The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(106)

“My father’s blood runs through my veins,” he said, “just as it does yours. As does my mother’s, which should give us all pause.” He considered, then shook his head. “I’m not sure I either can or want to answer your question. My magic is . . . dark.”

She studied him for a moment or two. “And yet you are not Gair.”

“Nay, but I would have every damned one of his spells in a heartbeat,” Acair said honestly. “More particularly, Diminishing, but what decent mage wouldn’t say the same thing?”

“Ruith has them all.”

“I know.”

“And yet you haven’t ransacked his solar.”

Acair started to speak, then shook his head. “I haven’t.”

“Yet.”

“I didn’t say that,” he said. “I didn’t not say that, either, but what else can you expect from me?”

“More,” she said simply, then she reached for the door. “After you, brother.”

He caught the door over her head and nodded for her to go inside. “Don’t think familial obligation or the sort of gentle guilting you’re attempting will work on me. I’m a black-hearted bastard to my very innards. Dangerous. Merciless. Men cower and mages scamper when they know I’m coming through.”

She only smiled at him and ducked under his arm. He sighed and followed her inside. Obviously he had lost his touch. She should have been weeping with fear, not looking at him as if she might at some point in the future experience a fond feeling or two for him.

The inn was rather nice as inns in Neroche went, though he supposed he was less concerned about the accommodations than he was the souls taking advantage of them. He spotted Soilléir immediately, relaxing in a choice spot by the fire, looking as if he didn’t have a damned thing to do besides enjoy a decent mug of ale. He reminded himself that he needed that one alive, so he swallowed all the nasty threats he wanted to blurt out, fixed a pleasant expression to his face, and followed Mhorghain across the gathering chamber.

Soilléir rose as they approached, but that was obviously strictly for Mhorghain’s benefit.

“Morgan,” he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “How are you?”

“Exactly as I was two days ago,” she said with a smile. “You?”

Soilléir saw her seated, then resumed his lazy pose on his own chair. “Ah, one does what one must to keep busy.” He looked at Acair from languid eyes. “As you would say, that is.”

Acair drew out a chair and sat down because it gave him something to do besides leap across the table and wrap his hands around Soilléir’s throat. He was further distracted by the mug of ale Soilléir pushed across the table to him.

“Poisoned?” Acair asked suspiciously.

“Not by me,” Soilléir said, “which is all I can guarantee.”

“Your guarantees mean nothing,” Acair groused. He paused for a sip of only marginally drinkable ale, then fixed Soilléir with a steely look. “Permit me to get right to the business of the morning. Take off that damned spell and do it now.”

Soilléir looked at him blankly. “What spell?”

Acair didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that his constant companion was standing post by the door. “That spell. The one you put on me that promises death should I use any sort of magic.”

Soilléir looked across the gathering room, frowned as if he struggled to find a useful thought, then finally looked at Mhorghain. “Would it bother you, my dear, if I were to draw a spell of un-noticing over us? I believe we have serious matters to discuss.”

“You’re damned right we—” Acair began. He would have finished, but he was distracted by the spell Soilléir was using. It wasn’t essence changing, but it was something very much like it. “What was that?” he asked.

“Something I dug up out of one of my grandfather’s books,” Soilléir said mildly. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

“Have the book with you?”

Soilléir looked at him with perhaps what passed with him for a smile. “What do you think?”

“I think you probably returned it to its spot and hoped Seannair wouldn’t notice, what with all the dust disturbed, that you’d been nosing about his solar.”

“Library,” Soilléir corrected.

“How interesting,” Acair said smoothly. “I’ll remember that.”

Soilléir did smile then. “You’ll never get past the front gates.”

“I can certainly try.”

Soilléir looked at Mhorghain. “He is impossible, you know.”

“I think he’s just like you,” Mhorghain said seriously. “All you mages are always on the hunt for the next spell. Never satisfied with what you have.”

Soilléir raised his eyebrows briefly at her, then set his cup aside and looked at Acair. “You sent out a call for help and I’ve come. What do you need?”

Acair realized he was spluttering and it took him more time than it should have to control it. “Help,” he gasped. “I never asked you for help. I want you to get rid of that damned spell over there so I can be about my business without dying.”