“How do you know?” she asked, her teeth chattering.
“He told me so, of course. He said that all you need worry about is not flinging yourself off his back. He will make certain to keep you in the saddle.”
“Are you trying to be helpful?”
His laugh rumbled in his chest against her back. “We’ll both keep you safe, Sarah.”
“Ah,” she began, then she had no more breath for speaking because Tarbh had apparently decided it was time to take off, as it were, whilst she was otherwise distracted by Ruith’s babbling.
She supposed he was doing his best not to terrify her, but even so, she imagined she was going to consign the first handful of moments of that very bumpy ride to the place where she put her nightmares when she was finished with them.
She was fairly sure she hadn’t wept, but she wasn’t at all sure she hadn’t screamed a time or two and laughed hysterically the rest of the time. Or at least she did until Tarbh leveled himself out and began to flap his wings in a less frantic manner.
“It wasn’t frantic,” Ruith said loudly. “It was measured.”
“Are you reading my thoughts now?” she managed.
“You were shouting them aloud, I’m afraid.”
She imagined she was. So to keep herself from doing so any further, she who hadn’t clutched a pommel in a score of years clutched the pommel of her saddle, because she didn’t dare let go of it. She did manage, after what seemed like a small slice of eternity, to open her eyes. She realized with a bit of a start that they were covered in some sort of spell. It didn’t seem to trouble their steed, flowing as it was around them as they flew. She found the presence of mind to see what it was made of.
Fadaire.
It was one of protection first, then comfort second. She could see the strands woven into it, glittering in the faint starlight, strands of such beauty she could hardly look at them. Then again, it was elven magic, so she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised.
She squeezed Ruith’s hands. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She took a deep breath. She could hardly believe it, but apparently they were off on their quest, again—in quite a bit more style than the first leg of it. She sincerely hoped riding a dragon into the shimmering twilight was going to be the worst of what happened to her.
But she didn’t imagine it would be.
Fifteen
Ruith closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the feel of the wind in his face. It had been years since he’d last flown, and he’d never thought he would miss it. He’d been wrong. It was glorious, that soaring above the earth, made all the more glorious by the lack of it over the years. He didn’t imagine Sarah was enjoying it, so he tightened his arms around her. He supposed the fact that he didn’t have an elbow in his ribs for the familiarity told him all he needed to know about her opinion of their mode of transportation.
He also supposed he would be wise to enjoy the brief moments of pleasure he might have in doing something besides encountering what he was quite sure he would find along their quest. He didn’t want to say as much to Sarah, but he feared those moments would be few. Soilléir had given him nothing but abstruse hints about nothing in particular. Rùnach had been more specific about his aid, having given him earlier that morning a list of black mages to consider. He had a fair idea of who was still roaming through the world, but he would be the first to admit he hadn’t kept up with it as he should have.
He jumped a little at the feeling of Sarah’s elbow in his ribs. He bent his head over her shoulder.
“What is it?” he said, loudly to be heard against the wind.
“There’s something down there.”
He could see nothing at all, but that didn’t mean anything. He steered Tarbh where Sarah pointed, then smiled, pained, at her acerbic curses. Unfortunately, he suspected events were going to worsen before they improved. He put his mouth to her ear.
“See the lad there?”
“Chasing the other?” she managed. “Aye, ’tis Daniel. I don’t know who the other one is.”
“Can you see him?” Ruith asked in surprise. “Or can you, ah, see him?”
“I can’t tell the difference any longer,” she said with a shiver. “I’m going to have words with Soilléir after this is all over. I want him to put back whatever he took off my eyes.”
Ruith didn’t want to tell her that he suspected it was far too late for that. He simply cast a spell of unnoticing over them, asked Tarbh to consider a rather quiet landing, then waited until Tarbh had put talons to earth before he carefully swung down off his back.
He looked at Sarah, intending to tell her to stay where she was, only to find her clambering inelegantly off the saddle.
“I needed to stretch my legs,” she said hastily.
He might have believed that if she hadn’t stumbled and fallen into his arms. It was a fortuitous turn of events, but one he didn’t dare take advantage of. He waited until she was steady on her feet before he pulled away.
“I won’t be long.”
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” she said breathlessly, taking hold of his arm. She looked over her shoulder. “What is that fool doing?”
Ruith looked over her head. “Continuing his chase, I daresay. I wonder if gold is involved.”
“My gold,” she grumbled, “though I imagine he’s after spells.” She looked up at him. “I forgot to tell you, but that morning I found myself in Droch’s … ah …”
“Garden,” he supplied. “If you can call it that.”
She nodded, once. “Aye, there. I had actually been following a pair of men who were talking about the buying and selling of spells. To Droch, as it happened.” She paused. “I thought I should follow them.”
“Brave.”
“Stupid,” she conceded, “but what else was I to do? I’m sure one of them was Droch’s servant that we saw at the front gates that first morning. The other—” She shrugged. “I don’t think I’d recognize his voice if I heard it again, but he said he was working for a mage from Shettlestoune. I’m assuming that had to be Daniel.”
