by Lynn Kurland
What was less pleasant was thinking about what had happened to her earlier that morning.
She shouldn’t have gone out to the garden. She was fairly certain Acair had roused long enough the day before to remind her that she should stay inside. She was absolutely certain that she’d suggested tartly that he mind his own affairs and leave her to do as she pleased, but by then he’d fallen back asleep and likely hadn’t heard her.
When it came to mages and magic, she thought she might want to take his suggestions more seriously the next time around.
An innocent walk out in the garden, though. What could possibly have gone amiss there? She’d had confidence in Acair’s spell, so her most pressing concern had been finding a cloak to use in warding off the chill.
The mage had been waiting just outside the garden gate. How he’d known she was outside she didn’t know given that Acair’s spell of concealment had still been hanging there, doing what he’d created it to do.
Perhaps Sladaiche had heard the back door open. Perhaps Sianach’s barking had alerted him to someone in the garden. Perhaps he had simply taken a stab in the dark and crossed his fingers that someone had come outside. She wondered if he’d actually believed that she would be foolish enough to simply walk through the gate and give herself up for lost.
She hadn’t expected him to fling a shard of magic toward the house that she’d been convinced was going to go directly through what lay over the garden and slay her.
Acair’s perfectly impenetrable spell had fluttered just the slightest bit, once, then gone on about its glorious task of keeping her safe.
She’d turned and walked calmly back the way she’d come. If she’d only managed that for a total of four paces before she’d bolted up the stairs and into the house, slammed the door shut, then fetched a chair to wedge under the latch, she supposed she was the only one who would know. Sianach had barked at the door immediately after, which had almost sent her into a dead faint.
She’d been tempted to leave him outside to fend for himself, but she wasn’t that cowardly. She’d brought him in, replaced the chair, then run through the house to perch on the edge of her current roost and indulge in a prayer or two that Acair would wake. She’d made a fire, but that had burned to embers an hour ago and she hadn’t dared go outside for more wood.
The fire leapt to life suddenly and she shrieked.
“Just me,” Acair said hoarsely.
She realized he was awake and watching her. She dropped to her knees next to him and suppressed the urge to fling herself at him. He reached for her hand.
“How long?”
“Almost two days.”
He put his free hand over his eyes, then groaned. “My apologies.”
“Right out of the gate with one, I see.”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?”
She thought that was quite a bit less terrifying than what she’d experienced earlier, but perhaps that was a tale better saved for later. She was happy to simply sit there and not be alone. Well, she supposed she was happy that her companion was alive and awake, but perhaps she didn’t need to admit that at the moment.
She realized he was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
“You’re safe, darling.”
She took a deep breath. “I know.”
“Anything interesting happen?” he asked.
“I didn’t use all of your tokens,” she managed. “There’s one left.”
He looked at her in surprise, then his eyes narrowed. “A very poor jest, that one.”
“Just a bit of good-natured sport,” she said, her mouth dry. She imagined she didn’t need to say how close she’d come to rummaging around in his purse for his spell of death just in case.
She was starting to see why mages used them.
“Stop holding up that polished glass so I might see all my flaws,” he muttered. He sat up, then apparently regretted it. He lay back down with a groan. “Any change?”
“He tried to break through your spell.”
Acair put his arm over his eyes, then let go of her hand and held open his other arm. “Come keep me in one piece for a moment, love.”
She stretched out next to him and tried not to wail, though she supposed if there were a place to fall apart, ’twas there. If he noticed how badly she was shaking, he made no mention of it. He simply put both his arms around her and held her close.
She didn’t want to admit it, she who had taken care of herself for so long with only the aid of her sharp tongue and a riding crop, but there was something profoundly comforting about being held by a man who had stepped between her and harm’s way more than once.
“You’re thinking lovely thoughts about me,” he whispered. “I can tell.”
“I might be.”
“You should unburden yourself and tell me all,” he said, “but let me hear this other bit first. Veg before dessert, as my scrupulous dam always taught me.”
“Did she?”
He grunted. “You don’t want to know what she taught me. She also has sweets for breakfast, so that might tell you more than you want to know. What happened?”
“I went outside for a walk,” she said unwillingly.
“I’m certain you did. Was my spell of un-noticing still intact?”
“It seemed to be,” she said slowly.
“Did he know you were there?”
She nodded. “He tried to break through your spell. I didn’t provoke—”
“Léirsinn, of course you didn’t,” he interrupted. “You haven’t done anything to him. If anything, he should be coming after me for leaving him falling off his ladder in a tangle of flailing limbs and humiliation. He’s simply a marginally powerful fool with hurt feelings. We’ll find out what he wants, then I’ll see to him.”
“How do you bear any of this?” she whispered.
He sighed deeply. “Decades of bluster and terrible spells.”
She tilted her head back where she could look at his face. “Are you truly never afraid?”
