“I need a book.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“They’re useful.”
“I wouldn’t disagree with that,” she whispered, “just with where you seem to think you need to look for them.”
“I crave excitement like another might crave a bit of flight on the back of a spectacular horse.”
She pursed her lips at him. “Let’s discuss that later, after we’ve escaped.”
He couldn’t argue with that idea, so he turned his mind to a study of the chamber. He had never seen the book his motherhad described for him, but knowing his grandmother as he did, he suspected she would have kept it either behind glass, behind spells, or behind her favorite decanter of port. There were bookshelves aplenty lining two walls, draperies covering windows on a third, then an enormous fireplace occupying the fourth. Chairs were set in a pleasing configuration in front of that hearth, chairs he was relieved to see were not only the usual ones set there, but ones that were comfortingly empty.
He identified a sideboard bearing a full complement of what he was certain would be delicate, exclusive liquors. It occupied a prime spot within that gaggle of bookshelves, which seemed to him the most likely spot to begin his search.
“Do you have a grandfather here as well?” Léirsinn whispered. “Just so I know if we should expect disapproval from more than one direction.”
He smiled briefly. “Not to worry, we’ve only my grandmother to worry about. My grandfather ran off with a parlor maid before I was born, or so I’ve heard, but I’ve never taken the time to verify the truth of it. For all I know, my grandmother turned him into fire irons.” He shot her a look. “It’s been done before.”
“By Prince Soilléir?” she asked uneasily.
“He certainly has the spells for it,” Acair said, “but unfortunately he only uses his powers for good, or so he claims. I have absolutely no idea what he really does save endlessly put expensive creams on his visage to hide his age.”
“Is he old?”
“Extremely, though you wouldn’t know it to look at him.” He shrugged. “Virtuous living, I suppose.”
“I’m not sure I want to know more.”
“I’m not sure I want to think about any more,” he said honestly. “But remind me later if you’re curious about either essence-changers or fire irons. At the moment, let’s find what we need and escape whilst we still can.” He nodded to a long sideboard. “We’ll try there first.”
He walked with her across a floor that didn’t squeak—reassuring, he supposed—and stopped in front of a selection of bottles. He considered, carefully moved several to the right, then reached out and pushed on a square of wooden paneling behind them.
It opened soundlessly.
“Amazing,” Léirsinn breathed.
He shot her a look. “I may have done this before.”
“Less amazing, then,” she said, “but not by much. What’s inside?”
“Not purses made of my grandfather’s innards, one could hope,” he said grimly. He looked for spells adorning the opening, then hesitated and turned to Léirsinn. “Do you see anything dangerous that I’m missing?”
“Besides your minder spell next to you who’s about to fall over into a pile of crystal decanters?” she said, reaching around him and making a shooing motion. “I can’t see a damned thing. The fire isn’t bright enough.”
He couldn’t see much either, but his ever-present companion wasn’t hissing at him and he didn’t sense anything else with his death uppermost on its list of things to see to, so he reached inside the cubby and felt about.
He ignored piles of gold, a trio of purses he wasn’t sureweren’tsomeone’s innards, and a few crystal things he supposed were made of mages’ tears. He found a trio of books and wasted no time in pulling them free. He checked the spines, then returned two, because he was feeling particularly virtuous at the moment. He took hold of his prize and looked at Léirsinn.
“Let’s go.”
“You aren’t going to steal that,” she said in surprise.
“Of course I’m going to steal it—”
“Didn’t you learn anything from King Simeon’s solar?”
“Aye, that I should pay more attention to those I make bargains with. Let’s be away whilst we still can.”
