by Lynn Kurland
A key glinted in the semi-dark.
He wondered when his luck was simply going to run out, but apparently it wasn’t going to be that day. “Thank—”
He closed his mouth around the end of that offering because he realized who was holding that key. He supposed the man—or dwarf-king, as it happened—could just as easily have been holding onto the key to the dungeons below except he knew those cells had no doors. Anything else would have prevented those jailors from enjoying the sufferings of those incarcerated there.
“Your Majesty,” he managed.
Uachdaran barked out a word and werelight sprang to life above his head. His expression was not welcoming, and he made a production of pocketing his key.
“I told you to stay out of my solar.”
Acair blurted out the first thing that came to mind and wasn’t all surprised by what he heard.
“I apologize,” he said, giving himself up for lost on that score. “If you’ll have the truth, my mother suggested I go round and gather up lost bits of my soul. I think there might a piece in your solar. She fears that without a full complement, I will die if I attempt to face my enemy.”
Uachdaran looked as if he’d heard worse ideas, but apparently the present moment was not the time to discuss them.
“I had the palace scoured for vermin after the last time you crawled through it,” the king said tartly. “You’ll find nothing of yours inside.”
And that, Acair supposed, was going to be the best he was going to have from the monarch standing in front of him.
The king lifted his arm and pointed back down the passageway. “You’ll want to be on your way immediately, for reasons I’ll explain after my temper has cooled. I’ll help you find the front door. Wouldn’t want you getting lost and landing in my dungeon.”
Acair supposed things could have been much worse, so he nodded and followed the king through the palace, thoroughly grateful that there were indeed no unexpected detours toward lower levels. He walked out onto the front stoop.
Léirsinn was standing there, swathed in lovely traveling clothes with both their packs sitting at her feet. He looked at her quickly, but she only nodded slightly. He had the appropriate books and the spell of death he’d fetched from under the king’s chair on his person, but there were other things he’d collected on their journey that he hadn’t wanted to give up quite yet. His pack looked robust, so he felt confident that Léirsinn had gathered up everything they both still owned. He took the cloak she held out toward him, then turned and made the king a low bow.
“Thank you. This is more—”
“It is,” the king interrupted. “You may thank me by fixing those bloody rivers of yours.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“If you fail I will hunt you down, slay you slowly, then hang your rotting corpse on my front gates for all to admire.”
Acair didn’t doubt that for a moment. “Of course.”
“Your Granny is making mischief on my western border which gives you the perfect opportunity to scamper out the gates while watchers are distracted. I assume you’re clever enough to know what I’m getting at.”
Acair nodded carefully. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Just so you know, the lad you’re running from hasn’t attempted to lay any shadows on my land.”
“Your spells of ward are indeed formidable.”
“There is that,” the king agreed, “though I suspect the truth is that he’s too stupid to know what finds itself within my borders which, it galls me to admit, you are not. But that’s your mystery to solve, not mine.” The king nodded toward the courtyard. “There’s your mount being brought, may he throw you off at his first chance. I’ll do your lady the courtesy of a spell of un-noticing, though.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Acair said. “I don’t suppose you’d want to use it aloud, just so she’ll hear how ’tis properly done.”
The king rolled his eyes and brushed past him. Acair listened to the dwarf inquire politely after Léirsinn’s comfort, then offer her a suggestion or two about places where she might push magelike companions off the back of her horse so she might ride freely into her future.
He picked up their gear and secured it to Sianach’s saddle, climbed up behind Léirsinn, then listened to the king’s very useful and surprisingly simple spell of un-noticing. Uachdaran shot him a look.
“I’ll know if you use that in the future.”
“With permission, then?”
The king swore at him and walked off to gather his men for that piece of mischief he seemed to be looking forward to on his western flank. Acair put his arms around Léirsinn and happily turned the reins over to her. At least that way, he might manage to avoid being bitten by his horse right off.
She stopped Sianach when they were just outside the gates, sitting in such darkness that Acair wondered if that spell of the king’s would be necessary.
“Where to now?”
He took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t come to regret their destination.
“Home.”
Eight
Léirsinn followed Acair through the woods and wondered if his brothers had ever managed to outrun him. Not only was he perfectly silent, he was relentlessly swift. She had perfected the art of being silent and unmarked, but she thought she might have met her match in haste.
She suspected he wasn’t keen on the idea of being out in the wilds east of Durial without protection, which she appreciated. They had been covered by the king’s spell of un-noticing as Sianach had bolted across the sky wearing only the faintest suggestion of dragonshape, though it had vanished once they’d put foot to ground again. Acair had remarked with only the lightest of sighs that the king certainly wouldn’t want them unseen by the nymphs who controlled the rivers.
Sianach had disappeared, no doubt off to hunt for a late supper, and she had been perfectly happy to follow in Acair’s footsteps. It hadn’t taken long before she realized that what she was hearing hadn’t been thunder, it was the rushing of mighty waters.
No wonder the king couldn’t sleep.
