Dreamer's Daughter (6 page)

He leaned over and kissed her. “I know more spells than she does, I guarantee it.”

“I'm not sure why that leaves me feeling so relieved.”

“Because I could turn
her
into a toad if necessary.” He looked at her. “In honor of that, why don't you try something now?”

“Rùnach,” she said with a sigh, “you know I have no magic.”

“That stream of something extremely beautiful we encountered in that terribly cold river recently seemed to think so. I wonder what Cothromaiche thinks of what you can do?”

“Are you purposely trying to make me uncomfortable?”

He leaned back against the window and smiled. “Of course not. I'm just curious.”

“And we all know where that leads,” she said grimly. “Very well. What shall I try?”

“What is your magic called?”

“How would I know?”

“I thought you might have asked it at some point.”

She attempted a glare but she feared it had only come out as a weak sort of whimpering thing. “We didn't have time to find ourselves on a first-name basis while you and I were coming very close to dying.”

He smiled. “Fair enough. Try Croxteth. It's a very sturdy, sensible magic that Cothromaiche likely won't find objectionable.”

“I forgot the spell.”

“And I imagine you haven't forgotten anything, but I'll let that pass and give it to you again.”

She suppressed a shiver when he taught her the spell, then forced herself to repeat the words. It wasn't terror that gripped her, it was the feeling that she was a child in a roomful of things belonging to her elders and she was contemplating touching something she'd been specifically instructed not to play with.

A ball of werelight appeared in front of them, spluttered, then disappeared.

She looked at Rùnach. “See?”

He frowned thoughtfully. “I don't think that was any lack on your part.”

“You try something so we'll know for sure.”

He considered, then tried his own spell in Fadaire. The light that appeared there was beautiful, true, but there was something about it that seemed . . . strange. As if she were seeing the light through a window made of glass that was slightly flawed.

The light disappeared abruptly, leaving behind a shadow of something that faded so quickly, Aisling was certain she'd imagined it. She looked at Rùnach, but he was only continuing to look without expression at the place where his ball of werelight had lingered.

“Perhaps 'tis something I did,” she offered.

“When you spun my magic out of me, then did me the very great favor of helping to put it back in my veins?” he finished. He shook his head. “Aisling, this isn't anything to do with you. There is no darkness in you. For all we know, Uachdaran decided to drop a shard of obsidian in my veins as punishment for all the spells I poached from him in my youth.”

“Perhaps 'tis just a shadow,” she said. “From the light coming in the window, of course.”

“Of course.”

Though she had the feeling it might not be. The look he gave her said he was thinking the same thing.

“I think it might be wise to discuss this with Soilléir before we go any further,” he said reluctantly. “I'm not sure he'll offer an opinion, but we can try. I'm sure he's loitering uselessly about somewhere in the palace.”

He rose, but she shook her head. “I think I'd like to stay here and spin a bit longer, if you don't mind.”

He shot her a look. “Stalling?”

“Absolutely.”

He laughed a little, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I'll come fetch you for supper, shall I?”

“No need,” she said, looking up at him. “I'll find my way there.”

“What you mean is that you'll find a way to remain in the kitchens,” he said dryly, “which whilst I agree with thoroughly, I can't condone. Come to table or I'll come find you.”

“You, Your Highness, are a bully.”

“I was hoping to hide behind your skirts, which makes me less a bully than a coward.” He walked toward the door. “Pleasant dreams, Aisling.”

She looked at his back in surprise. “I wasn't planning on napping.”

He turned around slowly and looked at her. “What did I say?”

“You said,
Pleasant dreams
.”

He drew his hand over his eyes, then smiled weakly. “We need to get out from under Seannair's roof,” he said. “I can see why Soilléir boards in Beinn òrain. Pleasant
spinning
, Aisling.”

She nodded, then rose and wrapped her arms around herself once he'd closed the door behind him. She didn't want to think about her future or her past or what she'd seen just then lingering after Rùnach's spell, something very dark—

She took a deep breath and walked over to her wheel. She sat, but found herself back on her feet almost immediately. She was accustomed to very long hours at her loom, but she wasn't sure she could have managed the same at present with a score of Guild guards standing behind her, their hands on their swords. She had to have a distraction far past what spinning could provide.

She paced around the chamber, bending to touch wool occasionally, more often than not reaching out to touch the strands of sunlight that came through the windows. If she was careful, she found she could wrap those strands about her fingers.

