Spellweaver (39 page)

Too many tales of bloodshed and woe, no doubt.

Surely only a moment or two passed before she felt Ruith’s hand on her head.

“Let’s be off,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him in surprise. “Are you finished already?”

“I think you are,” he said wryly, “and actually I only came to fetch you.” He held down his hand, then pulled her to her feet. “Thank you, Master Eachdraidh, for the pleasant conversation.”

Eachdraidh was profuse in his returning niceties, but fortunately Ruith had apparently dealt with that sort of thing before because he politely extricated them from the stuffy chamber without delay. Sarah didn’t feel her headache ease any, but her brow definitely unfurrowed.

“He is well suited to his life’s work,” Ruith remarked as they walked down the passageway.

“He was full of all manner of tales, none of which answered the question of why he kept spying on me.”

“Your beauty overwhelmed his good sense.”

“And too much time in the lists has overwhelmed yours.”

Ruith laughed. “I am in full possession of my good sense and all my wits. What did he bludgeon you with first? Anything useful?”

She walked with him down the passageway, rather more happy than she should have been to find his arm suddenly around her shoulders. She leaned on him a little, which she likely shouldn’t have given that he was the one who had been wrung out for the past three days, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I encouraged him to talk by asking him for the tales he’d intended to give the king that first night. After that, I attempted to learn details about Cothromaiche since I seem to have been given the task of translating the runes on my own knives.”

“The runes that match my sword.”

There was no point in denying it. “Aye. I thought that perhaps he could enlighten me.”

“And did he?”

“Unfortunately not. He blurted out some ridiculous tale about a renegade dreamweaver—whatever that is—and an equally dreamy lad from Cothromaiche who wed her.”

“It sounds like a love match.”

“I think it was, but it didn’t end well for them. Apparently, one of their neighbors was convinced they had a mighty power between them and wanted it. When they wouldn’t do as he bid, he slew them.”

“Tragic,” Ruith murmured.

“And not at all what I was looking for,” Sarah said grimly. “It isn’t as if I can travel to meet this pair and have answers from them that Soilléir won’t give me, is it? I am left to myself to learn what I can from the books Soilléir gave me.”

“I could attempt to intimidate Eachdraidh for you tomorrow, if you like.”

“I’m not sure you’ll have any more success than I did, but you’re welcome to try.” She looked up at him. “Are you finished with your training in truth?”

“I could spend a year here and not be finished,” he said with a sigh, “but Uachdaran was afraid any more of his tender ministrations might kill me.”

She smiled. “You’re not serious.”

Ruith smiled in return. “Those were his words, and he was certainly serious. For myself, I’ll say that ... well, I’ll say that it was time well, if not pleasantly, spent.”

“I’m not sure I want to know what you’ve been fighting the last three days.”

“You don’t,” he agreed, “which is why I wouldn’t let you back through the door after I pushed you out of it.” He shivered, no doubt in spite of himself. “I do
not
want to know where he’s learned what he’s learned and if I meet one of those spells again, it will be too soon. But,” he said brightly, “’tis done and I’m the stronger for it. The king has called us to his solar for a parley and then I believe we’ll have the opportunity for more dancing tonight.”

“If you can stay awake for it.”

“I wasn’t asleep last night. I was resting my eyes.”

“I saved you from planting your face in your soup, Your Highness.”

“A feat for which I am most grateful, my lady,” he said politely. “Even if I’ll bear the bruise from your elbow in my ribs for some time to come.”

She laughed a little, then felt her smile fade abruptly. “I’m not sure the king will be pleased with me.”

“And what terrible thing have you done?” he asked gently.

“I fear I made free with the king’s map.”

“I know. That’s why I came to fetch you. Well, other than I missed you.”

She looked up at him quickly. “Is he angry?”

“Curious,” Ruith said. He slid her a look. “You’ve marked the locations of the pages, haven’t you?”

She could only nod.

“Have you been dreaming them?”

“I don’t have to any longer.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then stopped and pulled her into his arms. “Ah, Sarah,” he said, his voice full of pity. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

“’Tis a gift, or so says Soilléir.”

