She gave herself a good shake and walked over to look at the books left spread out on the sofa. She sat down and picked up the first one she came to without any idea of what she was looking for. She did that with horses more often than not. After all the years she’d spent looking them over, she had become confident in her ability to spot a gem amongst lesser offerings.
What had served her best, though, was to simply get on their backs and allow them to show her what they could do. Perhaps that didn’t work with books, but she was out of ideas on what might. Perhaps starting from the top of the pile and working her way down would reveal something she couldn’t have foreseen.
She started with the barn ledger. She could hardly believe the dates there, but if Acair’s sire had lived a thousand years already, perhaps a stablemaster who had been let go a hundred years previously wasn’t unthinkable. She tucked a few details away for discussing with Acair later, then looked through the other things they’d brought with them. Interesting, but not particularly noteworthy.
She wound up finally with her own book in her hands. She sat back against the sofa and closed her eyes, holding it close. It was a very odd feeling to have something in her possession that she’d had as a child, then lost. She was tempted to wonder how it had found its way into King Seannair’s library, but perhaps that could safely be left to Prince Coimheadair to investigate.
Stranger still was why that first story was missing. If Slaidear had indeed been the one to have taken it, the question was why would a grown man have removed a tale about a dragon from a children’s book?
Admittedly, the dragon had lost his soul and gone looking for it in odd places, but both the dragon and his search had been nothing more than a product of someone’s imagination. It wasn’t as if the dragon had said…
She felt her entire being stop. Her heart, her breath, her swirling thoughts.
Full stop.
It wasn’t as if the dragon had said anything, was what she’d been thinking.
But the beast had…
“Léirsinn?”
She was certain she’d jumped half a foot, right off the divan. She knew she’d thrown her book up into the air because a hand reached out and caught it. The rest of the books next to her tumbled to the floor at her feet.
Acair looked at her and held up his hands slowly.
“Friend, not foe.”
“You’re too quiet,” she managed.
“Says the lass who has left me startled more often than not. You were lost in your reading, I think. I called you three times, if you’re curious.” He looked at her with a slight frown. “What is it?”
She leaned over and stacked the fallen books on top of each other, then took back her own when Acair handed it to her. She held it, then looked up at him. “I might need something to drink.”
He didn’t move. “You found something.”
“I’m not sure.”
He frowned thoughtfully, then poured things into glasses. He sat down next to her and handed one to her. “Water for you, darling, and whisky for me.”
She took his glass out of his hand, had a sip of his brew, then deeply regretted it. She handed it back to him and settled for the water he’d poured for her.
“I think I might need to walk,” she said, feeling a little lightheaded.
“We’ll take a turn about the chamber,” he said slowly. “I don’t think we dare go outside, but this is the very last time that is the case.” He took their drinks and set them on the table, then pulled her up with him. “What did you find?”
She took the arm he offered, then walked with him around the edge of a chamber that she realized was far larger than she’d thought at first. Somehow, that didn’t ease her all that much, but as he said, perhaps it would be the last time being in a confined space would be necessary.
“I looked over King Seannair’s barn ledger,” she began. “He bought a horse three hundred years ago.”
“Let’s acquire that particular pony, then,” Acair said with a snort. “Just my ancient sort of nag. I imagine it will be far too tired to do any damage to my fine form.”
“I suspect so. That was also only the first of many horses he bought over the course of those subsequent three hundred years.”
“So, Seannair has purchased many ponies over the centuries,” he said slowly. “Any ideas from where?”
“From whom is a more interesting question.”
He looked at her. “Look at you peering into musty old corners. The next thing we know, you’ll be wanting your own set of tools for the picking of locks.”
“I’ll leave that to the lad who already has them,” she said uneasily. “As for the other, I don’t think I would have noticed if the horses hadn’t come through a particular line.”
“Do not tell me they have their own equine family trees.”
“You know they do,” she said. “Three hundred years ago, Seannair bought a horse from Flann of Ionad-teàrmainn.”
“I don’t suppose there’s a description of either the lad’s flaming red hair, or perhaps the color of that pony, is there?”
“Does calling it a chestnut suffice?” she asked. “And aye, that’s what they call it. So, the interesting thing is, King Seannair continued to buy horses from that particular line from that same family, though two hundred years ago—and believe me I can hardly choke this out—the horses continued to come from that line but the barn moved.”
He stopped and looked at her in surprise. “You can tell that from a ledger?”
She nodded. “I could tell you what they were fed almost to the week, if you were interested.”
“I am absolutely not,” he said with a shudder.
She smiled briefly. “I didn’t think you would be. But that line of horses continued to be sold to the king until twenty years ago.”
He caught his breath. “Who was the last seller of that particular line?”
“Muireall of An Caol.”
“Of course,” he said quietly. “I’m assuming she was selling a pony descended from those lads who peopled a barn in Ionad-teàrmainn.”
Léirsinn nodded. “If you can believe that. And here’s something else. Remember the book you set aside about farrier techniques?”
“Boring stuff, that.”
“It might have been less dull if we’d known it was written by the man who’s been shoeing Seannair’s horses for the past three hundred years.”