There came a point where she realized she was no longer standing where she had been, taking threads of sunlight and separating them into colors. She was somehow wandering inside Inntrig, but she felt as if she were wandering in a dream. She saw that while she had imagined that all the non-human things within the palace were silent and only mildly interested in the doings of the inhabitants, that wasn't exactly true. They were silent, sentient guardsmen, unmarked until they were needed. The doors to the library, which she could see as clearly as if she stood in front of them, were wood, but only as long as the inhabitants of that library didn't require their services. She saw with startling clarity how they had on several occasions become an impenetrable barricade to keep safe those inside.

She wandered in the garden, knowing she wasn't really there but feeling as if she couldn't have been more present. The flowers, trees, stones of the path, benches of wood and granite, were in their own way just as vocal as what she'd found in other places. They were simply discreet and watchful, as if they grew and flourished in their own good time, taking pleasure in watching over those who strolled through their midst, unaware and at peace.

The whole country was alive with a magic she had never expected and hadn't seen. It was as if she walked in someone else's dream and saw Cothromaiche through their eyes.

She could no longer tell the difference between dreaming and waking, but saw no way out of where she was. She was half tempted to see if she could spin herself back out of wherever she was, but—

She almost tripped over the spell before she realized it was right there in the air in front of her.

She took it in her hands and examined the whole of it. It wasn't like a book, but rather a rose with petals that seemed to represent steps that had to be followed in a certain way. She peeled the petals back one by one, memorizing their structure as she did so, until she reached the center and saw how the spell could be used. She paused, for the magic was unusual. Then again, she was in Cothromaiche, where it turned out that nothing was as it had seemed at first.

She took a deep breath, then began the spell. She took strands of sunlight and bent them into a flywheel, using the spell to help her. It seemed to be perfectly happy to do her bidding and the sunlight didn't protest being turned into something else. She sculpted a bobbin from the breath of the flowers that bloomed just outside the spinner's chamber, marveling as it took shape beneath her hands and became something other than what it had been while yet retaining what had made it alluring before.

She realized with a start that she was standing quite suddenly back in the chamber where she'd begun her adventure. In front of her was a spinning wheel. Well, it was the flywheel at least, and a bobbin, and a strand of something binding the two together, a band of gold or silver or dream . . .

A commotion behind her had her whirling around with a squeak.

Soilléir and Rùnach were falling over each other to get inside the room. She watched them pick themselves up off the floor, then simply stand there and gape at her. She frowned.

“What?” she asked.

Soilléir looked as if he'd just been in a windstorm. Rùnach looked equally as disheveled. That obviously wasn't because of any piece of weather outside else she wouldn't have had sunlight to create with.

“What did you change?” Soilléir wheezed.

She suppressed the urge to scratch her head. “Change?”

Soilléir and Rùnach both looked as if they needed to find somewhere to sit very soon. Rùnach wound up being a shoulder for Soilléir to lean on. Soilléir struggled for breath for a moment or two, then looked at his support.

“I didn't teach her that.”

“Well, don't bloody look at me,” Rùnach said. “
I
didn't give her any of your spells.”

Soilléir bent his head and laughed. Aisling thought that perhaps what they needed wasn't a chair but a brisk slap or two to bring them back to their senses.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded.

Soilléir pointed to a place behind her. She looked over her shoulder at the wheel that was shimmering there in the air. It was, she had to admit, a spectacular piece of work. It needed a base, but she supposed that could be made. The fact that it was simply hanging there in mid-air was a bit disconcerting, but she thought she might do best to simply add it to the list of other things that had unsettled her. She looked back at Soilléir.

“What?”

“Where did that come from?” he asked.

“I found a spell in a dream,” she said. “And I made that out of sunlight.”

Soilléir leaned over with his hands on his thighs, apparently trying to decide if he should laugh or continue to try to breathe. Aisling looked at Rùnach.

“What's amiss with him?”

Rùnach patted Soilléir rather too firmly on the back, almost sending him toppling over, then walked over to her. He reached out and touched the flywheel, giving it a gentle spin. He watched it for a moment or two, then looked at her.

“He's coming to grips with what it's like to have a dreamspinner in his grandfather's hall.”

Aisling suppressed the urge to go find her own chair. “Why?”

Rùnach was smiling, looking equal parts amused and slightly unnerved. “Because that, my love, was a spell of essence changing you just used.”

“It was just a spell,” she protested. “I found it in a dream. As I said.”

