He looked genuinely shocked. “What a horrible idea.”
“What would you do?”
“Humiliate them with a well-chosen spell or two, then leave them on their knees in front of me, begging me for their lives,” he said with a shrug. “I would then look over their pitiful magic and walk away only after having pointed out to them that it wasn’t worth the effort of pilfering.”
“How is that any different?”
“Because I don’t think you could burn someone to cinders,” he said carefully.
“Could you?”
“Please don’t ask.”
She supposed she shouldn’t. “Then I’d best work on the other so you can do what you must.”
“That might be best,” he agreed.
She turned back to face what was left of the pile of wood in front of her, then decided perhaps she would take the king at his word and just believe. She felt ridiculous, but she repeated the words faithfully and with as much detachment as possible.
Fire appeared atop the wood as surely as if she’d brought it to life there by normal means. More to the point, it stayed where she’d put it.
Briefly.
She was certain she hadn’t added anything to it, but it suddenly burst into an inferno that she supposed would have singed them both if Acair hadn’t doused it immediately.
“Well, I daresay ’tis as we thought: your foul temper causes your spells to run away with you,” he said. “You might want to learn to control that.”
She made a rude gesture at him, one she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t learned from his spell of death. He only breathed out a bit of a laugh, but she imagined he’d seen far worse.
She looked at her hands in his and supposed he was too much the gentleman to notice any stray tears of frustration she might have wept. She waited until she thought she could speak without her voice catching, then spat out what she’d been thinking for the past several days but hadn’t been able to say.
“What if I can’t do this?”
“I’m not sure we need to discuss what I’m willing to do to see that you don’t have to,” he said quietly. He squeezed her hands gently, then stood up, pulling her with him. “Let’s take a healthful walk about the chamber and examine your victim from all sides. I find it’s very useful to make a list of possible failings to point out during the appropriate moment.”
She nodded, but didn’t look at him. If he walked with her for more than a single turn about the king’s chamber, he didn’t make note of it.
She stopped by the door, set aside the very tempting idea of making use of it, then looked at him.
“I’m ready.”
He leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek, then took her hand. “Again, then.”
She nodded and walked with him back to their stools. She wasn’t sure she would ever manage to control what her forays into a magical arena produced, but perhaps in the end it wouldn’t matter. For all she knew, Acair would find a way to be able to use his magic and all she would need to do was stand by and, as he might have said, be astonished by his magnificence.
Surely she wouldn’t be responsible for anything more than that.
Surely.
Seven
Acair finished yet another restless circle of Uachdaran of Léige’s library and came to a stop in front of a surprisingly large window set in unsurprisingly thick walls where he had a full view of the darkness outside. The moon was but a sliver, but that didn’t trouble him. That ability to see well in the gloom was perhaps, as he tended to remind himself as he prowled about darkened solars without knocking over decanters of rare port, the only decent thing he’d inherited from his sire.
He hoped Gair of Ainneamh, Camanaë, Ceangail, and half a dozen other places the man had claimed as home over the centuries had a perfect view of his shatteringly boring surroundings down there in that barren country of Shettlestoune, no matter the time of day.
He let out his breath slowly and pushed aside those thoughts. In truth, he tended not to think on his sire overmuch, mostly because it was a perfect waste of energy that could be better used being about his usual business of making the world a better place.
Which, as it happened, he was in the process of doing at that very moment. Léirsinn was safely ensconced in her chamber with Master Ollamh watching over her whilst the usual trio of the king’s guardsmen was standing post. The king was no doubt looking over his mounds of gems and heaps of vile spells and deciding which pile to count first. He himself had put on his best manners and most trustworthy expression to secure an hour of liberty in the king’s library, admittedly accompanied by the stern injunction not to let anything stray into his pockets.
That last bit he found rather insulting. As with most everything else in Léige, the king’s books were too large and heavy to be stuffed in any pocket he possessed.
He supposed he might have put the king’s mind at ease by assuring him that what he wanted to think about was not things that might topple thrones and ruin the peace of various Heroes, but rather the endless parade of horrors he’d seen in the king’s lists the night before—though he supposed those things weren’t mutually exclusive.
He was beginning to understand why Uachdaran of Léige was rarely invited to gatherings put on by workers of more fastidious magic.
He leaned against the window casement and thought back over the king’s spells. He’d memorized everything flung his way, of course, with an exactness that might have even impressed his admittedly impossible-to-impress sire. Cataloging the offerings presently was a bit more difficult.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t familiar in a general sense with Durialian magic. He had nicked a pair of the dwarf-king’s finest over the years, intriguing spells of forcing things to reveal what they didn’t want to and making light where light shouldn’t have been possible. After what he’d seen the night before, however, he was beginning to suspect that those spells had been deliberately left out in the open for any sticky-fingered guests whilst the true business of the kingdom had remained hidden.
The other truth he’d accepted, midway through fending off yet another volley of things that seemed to want to turn him into solid rock only after having smothered him by degrees, was that he’d been far too casual during his previous forays into Uachdaran of Léige’s solar. If the king had been brandishing the goods without his usual hesitation the night before, who knew what else might be found with a bit of digging?
As he had noted to himself more than once, dwarvish magic didn’t include any niceties or polite how-do-you-dos before smashing through defenses and dispensing whatever was necessary to do their business. Whilst he himself preferred a bit of finesse and refinement in his engagements, there were certainly times when it might be easier to simply come to the point of things right off. The king had shown him many tempting morsels. Spells of illumination, spells of containment, spells of stripping away all the dross to leave the true prize? Dazzling, truly. It might be time to have another look and see what the king had stuffed under his own sofa cushions.