Acair stopped so suddenly that she almost ran him over. He caught her by the arm to keep her from going sprawling, then held her until she was steady on her feet. She nodded her thanks, then looked out into a clearing that was large enough to have grazed one horse quite comfortably for a pair of hours. Beyond that seemed to lay the source of all the noise. She supposed there was at least one mighty river coming from the mountains and rushing over falls, though perhaps several met for a moment, then went their various ways.
She first thought that the gloom was less in that glade because of the mist reflecting even just the starlight, but she realized quite suddenly that it had everything to do with the man standing there.
Nay, not man, but an elf—and a king, by the look of the crown atop his snowy head.
The king caught sight of Acair and gasped. Léirsinn would have glanced at Acair, but she realized moving was going to be very unwise. The glint of a sword not a hand’s breadth in front of her face was proof enough of that. Obviously there was a previous relationship between the monarch in front of her and the man beside her, though she didn’t dare speculate on what it might entail. She watched the king doff his crown and clutch it with both hands which she supposed rendered that speculation unnecessary.
“You,” he snarled.
“I’m beginning to wonder if anyone ever remembers my name,” Acair muttered, then he stepped in front of her and started to make the crown-clutching monarch a bow. A different sword flashed silver in front of him before he could.
“Dionadair, leave it,” the king said. “I’m perfectly capable of seeing to this disgusting worker of vile magic myself.”
Léirsinn stepped in front of Acair out of habit. To his credit, he took her gently by the arm, pulled her back to stan
d behind him, then made the king a very small, very careful bow.
“King Sìle,” he said politely, “my most abject and heartfelt apologies.”
“For what?” the king snapped. “You’ve wreaked so much havoc across the whole of the world, I doubt you can remember what mischief you made within my borders!”
Léirsinn thought the king might have a point there. She eased forward to stand next to Acair, then felt his ever-present shadow wedge itself between them, its arms around their shoulders. She didn’t blame Acair for dealing it a firm elbow in its non-existent gut, but it remained unfazed.
“I will provide you with a list of offenses at my earliest opportunity,” Acair said, “and apologize for each in turn. Until that time, if I might present my companion, Léirsinn of Sàraichte. Léirsinn, His Majesty, King Sìle of Tòrr Dòrainn.”
She started to make him her best curtsey, then she actually heard the name Acair had said.
“Oh,” she said, feeling her mouth then drop open. Only good sense stopped her from blurting out that she remembered that Acair’s father had wed the youngest of a certain King Sìle’s five daughters. She imagined the king in front of her could finish that tale well enough.
“And his lovely guard captain,” Acair continued, “Dionadair of Tòrr Dòrainn. Also various and sundry other elven warriors of unimpeachable bravery, courage, and beauty—”
“Oh, shut up,” the king grumbled. “Why are you here?”
“I am—”
“About some mischief, no doubt,” the king interrupted. He paused, then frowned a bit more. “Why do you have that magic, mistress? And why are you keeping company with that bastard there?”
Léirsinn realized the king was speaking to her. It then occurred to her that he was asking about the business in her veins that seemed to have perked up as if it had sensed some other sort of magic that it recognized. She supposed she wasn’t surprised for even she could see what was sparkling in the air around the elven king.
“Ah,” she said, trying to invent something on the spot that would save them from another trip to a different dungeon, “the tale is long and very interesting, but the shortened telling of it amounts to the fact that my lord Acair is off to do heroic deeds and put a stop to a vile and pervasive evil. I have come along to help him as I may.”
There. That sounded reasonable as well as a bit like something Acair would have said. She was starting to understand why he spewed out so many compliments and apologies when meeting those who might want to put a sword through him first and ask about his intentions later.
“And if I might now offer that apol—” Acair put in, then he shut his mouth.
Léirsinn caught the tail-end of the look the king had sent him and supposed he was wise to not offer anything but silence at the moment. The king turned an only slightly less skeptical look on her.
“Where did you encounter him?” he asked.
“He was shoveling manure in my uncle’s barn,” she said.
“Was he?” the king said, looking slightly more interested. “Tell me that went on for quite some time.”
“Not as long as she would have liked,” Acair put in, “and if I might encourage perhaps a less-visible presence here?” He lowered his voice. “I’m being hunted.”
“Well, of course you’re being hunted,” the king said with a snort. “Anyone with any sense wants you dead. Dionadair, take the lads and have a look around to see who we might want to reward for their good intentions. I can contain Fionne’s runt for a bit myself.”
Léirsinn didn’t flinch as the king came to stand directly in front of them only because she’d spent a lifetime not giving any indication of her unease. She had to admit to being overwhelmed, though, by the sheer beauty of the monarch in front of her.
“’Tis his glamour,” Acair murmured. “Powerful stuff, that.”
The king leaned closer. “As is my magic, whelp, so you’d best not be reaching for any of your nasty little spells. Oh, and what do we have here?”
