A Tapestry of Spells (33 page)

She studied him for a moment in silence. “You do care about this, don’t you?”

He looked at her in surprise. “Did you think I didn’t?”

She managed half a smile. “Ruith, I never know what to think about you. You’re a mystery.”

“Not worth solving,” he said with a weary smile. “But, aye, I do care. Because of Lake Cladach and scores of other places just as lovely, or unlovely, or full of souls who don’t deserve to have their lives destroyed by a lad with nothing to check his madness.”

“Aren’t there other black mages out there attempting what Daniel plans?” she asked.

“Your brother is not a black mage. He aspires to nothing more than dirty grey.”

She blinked, then laughed in spite of herself. “I think the worst thing you could possibly do to him is mock him. He’s very sensitive to that sort of thing.”

“Most evil mages are,” he said.

Sarah wanted to ask him how he could possibly know that, but he seemed disinclined to elaborate, so she didn’t press him. Besides, he was more talkative than she’d ever heard him be before, and she wasn’t about to interrupt him now.

“And aye, there are mages enough with the power to undo the world,” he said, clasping his hands together and studying them. “There are those who have both the power
and
the spells to do so, but at least for now there are things that give them pause. The tantalizing thought of more power, or another mage who threatens them if they act, or sheer laziness.”

“Are mages lazy?” she asked.

He shot her a look. “I wouldn’t know, but I imagine there are a few who are. And as for our dingy little pretender, ’tis better to have him collecting things he can’t possibly do justice to than have another with the power to truly use them finding them without us knowing it.”

She smiled faintly. “You sound as though you’re off to save the world.”

“For you,” he said quietly. “For you, and my grandfather, and the widow Fiore who grows lavender that Franciscus covets.”

“I think he covets more than her lavender.”

“Aye, I imagine he does,” Ruith said, and he smiled as well. “So we’ll save the world for her, and him, and us. We’ll allow your brother to continue on and we’ll follow. And we’ll hope to hell we can stop him before he does something stupid.” He reached out and ran his hand down her braid that hung down her back. “You should sleep, Sarah.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid to.”

He straightened and walked around the end of the wagon to take her hand. “I’ll help you.”

“Are you going to clunk me over the head with your sword?” she asked as he reached into the wagon for his knives, then led her over to one of the large, heavy wheels. He sat and pulled her down to sit between his legs, then set his knives down. “Nothing so nefarious. I’ll just hold you. My mother did it for me often enough in my youth.”

She looked at him. “How maternal of you.”

He pursed his lips and pulled her back to lean against his chest. “You are a mouthy wench.”

And you are impossible,
she wanted to say. Impossibly handsome, impossibly chivalrous in a rough, very formal sort of way, impossibly mysterious.

And rather comfortable, as far as pillows went. She put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She was certain she wouldn’t sleep, but there was something unwholesomely comforting about sitting with a man who had two very deadly knives resting on either side of him.

“Sleep in peace, Sarah,” he said very quietly. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“And if I dream?”

“I’ll wake you if I feel you start.”

She nodded, then felt the tension seep out of her. She sighed as she felt his arms come around her. She was quite certain she had never in her life been held thus by anyone, much less a man who wasn’t her brother—not that she would have ventured that close to Daniel if she’d had a blade to her throat—but she found she became accustomed to it far more quickly than she’d suspected she might. Peace sank into her soul and she sighed in relief.

“Ruith?” she managed, because she knew she had to ask him one last thing before she slept.

“Aye?”

“I want to know where we are tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I want to see if it matches my dream.”

“Again, why?”

“Because I dreamt of books that were on fire. I think I can find them again if I have a map.”

He sat up so quickly, she almost earned a kink in her neck for her trouble.

She rubbed her neck and looked at him crossly. “There’s nothing more to it than that and there’s no use in describing anything tonight because you can’t draw a map in the dark.”

“You vile wench, you can’t leave me with that and no more,” he said faintly. “Besides, the moon is almost full. I could draw quite a few things you could see.”

“It was likely only a dream.”

“Or a vision,” he countered. He looked at her, then sighed. “You’re right. There’s nothing to be done about it tonight. But I’ll draw you a map in the morning, then we’ll see whether you were dreaming or not.”

“And if I wasn’t?”

He rubbed his hand against her back. “If you weren’t dreaming, then we’ll have a few pages to collect, I suppose.”

