He opened it just to make certain his dam hadn’t decided to liberate the proper pages and replace them with detailed notes about the grooming habits—or lack thereof—of his brothers. Finding everything as it should have been, he closed the book and smiled at his mother.
“Delightful,” he said. “Just what I needed.”
She looked at him narrowly. “You could have made that list from memory, my lad. What are you looking for truly?”
He would have invented some lofty-sounding errand to throw her off the scent, but it was his mother and he’d inherited from her the whole of his ability to obtain details from even the most reluctant of victims. Distracting her from ferreting out the truth would be difficult, if not impossible.
He sighed deeply. Where to start? He was there for answers to several vexing questions, beginning with who was creating those pools of shadow he seemed to be finding in untoward places and ending with who had created the spell that continuedto prevent him from delighting and astonishing everyone around him with his mighty magic.
It also might have been useful to know who was chasing him, particularly since he had the feeling it wasn’t just the usual collection of workers of substandard magic he tended to offend.
If he happened to help himself to a few spells he’d jotted down and left folded up beneath tins of healthful herbs he was positive his mother would never disturb, so much the better. It could count as a bit of housework, which might earn him a kind word or two.
“I don’t know, Mother,” he admitted. “I am besieged by a handful of vexing mysteries. More shocking still, I find myself without a decent idea of where to turn.”
“Take the path leading to that red-haired wench,” she said wisely.
“Do you think so?”
She blinked. “Are you asking my advice?”
“Ye gads, nay.” He paused, then considered. “I wouldn’t completely discount it if you cared to give it.”
She felt about in her hair for what he could only hope wasn’t a dagger or a witchly wand of some sort. She pulled a pencil free, licked the tip of it, then drew forth a notebook from the pocket of her apron, all the while watching him as if she expected him to suddenly leap up and rush off.
“What are you doing?” he asked carefully.
“Making a note of this historic moment. I’ll find out later whether or not the world cracked in two during the same.”
He pursed his lips. “I am not above the occasional bit of humility.”
She blinked, jotted down something, then looked at himagain. “I would guffaw—indeed, I imagine I will after you go—but I’m too stunned at the moment to indulge.”
“Indulge away,” he said wearily. “It won’t be the worst thing I’ve endured so far this year.”
“I understand you’ve been on an apology tour.”
“From whom do you understand that?” he asked politely.
She shrugged lightly. “Can’t say I’m able to bring to mind the exact teller of that tale. Word gets ’round, you know.”
He imagined it did and whilst he wasn’t sure he wanted to know who was spreading that word around, he thought he might be able to latch on to a name or two just the same if pressed.
“I’m assuming you’ll give me the details,” she continued, “considering I’ve given you refuge.”
“Happily,” he said. He couldn’t say he cared for gossip—well, if he were to be completely honest, he didn’t care for silly, useless gossip, but tales of riches and rumors of things that might be useful in the odd spot of blackmail, aye, he wasn’t above bending an ear for that sort of thing. His mother cast a wider net for items of note, but her days of making as much mischief as he indulged in were perhaps discreetly behind her.
Perhaps. With Fionne of Fàs, one never knew.
“It is true,” he conceded, “that I’ve spent the last several months spreading sunshine and happiness from one end of the Nine Kingdoms to the other. I imagine I can find things you’ll want to make a note of, but you might want to wait until I’m better rested lest I forget important details.”
“Hmmm,” she said studying him. “I would certainly prefer that you be at your best for the grilling, so we’ll leave it for the moment. As for the other question that you tried to so neatly sidestep, why are you here? Past the obvious need to show me that feisty little miss of yours, of course.”
He suppressed a snort. If Léirsinn still wanted to speak to him after having encountered his mother, he would be fortunate indeed. The other thing, though, he wasn’t above addressing.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” he said slowly, “and want even less to find out who’s been yammering on about my activities, but the truth is, I am looking for a particular mage. I might need a rather lengthy look through your books to find him.”
She waved her pencil at him. “You’re starting in the middle, which you know annoys me. Begin at the beginning and concentrate on your troubles, something I’ll thoroughly enjoy. I’ll keep an ear cocked for details you might inadvertently reveal. Before you get yourself launched, however, I will tell you that I heard that that delicious prince from Cothromaiche had you for supper a month or two ago.”
