The Prince of Souls (The Nine Kingdoms Book 12)

by Lynn Kurland

  Acair wished he’d had the time to properly appreciate where he was, but he thought he might have to be satisfied with simply shaking his head as he opened the heavy wooden doors of Seannair of Cothromaiche’s library. He slipped inside that inner sanctum with Léirsinn, then shut the doors quietly behind them.

  He pulled her over away from the entrance on the off chance some offended monarch or other might come rushing inside and flatten the two of them, then wondered why he hadn’t had the foresight to demand from a different princely grandson exact directions to books that were missing pages.

  What he also hadn’t considered asking was just what the hell Soilléir had put into Léirsinn’s veins. Worse, it had never once occurred to him to ask Soilléir to identify the magic that had created that spell of death that haunted him.

  “Any ideas?” Léirsinn whispered.

  He had several and most of them had to do with what he would do when he had his fingers and Soilléir’s neck close enough for a brief encounter, but perhaps those were thoughts he could enjoy later when he was at his leisure.

  He looked at Léirsinn. “Not a one,” he said helplessly. “Let’s find ourselves a darkened corner and see what comes of it.”

  He caught her very weak glare even in the gloom and smiled, then took her hand.

  “I mean books, darling. I realize it’s difficult when you have me within reach, but try to focus on the task at hand.”

  “I’m going to push you off the back of the next dragon we ride, just so you know.”

  He suspected she just might.

  He nodded toward the hearth to their right and supposed a bit of a pause there might give them at least some idea of the lay of the land, as it were.

  He had the feeling Astar might rethink his generosity, so the sooner they had found what they’d come for, no doubt the better.

  Eighteen

  Léirsinn looked over King Seannair’s seemingly endless collection of books and thought she might want to find somewhere to sit. The likelihood of finding what they needed without an extensive, lengthy search was probably very small.

  “What are we looking for again?” she murmured.

  “Something with a page or two missing,” Acair said. “As giddy as I generally am over the sight of a well-stocked library, I’ll admit this is rather daunting.”

  “I don’t suppose they have a shelf marked Things Acair of Ceangail Shouldn’t Read, do they?”

  He smiled briefly. “If they don’t, they likely should.”

  “This will take years,” she said.

  “We might have to try a spell to shorten our search.” He turned to her. “You’ll have to do it, so stop eyeing the exits.”

  “I’m not eyeing, I’m merely judging the distance between myself and the closest one.”

  He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “There, now there is no hope of escape for you. The inconsequential nature of the spell I’m going to give you should put you to sleep, but the exhilaration of being where we’re not supposed to will counter that, I’m sure.”

  “How many words?” she asked reluctantly.

  “Four,” he said. “Or thereabouts.”

  “What does it do?” she asked, pulling back far enough to look at him. “And realize I don’t really care.”

  “I know,” he said. “This is another of those spells that would be terribly useful for all sorts of things, though. Revealing where you might have left your house key or your favorite pair of boots. You might even use it to track down a particularly fine pony who had escaped to look for better victuals.”

  “Did you steal it from King Uachdaran?”

  “How easily that word trips off the tongue,” he said. “And to refute the slander, nay, I most certainly did not steal it.”

  She pulled away from him and sat on the edge of one of the chairs in front of the hearth. Easier that way to ignore that her knees were unsteady beneath her. “Tell me the tale.”

  “You’re stalling, but I’ll humor you, as always.” He leaned back against the mantel and clasped his hands behind his back. “It was given to me by the king’s daughter.”

  “When you were stealing her,” she pointed out.

  “I wasn’t stealing her, I was liberating her, and the wench is very persuasive. You might like her, should you ever meet. Her hair is more the color of vast amounts of dried blood, but there you have it. You gels from that corner of the palette seem to share a propensity to bend yours truly to your wills and pleasure.”

  “You said you didn’t know any red-haired women.”

  “Her hair isn’t red,” he pointed out. “And to continue, the king has some substantial locks on his gates, but even the locks are hidden. She thought it best not to use any magic to undo those locks, which I agreed with, so she traded me a spell of revealing for my skill with exiting whilst using only my wits and two hands.”

  “So, what exactly does this spell do?”

  “It uncovers things that don’t want to be found. I’m guessing our good dwarf-king uses it to sniff out the best veins of silver and gold, but we’ll use it to see if it will give any tome our enemy has touched a bit of nudge out from its fellows.”

  “I might bring the whole library down on us.”

  “You might,” he agreed, “so be ginger. Don’t give my spectacular visage and enviable form another thought until you’ve finished with your work. Then lust away.”

  She had to admit he was very handsome and had the right idea when it came to how that might be distracting. She took a deep breath and let him pull her to her feet.

  “I’ll try.”

  He retrieved a slip of parchment from a pocket. “Here’s the spell.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Did you plan this?”

