by Lynn Kurland
She closed her eyes briefly. “And if I can’t?”
“I have a very useful spell of death in my pocket.”
“But you’d rather have answers.”
“I would,” he agreed. “Not only might he have other spells waiting to be nicked and used, he also likely knows how to reverse what those pools of shadow have taken, if that sort of thing is even possible. I owe Hearn at least an attempt to find that answer. Your grandfather as well, possibly.”
“And if he slays you?” she asked, forcing herself to speak calmly when what she wanted to do was weep. “I’m not thinking only of myself, though I am because I’m not sure what I would do without…well…”
“You want to protect yourself so you might spend the rest of your life leaving me forgetting to drink my tea before it grows cold because I’ve been too busy being mesmerized by the color of your hair.” He shrugged lightly, though he didn’t look particularly casual. “A little self-serving, that, but I understand.”
“You’re trying to distract me.”
“Turn about and all that.” He held out his rune with the spell of death attached. “Take this.”
She didn’t want to, but he didn’t give her any choice. He took her hand, put it on her palm, and closed her fingers around it.
“If something happens to me, you’ll throw that at him in the confusion, without mercy and without hesitation. The world will survive. Then you’ll shapechange as we’ve discussed and head for the closest bolt hole.” He bent his head, kissed her fingers, then stood up. “But it won’t come to that.”
She couldn’t begin to entertain thoughts of what her life would look like if that weren’t the case and, surprisingly enough, that had mostly to do with that man there.
She rose, put her chair back where it was meant to go, then watched Acair as he went to fetch her satchel from the back door. He brought it over, created a pocket under the lid with magic she didn’t recognize, then tucked the spell of death inside it. He put the strap over her head, settled it on her shoulder, then kissed her quickly.
“You won’t need that,” he said quietly, “but there’s no sense in not having a fall-back plan.”
She nodded, then tried not to shiver as the fire extinguished itself. The werelight was very faint by comparison, but she didn’t ask him to make it brighter. She imagined he would douse it entirely before he opened the back door.
“Your house is beautiful,” she croaked.
He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. “We will return, darling. I promise.”
She would have attempted a nod, but it was beyond her. “What now?”
“I’m going to create a little something with my grandmother’s magic and send it off northward whilst we nip off to the east and a bit south. We’ll be at Seannair’s gates by sunset if Sianach behaves himself.” He pulled back, kissed her on both cheeks, then looked at her. “You’ll do what’s needful and so will I. This is just one more step forward.”
She didn’t want to say that she’d grown too accustomed to the peace and safety of his house to want to step away from it at all, but she imagined she didn’t need to.
He picked up their packs before he took a deep breath and led her outside.
She decided many hours later that he had known how long it took to reach the palace of Inntrig because he’d been there before on one of his forays into places where he shouldn’t have gone. There was something comforting about knowing that with Acair of Ceangail, some things never changed.
Twilight had fallen, which she might have found pleasing at another time. Presently, standing a hundred paces from gates she wasn’t sure they would manage to enter, she found the dark unnerving. She stood with her hand on Sianach’s withers and waited for her legs to stop shaking.
She distracted herself by examining the rather inadequate defenses that kept the king of Cothromaiche from being overrun by the rest of the world, then looked over her shoulder before she could stop herself.
There was no one behind them, but she wasn’t reassured. Sladaiche was just as likely as they were to be wearing a spell of un-noticing. What was even less reassuring was realizing that she was starting to find magic as normal as barn work.
“Léirsinn?”
She looked at Acair standing next to her, cloaked and hooded as he was, and shook her head. “I’m appalled by my own thoughts.”
“Shameless vixen.”
She couldn’t even dredge up the glare he deserved, so she settled for a deep breath. “I wasn’t thinking lecherous thoughts about you, I was contemplating magic.”
“That might be worse,” he said. “But whilst you’re thinking those sorts of thoughts, let’s speak again of how we’ll proceed from here. You’ll need to remove our spell of un-noticing, but make a production of tugging on that thread I showed you before. I’m going to be doing everything I can to remain unobtrusive.” He paused. “And just so you’re not surprised, my welcome here, should it come to that, might not be warm.”
She started to agree, then it occurred to her that there might be things she needed to know. “What haven’t you told me?”
“Whatever can you possibly mean?”
She shot him a look, but he only smiled and shrugged.
“You know me,” he said easily. “Off doing things I shouldn’t more often than I should.”
“Are you going to be specific so I know why the king wants you dead?”
“If you must know,” he admitted, “I laid a spell on the king’s hunting gear that caused arrows and whatnot to sprout flowers and vile smells—I know the two aren’t usually connected, but I was feeling particularly clever—when pointed in the direction of whatever hapless thing he was stalking at the time.” He paused. “I may or may not have also snuck into his bedchamber and written, I cannot find my arse with both hands on his nightcap in letters only others could see.”