“Aye, in
my
dream,” Soilléir said, apparently deciding on a laugh. “Good heavens, woman, you poached one of my spells out of my
dreams
.”

“Just recompense for your being so old that you need a nap in the afternoon,” Rùnach said with a snort.

“I have the feeling I'm going to soon need another one to make up for the first.”

Aisling would have wrapped her arms around herself but she found she didn't need to. Rùnach had done the honors, pulling her close and giving her shelter she couldn't deny she desperately needed.

But she didn't miss the look he and Soilléir had exchanged.

“What?” she said, finding she was trembling.

“She's going to need a rest, Rùnach,” Soilléir said quietly.

“Am I?” Aisling asked, finding that her teeth were chattering.

“Aisling, my dear girl, not only did you just use an immensely powerful spell, you filched it out of my damned head. You ought to go sit in the corner just for that alone.”

She winced. “I didn't mean to.”

Soilléir shook his head, smiling. “I'm vexing you about it unnecessarily. I am happy to give you spells as you require them, but I have the feeling you'll find them lying along your path at just the right moment without any aid from me.” He shot Rùnach a look. “You'd best keep any eye on this one.”

“I intend to.”

Aisling gestured toward her wheel. “And what am I to do with that?”

“I'll have to give that some thought,” Soilléir said with a shiver. “Perhaps after supper.”

“Where I'll likely be the main course,” Rùnach said grimly.

Soilléir only laughed. “I wish I could disagree, but I'm afraid that may be the case. Take care of that girl there, Rùnach. We'll see to the rest during supper, where hopefully you won't be on the menu.”

Aisling watched him go, then sighed and leaned her head against Rùnach's shoulder.

“I'm tired.”

“I would imagine you are,” he agreed. “Those spells are powerful.”

“I didn't know what I was doing.”

“The spell seemed to disagree.” He hugged her briefly, then kept his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the door. “A nap, love, then we'll see what's left of the world. I'm not sure after that beautiful piece of work that you'll be able to remain anonymous much longer.”

Aisling decided she wouldn't think about that until she absolutely had to. She looked over her shoulder once before they left the chamber. The spinning wheel was still hanging there where it would have been resting if it had had a base. It was painfully beautiful and definitely otherworldly.

Something she had fashioned out of Soilléir's dreams.

She had the feeling her life had just been irrevocably changed.

R
ùnach's head was spinning.

He supposed that might have been because he'd just been given a bracing slap by a woman he'd once fancied himself in love with. He rubbed his cheek thoughtfully as he watched Annastashia of Cothromaiche stalk out of the great hall, leaving him standing there in front of the hearth. Perhaps telling her that he was honestly, truly not interested in wedding her might have been better saved for another locale, but he had apparently lost many of his social skills over the past twenty years spent in the company of the king's grandson.

It was also quite possible that informing Annastashia in no uncertain terms that he was no longer interested in her whilst in the middle of a dance set had been ill-advised. It had seemed like a reasonable idea at the time given that he was fairly certain if he'd done the same in private, she would have killed him.

He rubbed his cheek thoughtfully and walked across the great hall to the high table where a rather edible supper had once resided. He found an empty chair, collapsed onto it, then looked about himself to see the lay of the land. Astar was monopolizing Aisling, which didn't surprise him. She was very lovely, as usual, if not a little pale. Then again, she had lifted a spell of essence changing from Soilléir's dreams earlier that afternoon and changed sunlight into a spinning wheel, so perhaps she had cause. He sent Astar a warning look, then looked at Soilléir, who was watching him with amusement.

“One task seen to,” Soilléir said, his eyes twinkling. “I wonder if you'll fare equally well with the others yet to come?”

Rùnach wiggled his jaw, and wondered if perhaps Annastashia had done damage to one of his teeth. At least it had been a slap and not a close-fisted blow. Or a spell. He found himself rather glad, all things considered, that he'd already eaten supper. He had the feeling he wouldn't be able to eat any breakfast.

“I would have liked to have done that better,” he admitted, “though I'm not sure how.”

“I don't think you could have,” Soilléir said. “I daresay it was a bit of a shock for her to find you alive, then yet another to find you in love with someone else.”

“I don't think Annastashia ever loved me,” Rùnach said wryly. “The idea of me, perhaps, but no more.”

“You give yourself too little credit,” Soilléir said, “though perhaps more credit to my cousin than she deserves.” He toyed with his wineglass. “She'll move on, I daresay. And it isn't as if you're planning on taking up residence here where you might torment her.”