  “Not in any nefarious way,” he said easily. “I had a wee think back in my study whilst I was making your coins and suspected this might come in handy. I’m unfamiliar with Seannair’s safeguards, so I thought it best that I not even whisper the words of any spell lest even that identify me.”

  She supposed she didn’t need to point out that Prince Astar might already have rushed off to find his grandfather and tattle, so perhaps all she could do was set aside her unease and do what needed to be done.

  She followed him across the beginnings of the library shelves to a deep-set window. She took the paper he handed her and looked at what he’d written.

  “Four words,” he said. “Drop the appropriate name—you know which one—right in the middle, and there you have it.”

  She read them to herself and was absolutely appalled to realize they made perfect sense to her. She looked at Acair, open-mouthed.

  He smiled. “You see.”

  “I do.”

  “Try it, then, and let’s see what comes of it.”

  She took a deep breath, forced down a vague feeling of dread, then repeated the words, inserting Sladaiche’s name where Acair had told her it should go.

  She was certain the whole library would come down on top of them and bury them, but she only heard a handful of books drop in the distance and a trio right next to where they were standing. It definitely could have been worse.

  She realized only then that she had actually used a spell that had done what she’d asked it to without any complaint. She felt a little ill, but she supposed that might have been from the magic, not from her surprise.

  Acair bent and picked up a thick tome that she was rather glad hadn’t fallen on her head, then frowned at her.

  “Headache?”

  “Stomachache, rather,” she said, putting her hand over her belly.

  “That’s dwarvish magic for you,” he noted. “Brutal stuff, even the most pedestrian of spells, which that one was not despite its length. Do you want to sit?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Is that anything
interesting?”

  “Nerochian Axioms for Healthful Living. Heavy, of course, so it doubles as a means of rendering one senseless before the cover must be opened.”

  She smiled. “You aren’t serious.”

  “I’m not.” He squinted at the title, then handed it to her. “’Tis a lexicon, which I’m guessing will be just as dull as the other would have been. We’ll have a look at it though. If you can fetch the other stragglers here, I’ll go find what I heard fall in the distance.”

  She nodded, holding the book close to her.

  He smiled and leaned closer to kiss her quickly. “That was very well done, darling.”

  She watched him walk away and could scarce believe she’d managed to do what she’d needed to. She was half tempted to make werelight, just for the sheer sport of it.

  She refrained, though, because she feared she might just burn the place down in her enthusiasm.

  She picked up the other two books lying there on the carpet, then made her way across to a shadowy spot near the fireplace to wait. It was unsettling to be touching something that Sladaiche of a place yet to be named had apparently touched at some point in the past, so she set them down on the floor and waited.

  It was only moments later that Acair found her, his hands full of other books. He stopped next to her, then apparently caught sight of her expression.

  “What is it?” he asked carefully.

  “You were right,” she said. “He was here.”

  “I’m as surprised as you are,” he admitted. “I knew it. Damn that Soilléir. He could have done this himself.”

  “I don’t think he had put that name to that mage, though. Remember his surprise in the glade?”

  “I daresay I’ve forgotten most of that morning and that is on purpose. There’s a corner over there near that library ladder that looks discreet enough. You can try your werelight and we’ll see what we have here.”

  She happily settled in on the floor with him, as hidden as possible, and took a deep breath before she used the spell of Fadaire he’d pinched from Sìle of Tòrr Dòrainn. Perhaps it was the magic knit into her forearm that made it work so well, but she had no trouble with it and it didn’t even give her a headache.

  “You are a wonder.”

  She felt herself blush. “I’m trying not to think about it. I was half afraid I would burn the library down.”

  “I don’t think Fadaire would do that to you,” he said with a smile. “Well, we have seven books, an interesting number on even the most ordinary of days. Let’s divide and conquer.”

  “I don’t know what to look for,” she protested.

  “I’m not sure I do either, but why don’t you keep those two and I’ll look through these. I suppose we’re simply looking for pages that aren’t there.”

  She shivered. “How did he get in, do you think?”

  “That is a very good question,” he said. “An equally interesting question is when.” He turned to her. “Soilléir didn’t say exactly when the theft had occurred, did he?”

  “I wasn’t at my best,” she said slowly, “but nay, not that I remember.”

  He sighed deeply. “I’m not sure knowing that would have changed things. I’m guessing once Soilléir discovered the threat, he encouraged his grandfather to put up some sort of safeguards.” He looked at her in surprise. “You know, now that I think about it, that may very well be the case.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m an idiot. He put that spell over the entire country two decades ago. Before then, it was an open secret that Seannair hardly knew who came and went. He’s famous for hiding his crown in a bloody bin of dried beans, which left his kitchens ransacked more than once.”

  “As well as this library?”

  He shook his head. “Nay, it has always been a bit difficult to get into.”

