Uachdaran looked as if he’d heard worse ideas, but apparently the present moment was not the time to discuss them.
“I had the palace scoured for vermin after the last time you crawled through it,” the king said tartly. “You’ll find nothing of yours inside.”
And that, Acair supposed, was going to be the best he was going to have from the monarch standing in front of him.
The king lifted his arm and pointed back down the passageway. “You’ll want to be on your way immediately, for reasons I’ll explain after my temper has cooled. I’ll help you find the front door. Wouldn’t want you getting lost and landing in my dungeon.”
Acair supposed things could have been much worse, so he nodded and followed the king through the palace, thoroughly grateful that there were indeed no unexpected detours toward lower levels. He walked out onto the front stoop.
Léirsinn was standing there, swathed in lovely traveling clothes with both their packs sitting at her feet. He looked at her quickly, but she only nodded slightly. He had the appropriate books and the spell of death he’d fetched from under the king’s chair on his person, but there were other things he’d collected on their journey that he hadn’t wanted to give up quite yet. His pack looked robust, so he felt confident that Léirsinn had gathered up everything they both still owned. He took the cloak she held out toward him, then turned and made the king a low bow.
“Thank you. This is more—”
“It is,” the king interrupted. “You may thank me by fixing those bloody rivers of yours.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“If you fail I will hunt you down, slay you slowly, then hang your rotting corpse on my front gates for all to admire.”
Acair didn’t doubt that for a moment. “Of course.”
“Your Granny is making mischief on my western border which gives you the perfect opportunity to scamper out the gates while watchers are distracted. I assume you’re clever enough to know what I’m getting at.”
Acair nodded carefully. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Just so you know, the lad you’re running from hasn’t attempted to lay any shadows on my land.”
“Your spells of ward are indeed formidable.”
“There is that,” the king agreed, “though I suspect the truth is that he’s too stupid to know what finds itself within my borders which, it galls me to admit, you are not. But that’s your mystery to solve, not mine.” The king nodded toward the courtyard. “There’s your mount being brought, may he throw you off at his first chance. I’ll do your lady the courtesy of a spell of un-noticing, though.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Acair said. “I don’t suppose you’d want to use it aloud, just so she’ll hear how ’tis properly done.”
The king rolled his eyes and brushed past him. Acair listened to the dwarf inquire politely after Léirsinn’s comfort, then offer her a suggestion or two about places where she might push magelike companions off the back of her horse so she might ride freely into her future.
He picked up their gear and secured it to Sianach’s saddle, climbed up behind Léirsinn, then listened to the king’s very useful and surprisingly simple spell of un-noticing. Uachdaran shot him a look.
“I’ll know if you use that in the future.”
“With permission, then?”
The king swore at him and walked off to gather his men for that piece of mischief he seemed to be looking forward to on his western flank. Acair put his arms around Léirsinn and happily turned the reins over to her. At least that way, he might manage to avoid being bitten by his horse right off.
She stopped Sianach when they were just outside the gates, sitting in such darkness that Acair wondered if that spell of the king’s would be necessary.
“Where to now?”
He took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t come to regret their destination.
“Home.”
Eight
Léirsinn followed Acair through the woods and wondered if his brothers had ever managed to outrun him. Not only was he perfectly silent, he was relentlessly swift. She had perfected the art of being silent and unmarked, but she thought she might have met her match in haste.
She suspected he wasn’t keen on the idea of being out in the wilds east of Durial without protection, which she appreciated. They had been covered by the king’s spell of un-noticing as Sianach had bolted across the sky wearing only the faintest suggestion of dragonshape, though it had vanished once they’d put foot to ground again. Acair had remarked with only the lightest of sighs that the king certainly wouldn’t want them unseen by the nymphs who controlled the rivers.
Sianach had disappeared, no doubt off to hunt for a late supper, and she had been perfectly happy to follow in Acair’s footsteps. It hadn’t taken long before she realized that what she was hearing hadn’t been thunder, it was the rushing of mighty waters.
No wonder the king couldn’t sleep.
Acair stopped so suddenly that she almost ran him over. He caught her by the arm to keep her from going sprawling, then held her until she was steady on her feet. She nodded her thanks, then looked out into a clearing that was large enough to have grazed one horse quite comfortably for a pair of hours. Beyond that seemed to lay the source of all the noise. She supposed there was at least one mighty river coming from the mountains and rushing over falls, though perhaps several met for a moment, then went their various ways.
She first thought that the gloom was less in that glade because of the mist reflecting even just the starlight, but she realized quite suddenly that it had everything to do with the man standing there.
Nay, not man, but an elf—and a king, by the look of the crown atop his snowy head.
The king caught sight of Acair and gasped. Léirsinn would have glanced at Acair, but she realized moving was going to be very unwise. The glint of a sword not a hand’s breadth in front of her face was proof enough of that. Obviously there was a previous relationship between the monarch in front of her and the man beside her, though she didn’t dare speculate on what it might entail. She watched the king doff his crown and clutch it with both hands which she supposed rendered that speculation unnecessary.
“You,” he snarled.
“I’m beginning to wonder if anyone ever remembers my name,” Acair muttered, then he stepped in front of her and started to make the crown-clutching monarch a bow. A different sword flashed silver in front of him before he could.
“Dionadair, leave it,” the king said. “I’m perfectly capable of seeing to this disgusting worker of vile magic myself.”