“He would say as much, being who he is.” He held her close for several minutes in silence. “I’m sorry I haven’t attended you as I should have recently.”

“I don’t need a keeper, Ruith.”

“A betrothed, then?”

“Not when he might be a man who has eight princesses left to seek out,” she said, pulling away from him and feeling profoundly flustered.

“Seven.”

“Oh, very well, seven, then,” she said, grumbling because it was easier than facing the fact that he seemed to be quite serious about his offer. She took him by the hand and pulled. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t argue. He also didn’t let go of her hand as he opened the door to the king’s solar and led her inside. Sarah found Uachdaran standing at his map table, studying it. He looked up and smiled when he saw her.

“Sarah, gel,” he said. “I trust you’ve passed your time pleasantly today.”

“Forgive me,” Sarah said, gesturing toward the table. “I was restless. I should have asked leave to trim your map before I took the liberty.”

“Of course you shouldn’t have, as I gave you leave earlier to be free with my things. The map was simply sitting here, waiting for some fierce strategy to be planned upon its surface.” He shot her a quick smile. “In case you’re wondering why I have this here, I believe ’tis always best to be prepared when you have a world’s ransom in gems hiding in your cellar. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” she said faintly.

“I’m curious, though, what sort of battle you have planned here,” he said slowly. “You seem to have chosen two kinds of stones, which I’m assuming represent two different things? I hesitate to ask the details of you, but I think it might be of some use to your lad there.”

Sarah looked at Ruith, who only watched solemnly. She knew he wouldn’t push her, but then again, he didn’t have to. She was under no illusions about the critical nature of their task that lay before them. She took a deep breath and looked at the king.

“They’re Gair’s spells,” she said. “The black stones represent the spells we’ve either found or I’ve dreamed.” She had to pause for a bit before she thought she could finish. “The others are ones I’ve seen whilst ... whilst not dreaming.”

Uachdaran motioned to her left, and Ruith fetched the stool that waited there and brought it to her. She sat, because she suddenly felt very close to being ill. It was ridiculous, actually, because she had been all alone in the solar with the map and the stones and hadn’t suffered any ill effects before.

She realized Uachdaran and Ruith were speaking in low voices but didn’t understand at first what they were saying. There was an annoying buzzing in her ears, which she realized was her headache ascending into new and hitherto unexplored heights of pain.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Uachdaran was saying.

Sarah squinted to see Ruith’s face. He was absolutely grey.

“Aye,” he said. “A pattern.”

Uachdaran stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The first thing to decide,” he said slowly, “is whether the pattern comes from the spells themselves, or if someone has placed them purposely in that particular order. Or is someone merely using them to lead an inquisitive mage on a merry chase?” He looked up at Ruith. “What do you think, lad?”

“I don’t know,” Ruith said hoarsely.

Uachdaran lifted his eyebrows briefly. “I suppose if a mage wanted to gather a certain collection of spells, he could hope enough foolish wizardlings would happen upon and become enspelled by them, then march off with them to a predetermined place without knowing why they’d done so.”

Ruith didn’t answer. Sarah couldn’t blame him for that. Some of his color had returned, but not enough to leave him looking anything but shocked. She understood. She’d wondered, as they’d hunted the spells, why it was her brother had looked so, well,
mesmerized
in his bedchamber that day he’d destroyed their mother’s house.

“I think that part’s true,” she said, realizing then that she hadn’t said anything to Ruith about it. She shrugged helplessly when he looked at her in surprise. “After I touched that spell on his table, Daniel appeared in his doorway. I hadn’t been expecting him or I wouldn’t have dared enter his chamber. He was very angry with me, but once he saw the spell, he completely forgot about me. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I would definitely say he had been ...” She paused. “Well,
enspelled
is as good a word as any. “

“And afterward?” Uachdaran asked.

“He wanted more spells, as Ruith will attest, but I wouldn’t say that was anything more than his own greed driving him.” She paused. “I could be wrong.”

