Dreamspinner (32 page)

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for any longer.”

“I thought you were looking for a swordsman,” he said slowly, “but perhaps that has changed.”

The only thing that had changed was her intense desire to go back to that very comfortable bed Lord Nicholas had provided her and pull the covers over her head. She looked up at the sky again, wishing that she could, just for a few days, live for herself. Nothing hanging over her head, not the fate of Bruadair in her helpless hands nor the finding of a mercenary capable of instigating a palace coup left to her meager devices. She sighed deeply, then looked at Rùnach.

“Have you ever known there was something you needed to do, but found yourself dreading it with everything you were?”

“Once or twice,” he said.

“What did you do?”

He looked at her steadily. “I did what needed to be done.”

“Was the price steep?”

“Very.”

She clutched her own bow, wishing her task was nothing more than learning to place an arrow where she wanted it to land. “Did you ever want to run?” she whispered.

He smiled, but it was a pained smile. “I’m not sure I want to answer that.”

“Do you think Heroes ever want to run?”

“Only if they come from Neroche.”

She blinked, then smiled. “They seem to send a preponderance of lads trotting off into the gloom, don’t they?”

“I believe there must be something in the water there,” he said dryly. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then froze when he seemed to realize what he’d done. He carefully pulled his hand away and lowered it to his side, as if he thought she wouldn’t notice if he were slow enough. He nodded to his right. “There is a bench over there, lady. Perhaps you would care to sit and take your ease after your morning of heavy labor.”

She wasn’t going to argue with that. She allowed him to take
her bow and quiver of arrows from her, then walked with him and sat down on that very comfortable bench.

He set their gear aside, then looked at her. “Will you tell me what your quest is, Aisling?”

“I told you,” she said. “I must find a swordsman to save my…village.”

“Is that all?”

She clutched the edge of the seat of that lovely wooden bench, took several deep, steadying breaths, then looked at him. “I am to send this mercenary to a predetermined meeting place before a certain amount of time has passed.”

He nodded, as if he weren’t surprised by it.

“This presents a bit of a problem,” she continued slowly, “given that whilst I had a bag full of gold at one time, I have that no longer. I could perhaps hire out as a weaver and earn more, but I fear it would take me a great deal of time to earn enough.”

“Do you enjoy weaving?”

“I’d rather stick hot pins in my eyes,” she said, before she thought better of it. She looked at him quickly. “I mean—”

“Just that, I imagine,” he said with a faint smile. “And I can’t say that I blame you, given your circumstances.” He considered for a moment or two, then looked at her. “And if you don’t find this lad within this certain amount of time?”

She wanted to tell him. Indeed, if she could have blurted it all out right there in Nicholas’s lists, she would have. But all she could do was look at him, mute.

“Something dire happens?” he suggested.

She supposed a nod wouldn’t fell her where she sat, so she nodded. Just once.

“Then I believe I have a thought.”

“Is it a useful one?” she managed.

“It isn’t one about how many questions I want to pepper you with and how many answers I intend to pry out of you whilst you’re otherwise occupied,” he said with a smile, “which makes it a useful one, I suppose.”

“My answers aren’t very interesting ones.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, half under his breath, then he smiled. “Let us do this. Let’s make our way to Chagailt, then take our ease briefly in the library there. We might find a few of the answers we’re both seeking.”

“Are you seeking answers?”

He smiled. “I have a question or two that I could happily find an answer to.”

“Another mystery?”

“The same one.”

“What one is that?”

He smiled, then rose and started toward the target. “Can’t say,” he threw over his shoulder.

“Can’t, or won’t?” she called after him.

“Take your pick.”

Impossible man. She watched him collect their arrows, then examine the one of his that she’d destroyed. He shook his head, then walked back and collected her as well.

“Lunch,” he said, sounding thrilled by the prospect.

“Thank you,” she said, as she walked with him off the field.

“For what?”

“For coming with me.”

“It is my pleasure.

She looked up at him as they reached the buttery. “Why are you?”

