The White Spell (Nine Kingdoms #10)(92)

“You are a bad mage, which you know very well.” Hearn folded his arms over his chest. “How is it you can possibly think I would give you a horse?”

“Because I’m asking to buy a horse,” Acair corrected. “Well, not with any gold that I have with me at present, but if you’ll name your price, when I’m at my leisure to see to it—”

“In another year.”

“Aye, in a year,” he said, trying not to growl as he said it. “In a year, I will happily pay any price you ask.”

“And what if my price is yet another year of your not using magic?” Hearn asked politely.

Acair was beginning to think he had been the topic of conversation at a dinner party with several souls he might or might not have given trouble to in the past. It had likely taken several bottles of wine for them to have come up with any useful thoughts, but he suspected his current straits were the result of all that inebriation. He looked at Hearn evenly.

“Any price but that one.”

Hearn looked at him with that horse-sight that was past unnerving, then grunted. “I’ll give it some thought. Let’s discuss first what I’ve heard from both of you about Mistress Léirsinn’s horse. He sees these things we don’t particularly want to discuss, then he destroys them?”

Acair nodded, then heard himself describe in a fair amount of detail what had happened when Falaire had encountered one of those spots of shadow. He leaned back against a handy railing when Hearn and Léirsinn called for the horse to be brought to them, then fussed over him for so long that Acair found himself wondering why the hell Hearn never had any sorts of benches placed anywhere where a man might find them convenient.

“I’ll walk him to the gates,” Léirsinn said, startling Acair out of his stupor.

“Let one of the lads do that,” Hearn suggested. “One of you at least needs to be awake to hear this.”

Acair hid a yawn behind his hand and forced himself to concentrate on the lord of the hall. Hearn shot him a disgruntled look, which Acair shrugged off. Too much shoveling, not enough sleeping. ’Twas a potent combination.

“Any ideas where that pony came from?” Hearn asked seriously.

Léirsinn frowned. “He was brought to the barn as a yearling, but I didn’t investigate his lineage. Why?”

“Because I am fairly certain he’s from Sìle of Tòrr Dòrainn’s stables,” Hearn said. “There’s a thread of elven magic running through his veins that is unmistakable. And that name? Too close to what they call their magic for coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Acair said through another yawn.

“Neither do I.” Hearn looked at Léirsinn. “I’m not sure it means anything, but it makes me wonder if his name is a message of sorts. I’ve now seen how fond he is of those shadows, but I don’t think they’re doing him any harm.” He shrugged. “He might be of use to you if you could convince him to stay in his own shape long enough to tell you when he sees them.”

“Is he strong enough to carry us both,” Acair asked gingerly, “or do you think his encounters have weakened him?”

Hearn gave vent to a gusty sigh. “He can easily carry our gel here, but you and your enormous ego might just be too heavy for him. I suppose I’ll have to send you off on something else.”

“A horse for me?” he asked as casually as possible, trying not to sound anything like the ten-year-old lad he felt at present.

Hearn ignored him and motioned to one of his lads. “Go fetch that monster we discussed earlier.”

Acair felt Léirsinn elbow him. “I think this will be interesting,” she said with the enthusiasm of someone who had actually slept the night before.

Something to remind himself of periodically: never sleep next to a woman who bothered you whilst you were awake. He was a shameless rogue and a terrible womanizer so holding her hand for most of the night shouldn’t have troubled him at all. That it had left him pacing in front of that grey demon’s stall before the sun was up should have told him something. That he was a fool, perhaps, or that he needed to get hold of himself, no doubt.

He smiled weakly at Léirsinn, then fought not to show any reaction to what was brought to stand in front of Hearn. He supposed it was a horse, but he honestly wasn’t sure. It bared its teeth at him, then tried to reach past its handler to bite him.

“Perfect,” Hearn said, sounding perfectly pleased.

“He’s spirited,” Léirsinn said enthusiastically.

“He’s a devil,” Acair wheezed. “And he’s already tried to bite me!”

They weren’t listening to him, those two horse people who seemed to find nothing at all untoward about a horse that snarled at him every time it looked his way. He supposed he should have been extremely grateful that Hearn was deigning to sell him anything at all, but ’twas difficult to thank a man for giving him something that Hell had obviously just recently vomited up on his front stoop.

“What’s he called?” Léirsinn asked.

“Sianach, through several lines that I didn’t investigate very far. He was sent to me by someone I won’t name, and he is a particularly difficult case.”

“Seems like a match to me,” Léirsinn said. “They might be good for each other.”