He glanced at her, then looked up at the ceiling. “Do you honestly believe I’ll answer that?”
“You might,” she said. “If you think it will help me.”
“Ye gads, woman,” he said faintly. “The things you say.”
She only waited. He glanced at her, frowned, then looked back up at the ceiling. He was silent for so long, she wondered if he wouldn’t answer her after all. In the end, though, that lad there was never afraid, not even of prying questions. He’d said so on more than one occasion.
“I was afraid once,” he said slowly. “And if you repeat this, I’ll deny it.”
“I never would.”
“Which is why I’ll be honest with you.” He let out his breath slowly. “I was, as it happened, nosing about in a place where I shouldn’t have been.”
She leaned up on her elbow and looked at him. “You?”
“I know,” he said dryly. “So out of character.”
“I’m guessing you were rummaging through someone’s solar, looking for things they might not want to share?”
He put his hand on her back, perhaps to keep her from fleeing, though she suspected he was patting her in an effort to soothe himself. That was definitely something she wasn’t about to point out to him.
“Exactly that,” he said. “The mage in question lives in a tatty little keep just over the border from Tor Neroche. I had reason to believe he might be hiding a spell very like Diminishing under the blotter on his desk, so I walked right in his front door, bold as brass, and ran up the stairs to his solar. Surprisingly enough, he caught me at it.”
“You must have been very young,” she said in surprise.
He lifted his eyebrows briefly. “You would think so, but let’s just say the memory is rather too fresh for my taste. I’ll admit that I was very s
urprised to find that his solar was completely impervious to any of my escape attempts. The only place akin to it that I’ve ever seen is Uachdaran’s dungeon. Lothar of Riamh, though—” He paused. “Without giving you details that will leave you with nightmares, I’ll just say that to save my own sweet self, I actually uttered the word please.”
She could hardly believe her ears. “You didn’t.”
He smiled. “How flattering that you find it as preposterous as I do. I did nip out a window after he’d opened it to air the place out thanks to a particularly fragrant manuscript I lit on fire in a final effort to irritate him.”
“Is that true?”
“Mostly,” he said. “I also may have clunked him over the head with a candlestick as he was turned the other way, raging over his papers that I’d mussed whilst about the goodly work of trying to find his spell of magic thievery.”
“But surely you weren’t afraid.”
“I was beyond afraid,” he said, “but again, I’ll never admit as much. The only place I’ve been more afraid was Léige when I thought I might never see you again.”
“Honestly?” she asked, ignoring the way her heart broke a little at his words.
He put his hand behind her head, then leaned up and kissed her briefly. “Honestly,” he said.
“What of saving the world from that mage outside?” she managed.
“That has always been substantially farther down the list of things that keep me up at night.” He lay back down, then reached for her hand to put it palm-down on his chest. He covered it with his own, then sighed. “Sladaiche isn’t without power, but I’m not afraid of him. I’m furious that Soilléir has left me unable to see to him properly, something for which I will definitely repay him when I’m able.”
“I imagine he knows that.”
“I remind him of it every time we meet.” He paused, then looked at her. “I think we should leave today, if you’re not opposed to it. Inntrig is close enough that we’ll reach it by sunset without hurrying if we go now. I’ll be able to cover us in spells to get us there safely, though I can’t guarantee they’ll be pleasant.”
She wondered if they might be making any journey at all with how weary he looked. “Are you certain?”
He rubbed his hand over his face, then shook his head and sat up, pulling her with him. “The exhilaration of being in a library where I’m not supposed to be will perk me right up, I’m sure. Why don’t you fetch your gear and I’ll meet you in the kitchen? We’ll slip out the back and be on our way. We might even manage to elude that damned spell of death out front if we’re particularly canny.”
She suspected not, but stranger things had happened.
She crawled to her feet and pulled him up to his. She would have told him that he wasn’t fit to go anywhere except back to bed, but she supposed he’d been worse off.
She fetched her pack and satchel, left them by the door that led out to the garden, then decided her time would be better used following Acair to make certain he didn’t fall asleep on his feet than hovering by the back door and fretting.
She found him simply standing and staring at the map on the table in his library.
“Acair?”
He glanced at her and smiled, then held out his hand. She walked over and took it, which she supposed was becoming something of a bad habit. Then again, so was becoming far too accustomed to feeling ridiculously safe in the embrace of a terrible black mage.
Who wasn’t all that terrible, it seemed to her.
“Have all your answers?” she asked.
“As many as I can stomach for the moment,” he said. “Perhaps the rest are in Seannair’s library. I have the feeling there’s something there that Soilléir wants me to see, damn him to hell for refusing to simply hand it to me.”
“Does he usually have reasons for that sort of thing?”
“Unfortunately,” he said sourly. “What they are is anyone’s guess.” He kissed her hair, then stepped away. “I’ll put the house to bed and we’ll go. We might manage a meal in Inntrig if we’re fortunate.” He paused. “You could take your sister’s book, if you like.”
