The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(69)

He had never in his long life thought he would ever see the granddaughter of the wizardess Nimheil standing in a dungeon dressed all in black, come to rescue him.

“Um,” he managed.

Eulasaid only laughed softly. “And so the journey is repaid tenfold.” She put her hand briefly on his arm, then turned to Léirsinn. “And you are Léirsinn of Sàraichte.”

Léirsinn looked at her in astonishment. “How did you know?”

“Your pony told me.” She smiled. “He’s a lovely little fellow. Very chatty.”

Acair glanced at Léirsinn to see how she was taking that. She looked past surprise, which he supposed was understandable. For a gel who had fainted at the sight of wings on her horse, she had shown a remarkably strong stomach over the course of the past several hours, facing all sorts of things he was certain she hadn’t wanted to believe.

“Of course,” Léirsinn said faintly. “I don’t suppose that if you’re rescuing us, you could point me toward the barn so I can liberate that chatty pony, could you? I can’t leave without him.”

“Oh, not to worry, love.” Eulasaid patted her pocket. “I have him right here. You might want to take him to Hearn to investigate his genealogy properly, but in my brief conversation with him, we identified at least one of his noble dams who had magic. I suggested a pair of shapes he might try and he took to the smallest without any trouble.”

“Shapes,” Léirsinn echoed, but the word was more of a choked whisper than anything.

“You might be surprised by what lies inside those you love.” Eulasaid smiled. “You see, I’m a gardener by trade and I like to see the possibilities in things. Seeds, horses, grandsons.”

Acair was still trying to find his tongue, but if he’d had a better grasp on his traitorous form, he would have disabused Léirsinn of the notion she might be getting from that diminutive granny standing there that said granny had never done anything more serious than turn a spade of soft earth. That one . . . he shook his head. The tales of Eulasaid’s exploits were the stuff of legends. She had faced off with black mages, renegade wizards, and all types of other nasty things without so much as a light sigh of exertion. She was older than Soilléir, canny as hell, and had likely forgotten more spells than Acair had ever known.

And she was, as he had said before, his grandmother.

He had never presented himself at her table, of course, because he was who he was and she was who she was and he hadn’t wanted to interrupt any of her dinner parties. He could hardly believe she would even acknowledge him, much less rescue him.

Truly, his life had become very strange.

“You came to rescue us,” he said, because he still couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Aye, both of you, Acair,” Eulasaid said with a small smile. “We heard tell that you were unwilling guests here, so your grandfather and I thought you might be pleased to see a friendly face or two.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’m not as spry as I used to be, of course, but I think we’ll manage well enough.”

“I don’t want to be rude,” Acair said gingerly, “but we are on the wrong side of Ainneamh’s borders and the king is not without power—”

“Ehrne is an ass,” Eulasaid said. “I have no fear of him. I happily amuse myself by unraveling his border spell when it creeps into my garden, so I’m familiar enough with what he creates. This thing guarding his dungeon was, I daresay, created by one of his lesser grandchildren several centuries ago. It hasn’t been tended very well, but even so I suggest we don’t linger. We still have a bit of a walk in front of us.”

Acair nodded. “Too far for a dead run,” he agreed, “even for me. You should go ahead with Léirsinn. I’ll distract the guards and follow as I can.”

“Not to worry, love,” Eulasaid said cheerfully. “The guards are sleeping soundly and Sgath is making a nuisance of himself upstairs to give us a chance to be away. You know Ehrne. He’ll be arguing with Sgath for hours over past imagined slights. We’ll have time enough for a leisurely stroll, though I think we’d best be about it. I believe I might have left the kettle on.”

Acair wasn’t about to argue. He boosted his grandmother, then his, er, whatever that red-headed gel was, then hauled himself through the window without delay. He looked over his shoulder in time to watch that damned spell of death reach out with long, spindly fingers and pull itself up and out of the window as well.

“You have a friend,” Eulasaid remarked, brushing off her hands and settling her cloak.

“My constant companion,” Acair said sourly. “Don’t suppose you could destroy it for me, could you?”

“Oh, I don’t like to interfere,” she demurred.

“Ha,” he said with a snort, then he clamped his lips shut. “Forgive me, my lady.”

She laughed, a delightful sound full of good humor. “Absolutely nothing to forgive, love, of course.” She glanced at the spell again. “An interesting little thing there. Perhaps I’ll have a wee conversation with it later, just to see if it has anything interesting to say. But I think it has a purpose in your life that I don’t dare disturb.” She smiled at him. “Let’s go home, shall we?”