She nodded, then met his gaze. “Do you want me to tell you what else Daniel said tonight, or shall I wait until the morning?”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Am I going to be happy about it?”

“Are you happy about any of this?”

He put his arms around her and gathered her close again. “I refuse to answer that lest it reveal me to be overly sentimental and dispel any lingering fear you have of me.”

“I don’t fear you.”

He sighed lightly. “When was it you stopped?”

“The night you caught up with me in the forest. I bruised you terribly—”

“You didn’t.”

“Liar, you still have a mark on your chin. I knocked you flat, yet you did nothing but build me a fire and save my life. I think I knew then that you were a softhearted sap.”

He laughed, apparently in spite of himself. “You have an appalling lack of respect for my reputation, but I’ll let that pass. Tell me what that fool said before we must needs discuss these more uncomfortable subjects any longer.”

She shrugged. “He said he knew of a place of power, a hidden place where he would obtain more power. And after that, I think he intends to look for more pages to add to his collection.”

Ruith was very still. In fact, he was so still that she finally tilted her head back to look at his face.

“Ruith?”

He shook his head, started to speak, then shook his head again. “I don’t worry about him finding spells. If Connail couldn’t, your brother won’t manage it. As for the other, that place he seeks, let me think on it whilst I watch over you.” He tightened his arms around her briefly. “May you have a peaceful, dreamless sleep.”

“I’m sorry that my brother has caused you this trouble.”

“I fear, love, that your brother is the least of our worries,” Ruith said quietly.

She wished she could believe that so easily, though she supposed that was preferable to the alternative. If he thought Daniel was only a small, insignificant problem, then what other horrors did he think they would face? She closed her eyes and hoped for sleep.

She didn’t suppose she would manage it.

 

H
e woke and found himself standing, holding on to someone so tightly he was half surprised he hadn’t hurt them.

Only he realized he had.

He released Sarah immediately, then took her hand and looked at her arm. He didn’t dare push her sleeve up lest it do more damage to her skin than the spell had already done. He drew a knife from his boot and slit her sleeve up to her elbow.

His fingerprints had joined the black trails there.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.

She shook her head. “I didn’t feel it, truly”

He didn’t believe it, for there were tears streaming down her cheeks, but there was no point in arguing with her. He cut off her sleeve so it wouldn’t touch her skin, then tucked the material down his boot with his knife. Perhaps there was something there, something buried in the cloth that would eventually tell him what was buried in her flesh.

His grandfather hadn’t been able to tell. Sgath had tried to heal her whilst she slept, but said there was something in the wound he could not cure. He suggested that once Ruith had the spell that had assaulted Sarah in the first place, he might find the answer. Ruith hadn’t mentioned his own wound, and he knew his grandfather hadn’t noticed it or else he would have said something about it.

Odd that Sarah could see things Sgath could not.

Ruith wasn’t sure if Sarah’s scorched flesh had to do with his father’s spells, or his book, or things he couldn’t yet see. All he knew was he was going to have to do something about it very soon or she wouldn’t recover.

He put his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Daniel first, then we’ll turn the Nine Kingdoms upside down to find a healer who can remedy that.”

She shook her head. “Too much trouble.”

“Then we’ll just turn one of the Nine upside down, but we
will
find a way to see you whole.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Was I talking in my sleep?”

She looked up at him, clear-eyed. “You weren’t, but I was sitting in your arms, watching over you after a fashion, and I saw your dreams.”

He dropped his arm to his side and felt his mouth slide open.
“What?”

“Not that I understood your dreams, of course,” she said. “I simply saw a forest, and a river running into it. That’s when you started to scream, but apparently I was the only one to hear it.”

I thought you didn’t have any magic
was almost out of his mouth before he could stop it, but fortunately his self-control hadn’t left him entirely.

“You see too much,” he managed.

“I know.” She paused. “It seems to be growing worse with every league we travel.” She looked up at him. “I’m back to thinking I’m going mad.”

“If you are, I’m traveling along that long, sloping road with you,” he said with a sigh. He touched her arm lightly. “I’ll help Master Franciscus with the horses, then perhaps you and I will ride on ahead.”

“After you draw me a map.”

He nodded, for he hadn’t forgotten. He would have preferred to dwell on the happy pleasure of having Sarah of Doire in his arms, but all he could think about was what she’d told him.

She knew where pages of spells were.

And her damned brother was going to go to the well and see what he could have from its innards.