“You keep it for me,” she said. “It would be safer here, I think.”
“The first of many tomes on fantastical creatures we’ll read to our brood of half a dozen children.”
She looked at him and damn the man if he didn’t wink at her.
“Three handsome lads like yours truly,” he said pleasantly, “and a trio of red-haired, feisty little lassies who will lead everyone around them on a merry chase, just like their mother. I will, of course, be greeting all suitors at the door with my most terrible spells lined up out front in a tidy row, just so there’s no confusion about how I’ll allow those gels to be courted.”
“I still haven’t heard a decent proposal in any of that,” she managed. She hardly knew whether he was serious or not and thought she might not want to break her heart over the thought.
“Actually, I thought I’d ask your grandfather for your hand first,” he said casually. “Before I asked you.”
She looked at him quickly and found that he wasn’t looking particularly unconcerned. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he looked just the slightest bit unsure.
“You…“ She found she couldn’t say any of the things she was thinking without feeling foolish, so she simply looked at him.
“Rendered speechless by my mere presence,” he said solemnly. “You might be surprised how often it happens.”
“Or I might not be.”
“You might not be,” he agreed with a smile. “I’ll close up the rest of the house if you want to go and gather up your coins.”
“Why don’t I just come with you?”
“Of course, love,” he said quietly.
She imagined he realized that was less about his flawless face and more about not wanting to be alone, but the man was perceptive.
It took far less time than she liked before she was standing at the back door with him, his damned horse sitting at his feet, drooling, and thought she might lose what little breakfast she’d managed to choke down a quarter hour before.
“How will we do this?” she croaked.
He looked at her in surprise, then closed his eyes briefly before he gathered her into his arms.
“I won’t tell you not to be afraid,” he said quietly. “Fear isn’t necessarily a bad thing from time to time. Keeps a wise lad from doing something stupid whilst the rest of the fools rush in and perish, as my mother would say. There also might be something in there about that rushing being what rids the world of mindless yobs, but you know her.”
She almost smiled. “Your mother is a wonder.”
“She’s terrifying and for good reason. As for the other, you’re wise to be cautious, but you have many weapons to hand. You still have your coins?”
“Aye.”
“You remember how to keep grain from tipping out of buckets whilst simultaneously setting fire to annoying lords’ trousers?”
“I’m insulted,” she managed, “and you should be afraid I’ll set fire to yours for that ridiculous question.”
He patted her back. “I’m properly cowed, believe me. I’ve watched you at your work.”
“I think I like it better when you can use your magic.”
He laughed a little. “Now, that is something I never thought to ever hear you say.”
She pulled back far enough to look at him under the lovely werelight he’d hung over their heads. “I’m not sure how we’ll do this.”
He considered, then pulled away and reached for her hand. He led her over to the kitchen table, lit a fire in the hearth with a spell she didn’t hear, then pulled out a chair for her. He waited until she was seated, gentleman that he was, then sat down facing her.
“We’ll give my horse a moment to h
ave a proper nap there by the fire,” he said, “and discuss our strategy for a moment or two. Wine?”
“I’m not sure anything would help at this point.”
“Then I won’t offer you anything stronger,” he said with a smile. He leaned forward and took her hands. “I don’t know how it is with horses, but with mages there is a fine line to walk between killing them outright and allowing them to do themselves in, so to speak.”
“Would you slay him?” she asked faintly.
“If it came to a choice between your life and his? Without a second thought. But if I slay him, we will likely never know what spell he’s using presently, never mind what spell he’s still looking for. Leaving something like that out in the world—and believe me, I can hardly believe these words are coming out of my mouth—for some enterprising mage to simply pick up and tuck in a pocket would be rather disastrous.”
“You’d best be careful,” she said seriously.
He looked a little startled. “Why?”
“People are going to find out the truth about you and the quests will never stop.”
“Take that back,” he said, looking genuinely appalled. “Every last word of it.”
She smiled. “I won’t. So, where does that leave us?”
“It leaves me unnerved at what you’ve wished on me, but I’ll hide when any messengers show up at the front door and leave you to attend to them. As for our current business, I think we should see what Seannair’s library holds, then accept the inevitable.”
She supposed she didn’t need to be a mage to understand where he was going with that.
“You’ll have to face him,” she said quietly.
“And you’ll have to contain that bloody spell of death outside so I can,” he agreed. “Unless I can determine in the meantime how to destroy it.”
“But it has parts of your soul you’ve collected.”
He pursed his lips. “I’m not entirely sure my mother didn’t invent that on the spot just to annoy me, but I can’t deny what I’ve seen. I’m not sure what good those bits of myself will do me, but in the end it might not matter. Even if you can only hold off that spell long enough for me to do what needs to be done, it will be enough.”