Rùnach sighed deeply. “Nay, I'm not.” He looked at Soilléir frankly. “I think we should leave soon.”

“Tomorrow, I imagine. The world sleeps uneasily.”

“Nay, Léir, that's
you
sleeping uneasily and that was this afternoon.”

Soilléir shifted. “I'm not sure I'm equal to thinking overlong on what happened this afternoon.” He shook his head. “What that woman can do . . . well, she surprises even me and I'm very rarely surprised.”

“The only thing that surprises me is that I have the arrogance to think I can aid her,” Rùnach said. “Me, with magic that's not only unwieldy but not exactly what I would have it be. This task would be better suited to someone with more power.”

“Ofttimes, great ones aren't called; simple souls are called to greatness,” Soilléir said with a smile. “But I wouldn't say you are a simple soul, my friend.”

Rùnach studied the fire burning in one of the hearths, then looked at the man who had, he could freely admit, saved his life. “How do I thank you?”

“For what?” Soilléir asked mildly. “My collection of spells that could undo the world and everything in it, or putting you in the path of a woman who could unravel the same?”

Rùnach smiled. “Did you?”

“Might have.”

“Why?”

Soilléir shrugged. “Because I know her great-grandmother.”

Rùnach realized his mouth had fallen open. “What?”

“What I just said.”

“You can't simply drop that tidbit into a conversation without giving me the details of it.”

“Can't I?”

Rùnach laughed a little in spite of himself. “Léir, who
don't
you know?”

“A woman daft enough to wed me,” Soilléir said solemnly. “And no decent matchmakers either.”

“No great loves during the centuries before I was born?”

“I never said that.”

Rùnach wasn't sure he even dared speculate, so he settled for holding up his hands in surrender. “Don't look at me for aid, though I appreciate the matchmaking you've apparently done for me.” He looked around himself to see who, if anyone, was listening. Astar was still monopolizing Aisling. Anna was definitely not eavesdropping; she was likely in the kitchens looking over a selection of carving knives for purposes he didn't want to think on. He shifted to look at Soilléir. “I can't imagine you don't have thoughts about what lies before us.”

“I have thoughts,” Soilléir conceded, “but they're not ones I would be comfortable sharing here. Let's collect your lady and repair to the library. I can vouch for the privacy there.”

Rùnach nodded, then rose and walked behind the table until he stood behind Aisling's chair. He looked at Annastashia's brother.

“Do you mind if I abscond with my lady?” he asked politely.

Astar smiled faintly. “If you must.”

Rùnach pulled Aisling's chair out for her, then took her hand. He nodded to Astar, then led Aisling from the great hall.

“Soilléir is willing to have a conference with us,” he said quietly. “I thought we'd best take advantage of it whilst he's so unsettled from this afternoon.”

“Him?” she said incredulously. “What of me?”

“I believe you two might be sharing a few of the same feelings.” He walked with her for a bit before he dared speak again. “How are you, in truth?”

“I'm not sure how to begin answering that.”

He nodded, because he understood that very well. He had never used any of Soilléir's spells, but just having them rattling around in his head was unsettling enough at times. At least he hadn't begun his magical career with a spell that overwhelming.

Then again, he'd had a full morning of magic acting in unexpected ways, so perhaps he had a bit more sympathy for her than he might have otherwise. The thought of that problem being magnified inside Bruadair's unfriendly borders was enough to give him pause.

He walked with Aisling into the library, then shut the door behind them. There were three chairs set there in front of the fire, waiting patiently. Soilléir was there already, standing in front of the hearth. Rùnach waited until Aisling was seated, then sat down himself. He didn't imagine he was going to hear anything he hadn't already discussed with Soilléir, but he supposed he wasn't past being surprised.

“Well?” Rùnach asked. “Or dare I ask?”

Soilléir only smiled at him, then turned to Aisling. “I understand Queen Brèagha gave you copies of her paintings of Bruadair.”

Rùnach blinked, then smiled. “Subtle.”

Soilléir lifted his eyebrows briefly. “So I am. Aisling, might I look at them?”

She nodded, produced them from the satchel she was never without, then handed over the little folio. Soilléir looked through the paintings slowly and carefully. Rùnach glanced at Aisling to see if he could tell what she was thinking, but she was watching Soilléir peruse the queen's artistic endeavors. He wouldn't have called her expression wistful, though he wasn't sure what else he could have termed it. All he knew was that Bruadair had been one of the most beautiful places he'd ever seen.

Before.

