruadair is growing weaker.”
He blinked. “What?”
She shrugged helplessly. “Here the magic is very strong, stronger than anywhere I’ve felt it.” She looked at him. “Can you believe I just said that?”
“I can,” he said with a smile. “You, a simple weaver with no magic.”
“Is that what she believed?” Uabhann interrupted incredulously.
“I’ll hire a king’s bard to do justice to the tale,” Rùnach said seriously, “for it will take a very skilled one to tell it properly.” He looked at Aisling. “So what do you think?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m not even sure how to describe it.” She gestured at the table. “When you opened that book, because I’m assuming you just did, the magic shuddered. As if it prepared for an attack.”
Rùnach felt the book behind him shudder a bit at her words, a sensation that he had to admit was one of the most unwholesome things he’d ever had the misfortune of experiencing in a lifetime of numerous unwholesome things. He looked at the book behind him, then at Uabhann.
“Interesting.”
“Very.” Uabhann made Aisling another bow. “If you’ll permit me an opinion, I think the others should come and see what’s here. I’ll go fetch them, if you like.”
“Thank you,” Aisling said. “Do you mind if we stay here?”
“Of course not,” he said. “The First and a prince of Tòrr Dòrainn in my humble chambers? I must be dreaming. Good ones, for a change,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked across his chamber and out the door.
Rùnach looked at Aisling. “Interesting friends you have here.”
“They say he’s the most intimidating of them all,” she said very quietly. “No one likes him very much.”
“Ah, courtly intrigues,” Rùnach said with a smile. “Lovely. What do you think of him?”
She looked at him steadily. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”
He smiled and reached out to pull her into his arms. “I know you’re not. I think Master Uabhann would be very pleased to hear that.”
“Will he mind if I ask for extra werelight when he’s around, do you think?”
He laughed. “I daresay he’ll find a way to tolerate it.” He pulled back and looked at her. “Your eyes are the same color, you know.”
“As Uabhann’s?” she asked in surprise. “Are they?”
“It seems to be a characteristic of several of the spinners I’ve met so far,” he said, “which admittedly isn’t all that many.”
“Inbreeding back in the mists of time?”
“An ability to see more clearly than others?”
“Are you always going to answer questions with questions?”
“Should I, do you think?”
She leaned up, kissed him quickly, then smiled at him. “It’s reassuring.”
“Thankfully,” he said. He leaned back against the table, then drew her over to lean with him so he could watch the door. It occurred to him that he was doing it, but he supposed Aisling wouldn’t notice.
Only she did.
“I think we’re safe here,” she ventured.
“Bad habits developed over a lifetime of looking over my shoulder.”
“I understand.”
“I imagine you do,” he said quietly. He put his arm around her shoulders. “We’ll try to see to things so we don’t have to do that anymore, Aisling.”
“Do you think we’ll manage that?” she asked, looking at him with those pale, fathomless eyes of hers. “To rescue the magic of an entire country . . .”
“Or tinker with the dreams of an entire world,” he said with a smile. “Which do you think is more difficult?”
“Do I have to answer that?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
“You’re doing it again.”
He smiled. “I’m trying to distract you. I’d rather use other methods but your steward is standing at the doorway and I think his brow is beginning to pucker. Best for me not to irritate the man with the keys to your schedule right off, wouldn’t you agree?”
“My schedule,” she said with a faint laugh. “What a thought.”
It was something to think about, though, and he supposed it wouldn’t do for the others to see him sitting so casually with the leader of their exclusive group, so he dropped his arm from around her shoulders and put his hand over his book. Aisling shot him a warning look, which he responded to with a quick smile. He supposed she might have had something to say to him, but the entire council of dreamspinners was suddenly standing there in a little semicircle in front of her. Freasdail slid in from one side and made Aisling a very low bow.
“My lady,” he said, “I have come to see if you need refreshment. Wine? Biscuits? Little cakes soaked in lemon juice and sprinkled with delicate sugars?”
“Sounds lovely,” said a voice. “Freasdail, set a course for the kitchens and leave the girl room to breathe.”
Rùnach watched Bristeadh come to stand at the side of the group and shoo Freasdail off. Surprising, but what did he know about the political machinations of dreamspinners and their servants? Bristeadh looked at his daughter and smiled.
“Your companions are here, daughter. What do you need from them?”
Aisling nodded. “The prince of Tòrr Dòrainn was looking for an opinion on something.”
Rùnach faced the gaggle of dreamspinners gathered there. He’d already encountered them as a group before, but at a distance and through the haze of terrible spell
s. They were a much friendlier-looking group at the moment. He cleared his throat.
“I have a book—”
Well, apparently that was enough of an announcement for them. They crowded around him to see just what sort of book he had. He unveiled it to reactions ranging from gasps of horror to murmurs of appreciation. The last was from, of course, Uabhann. And then the suggestions came at him from all directions.
“Pull it apart.”
“Someone fetch a book knife!”
“Take it out of the cover first, naturally.”
Rùnach couldn’t bring himself to argue when Aisling’s compatriots began to assault Acair’s writings, if that’s what they could be called. There was a bit of jostling, much discussion and rearranging of sheaves of paper, some low arguing, but all of it left Rùnach standing to the side, watching in horror as something emerged there on the table.
A map of the world, the current Nine Kingdoms being given especial attention.
“Oh, my,” someone said faintly. “Whose book is this again?”
“Acair of Ceangail,” Uabhann said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Bloody brilliant, isn’t he?”
“If you like that sort of thing,” said a woman who looked as if she’d first touched a spinning wheel several centuries earlier. “Gauche, if you ask me.”
“But effective,” Bristeadh said quietly. “Rùnach, what do you think?”
Rùnach found several pairs of eyes on him. He didn’t bother to count them, though he supposed he might be able to do so later from memory. He took a deep breath.
“I think my half brother is trying to take over the world.”
Seventeen
Aisling wandered aimlessly through passageways, wishing she could have found someplace to sit. Actually it wasn’t so much the sitting that she wished for as the surcease from thinking.
Rùnach’s bastard brother had made a map of the world.
That wouldn’t have troubled her before, most likely because she never would have been the wiser as she’d sat in the Guild and woven her endless lengths of cloth. If she’d seen his map, she likely would have silently criticized his cartographer skills and gone about her business. But now she knew what the map actually was, that Acair had made particular marks on the map that corresponded to particular kingdoms where there were portals known only to dreamspinners and those select spinners apportioned to royal houses.