  “You would know, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said with a smile.

  “But what about Prince Soilléir’s spells?” she asked. “Were they just left lying about?”

  “Definitely not. I’m guessing he was already working on them before he could toddle across his nursery and keeping them to himself as soon as he understood what they could do. I’m honestly not certain how many of his family members have the key to the chest full of them. I’ve always suspected he has them written down somewhere, but I couldn’t begin to decide where that place might be. Those spells in the hands of someone truly evil…”

  She didn’t want to follow that thought to where it would lead. Those spots of shadow were awful enough.

  “The spells of ward on the border are more recent.” He frowned suddenly. “I would say within the last score of years, no longer. I told you about my having investigated the same to see how difficult it might be to simply saunter in and have a peep in the king’s armoire.”

  “Or bean barrel.”

  “Exactly that,” he agreed. He considered, then shook his head. “I built my house almost a score of years ago, but I’m not that undesirable a neighbor. Soilléir didn’t set those spells simply to keep me out.”

  “Nor are you that close,” she pointed out. “I left my parents’ home almost a score of years ago. Nineteen, to be exact. Odd, isn’t it?”

  He looked slightly green. “I assure you, darling, that I would not have gone down on bended knee at the time, if you’ll forgive my lack of enthusiasm over the idea. I would say, though, that we were engaging in far different activities at the same…ah—”

  “Same time?” she finished for him, reaching out to steady him. “Why is that odd?”

  He shook his head sharply. “I think too much. I would need to see what else was happening in the world at that time besides my paying exorbitant sums to have a house constructed whilst I wish I had been rescuing the youthful version of yourself to put you somewhere safe. And aye, I think it was about that time that Soilléir did something about his grandfather’s appalling lack of concern over his safety.”

  “But someone could have gotten inside the library before then.”

  “Having hid their essence?” Acair asked. “Possibly. There are certainly spells that will take everything that makes you yourself and smother it until you might forget who you are.”

  “Have you ever done that?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t care for it, actually. I can’t breathe. I have occasionally used something to still the magical waters, if that makes any sense. Saves burying your magic then having to dig it all back up again. There’s a layer of un-noticing that goes with it.” He lifted his eyebrows briefly. “’Tis a spell of my Gran’s, if you want the truth of it.”

  “An interesting woman, your grandmother.”

  “Shrewd and calculating is closer to the mark perhaps,” he said, “but aye, interesting nonetheless. It makes me wonder how many things I’ve simply walked right past without seeing them.” He looked off into the library for a moment or two, then blew out his breath. “Best not to think about that. Let’s see what we have here.”

  She nodded and looked at the books she held in her hands. The first turned out to be an herbal that she supposed would have been useful, but she wasn’t one for medicines past horse liniment. She checked it for missing pages, then set it aside as complete. She held the second book up to the werelight she’d asked that beautiful elvish magic to make…

  She wondered when she might stop seeing things that left her wanting to weep and howl at the same time.

  The exact color of blue the cover had been dyed was difficult to discern in the faint light, but the dragon lying there with his head resting on his scaly tail certainly wasn’t.

  She shifted to sit closer to Acair.

  “Are you unwell, darling?”

  “Just chilled,” she lied. She looked at the book in her hands and wondered if her soul would
crack in two if she opened that one.

  Dragons and Other Mythical Beasts

  Of course. She hadn’t thought about the title in years, but there it was in front of her. ’Twas entirely possible, as she’d thought in Acair’s library, that printers made several copies of books to sell. There was no reason to suspect that the book she held in her hands was anything but a copy that had somehow found its way into a palace library.

  What she was certain of was that she wouldn’t find her own addition to the book on the final page. If memory served, she had drawn a picture of an ocean she’d never seen, a wizard standing on the edge of that ocean casting his spell for his true love to come find him, and a dragon snoozing peacefully at his feet.

  She had been, she had to admit, very silly as a girl of ten summers.

  She opened the book, then froze. There had been a tale there of a dragon, that much she remembered, but that story was gone. She flipped through the rest of the book until she came to the endpapers.

  She found she simply couldn’t turn the page.

  “Léirsinn?”

  She handed Acair the book. “The first tale is gone.”

  “How do you—oh, I see.” He held the book up and looked at the front of the book where the pages had been cut out, then shut the cover and looked at the spine. He froze, then let out his breath slowly. “The second volume in the series, is it?”

  She could only nod.

  “Might there be an addition at the back?”

  “Aye, but I don’t have the courage to look.” She met his gaze. “You do it.”

  He simply looked at her for a moment or two. “Yours?”

  “I’m not sure.” She hesitated. “It might be.”

  He flipped through the pages from the beginning, gently, as if he held a great treasure, then he paused as well before he turned the final sheaf. He finally turned the page.

  A child’s drawing was there of the sea, a dragon, and a man.