“Perhaps not now. She might want to know later, on the off chance Tosdach mentions it.”
Acair nodded. “I’ll remember that.” He walked for a bit, then shook his head. “Why didn’t Sladaiche just dig through their house and take the book when Léirsinn was a child?”
Soilléir looked at him steadily. “I don’t think he even considered the books until after he’d slain the parents. I will admit I sent him off hunting things that didn’t exist long enough to get the children out of the house. There was nothing left for him to find when he returned, not even the books.”
Acair shook his head in disbelief. “Do you have any idea what sort of harm’s way you put her in?”
“She wasn’t unprotected,” Soilléir said carefully, “and there were other distractions to draw Sladaiche’s attention elsewhere. Your father was one.”
“My father?” Acair echoed. “What in the hell does he have to do with any of this?”
“For that, we must go back many years. Sladaiche built a house next to your father’s because he wanted your father’s spell of Diminishing to use in completing what he’d taken from my grandfather’s library, which was thankfully unfinished—”
“Wait,” Acair said, stopping and looking at him. “We found the book, which I’m certain you already know, but the entire thing was gone, not just a single spell. Where are the innards?”
Soilléir shrugged. “No idea.”
“You realize when you say things like that, I have to clasp my hands behind my back to keep them from resting where they so desperately want to instead. That would be around your throat, if you’re confused.”
“I wasn’t,” Soilléir said easily “As for the rest of the book, it likely rotted years ago in someone’s compost bin, not that your grandmother couldn’t rewrite every spell in there. I wouldn’t worry.”
Acair supposed he didn’t need to point out that when Soilléir wasn’t worried, the rest of the world needed to be terrified. He also wished with a desperation that left him a bit weak in the knees for a notebook and a pencil.
There was definitely no escaping it any longer. He had become his mother.
“When Sladaiche realized he would never have Diminishing from your sire,” Soilléir continued, “he turned to others who might know it. Why do you think he left that spell on his mantel for you to find? You do realize, don’t you, that none of your brothers who traipsed through his house could pull it down, much less unwrap it and cast it aside as dross.”
“Well,” Acair said, trying—and failing—not to feel a bit chuffed. “Well.”
Soilléir smiled. “I believe though Sladaiche assumed you didn’t know your father’s spell, he thought you would have it soon enough. If he had been able to befriend you, who knows what would have happened? He might have persuaded you to tell him what he needed to know. There have been many who have watched your adventures with more than a passing interest.”
“I’m certain I’ve kept you up at night.”
“You have,” Soilléir agreed, “and nay, you may not have any of my spells. That would require the seven rings of mastery and then tests I’m not sure you would care for.”
“My heart is already broken,” Acair said lightly. “Not sure you could do worse.”
“I would break your soul, Acair.”
Acair managed a look of loathing that didn’t require all that much effort.
Soilléir only smiled placidly. “So to continue, the time came when Sladaiche turned his eye to the east and to your lady’s family. I believe his thinking was the same with them as with you and your brothers. When he realized her parents couldn’t give him what he wanted, he turned to the children. They were, of course, too young to be of any use at the time, but he was nothing if not patient.”
“So you orchestrated the rescue of them.”
Soilléir nodded. “I sent Iseabail and Taisdealach to other locales and arranged for Léirsinn to be sent to Tosdach. Sladaiche arrived the next day and because he feared what her grandfather might say, her grandfather was muted.”
“Why not slay him instead?”
“I can only suppose Sladaiche thought he might know something. He of course rifled through Léirsinn’s things but found nothing. But over the past pair of years, that patience had seemed to be on the wane. Fuadain was nothing more than a useful fool for him, but when I could see that ending badly, there was no choice but to act.”
Acair shook his head. “But why me?”
“Many reasons. Your encounter with him when you were a child was one. You obviously have the power—”
“From my grandmother—”
“From your grandmother,” Soilléir agreed, “which is something you might want to investigate later. Also, your house is built on the stables, as you now know, so he would have eventually razed it to the ground to look for what he thought might lie there.”
“You put me in harm’s way, without any power, putting Léirsinn’s life in danger now, to face…” Acair found himself spluttering, but was at a loss for another way to express his astonishment. “What the hell were you talking about when you said I could walk where you could not?”
“What would you say if I said ’twas to walk within your own soul and find what lies there?”
“I would say that once I’ve had a decent meal and an equal amount of whisky, you had better have found someplace to hide.” He snorted. “What absolute rubbish.”
“The schools of wizardry are safe haven enough, I imagine.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve slithered over those walls and put my feet up in Droch’s solar?” Acair asked archly. “I’ve even had a wee skip about his bloody chess board and hobnobbed with the pieces too stupid to realize what his true game is.”
“So you have,” Soilléir said. “Next time you visit, come have a glass of wine at my fire. I’m sure we’ll find much to discuss.”
Acair rarely felt himself blindsided, but that someone would actually invite him in for simple conversation? ’Twas unsettling, to be sure. He fumbled about in the appropriate dresser for something nasty to say but found that particular drawer distressingly empty.
“I loathe you,” he said, because ’twas simply all he had left.
Soilléir only laughed softly. “Anything else you’d like to know?”
“Actually, there is. You told me not to find a spell, but to steal it. That, Your Highness, is a bit more egregious than a simple white lie.”