“I can’t choose.”
“Are you sure?”
“Perfectly,” he said. “We’ll need to take it with us.”
“I don’t think your grandmother will be happy,” she warned.
“I don’t think my grandmother will have any idea it was me to nick it,” he said. He handed her back her pencil and copybook,then paused. “Do you mind holding the prize as well? I have one more thing to look for.”
She accepted his grandmother’s book with the same enthusiasm she might have a live asp, but he couldn’t fault her for it. He thanked her, then rose and strode over to the hearth. He didn’t have to examine any of the chairs there to know which flowery, overstuffed bit of business belonged solely to his grandmother. He tossed the extra pillows onto another chair, virtuously ignoring the handwork adorning them lest he be tempted beyond what he could bear, and tipped the chair back.
He knew exactly what he was looking for and where it was to be found, and he wasn’t disappointed. He reached out and came away with the other thing for which he’d come to his grandmother’s lair.
A spell of un-noticing.
He held it up to the light, that sparkling thing that resembled a delicate piece of filigreed gold. It was as perfect as the day he’d fashioned it, which he knew shouldn’t have surprised him. He had intended it to last for several centuries.
He could remember the afternoon of its creation with perfect clarity simply because he’d been at his own home that he rarely visited, sitting in his own private solar in front of the fire, and contemplating the vicissitudes of life. It had occurred to him that finding oneself in a tight spot now and again wasn’t an experience limited to mages who were fools. He had never intended to be without magic, but he’d also been very cognizant that the world could be a dodgy place. His mother had muttered on more than one occasion something abouta pinch of prevention is worth more than a handful of faery wingsor rot of that sort. He’d never seen his mother caught unawares and he’d been fairly certain that even Ruamharaiche’s well hadn’t caught his father entirelyflat-footed, so hiding the odd spell in places where he wouldn’t find himself without absolutely dire need had seemed like a prudent idea at the time.
That he needed the like at the moment was absolutely appalling.
He came back to himself to realize Léirsinn had crossed the solar and come to a stop next to him. She was looking at the spell between his fingers with an expression on her face that he couldn’t quite identify, but perhaps she was seeing things he couldn’t. He’d seen that sort of look blossom into a bout of screaming—and indulged in the same himself, truth be told—so he quickly reached out and put his hand on her arm.
“’Tis only a spell,” he whispered.
She shook her head as if she attempted to shake off the effects of drink that had been too strong. She looked at him in shock.
“It’s beautiful,” she managed.
“Well,” he said, wondering if he should be offended or not, “I’m not completely without the odd redeeming attribute.”
“Didyoumake that?” she asked in surprise.
He should definitely have been offended, he decided, but he just couldn’t muster up the effort. He settled for a scowl. “Is that so unthinkable?”
She looked at him in a way that reminded him so much of Soilléir of Cothromaiche, he flinched.
“You made that,” she said, as if she simply couldn’t believe it of him.
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
She shook her head, waving aside his words in frustration. “Nay, not that the spell isn’t beautiful, because it is. I mean...” She looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. “You did that. Rather, you’reableto do that.”
“A trifle,” he said dismissively, deciding abruptly it was less unsettling to be offended than it was to realize he was on the verge of coloring discreetly. “But feel free to heap more accolades upon my deserving head. I’ve had a rough go of things over the past few months.”
“I don’t think your arrogance needs anything added to it.”
He was a bloody braggart, true. He looked at her knowingly. “I believe you might swoon.”
“At the moment, I believe you might be right.”
He tucked the spell into the purse at his belt, then looked at her. “We should go whilst we still are able to. I have everything I need.”
She looked at him once more in consternation, then extinguished her candle and set it on the mantel. He took her hand, led her toward the door, then came to an abrupt and rather ungainly halt.
Damn, and so close to being gone.
He felt Léirsinn press herself close to his left side whilst that damned minder spell cowered behind him to his right. Léirsinn leaned up to whisper to him.
