Dreamspinner (37 page)

“Because he is a black mage and that is what they do.”

“Is that why there was evil coming out of his mouth—nay, you’ve no need to answer that. I think I can divine that on my own, thank you just the same.”

He was gaping at her. “What did you say?”

“Those words,” she said. She frowned. “Couldn’t you see them?”

He took a deep breath, then nodded. “A few of them. I could feel their effect more than see them, though.” He put his hands very lightly on her shoulders. “I also saw your wheel.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You purchased us the time we needed,” he said grimly, “for which I am very, very grateful, though I’m sorry you had to be a part of any of it.” He sighed and reached out to put his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s be off, unless there’s anything else you want to tell me.”

“Your brother-in-law left footprints in Lothar’s evil.”

He flinched. “Did he?”

“Gold and silver ones,” she said. “Very lovely.”

He looked a little winded. “Anything else?”

“The pegasus’s name is Iteach.”

He bowed his head and huffed out a bit of a laugh, then looked at her. “And how in the world do you know that?”

“He told me so.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Woman, I am going to go very far into your debt one of these days and leave you with no choice but to answer an endless list of my questions. And the first will be, who
are
you?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “No one of consequence.”

“That’s mine and you can’t have it,” he said with another smile. “You’ll have to find something else to say.” He nodded toward Iteach. “You go discuss it with Iteach whilst I finish up with Miach. The sooner we’re behind Tor Neroche’s puny walls, the happier I’ll be.”

“Puny?”

He only shook his head, squeezed her shoulders, and deposited her with his horse before he walked off to talk to Miach about
things she suspected she would very much like to hear but wasn’t sure she could stomach at present.

She made certain her bow was securely fastened to the saddle, then reached into the saddlebag and came up with a curry comb. She put her hand on Iteach’s nose and looked him in the eye.

“Shall I pretty you a bit before we make our grand entrance?” she said lightly. “It is Tor Neroche, after all.”

He purred at her.

She smiled in spite of herself and set to work. She had a dozen questions she wanted answers to, but since all of them seemed to lead back to black mages and magic, she wasn’t sure she could ask any of them.

Iteach bumped her elbow, distracting her. She smiled at him, grateful for the interruption, and set to her work.

And she couldn’t help but wish Rùnach would hurry.

R
ùnach looked over his shoulder and saw Aisling grooming his horse. He decided that there was no time like the present to convince his brother-in-law to keep his bloody mouth shut. He walked over to find Miach wrapping Lothar in spells even Rùnach could see the echo of. Miach looked up at him.

“Perhaps Gobhann is less secure than I dared hope.”

“Perhaps Weger was more distracted,” Rùnach said grimly. “I have no idea how Lothar escaped, but I wouldn’t doubt there was both subterfuge and death involved.”

Miach straightened and looked at him. “I’m sure I’ll have the details eventually.”

“What will you do with him?”

“I’m still thinking about it. He’s secure enough for the moment.”

Rùnach wasn’t too proud to show a little gratitude, though he drew the line at falling upon his brother-in-law’s neck and bawling like a bairn. “I appreciate the rescue,” he said, though that seemed an inadequate expression of just how grateful he’d been.

Miach only shrugged. “I think your lady had things well in hand, actually, but I was happy to do my part.” He slid Rùnach a look. “Are you going to explain what I just saw, or must I guess?”

“Neither,” Rùnach said with a weary smile. “Ask me later.”

“Might I ask now what you’re doing here?”

“Can you stop yourself?”

Miach smiled at him. “I’m pleased your time in Gobhann didn’t sour you.”

“I won’t say what it
did
do to me, though I suppose I wasn’t there long enough to be truly corrupted by the place.”

“Well, you seemed to have acquired a lovely gel over there.” Miach blinked innocently. “Does she have any idea who you are?”

“None,” Rùnach said. “She’s lived a rather sheltered life.”

“How sheltered?”