Ruith shook his head. “I think either answer is perfectly reasonable, which doesn’t aid us in determining the truth of it.” He looked at the king. “Why would anyone want to lure a mage—
any
mage—to a predetermined spot? And who would attempt it?”

“The only reason I can think of,” Uachdaran said slowly, “is that someone who wants these spells very badly has no other way to gather them to himself.” He paused and looked at Ruith. “Perhaps he can’t see them himself. In that case, it would certainly be useful to know someone who
could
see them.”

Sarah felt the chamber begin to spin. It spun even more violently when Ruith picked her up, carried her over to a chair in front of the fire and sat down with her in his arms. She heard, through the thunder rushing behind her ears, the dwarf king settle into a chair across from them.

“Someone wants my father’s spells very badly, then,” Ruith said.

“I agree,” Uachdaran said. “Unfortunately, even knowing that much doesn’t solve the riddle of why someone would tear a piece from a very valuable spell and leave it behind. It wasn’t
un
intentionally done, I can almost guarantee it.” He paused for a rather lengthy bit of time. “Unless the mage knew, again
,
that there was someone in the world who could see them and
would
find them.”

“Then perhaps the spells themselves aren’t the pattern,” Ruith said, unwillingly. “Perhaps the pieces of the spell of Diminishing are.”

“Possibly,” Uachdaran agreed. “I suppose you’ll only know that when you find other fragments of it, I daresay. Of course, I could be wrong. It could simply be someone with a rather offensive sense of humor who has the time and means to see if anyone will bite at such bait.”

Ruith grunted. “It sounds like something my father would do.”

“It does, my boy.”

Sarah felt silence descend, a silence that was only broken by the rushing in her ears and the beat of Ruith’s heart in his throat where she rested her forehead.

“He’s dead,” Ruith said quietly.

“I don’t doubt it, son.”

Ruith took an unsteady breath. “I’ll think on other possibilities.”

“I believe I would if I were you. I am not much out in the world, and I don’t know as many mages as I should, but I would think that the lad we’re looking for will be a mage who wants your sire’s spells the most. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ruith shifted. “Your Majesty, I didn’t think anything could possibly be worse than those unrelentingly, torturous hours in your lists, but I was wrong. Even giving thought to this makes that work pale in comparison.”

“But you’ll find the answer.”

“I will.”

Uachdaran rose. “I’ll leave you to rest for a bit, children. Don’t be late for supper. I think we’ll spend another day together, thinking on your route, but no longer.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for your hospitality,” Ruith said sincerely.

“Oh, don’t think I’m throwing you out the front gates,” Uachdaran said with a brief laugh. “I’d keep you both a bit longer and not regret it—and will in the future if you’re ever wandering close to my hall. I think, however, that time grows short to solve this tangle, and you may not be the only ones who stumble upon these spells. Best to find them sooner rather than later, eh?”

Sarah listened to Ruith agree that that would be best, heard the door soon shut, then remained with her head on Ruith’s shoulder for far longer than she likely should have.

“Who wants those spells?” she murmured finally, when she could chew on the question no longer.

“Only those who know about them,” he said with a deep sigh. “Franciscus—”

She lifted her head so quickly, she had to put her hand to it to keep from being ill. “Ruith, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m not accusing him,” he said wearily. “Just making a list.”

She let out her breath slowly. “Very well. List away.”

“Franciscus,” he said slowly and seemingly unwillingly. “Your brother. All my bastard brothers, as well as Rùnach, Soilléir, Miach of Neroche, and Uachdaran.”

She closed her eyes, because she couldn’t look at the names hanging in the air in front of them.

“Droch,” he continued grimly, “and his brother Urchaid, half a dozen kings on the Council I haven’t even considered, and last of all, me.”

“And what would you do if you had the spells, Ruith?” she asked quietly.

“Destroy them,” he said without hesitation. “Wrap them in illusion and rot and impotence, then drop them into a bottomless well before capping the thing, then burying it under a score of things that would take millennia to even begin to unravel.”