The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(32)

“Now that you mention it,” Acair said, “I am curious about a few things. One thing, actually.”

“Of course you are. What thing?”

“This will sound daft.”

“Acair, I would call you many things—and have, believe me—but daft is not amongst them.” She reached out and patted his hand with surprising gentleness. “Tell Auntie what you’ve seen.”

He looked about him for eager ears, but saw nothing but the usual rabble that loitered about in such a locale. He turned back to his great-aunt. “I’ve seen shadows.”

“Those are the souls of those you’ve slain, love.”

He considered, then leaned closer to her. “I refuse to admit to actually having slain anyone,” he said, “but don’t spread that about.”

She gave him what for her was an affectionate shove. “You’ve had more than your share of souls die of fright on your watch, which you must admit.”

“I won’t say that I haven’t helped a few continue on the path they’d already chosen to that peaceful rest in the East,” he conceded, “and perhaps with more gusto than necessary, but that seemed the least I could do.”

“Altruistic.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “One of my greatest failings, and one that has caused me no small amount of grief over the past year.” He glanced about himself once more, unwilling to provide fodder for any eavesdroppers, then looked at his aunt seriously. “About those shadows: I don’t like the feel of them.”

“Know who created them?”

“I haven’t had a chance to investigate properly yet.”

“Leaving me to do your dirty work for you,” she said with a sigh. She heaved herself to her feet. “Let’s go for a little stroll and see what’s there to be seen.”

“You might be robbed whilst we’re gone.”

She only smiled in a way that left him doubting that such a thing would ever happen. She nodded to a small, sharp-nosed lad who took over her spot and her walking stick. Acair had the feeling he would use both to their best advantage.

Léirsinn was nowhere to be found, which he supposed should have alarmed him a bit, but he counted on daylight to at least be of some aid to her and continued on with his aunt. They didn’t have to go far.

“There,” he said, nodding to a spot ten paces in front of them. “By the wall.”

Cailleach watched as someone stepped into that shadow, paused, then stepped out of it.

Acair looked at her closely, but her expression gave nothing away. He waited, though, because whatever she lacked in manners she more than made up for in experience and canniness.

She finally shook her head, then looked at him. “I don’t think you should get involved in that business there,” she said very quietly. “I certainly wouldn’t.”

“But, Auntie, your magic gives even me pause.”

“I should hope so, Acair. What flows through your veins is half ours, you know. Gair is nothing but flash and theatrics. The real power, the power that will come to you when his is blown off like chaff? That is what you should have been chasing after all these years.”

He didn’t believe that for a second—

He paused, then studied his aunt for a moment, seeing her with a clarity he’d certainly never taken the time for before. The woman who stood before him, as demure as her booming fishwife voice would allow her to be . . . aye, he’d underestimated her. Badly.

She gave him a knowing look. “Arrogance was your sire’s downfall.”

“I’m working on humility,” he promised.

She blinked, then threw back her head and laughed. Again. He would have been offended—indeed, he was, rather—but perhaps a string of endless days shoveling horse manure had done a goodly work on him somehow because his first instinct was to protest his innocence, not drop a spell of death on her head. She looked at him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, reached out and pulled him into a fragrant embrace, then patted him rather gently on the back.

“You’re a horrible little piece of refuse,” she said, shoving him away and smiling, “but perhaps there is a hope of your improving at some point. Not enough to merit that one coming our way, but perhaps someone more shrewish and unpleasant.”

Acair knew he should have protested that he wasn’t looking for a woman and wouldn’t have wanted a horse girl if he had been, but there was no point. He saw Léirsinn standing twenty paces away, staring at the patch he could almost see there to the side of the thoroughfare, tucked discreetly near a barrel of—what else?—fish.

“You know where curiosity lands you,” Cailleach said lightly.

“My mother is curious,” he reminded her.

“Aye, but she would have the good sense to exercise some self-control here.” She shot him a look. “Leave this alone, Acair. You won’t like where it leads.”

He was tempted to argue with her, but decided that perhaps there was no point in it. He had to wonder, though, just what she had seen to leave her feeling so strongly about something that looked so unremarkable.

He speculated until Léirsinn had joined them, then continued on with that same activity whilst he escorted those two demure flowers back to Cailleach’s stand where her lad seemed to be doing an extremely brisk bit of business. He then loitered about uselessly, mulling over what he’d heard until Léirsinn and his aunt had apparently discussed their business to their satisfaction.