“She believes elves, dwarves, and dragons are figments of fevered bardly imaginations.”

Miach looked at him for a moment in silence, blinked as if he were trying to decide if he’d heard things aright or not, then smiled. “I’m not exactly sure how to respond to that.”

“Trust me,” Rùnach said dryly, “I’m still working on something appropriate myself.” He glanced at Aisling, found she was still busy with Iteach, then turned back to his brother-in-law. “Might we seek refuge at Tor Neroche in truth? We are, as you have seen, somewhat vulnerable at the moment.”

“Do you need anonymity?”

“It seems to have worked well for those who have gone before me,” Rùnach said pointedly.

Miach raised his eyebrows briefly. “That is definitely something you should rethink, but I’m happy to humor you. My only suggestion would be that you keep your hood pulled up around your face if you decide to wander the halls. I think you look more like your mother’s side of the family than your father’s, but that’s just me. There are several, I imagine, who would recognize you just the same.”

“And will you keep your hood up around your face as well, or just avoid the entire problem by keeping us in the stables?”

“I could try to lie,” Miach offered.

“You’re terrible at it. Always have been.”

Miach shrugged. “Fortunately my need for subterfuge and hedging has passed, though I can see your need for both has not.” He paused, then looked thoughtfully at Iteach. “I would venture to say that lad is Angesand get, perhaps out of Nimheil’s stables?”

Rùnach blew his hair out of his eyes. “Who don’t you know?”

“Oh, I’ve never met Nimheil,” Miach said quickly. “I haven’t hit upon the proper hostess gift yet, though I was thinking your sister might be enough. We’re planning a visit.” He looked at Rùnach with another frown. “What have you told your lady there about your steed?”

“Nothing. Nicholas made up a tale of some sort that I honestly can’t remember at the moment. And she’s not my lady.”

Miach studied him. “How much do you like her?”

Rùnach attempted a dismissive smile. “Do you think I would fall in love with the first woman I met after a score of years as a monk at Buidseachd?”

“I don’t know,” Miach asked. “Would you?”

Rùnach decided it was perhaps wisest to just ignore the question lest he be forced to state the obvious, which was that his brother-in-law was a bloody romantic. “All I ask is that you make whatever you do believable,” he said, “if for no other reason than I don’t want her hurt. That is answer enough for your loose tongue.”

“Hmmm,” Miach said, sounding far too interested in things he should have left alone.

“Don’t make me thrash you in your great hall in front of your entire family,” Rùnach warned. “And don’t think I wouldn’t.”

Miach only smirked in a way that annoyed Rùnach so much, he thought he might seriously consider making good on his threat, then pushed past him to go talk to Aisling. Rùnach turned to make certain his sister’s husband wouldn’t make things dodgier than they already were.

He watched Miach greet Aisling with chivalry that did him credit, though Rùnach had to remind himself that there would be questions as to why he had bloodied his brother-in-law’s nose if he didn’t restrain himself. He also had to remind himself that he had
indeed passed a score of monkish years behind very tall walls and he certainly could not become entangled with the first female he encountered upon his release. He also had to remind himself that he could, if he wanted to, take his place as one of Sìle’s grandsons and live a very exclusive, very pampered, very
mythical
life full of the most beautiful of kings’ daughters come to tempt an elven prince.

They might even have been able to overlook his scarred face and ruined hands, if the inducement had been generous enough.

“You have magic.”

Rùnach dragged himself back to the present to realize that Aisling was speaking. Not only was she speaking, she was studying Miach with a type of scrutiny that should have made both him and his brother-in-law very nervous.

“A little,” Miach conceded.

Aisling reached out and plucked something off Miach’s shoulder. Rùnach found that, as usual, he could see it once it was in Aisling’s hand. Miach obviously could as well, for his eyes fair fell from his head. Aisling was only staring at what she was holding draped over a finger. She looked at Miach.

