The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(38)

He didn’t look convinced, but he was rarely convinced by anything he hadn’t thought up himself. He only shrugged and rose.

“Have my spot.”

“Oh, nay,” she said, moving back toward the door. “I have things to do.”

He looked at her and pulled the pipe he was smoking out of his mouth. “As you will, Léirsinn.”

She nodded, then left him to his business. She slipped along in the shadows, then got herself inside her own private little spot without any fuss. She lit a lantern, hung it on a hook, then leaned back against the door.

Her life had changed.

She didn’t like change.

She suspected, though, she would like cleaning up the aftermath of murder even less. She gave that a bit of thought, then considered things she hadn’t in years. Seventeen years, to be exact. She turned an idea over in her mind for several minutes before she made a decision. She hung up her cloak, then started digging.

She didn’t have very many personal possessions. Indeed, she supposed if someone were to come and try to dig through her closet, they would find only tack, cleaning rags, and, if they were exceptionally diligent, the key to her box. She, however, was past exceptionally diligent and there was something she owned that not another soul alive would have found.

It cost her a good hour, several bruised and bloodied knuckles and fingers, and finally a hoof pick wielded with great vigor to dislodge the wall boards near the floor. She pulled them aside, then sat back on her heels and looked at the space she’d uncovered. She hesitated, only because what was wrapped in that cloth hadn’t been disturbed in years. It didn’t appear to be covered with venomous spiders or shadows, so she removed what she’d hidden there. Her hands were shaking as she unwrapped what she’d hidden, but she supposed that couldn’t be helped. Once she was finished, she set everything down on the floor in front of her and looked at it all.

A crossbow lay there, along with two lethal-looking bolts.

The arrows were covered with something unusual, not unlike the shadows she’d seen, but this something was not evil. It was . . . perilous. At the moment, she wasn’t sure there was a difference, but perhaps she would have a different opinion if she managed to use those bolts to fend off murderers.

She could hardly believe she was contemplating such a thing.

She had no idea who had given her what she currently held in her hands. The bow and bolts had simply been inside her wee chamber one day, as if she had taken them out to examine them and not had the time to put them away. Perhaps there was no use in speculating on their origin. She had a weapon and obviously a great need for—

She stopped herself in mid-thought and wondered if she had gone mad.

What she’d heard in the garden had been nothing more than three men who’d obviously had too much to drink. For all she knew slay was just another way of saying I think I know a lad we can rob for the sport of it. Those men were probably the same ones Acair had played cards with several nights ago. Or perhaps he had since been to a different tavern where he had encountered a few gamblers who had been less-than-pleased with his skills. Perhaps the men she’d just heard had had retribution on their minds and were expressing it with ale-inspired enthusiasm. Slay didn’t mean actually do Acair in, it likely meant lighten his purse.

She didn’t allow herself to think too hard about the fact that she was using the same excuse more than once, rephrasing it to make it sound more reasonable.

She gave herself a good shake and forced herself to address the rest of the recent madness she’d encountered. She hadn’t seen those lads disappear, of course. She had simply been overcome by worry for her grandfather and taken by surprise by what she’d heard. Indeed, ’twas possible that she had blacked out for a moment or two. Hadn’t she found herself rather suddenly on the ground? All that talk of Acair and magic and things that couldn’t possibly find home in her safe, sensible world had been too much for her and she’d been overcome. All she needed for everything to return to normal was a good night’s sleep.

Surely.

She propped bow and bolts up in the corner, replaced the missing board, then sat down on her stool and decided that she could perhaps take a few minutes and wait for the barn to settle down before she turned in. Sitting there with a crossbow nearby was . . . well, it was daft, but for all she knew, those men had known she was there and they’d been talking about murdering Acair to keep her from learning of their real purpose which was to steal a horse. Being prepared for that sort of thing was prudent.

She considered, then moved the bow and bolts so they were right next to her. She pulled a horse blanket over herself and her weapons and supposed that was enough secrecy for the night. If anyone came inside her closet, they would only think her chilled, not daft.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, but knew she wouldn’t sleep.





Eight





It was a dance, that slipping inside a place to do a bit of burgling.

Unfortunately, Acair found himself inside the great house of Briàghde not for such a lofty activity, but rather a pedestrian bit of eavesdropping. Less challenging, true, but the sort of thing that proved rather valuable from time to time.

He stood in the shadows of an alcove and studied the passageway he’d watched Léirsinn walk down earlier. He had, in the past, done more than his share of both listening to conversations not meant for him and nicking things that didn’t belong to him, so his present activity was nothing out of the ordinary. What was different, however, was why he was about his goodly work.