The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(47)

The gentleman so bumped looked at Acair and his scowl lessened a bit. “This entire place smells strongly of fish,” he announced.

Acair smiled. “Doesn’t it though? I prefer the good, clean smell of Durialian dark ale myself, but that’s just me.”

The man gave Acair a suddenly friendly look. “I compliment you on your taste, good sir. I have a glass of dwarvish brew as often as possible, but I must say I would travel quite a pretty league for a robust apple beer from Gairn.”

And with that, they were off comparing drink until she thought she might like them to stop. She could hardly believe that the man she was watching charm and amuse a soon-smiling landholder was the same man who had been shoveling horse manure the day before, but obviously he had hidden talents.

She stood to the side and waited until Acair had apparently chatted himself out, listened to him express his sincerest regrets that nay, unfortunately he didn’t have time for even a brief mug of whatever could be found locally, then followed after him as he started off toward the other boat.

“And what did that accomplish?” she whispered, catching up and walking next to him.

He dangled a small leather bag in front of her. She felt her mouth fall open.

“You robbed him?”

“I offered him an unthought-of opportunity to do a good deed,” he corrected. “It is his, as they say, pocket money. That bloody satchel he has strapped over his ample middle is where the true cache of coin resides.”

“How do you know?”

He shot her a look. “I’m not sure you want to know that.”

“I believe you have a very checkered past.”

“And I believe you have a finely honed ability to sniff out a scoundrel at fifty paces. Sniff later in this case. We’ll have to hurry to make that boat.”

“You didn’t save the lad.”

He stopped and frowned. “What lad?”

“That man’s serving lad,” she said. “That lord will beat him to death when he finds his coin missing, you know.”

Acair studied her for a moment or two with a look she wasn’t sure she cared for.

“Did he,” he said very slowly, “ever lay a hand on you?”

“My uncle?” she said, her mouth rather dry. “Once or twice, before I learned to duck.”

“Then he will pay, once or twice,” Acair said calmly. He took a careful breath. “I’ll remember that, trust me. As for the lad, I’ll go see to him if you insist.”

“I insist.”

He shot her another look, shook his head, then turned and started back through the crowd. She propped herself up against a handy building and watched him until she couldn’t see him any longer. She felt suddenly quite cold, as if she were being watched. She wished for a cloak, or less lamplight, or someone to stand behind, but there was none of those to be had easily or quickly. She shook her head. It was terrible how quickly one could accustom oneself to things one shouldn’t, like safety or protection or a man who made a very handy shield.

She had to admit she was rather glad to see Acair coming back her way. He caught her hand and continued walking, leaving her trotting to keep up with him.

“Well?”

He blew out his breath. “I saved enough for our passage and a meal, handed the lad the rest, and sent him on his way whilst his master was off relieving himself. Satisfied?”

She smiled. “Thoroughly.”

“The things I do for you, woman . . .”

“Good deeds are never wasted.”

“Ha,” he said. “That one counts at least for today, then.” He glanced at her. “I hesitate to think about what I’ll find myself doing tomorrow.”

She couldn’t answer, mostly because they were now facing what she supposed might be charitably called a boat and the reality of her situation was staring her in the face.

She was leaving the only home she could remember, she was leaving behind the one person she’d sworn to protect at any cost, and she was heading off into the dawn with a man who was currently paying for their passage with stolen coins.

What in the hell was she thinking?

Acair took her by the elbow and looked at her. “Walk on, gel,” he said quietly. “You know what lies behind.”

Unfortunately, she did. She nodded, then forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until her feet had carried her where she had never thought to go.

Trust.

It was more difficult than she’d suspected it would be.





Ten





There was truly no other place in the whole of the Nine Kingdoms so full of reprobates, layabouts, and villainous characters of all stripes.

And that was just the schools of wizardry.

Beinn òrain as a whole wasn’t any better. Acair walked up from the quayside through a maze of streets he wouldn’t have batted an eye at a fortnight ago but now found less to his taste than he might have otherwise. He was quickly coming to the realization that his fists were not as mighty as his spells. He should have insisted that Soilléir allow him to conjure up a sword before sending him off into the fray.

Swords were not his weapon of choice, of course, but he did know which end to hold one by and could generally do a bit of damage with one under the right circumstances. At the moment all he had to hand was a dagger he had pinched from a sobbing and profoundly annoying black mage he’d stepped all over several months earlier as he’d been taking a bit of a breather from all that apologizing. He’d left the lad the rest of his gear, which he had supposed at the time could be construed as a moment of charity. And what had it gotten him? A relatively dull dagger down the side of a boot that was definitely not his. Unsurprising.