“Doyou?” Acair returned.
Mansourah pursed his lips. “Aye, a black mageling with no power.”
“That is a temporary condition, I assure you.”
Léirsinn watched them in fascination, wondering if they actually believed they would draw blood with words alone. Mansourah was obviously quite used to having everyone jump to humor him, and Acair, well, she supposed if she had met him in a darkened alley, she would have done exactly what that lad earlier had done, namely turned tail and run.
“I wonder,” she interrupted, “if it might be time to go.”
Mansourah took a deep breath, then very deliberately set his fork down. “An excellent thought. I’ll go see what the street contains.”
“Oh, please do,” Acair said, waving him off. “Can’t wait to see what you scout out.”
Mansourah swore at him, then rose and made his way to the entrance to the pub.
Léirsinn glanced at Acair to find him watching the doorway. Either he was considering the lay of the land himself or he was plotting their companion’s demise. She honestly wouldn’t have been surprised by either.
“You can’t do what you’re contemplating, you know,” she said, because she thought she should.
He glanced at her. “What? Smother him in his sleep?”
“Aye.”
He shook his head. “I’ll forebear, but only because I might need his aid.”
She toyed idly with her mug of ale. “Perilous deeds await, is that what you’re saying?”
“Hopefully not. All we have to look forward to here is a pleasant stroll to the library, though I will admit I might need someone to serve as a distraction. I believe I know just the lad—and there he is by the door, obviously ready to be about the business of the morning.” He rose and put his hand on the back of her chair. “Shall we?”
She couldn’t think of a decent reason why not, so she pushed herself to her feet, then followed him across the room and out into the pale winter morning sunlight. It was chilly, true, but she was wearing a discreet but extremely well-made cloak given to her by the queen of Neroche so the cold didn’t trouble her overmuch.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be helping the unease she felt. It was mad to think she was being watched, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling. Perhaps it was nothing more than that lad from earlier, the one Acair had sent off with a stern look and a handful of harsh words—
“My lady?”
She blinked when she realized Mansourah was holding out his elbow toward her. Damnation, too late to run. She took a deep breath, took his arm, and nodded. Acair fell in on her other side, breathing out fiery threats under his breath.
“Do shut up, peasant,” Mansourah drawled.
“I’ll kill you the first chance I have,” Acair promised.
“And find yourself swinging from the nearest tree before you managed it?” Mansourah asked with a yawn. “Wouldn’t risk it, were I you.”
Léirsinn heard Acair take a deep breath, then let it out gustily. Perhaps thoughts of murder were being shelved for the moment. She looked at him briefly, had a raised eyebrow in return, then took her own steadying breath. She would leave her companions to their business and concentrate on her own task of watching for shadows on the ground that she found herself particularly adept at seeing.
She could do no more. Their quest was begun with little more than their wits, a bad-tempered horse, and the company of a handsome, noble prince who she suspected would slip a knife between Acair’s ribs if given half a chance.
She supposed others had trotted off into the fray with less.
She just wasn’t sure she wanted to know where that lack had left them.
Two
There was much to be said for the quiet, unassuming life of a black mage.
Acair of Ceangail walked along the cobblestone streets of a city he hadn’t planned on visiting ever again without a very dire reason indeed and took the opportunity to indulge in a leisurely mental recounting of the pleasures of that normally quiet life.
He interrupted himself long enough to give a frisky lad a shove away from his companion and situate her more fully between himself and that empty-headed archer from Neroche, then he turned his mind back to his much-needed distraction.
