The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(62)
Acair didn’t have the chance to begin to explain before Ehrne was interrupting him.
“Hold your tongue, you wee mortal,” the king said, “and leave me in peace to find the beginning of this tangle and start there.” He folded his arms over his chest and studied Acair for a moment or two. “You didn’t heal the horse, your little miss there doesn’t believe in magic, and here you are in my land without making mischief or tossing about your mighty spells.”
“So it would seem—” Acair began.
Ehrne cut him off with a look, then turned to his captain. “Surdail, I believe we have a situation on our hands.”
“There does seem to be something unusual going on, Your Majesty,” Surdail agreed. “Perhaps Prince Gair’s son would care to enlighten us.”
“Prince Gair?” Léirsinn echoed. “Who is that?”
Acair looked at her quickly. “Don’t ask.” He turned to the king of the accursed soil under his boots and attempted an appropriately contrite expression. “I am under a curse, if that would describe it adequately, and cannot use my magic.”
Ehrne blinked. “A curse? Explain further.”
“I’d rather not.”
“And I’d rather see you full of arrows, but I am nothing if not magnanimous and generous to all those around me. Now, spew out the details, you little bastard, before I forget all my better qualities and wield a bow myself.”
Acair knew he had no choice. “Very well,” he said, as politely as he could manage under the circumstances, “I agreed to spend a year not using any spells.”
Ehrne’s mouth had fallen open. “And what,” he managed, “will befall you if you do?”
Acair pointed over his shoulder without looking. “A Cothromaichian spell of death will fall upon me and do its worst.”
“Do they have spells of death there, Your Majesty?” Surdail asked. “I suspect Prince Gair’s wee one there would know, wouldn’t you imagine?”
Ehrne likely couldn’t imagine anything past his next meal, but Acair thought it wise to keep that thought to himself. He watched the king scratch his head, as if he were truly puzzled by the whole thing.
“I feel as though I’m still missing something,” Ehrne said slowly. “Why would Soilléir waste time to send one of his spells trotting after you . . . unless there is something else involved.”
“Soilléir,” Léirsinn said. “Isn’t that—”
“Aye,” Acair said quickly. “That’s the one.” He looked at the king. “I think it might be enough to—”
“Wait,” Ehrne said holding up his hand. “I heard some ridiculous tale that you’d been on a sort of penance tour for the past several months, cozying up to rulers and magistrates and everyone else you’d made miserable.” He began to smile. “Soilléir’s making you do more of that, isn’t he?”
Acair looked down his nose at his cousin. “I think I’m finished with this conversation.”
“And look you there, Surdail,” Ehrne said, nodding toward Léirsinn. “She hasn’t any idea what we’re discussing. He hasn’t told her.”
“I wonder, Your Majesty, if perhaps he’s not allowed to say anything about himself. It seems that might be an added insult, wouldn’t you agree? For a black mage of his reputation to be forced to crawl about as a mere mortal?” Surdail looked at Acair. “Is that the case, Master Acair?”
Acair glared at him. “I cannot enlighten anyone new as to my identity, aye. Those who already know me are, of course, free to bring to mind my past deeds and tremble in fear.”
Ehrne began to smile. “No magic and no ability to intimidate with your reputation alone. I do believe Soilléir has hit upon the perfect combination. What a pity that you must take the barbs and insults reserved for lesser men.”
“Perhaps, Your Majesty,” Surdail said thoughtfully, “we should discuss a few things for which he might deserve those barbs.” He looked at Acair blandly. “So his little miss knows exactly whom she’s keeping company with, since I suspect he hasn’t seen fit to tell her yet.”
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Acair said, then he shut his mouth around whatever other protestations he might have offered. The look Ehrne was giving him left him thinking that might be a very prudent thing to do.
“That is the price for the horse,” Ehrne said coldly.
If the ancient elf wanted to put it that way, Acair realized he had no choice but to watch as the pair set off, as the saying went, to the races.
There wasn’t a damned piece of mischief they didn’t examine at great length, tripping over themselves to top the other with things Acair had to admit he had definitely said and done. He did his best to ignore the endless list of his misdeeds that the king, his captain, and his steward, who had apparently dropped in to add a few things to the conversation, seemed determined to spew out.
It was a very long list.
It was a collection of things he was very familiar with, though, so he had little trouble ignoring it. Unfortunately, they didn’t limit themselves to simply that. They soon moved to a great whacking list of people he had done dirty, as his mother would have said. Mages, monarchs, maidens, mavens: there wasn’t a damned one of them they didn’t identify and have a wee chuckle over.