Considering all the things he could have done, that didn’t sound all that terrible.
“Why do I have the feeling that isn’t all?” she asked.
He sighed deeply. “Very well, I also pinched his crown and tried to seduce one of his granddaughters, but in my defense I had no idea who she was—well, that isn’t true at all—but I was much younger and perhaps a bit stupid.”
She could only stand there and gape at him. “How old were you?”
He shifted. “Old enough to know better. She was also boasting of being betrothed to my half-brother Rùnach. I couldn’t not stir up a bit of trouble. Trust me, he had a narrow escape there and so did I. She was also dark-haired and substantially older than she looked. Lesson learned.”
She retrieved her jaw from where it had fallen. “Is that so.”
“I’ve set my sights on younger women, if you want the truth.”
She would have mocked him for being far too old for the likes of her, but it occurred to her quite suddenly and rather unpleasantly that she would likely not see the far side of four score while he most certainly would, and then some. Even if she did live longer than that, he wouldn’t look a day older than he did at present.
But she most certainly would.
He stepped closer, slipped his hand under her hair, then kissed her. She would have reminded him that they were in a bit of a hurry to get inside to relative safety, but perhaps the gate guards could wait. She also didn’t protest when he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
“You know,” he said very quietly, “we might, if you’re interested, rely on my ability to weasel impossible spells out of almost anyone I meet and see if a long and happy life might be granted to us together.”
“Is that possible?” she said, ignoring the anguish she could hear even in her own voice.
He nodded. “If you’re interested in a long and happy life with one such as I, that is.”
“Are you going to change your crown
-nicking ways?”
“Quite possibly not.”
She leaned up on her toes and kissed him quickly. “Just don’t hide them under the bed.”
“If you insist,” he said, but he didn’t move. He looked over her head for a bit, then met her gaze. “Are you interested?”
“Is that a proposal?”
“Almost.”
She took his hand because that seemed more sensible than throwing herself at him, on the off chance the gate guards could see through his spell. “Then, aye,” she said simply. “Almost.”
He cleared his throat roughly. “I’ll see what I can do.” He took a step back and winced at Sianach’s nose snuffling his hair. “Please, get us inside so I can put this uncontrollable nag in a stall and we can be about our business. I’d like to be in and out before dawn.”
She thought that sounded like a bit more of a visit than she wanted to make, but ’twas too late to change course at present.
Acair reached out and rapped smartly on the gates. “Look down your nose a bit more, darling.”
She nodded, put her shoulders back, and hoped that would be enough.
She could hardly bear to think about what might happen to them inside such a place if not.
Seventeen
Acair walked behind Léirsinn, holding on to the reins of his horse who had, for a change, decided the time was not right for a bit of a nibble, and started a new list of things for which he would need to repay a certain Cothromaichian prince.
Masquerading as a servant to that glorious woman dressed in the finest traveling clothes he’d been able to provide for her was not one. He would have trailed behind her carrying her gear for as long as allowed.
That he thought he might be sleeping in the barn instead of with her in his arms, on the other hand, certainly might be. Hoping that no one would notice that he’d come brazenly through the front gates was definitely another.
Asking Léirsinn to put herself in peril to slip out of what he was sure would be a very fine guest chamber and let him in the back door was going to go at the top of that list.
The time for that happy bit of retribution would surely come, but he had other things to see to first. It was tempting to breathe a little sigh of relief at how well things had gone so far, but he knew that could change very quickly.
So far, so good, though. They had survived the gauntlet at the outer gates of Seannair of Cothromaiche’s palace, such as it was, without incident. Being assigned an escort to lead them up the way to the palace proper had been expected as well. Léirsinn didn’t give herself enough credit for fine manners. The guard captain—a man Acair should have remembered, but didn’t—had fallen all over himself to assure her that she would be immediately settled in the best guestchamber available.
Acair understood. She was glorious in her incarnation as highly skilled horsewoman. She was nothing short of stunning whilst wearing the persona of high-born noblewoman.
He wondered sometimes just who she was.
On the other hand, he had absolutely no doubts about who he was and what he could do. Unfortunately, he had the feeling King Seannair didn’t either, and he might not be as enthusiastic about those skills as someone else. If he could simply slip in and out without seeing the king, his granddaughter Annastashia, or any number of other relatives who might want to stick a knife between his ribs and give it a friendly twist, he would count the visit a success.
He paused a deferential number of paces behind his lady as she was greeted by one of the palace butlers. Acair did recognize that man and thought he might be wise to keep his head down lest memories of a filched bottle of particularly fine port come to mind and trouble the man overmuch.
“My uncle is Fuadain of Briàghde. My servant and I need shelter for the night, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Acair admired her posh vowels and crisp consonants for a moment before he remembered who he was supposed to be. He nodded to her before she was led into a palace so rustic that it made Léige look like Chagailt by comparison and hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her.