Soilléir finished, then tied the folio shut again. He was silent for quite some time, then he took a careful breath and nodded.

“It looked like that.”

“And you would know?” Aisling asked.

“Aye.”

Rùnach waited, but Soilléir, damn him, seemed perfectly content to say nothing else. “And?” he prodded.

Soilléir sat back and stretched out his legs, crossing his feet at the ankles. “And I think nothing more than what you and I have already discussed at length, my friend. If it were a lesser country that had been taken over by a man with no right to the throne, we could leave that to the inhabitants to sort in their own good time. But this is Bruadair and it isn't just its inhabitants that are being affected.” He hesitated, then shook his head slowly. “I don't like to interfere.”

“But you will here?” Aisling asked quietly.

“Will and already have,” Soilléir said, “more than I'm comfortable with. But I'm afraid the true work of the day will fall to you and Rùnach. And before you cross the borders, I think you must have a plan in place. I'm mostly here to listen.”

Rùnach had no doubt that was exactly what he intended to do unless pushed. He looked at Aisling. “What do you think, love?”

“I would say I was trying not to,” she said reluctantly, “but I must admit I've been thinking of little else as I've been spinning. I suppose it might be wise to begin in Beul to see how the fight is progressing.” She looked at him. “What do you suggest?”

“I think we need to see if we can't find where Bruadair's magic has gone,” he said. He knew he didn't need to add that they would also do well to find out who had taken that magic, though perhaps that would be easier than he feared. All they would need to do was look for any black mages of note lingering in the area.

“And then?”

He looked at her steadily. “I also have the feeling that we might want to find out where that seventh dreamspinner came from.”

She looked positively ill. “Perhaps we could put that off for a bit.”

“Perhaps we could,” he agreed quietly. “Let's first find our way to Beul and see what's to be discovered there. Then we'll plot our course.” He looked at Soilléir. “Given all your recent experience with crossing that border, perhaps in this at least you might offer a suggestion or two.”

Soilléir smiled briefly. “I suppose I could, for I have rather definite opinions on those borders and the perils associated with them.”

“Don't tell me there's a curse attached to Bruadair's,” Rùnach said in disbelief. “What absolute rot.”

“Let's call them safeguards instead,” Soilléir said. “In days past, they were rather benign safeguards, but I can't say the same for what watches the border at present. It isn't pleasant. I would venture to say it's a fairly recent addition, if that eases your mind any. Our good Aisling could walk across the border at any spot and Bruadair would only welcome her, though the land would indeed take notice of her entry.”

“And would it tell potential enemies the same?” Rùnach asked.

Soilléir shrugged. “That hasn't been my experience so far, but I'm a very small player in this drama and easily overlooked. I can't guarantee that there might be those watching who would find Aisling reentering the country to be upsetting to their plans, no matter where she did it. I'm not sure Bruadair has the means to prevent that.”

Rùnach suppressed the urge to shake his head. He'd been doing too much of that recently. “You speak of the country as if it had a mind of its own.”

“It is an unusual place,” Soilléir conceded. “The magic is connected to the land in a way that I would say isn't replicated in very many other places.” He smiled faintly. “I know far less about it than I would like to claim, but it doesn't lend itself to outside speculation. That so much of the magic has been drained from the country says much about whoever managed the feat.”

Rùnach supposed he might not want to think too hard about just who that mage might be. If Acair was behind the theft, then he had grown powerful indeed. Then again, his bastard brother had always been more powerful than Rùnach had ever been comfortable with.

“But if Bruadair knows who crosses the borders and unpleasant mages will possibly know the same, then how will we manage to get back inside?” Aisling asked. “And when you were in Bruadair, how did you manage to move about so freely? Or was I one of the ones still asleep?”

Soilléir smiled. “I can't say that you weren't still blissfully unaware of many things at the time, but even had you not been, you wouldn't have noticed me.”

“I noticed your clothes,” she said with a shudder. “Blindingly gaudy, those.”

Soilléir laughed a little. “One does what one must to accomplish the task at hand.”

“But surely clothing wasn't enough,” Aisling said. “Was it?”

“Nay, Aisling,” Soilléir said seriously, “It wasn't. I took the precaution of hiding my magic.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding rather relieved. “Then I've nothing to worry about there.”

Rùnach couldn't help but look at Soilléir. It was so seldom that he had the opportunity to see the man looking anything but perfectly at ease that he paused to savor the moment. Soilléir scowled, then softened his expression as he turned back to Aisling.