“Do you mind if I do?”

She shook her head.

“Then it’s settled.”

It was only as she had finished her lunch that she realized he hadn’t answered her question, nor did it appear he intended to. Worse still, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. Perhaps he was coming with her out of pity, or boredom, or a secret nefarious desire to rush into Bruadair himself and overthrow the government to install himself as king.

Though of any of the thoughts she’d had over the past month, that was easily the most ridiculous.

She stood on the edge of Lismòr’s beautiful inner courtyard, waiting for Rùnach to come back from the library where he’d gone to fetch her a book or two he thought she might like, when she realized she wasn’t standing where she was, she was standing at a crossroads. She almost looked over her shoulder to see if someone might be standing behind her, breathing lightly, waiting for her to realize the gift she’d been given.

Freedom.

And a man willing to help her discover how to keep it.

She looked up into the flat, grey sky and wondered if there were such things as curses, and quests, and…

And dragons.

She felt something sink into her soul, something that felt quite a bit like courage. She put her hand on the pillar she was standing next to, found it solid beneath her touch, and began to wonder things that she supposed might be the death of her, but she couldn’t help but wonder them just the same.

What if the peddler had lied to her?

What if her entire life had just been one lie after another?

What if she were free?

She blinked when she realized Rùnach had come to stand in front of her. She looked at him seriously.

“Are things as they seem to be?”

He blinked in surprise, then smiled. “You keep asking that question.”

She only waited, because she wasn’t sure she dared begin to think about her reply.

He chewed on his words for a moment or two, seemingly looking for just the right ones. “I don’t know,” he said, finally. “I suppose that depends on what you think things seem to be.”

She supposed the only way to find that out was to find out everything she could about Bruadair. She had begun a halfhearted search the day before, but she could see now that it would take more than just halfhearted searching to discover what she needed to.

Because until she knew the truth, she would spend her days living in fear of the cold hand of doom falling upon her.

She looked up at him. “I’m not sure of anything right now.”

“Then you should find answers.”

“Are there answers to be found, do you think?”

He smiled, handed his book off to a page who happened to be trotting by, then offered her his arm. “I think a walk along the shore might provide us with a few. If not, there is always the library at Chagailt. It is, you know, a convenient stop between here and Tor Neroche.”

She wondered what was worse, being under a curse, or not having words to thank a terribly handsome, chivalrous, mysterious man for his kindness.

All she could do was take his arm.

T
hey left at sunset. Aisling had thoroughly enjoyed her final walk along the shore, though the air had chilled her more than she’d thought it would. She had spent most of her time feeling the ocean against her hands, though she hadn’t touched it.

Not since she’d sent it spinning, of course.

Nicholas walked with them out the front gates she hadn’t remembered coming in. He was having a conversation with Rùnach that she hadn’t been paying attention to but supposed she had better lest something come as an unexpected and unpleasant surprise.

“Perhaps,” Nicholas was saying, “but there is something to be said for traveling under the cover of darkness.”

Aisling looked at Rùnach to find him looking at the lord of Lismòr with a very grave expression.

“I think we’ve been fairly anonymous so far,” he began slowly.

“Save for your time in Gobhann.”

Rùnach sighed. “Other than that, who would know? Who would care?”

Aisling felt a chill go down her spine. “Who would care about what?” she asked. She could hardly voice the thought that occurred to her suddenly, but she had to. “Is someone looking for…someone in particular?”
Like me,
she wanted to add, but she couldn’t
bring herself to say the words, because they were so ridiculous. No one knew her; no one could possibly care about her.

Which meant that Nicholas was concerned about Rùnach.

Nicholas smiled easily. “I’m overly cautious, my dear, about my guests and their travels. I’m sure you and Rùnach will be just fine. He is a very skilled swordsman, which will serve you well. And you have your bow, don’t you? I daresay you’ll manage between the two of you.”

She nodded, though the thought of someone pursuing Rùnach was one that suddenly filled her with dread. She looked at him searchingly, but found he looked anything but worried.

