She closed her eyes, then opened them andlookedat Acair’s mother.
It was as if she’d had a heavy woolen blanket of sorts pulled from where it had lain over her eyes. The witchwoman of Fàs was still sitting there, only at the moment, Léirsinn couldseewho she was in truth.
Acair’s mother was... well, the woman was a tree. Not a straight, majestic pine or a supple, rustling aspen. She was an ancient, twisting oak that bore leaves that Léirsinn was certain fell when commanded and only landed where permitted. There were nooks and crannies and sinewy branches that likely should have given any unwary traveler pause. It was a mighty tree that Léirsinn suspected didn’t care what wind howled around it or how much snow fell atop it. If unusual birds, misshapen sprites, and assorted other creatures from myth and legend nested in those branches, neither the creatures nor the tree seemed inclined to complain.
She blinked, and the vision was gone. She took a deep, unsteady breath.
“I see.”
Mistress Fionne tilted her head to one side. “Do you?”
“Do you care if I do?”
Mistress Fionne smiled faintly. “Not a bit, lass, but you don’t expect anything else, do you? That isn’t to say that I wouldn’t pull you out of the way of a bolting horse if necessary, but you’ve strong opinions yourself and no need of my approval.” She shrugged. “My life’s work is to make records of happenings.Hard to make good ones if you’re too caught up in those happenings.”
Léirsinn was absolutely thrilled to talk about something else. “Have you always kept records?”
Acair’s mother sat up a bit straighter and patted her hair. “Of course not. I’ve had loves and losses and ruined more than my fair share of dinner parties. After a few centuries, though, stirring the proverbial cauldron becomes a bit commonplace. I now have a steady stream of visitors, which keeps my mind sharp, and I live to torture my sons, which warms my black heart. What else is there?”
“Horses?” Léirsinn managed.
The witchwoman of Fàs laughed a little. “I suppose there is that, but my riding days are over. I’m not opposed to a turn about the old place as an icy wind or a terrifying dream, but for the most part I’m happy to stay in my own shape and make mischief as I can. Miserable people put a spring in my step, so I like to help that sort of thing along whenever possible. As for the rest, the world continues to turn and I continue to watch.” She shrugged. “Trees seem to enjoy that, don’t you think?”
“What I think isn’t worth trying to repeat,” Léirsinn said, feeling a little faint. “How did you know what I saw?”
“You aren’t the only one who sees,” Mistress Fionne said archly, “and I do have a polished glass, gel.”
“You frighten me.”
“And we’re back to where we started,” Acair’s mother said pleasantly. “What do you see in my son?”
“Good manners and a flawless face.”
“You know from where he gets those, but that wasn’t what I was talking about. Have you peered into his soul?”
“Unwillingly,” Léirsinn admitted. She thought about how she’d seen Acair in the king of Neroche’s garden, standing in the moonlight in all his terrible beauty, with his soul so perfectly balanced between light and dark she half feared the slightest breath would destroy him. She looked at his mother. “I saw him in the gardens of Tor Neroche as I stepped in one of those spots—or after, perhaps. I can’t remember. I’m not sure I can adequately describe the vision.”
“I’m not sure he would care to hear it,” Mistress Fionne said frankly, “but you might tell him just the same to vex him.” She took the book about Gair and rose. “You’re new at all this business, so I wouldn’t worry.”
“I’m not sure this is anything I want to be involved in, even if I knew whatthiswas,” Léirsinn said seriously.
“A quest, lass,” Mistress Fionne said, “or weren’t you told?”
Léirsinn wasn’t sure she could adequately respond to that, so she settled for simply gaping at Acair’s mother.
Mistress Fionne rested her elbow atop a stall door and looked at her seriously. “Gel, I would hazard a guess that there’s been a lad or two from the noble rabble who’s marched off into the darkness whilst wondering why they were where they were.”
“Do you think so?”
“Iknowso. Most of those Heroes you read about have their heads full of rocks. Pretty, but not all that bright, if you know what I’m getting at. As to your purpose, I’d say you’re not here by chance, but I’m not much of a believer in coincidence.” She paused. “Speaking of things to look at, I’d like a peek at the charm you wear.”
Léirsinn put her hand over her heart before she thought better of it. “How do you know?”
“Because I can see it burning through your tunic, that’s how.”Acair’s mother paused. “That and I had a wee chat with my aunt Cailleach recently and she said she’d given it to you. Her gifts are very powerful.”
Léirsinn decided abruptly that she didn’t particularly want to know how and when those two women had met over tea. She pulled the charm out from under her shirt and started to ease the leather cord over her head, but Mistress Fionne stopped her.
“No need for me to get too close to that.”