He followed a stable lad along paths and to what turned out to be a rather decent set of stables. That he’d never noticed them before said much about his previous modes of transportation, he had to admit. He paid the stablemaster for Sianach’s keep, oversaw the stabling of his horse as though he actually knew what was supposed to happen, then happily left the more pedestrian work of shoveling and feeding to those whose business it was.
“You might beg a meal from the kitchen,” the stablemaster said, tossing the suggestion over his shoulder as he strode off to see to his equine business.
As tempting as that was, Acair thought he might be better served to skulk about in the back garden and wait for a light to come on in the vicinity of where he knew the guest chambers were located. At least he would know where Léirsinn would be sleeping. Getting inside the palace would be a different task entirely, but he’d certainly done that before. He found a shadowy spot under some trees, ignoring what the inclination for that suggested in relation to his quest, and waited.
Inntrig was a very odd place. Too quiet for his taste, and not just in the sense of having so little society to enjoy. The whole damned place was just so ordinary. Trees were merely trees, flowers bloomed without any extra spells brightening up their blossoms, and benches simply sat there in the faint light of a waxing moon without offering any invitations to rest before he went off to look for a few spells to stick in his pockets.
Perhaps that said more about the spells likely tucked away in places no one wanted to talk about than he’d considered before. When a country produced magic of that sort, perhaps a little peace and quiet was the very least the rocks and rills could offer. He didn’t care for that sort of silence overmuch, but perhaps the locals enjoyed it.
He saw a light go on and had to remain where he was for a bit until his relief over the sight had passed. A chamber on the ground floor, no less. Perhaps that charmed life he’d enjoyed for so many decades was coming back for another go.
He looked around himself to make certain the garden was comfortably empty, then started for the palace. He kept to the darkest parts of the garden, though, until he found the window that had been opened. He indulged in a brief curse or two on principle alone. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for the ease of slipping into a particular woman’s bedchamber, it was that he was appalled Seannair didn’t have better spells of ward guarding the same.
Or at least he hoped Seannair didn’t have spells of ward that he couldn’t see.
He stood under the window, suppressed the urge to offer up a romantic sentiment or two, and instead tossed Léirsinn his pack. He supposed it would be safer in her chambers than out in the barn, not that there was anything in it he particularly needed. He jumped to catch the edge of the windowsill, then helped himself up thanks to a few judiciously placed toes in the cracks of stone that definitely should have been attended to sooner.
That was exactly the reason he’d been very specific about the construction of his own abode. Admittedly, his house was all one level, but it was impervious to assault. He would definitely be patting himself on the back for that bit of foresight the first chance he had.
He swung his legs over the windowsill and hopped into Léirsinn’s chamber. He looked around and nodded approvingly.
“Lovely,” he said. “I think you should secure all our accommodations from here on out.”
She was staring at him in a way that made him suddenly—and surprisingly—nervous. He suppressed the urge to toss off a flowery comment about wallpaper and carpets and instead simply waited to see what she was about. Perhaps she had decided that a different life might—
“How old is the king’s granddaughter?”
Well, that was the last thing he’d expected. “I beg your pardon?” he hedged.
She only lo
oked at him steadily.
“No idea,” he said without hesitation. “The gods only know what they do in this place to look so young, but I’m guessing ’tis untoward. She might be two score, she might be two hundred. I didn’t want to ask for fear of what she would do to me. Why?”
“No particular reason.”
If there were anything he’d learned about Léirsinn of Sàraichte, it was that she never did anything without a reason. He stood there and studied her for a moment or two, then it dawned on him what she was thinking. He walked over to her and stopped just short of putting his arms around her. He did reach out and take one of her hands.
“You know,” he said quietly, “absent extorting a spell from an essence-changing prince or elven king in order to live out very lengthy lives in bliss, which we discussed earlier, ’tis entirely possible that we might fall off a dragon one of these days and perish together.”
She looked at him and smiled faintly. “Is that meant to make me feel better?”
“Me, rather,” he said honestly, “because I’m finding the thought of a life without you in it to be rather intolerable.”
“Would it be rude to say I’m surprised to find I’m feeling the same way?”
He smiled. “Very, and ’tis a great whopping lie. I have a very vivid memory of the first time you laid eyes on my fine, strapping self. Admit it. You were lost in an instant.”
She released his hand and put her arms around his waist. “Terrible man.”
He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her hair. He supposed if time had stopped at that moment, it would have been enough. He’d never thought to be so appallingly content, but there it was. Comfortable slippers, a glass of Gairn’s finest, and a good book—
“Ye gads,” he said faintly. “I’ve become domesticated.”
“Have you?”
“Well,” he said, “perhaps only now and again, when I need a rest from the general havoc-wreaking and spell-poaching I enjoy so much.” He sighed deeply. “Léirsinn, my love, we’ll either hope for that fiery end together, or I will indeed find a way to bargain something for a substantial amount of time together.”