“Now, as to how you’ll travel,” Nicholas began, then he fell silent.

Aisling heard the very sudden sound of the rushing of wings. She reached for an arrow, but Rùnach stopped her with his hand suddenly on her arm. She would have protested, but she followed his gaze—just to know from whence their doom might be coming—and felt her knees give way. Rùnach caught her, then steadied her with his arm around her shoulders.

“What,” she wheezed, “is that?”

“I believe,” Nicholas said pleasantly, “that it is a horse.”

“But it has wings!”

“A pegasus, then,” Nicholas amended.

“Where did he come from?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Nicholas said thoughtfully. “He’s not mine, that much I know.”

Aisling leaned against Rùnach and watched as the horse—ah, pegasus, rather—made several enthusiastic circles before he came to earth, tucked his wings modestly, and bowed his head to Rùnach. She leaned harder.

“I think he likes you.”

“And I think he likes
you
,” he said. “How do you feel about flying?”

The only reason she didn’t land on her backside was because Rùnach was holding her up. She began to shake, because that was what a sensible woman did when faced with something that terrified her.

“I believe I’m going to stop reading,” she whispered. “I’m afraid to ask what might leap from the pages next.”

Nicholas laughed merrily. “My dear, I suspect that won’t stop these things from appearing in your life. You seem to attract them.”

“I like them better in books,” she said, though she found to her surprise that at the moment that wasn’t exactly true.

She could hardly believe her eyes, but she couldn’t deny what she was seeing. There standing before her was the most magnificent horse she’d ever seen. Admittedly, the only horses she had seen before were the ones befouling the streets of Beul, who were nags, and Rùnach’s mount, whom she hadn’t had a very good look at. She walked over to the horse standing five paces in front of them, feeling as if she were walking in a dream, then reached out her hand to stroke the blaze on his long, elegant nose. He didn’t seem to mind it. And when she stepped to the side to look at his profile, he turned his head just so, presumably so she might catch him on his best side. She looked at him, then looked at Rùnach.

“He looks a great deal like your horse.” She paused. “And I could be wrong, but he sounds as if he’s purring.”

“It’s a mythical noise,” Nicholas said firmly, sounding as if he knew of what he spoke. “If it sounds feline, that’s a coincidence. It’s actually something only the pegasus does, or so I’ve read. I’m sure you’ll find that confirmed in your research. And look, how polite of him to provide you with reins. Aisling, I’ll hold your gear whilst Rùnach gives you a leg up.”

She looked at Nicholas and laughed, because she couldn’t do anything else.

“This is a pegasus,” she said in wonder.

Nicholas took her hand and tucked it under his arm. “And so he is, my dear.”

“Is he Rùnach’s horse, do you think?”

“I daresay he might be,” Nicholas said, “though perhaps we can assume Rùnach didn’t know about these unusual talents he has. He seems to be prepared to carry you where you want to go, however, so I think you should take advantage of what he’s able to do, wouldn’t you say?”

Aisling wasn’t at all sure she wanted to get up on that beast’s back, but there didn’t seem to be any avoiding it. She settled herself in the saddle, took the reins, then shivered when Rùnach climbed up into the saddle behind her. There was something rather too final about knowing that once he was up in the saddle with her, there was no turning back. She suspected she might spend the entire journey feeling as if she were nigh onto falling off.

She didn’t want to think about all the places to which—or heights from which—she might fall.

She managed to nod at Nicholas, but that was the extent of her thanks. She was fairly sure Rùnach had made polite conversation with their host, but she didn’t hear any of it. All she could do was clutch the entirely useless reins and the pommel of the saddle at the same time and hope she wouldn’t scream when the pegasus’s wings unfurled and he leapt up into the sky.

But she didn’t scream.

She fainted.

She knew this only because she realized after she’d woken that she had woken from something, but by then it was too late to even scream. She simply sat in the saddle with Rùnach’s arms tightly around her and gasped.