Ruith frowned. “Why would Daniel want to make a bargain with Droch?”
“For a ring of mastery, I imagine. His messenger said he’d torn the spell he was attempting to sell to shreds, even though he’d been instructed merely to tear off a small piece and bring it along as proof of having the entire thing.”
Ruith watched the spectacle in front of him. He perhaps wouldn’t have been able to see the unknown man throw a fistful of shredded parchment up in the air if it hadn’t been for Daniel’s rather useful werelight. At least the fool could do that much.
He didn’t think, however, that Daniel was capable of slicing through any Olcian spell of protection, which left him still with questions he didn’t care for, namely who had made the rent in that particular spell and how Daniel had come by another spell of Gair’s. He considered that for a bit longer, then looked at Sarah.
“Your brother doesn’t look happy.”
“Nay, he doesn’t.”
“I could make him substantially less happy.”
She watched her brother for a moment or two, then looked up at him. “Well, if you’re interested in fighting my battles for me.”
“Endlessly,” he said. “With magic, or without, however they come.”
She closed her eyes briefly, then looked as if she might have considered a brief embrace. She seemed to stifle that readily enough, then settled for taking his hand and shaking it firmly. He somehow wasn’t terribly surprised.
“I don’t know what it cost you,” she said seriously, “that first step into … well, into this whole business of magic and spells. It couldn’t have been easy.”
It had been made much easier by knowing just exactly what he was protecting with that magic, which was the woman standing in front of him, holding his hand in hers in most comradely fashion, but he didn’t suppose the time was right for telling her as much.
“You wouldn’t kill him, would you?” she asked.
“I would certainly end his life to save yours,” Ruith said, “but for now, perhaps I’ll limit myself to helping him along to his just desserts.” He took her hand and pulled her behind him. “I’ll go first. He won’t see us until we’re ready for—”
He stopped in mid-sentence because in spite of all the times he’d seen his father leave mages as nothing but lifeless husks, he’d never seen his sire kill someone in white-hot anger. Daniel of Doìre apparently didn’t have any reticence about the like, for he shouted at his messenger, then suddenly thrust a sword through the man’s chest.
“I think, Sarah my love,” Ruith said seriously, “that I may be taking those words back sooner rather than later.”
“He’s not a nice man,” she agreed.
Ruith suspected that was a bit of an understatement, but he wasn’t sure he dared find out the truth of it lest the tidings lead him to act more rashly than he would have otherwise. He stopped a score of paces away from Daniel, removed the spell of unnoticing, and conjured up his own ball of werelight bright enough to have woken a drunkard out of a stupor.
Daniel didn’t notice.
Ruith would have said something to help him with that, but before he could, Sarah took matters into her own hands. The fact that she trusted him to keep her safe was quite possibly one of the more humbling moments of his life, even coming, as it did, whilst dealing with her ridiculous brother.
“Daniel.”
Her brother stopped frantically searching the ground for the pieces of whatever spell lay there, then leapt up and spun around, an expression of astonishment on his face. Scraps of parchment fluttered to the ground.
His astonishment only lasted a split second before what Ruith had come to recognize as his usual smirk appeared and a spell came tripping out of his mouth. Ruith didn’t even stop to consider what to use. He simply dissolved the spell without fanfare and waited for the reaction he fully expected. Daniel gaped first at Sarah, apparently reminded himself she had no magic, then scowled at Ruith.
“How did you do that?”
“’Tis a secret,” Ruith said solemnly, “known only to mages with a decent amount of power.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
“Ruithneadh,” Ruith said casually, “the youngest son of Gair of Ceangail.”
Daniel blinked in surprise, seemed to consider whether or not he should run, then threw a spell of death at Sarah. Ruith caught it easily, crushed it, then did far less to Sarah’s brother than he deserved. He wrapped him securely in a spell of fettering and left one end of it waving tantalizingly near the man’s face.
Sarah looked up at him and smiled.
He smiled in return, feeling a little winded. “I forget that you can see so much.”
“I never forget,” she said, her smile faltering. She nodded at her brother. “What will become of him?”
“Nothing will eat him, if that’s what you’re worried about. If he has two wits to rub together, he’ll figure out how to unravel the spell. I think, given what I have seen of his wits, that it may take him a bit of time. He might die of hunger first.” He provided Daniel with an endlessly filling waterskin he could reach if he tried, then looked at Sarah. “We should gather up the pieces of my father’s spell, I imagine, and be on our way.”
“I will,” she said without hesitation. “Perhaps you can use the time to lecture that fool there on the evils of slaying messengers.”
Ruith supposed he could do no less. He fashioned a shield of Fadaire, then covered it with a spell of unnoticing, poached from the solar in Léige. He would have offered to help Sarah, but he hadn’t been indulging in false modesty. He couldn’t see a damned thing but the moon darting behind clouds and his werelight that followed Sarah as if it had been designed specifically to cast its light lovingly around her—and that wasn’t because of anything he’d done.
Though he heartily agreed with the sentiment.
