The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(78)

She considered. “Are we going to encounter any of them anytime soon?”

“I certainly hope not.” He walked across the room and cast himself down in a chair across the table from her. “Since I am seemingly at liberty to say what I care to, I daresay there’s no reason we can’t speak freely.”

“Will you describe for me more vile deeds?” she asked politely.

He sighed. “There are those in abundance, but you’ve already heard a list of some of the worst. I’m quite certain you’ll hear more in the future. Nay, I thought we might discuss our plans whilst we have a bit of peace for that sort of thing. You will stay here, of course, in safety. I need to find that damned Soilléir and convince him to take back his spell so I have magic to hand.” He met her eyes. “That rubbish that doesn’t exist.”

“I’ve been watching Falaire shapechange all morning,” she said wearily. “I believe I’ve become resigned to a few things I couldn’t believe before.” She considered. “If you have—” She waved her hand in his direction. “—you know.”

“I know.”

She took a deep breath. “If you have it, can you not find out what those shadows are?”

“I thought I might try.”

“And save my grandfather?”

“That too.”

She chewed on what she wanted to say for longer than she liked, but she could hardly bear to ask. “Do you think you could heal him?”

His expression was very grave. “I will try.”

“Then do whatever you need to,” she said. “I don’t matter.”

“I think you do.”

“I can’t imagine why,” she said. “I certainly don’t have any magic. Not a smidgen of it.”

“You know, Léirsinn, neither does Hearn of Angesand—or so ’tis said—and look at what a remarkable legacy he continues to leave trailing along behind him through the centuries.”

She looked at him in surprise. He was wearing the same look of astonishment, actually.

“I believe,” she managed, “that you should go on to be a philosopher.”

“And I believe you should stay here,” he said seriously. “I’ve described those spots of shadow to my, er—”

“Grandmother.”

He looked rather uncomfortable. “Aye, my grandmother. She believes they aren’t benign, nor are they without some sort of consciousness. We suspect that they aren’t simply appearing out of nowhere.”

She wished rather desperately for a glass of water. “Meaning someone is creating them?”

He nodded. “Exactly that.” He fussed with a pair of books on the table, set them aside with a sigh, then looked at her. “I’ll tell you very plainly that you won’t want to be anywhere near whoever is creating those spells, nor will you want to see what I’ll have to do to stop him.”

“Not that I’m terribly enthusiastic about coming with you,” she admitted slowly, “but I tend to notice them before you do, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’ll pay greater heed to where I step.”

“You’ll never manage my horse on your own.”

He started to speak, frowned, then pushed himself to his feet and began to wander about the library as he’d done before. She watched him pull books from shelves, then put them back almost immediately, as if he couldn’t find anything compelling enough to hold his interest. She realized after a few minutes that he was nervous. For some reason, that was the most alarming thing she’d seen yet.

She was accustomed to his wearing irritation like a cloak, wielding haughty words like a sword, and trotting out all sorts of untoward and perhaps slightly dangerous skills in order to save her sorry backside and feed her, but she was seeing a side of him she wasn’t sure she cared for.

“Acair?”

He stopped and smiled at her briefly. “Not many people call me by my name.”

“What do they usually call you?”

“Do you really want to know?”

She smiled in spite of herself. “I imagine not.” She studied him for a moment or two, then folded her hands atop a book on the table in front of her. “There’s something wrong.”

He took a deep breath, then walked over to her and held out his hand. “There’s something you need to see.”

She had to admit she was growing increasingly tired of having her heart stop so suddenly, then start up again with a great pounding that was almost painful. “Falaire? Is he injured?”

“Your horse is fine,” he said grimly, pulling her to her feet. “The rest of us? I’m not sure.” He blew out his breath. “Just come and see for yourself.”

She would have run, but she had no idea where she was going and Acair managed to get them lost in a garden so thoroughly that they were forced to find aid. The servant who they pressed into service seemed not to be aware of their desire for haste which only added to her frustration. Acair thanked the man once they reached the stables—more politely than she could have managed—then walked swiftly with her to the stall where she knew Falaire was being housed.

He continued on past that stall, which left her rather short of breath, but he didn’t pause. He stopped finally at the gate to a very fine arena and looked at her. Léirsinn was vastly relieved to see Falaire in that arena, cantering about in his proper shape. Eulasaid was there as well, standing just inside the gate, watching Falaire thoughtfully.