“I’m not sure,” she said, looking very pale and slightly ill, “but I think this is a strand of magic.”

“Is it?” Miach said faintly.

“’Tis purple.”

“Is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Ah,” Miach said helpfully.

Aisling put it back on his shoulder, then patted him. “You might want to be more careful where you walk so you don’t pick any more of those up. I think only royalty is supposed to use purple, aren’t they?”

Miach started to babble something. Rùnach didn’t bother trying to make sense of it. He simply gave his sister’s husband a bit of a shove and put himself in front of Aisling.

“He’s always getting into things he shouldn’t.”

Miach cleared his throat. “It comes from being wed to
his
sis—”

Rùnach elbowed Miach firmly in the ribs. “I think we should
be going. I think Iteach agrees. Fortunate for us, isn’t it, that he has wings?”

Aisling looked at them both as if they’d lost their wits. She turned and walked off, casting Lothar an uneasy look.

“Brilliantly done,” Rùnach muttered.

“What was I supposed to say?” Miach asked defensively. “Who the hell
is
that?”

“I have no idea,” Rùnach said. “I have no idea where even to begin in determining that.”

“Is there a reason that you don’t want her to know who
you
are?”

Rùnach shrugged and attempted a lightness in his tone he most certainly didn’t feel. “There is no point, for what is there to know? I have marginal skill with a sword and a long and gloriously ordinary life stretching out in front of me.”

“For hundreds of years.”

“I’ll worry about that later,” Rùnach said dismissively. “And since that is the case, I’ve told her nothing, because there is nothing to tell.”

“No sense in trying to convince her of the reality of myths, eh?”

Rùnach pursed his lips. “Something like that.”

“Why are you here with her, then?”

“Because she’s looking for a swordsman to save her village from a cruel, usurping overlord, and after Weger threw me out of Gobhann, I decided it might be a good use of my time to look after her until the deed was done.”

Miach shut his mouth. “I see.”

“I don’t dare hope for that.” He nodded toward Lothar. “What about him, in truth?”

“You two go on ahead. I’ll bind him and stuff him in that crofter’s hut over there, then set spells over him for the moment.”

Rùnach looked at him in surprise. “Can you?”

Miach lifted an eyebrow. “Do you mean will I or am I able to?”

Rùnach dragged his hand through his hair. “Sorry, Miach. I don’t doubt your abilities.”

Miach put his hand on Rùnach’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, actually, and you would be justified in it. As it
happens, however, I am fairly good with unconscious mages and I’m continually surprised by what the land aids me in doing.”

“Adhémar was an ass.”

Miach smiled. “Aye, well, there is that. He could have been a better steward of things, but perhaps he was looking elsewhere.”

“Aye, toward the nearest tap.” Rùnach looked at Lothar, then at Miach. “It isn’t as if I could help you any, short of driving my sword through his heart.”

Miach shook his head slowly. “He owns some of Sosar’s power, if nothing else. I’m not sure your cousin would want it back now that it’s been mixed with Lothar’s, but I can’t decide that for him.” He smiled grimly. “It would be easier to do him in, perhaps, but something stops me.”

“Your annoying desire to do good at all costs,” Rùnach said with a sigh, “which I have to admit I admire.”

“You should,” Miach said cheerfully, “since I learned it at your knee. Ah, here is our lady fair and your horse who looks primed and ready to flap off into the distance.”

Aisling was indeed leading Iteach by the reins. She looked at Miach with a frown. “You don’t think they’ll mind if we come?”

“I think I can guarantee that you will be quite welcome,” Miach said, “and I’m sure accommodations are to be found elsewhere besides the stables. Let me tidy up here, then I’ll hurry on ahead. You two take the long way, won’t you? There is a plethora of lovely vistas in the area.”

“That is very kind,” Aisling said quietly.

Miach opened his mouth—no doubt to weave more of his very dangerous lies—but shut it. Rùnach supposed that had been thanks to the glare he himself had offered.