He stood next to Daniel and watched with him as Sarah gathered up the pieces of spell. He looked at her brother and had to shake his head. How the two of them could possibly have been related … well, it defied even his well-developed powers of imagination. But since he had the lad within earshot, there was no point in not asking him a pointed question or two.
“Where did you find that spell?” he asked politely.
“I’ll never tell you,” Daniel spat.
Ruith lifted a finger and the spell of fettering tightened. Daniel only cursed him. Ruith was happy to torment him by degrees, though it only took another handful of moments before Sarah’s brother was gasping out things he no doubt didn’t want to.
“Found it on the ground,” he squeaked. “Had to replace what was taken from me, didn’t I?”
Ruith supposed there was no point in telling Daniel he’d been the one to make off with the other spells. He was still left with the unpleasant question of who had taken the spells from his boot, but he supposed he could safely exclude Daniel from any list of possible suspects.
He tried to consider that list, but Daniel’s cursing became distracting enough that he was forced to slap a spell of silence over his mouth. He loosened the lad’s bonds because he wasn’t completely heartless, but he certainly had no intention of setting him free. He indulged in a few minutes of instruction on the proper way for Daniel to comport himself in the future, then smiled at Sarah when she came walking toward him.
“Ready, love?”
Sarah nodded as she shoved the fragments of parchment into a pocket of her cloak, then studied Daniel for a moment or two before she spoke.
“You were a bad brother,” she said.
Daniel gurgled in response.
“I should have liked someone to watch over me now and again, which you never did.” She looked at Ruith. “I don’t suppose I could borrow Rùnach.”
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “He would be an ideal older brother for you—and nothing but, if you want my suggestion.” He leaned closer to Daniel. “Come within twenty paces of that woman there and you’ll wish you hadn’t. If you’re tempted to disregard my advice, remember who my father was and think on all the things I likely learned at his knee.”
Daniel looked at him in horror for a moment, then his eyes rolled back in his head. His head lolled to the side, and he began to drool.
“That doesn’t look very comfortable,” Sarah remarked.
“It isn’t meant to be very comfortable.”
“I think your chivalry is showing.”
“That, or my depravity,” Ruith agreed, taking her by the elbow and turning her back to their mount. “I can scarce believe I invoked my father’s name.”
She smiled up at him faintly. “What is the use of being related to a black mage if you can’t use his reputation to intimidate now and again?”
“I’m not sure we would want to know what my grandfather Sìle would say to that,” he said dryly, “so perhaps we’ll keep it to ourselves.”
He walked with her over to Tarbh, realizing only then that he was feeling a sense of urgency he hadn’t felt before. Or perhaps he simply hadn’t noticed it before.
“I suppose I could have spent a bit more time being careful that I didn’t miss anything,” Sarah said slowly.
“You’re simply looking for a way to avoid flying again,” he said, struggling to keep his tone light.
“I might be,” she muttered. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s anything else here. No spells, no magic. Just darkness made by ordinary things.” She swallowed, hard. “Though I’m less sure of the last than I’d like to be.”
He was too, but he wasn’t going to say as much. “You’re certain there’s nothing else on the plains of Ailean?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then we’ll make for Slighe,” he said. “We could be there by dawn if we flew hard. It would give us the chance to see if the lads were there before we turned north.”
/> “Will Tarbh agree to it?”
He nodded toward the dragon, crouched and watching them with his glittering eye. “He doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. I gather his only regret is that you don’t much care for his takeoffs and landings.”
She started forward, then stopped and simply shook for a moment or two before she looked at him. “I’m not going to be much help if I don’t get over this.”
“You’ll accustom yourself to it,” he promised her. “I will admit that I too suffered a bit of …” He paused, then supposed there was no point in not being honest. “Very well, the first time I threw myself off my grandfather’s battlements and changed into dragonshape, I thought I wouldn’t manage it before I hit the ground and died.”
“Which thrilled you so much that you immediately tried it again.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I was a lad.”
“Who were you with?”
“Miach of Neroche and, if you can believe this, Rùnach.”
“How old were you?”
“Five.”
“Your poor mother.”
He smiled a little at the memory. “Aye, I daresay. She spent the evening convincing my grandfather that beating us soundly for our cheek would only drive us to do it again. Elves do not shapechange! he bellowed periodically that evening at supper until the lot of us were simply bundles of nerves.”
“And what do elves do?” she asked. “Though I hasten to add I’m only asking out of polite and friendly curiosity.”
“We admire flame-haired weavers of exquisite cloth and always hurry about our business on the ground so we might fly with them again.”
She scowled at him. “I’m not going any farther on this quest of yours if you don’t stop that.”
He smiled and put his arm around her, because she was trembling. He imagined it wasn’t from the cold. “Where—” he began, then he stopped. The moonlight had broken through the clouds and cast the whole of the tableau in front of him into sharp relief, making his werelight unnecessary.
There was something standing twenty paces behind Daniel.
“Let’s go,” she said quickly. “I’ll try not to scream so much this time.”
Spellweaver Page 21