Léirsinn felt Acair’s spell shiver a bit before it slipped between them and made the king a low, shadowy bow. If it shared some sort of silent dialogue with the old elf, she wouldn’t have been surprised. What did surprise her was how it deserted them both and went to hover at King Sìle’s elbow.
“Yet something else that wants to do you in,” the king said pleasantly. “I approve. Now, Mistress Léirsinn of An Caol, what is your role in this quest?”
Léirsinn realized at that moment that she was past surprise when it came to what those of a magical bent might know about her, though the place where she’d been born was certainly nothing she had ever shared with anyone.
She paused. She had told Acair’s mother, true, but she suspected Fionne of Fàs didn’t visit all that often with the monarch standing in front of her.
“I’m just the stable hand,” she said.
Sìle studied her in silence for a moment or two, then nodded thoughtfully. “I think I might be wise to leave this alone, but I also believe that my aid will be required. I will do what I can.”
“Very gracious, Your Majesty,” Acair said, sounding very surprised.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the king growled, “though I understand you’re carrying one of my spells in your black heart.” He huffed a bit. “Don’t want it getting pilfered by some lesser mage before I can pull it from your chest myself.”
“You’ve been talking to your grandson,” Acair said.
“I have, and you may cease with those hushing motions you’re making—eh, what, Dionadair?”
Léirsinn noticed only then that the king’s guardsman had returned. He stepped up to the king’s side and leaned in to have a quiet word with his liege. King Sìle frowned.
“I believe you would be wise to attend to your affairs here quickly and be on your way. I’ll remain long enough to keep your lady company whilst you do what you must.”
“’Tis beyond what I could ask, Your Majesty,” Acair said, “but perhaps you might want to reconsider a safer locale—”
“Spare me your concern,” the king said shortly. “There is little left in this world that leaves me pacing the floor at night, though I understand from my good friend Uachdaran that such is not the case for him. I also understand you’re responsible for that, so I won’t stand in your way of fixing it. Dionadair, Rùnach told me this little fiend cannot use his magic, so go with him and aid him with what he needs.”
“As you will, my liege.”
Léirsinn watched Acair walk off with the king’s captain and reminded herself, as the silence grew uncomfortably long, that she wasn’t unaccustomed to important lords and their ilk. Then again, the lords her uncle entertained weren’t all that important and they definitely didn’t simply drop their crowns into a place of invisibility, then mutter threats under their breaths in languages that sounded like running water.
“That is an interesting charm you wear.”
Léirsinn looked at the king in surprise, then put her hand over the dragon charm Mistress Cailleach had given her. It occurred to her then that it was lying atop her cloak, visible, even though she usually kept it tucked away against her skin. Perhaps it, like her magic, had recognized someone it had an affinity with.
“I know the man who forged it,” the king continued. “I believe he tinkers with such trifles whilst waiting for his horseshoes to cool.”
“Does he?” she asked, beginning to understand why Acair’s mother was forever reaching for a notebook. She suspected she might come close to filling one with just the appalling things she’d heard over the past few weeks. “Is he a farrier, then?”
“A very fine one,” the king said, nodding. “Should you and I meet again in the future, I’ll arrange an introduction. I believe you two would have much to discuss.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, feeling a bit unbalanced b
y his generosity. “A happy coincidence to meet when I have this and you know its maker.”
“Ah, coincidence,” the king said. “I’m not much of a believer in it, gel.” He folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “Take the man who made your charm, for instance. A very famous blacksmith in his day, but with a love for horses that saw him venturing to other places outside his own forge to shoe kingly steeds. Who’s to say that one night whilst fashioning that, he envisioned an equally horse-mad lass who might need a bit of fiery courage to put up with her truly disreputable companion?”
Normally she would have said it sounded like absolute rubbish, but she’d seen so many unbelievable things over the past several weeks that even that didn’t sound unreasonable.
“Miraculous,” she agreed.
“Also miraculous is the fact that the fiendish bastard you’re keeping company with is pursuing a different sort of path at the moment,” the king said with a snort, “unlike his previous one which is littered with monarchs and their ilk knocking their knees together in fear.”
“I’m assuming Your Majesty doesn’t find himself amongst that group,” she said with a smile.
“Absolutely not,” Sìle said. “That isn’t to say that I’m not well aware of your questionable friend’s having tip-toed through my garden at least once. He’s fortunate I didn’t catch him at it.”
She clasped her hands in front of her and decided that when it came to Acair of Ceangail’s illicit activities, silence was her best choice.
The king shot her a look. “Discreet, are you? He’ll appreciate that, I’m sure.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to credit him with more than he deserves, but he is at least attempting to undo what he did to vex the king of Durial. As for anything else, who knows?”
“He saved my life,” she offered.
The king tilted his head. “Did he, now. How?”
“He helped me escape my uncle who wanted to slay me,” she said. “He also rescued a horse I loved from that Droch person in Beinn òrainn.”
The king frowned. “These acts of goodness are unsettling coming from him, I’ll admit.”