He hesitated. “Might I simply look through it another time or two? Léirsinn has been supplied with pencil and paper for the express purpose of jotting down the odd thing we might find interesting.”
Cruihniche frowned. “You don’t want the entire thing?”
“Oh, I want it,” he assured her. “I’m just trying to be polite by settling for less.”
She had another sip of her tea. “If all you wanted was a look,” she said, setting her cup down and shifting a platter bearing a cake closer to herself, “you could have just asked me.”
“I didn’t want to be a bother.” He paused. “That, and the last time I came to tea—”
“You rifled through my fine linens,” she finished. “Really, Acair, do you want to bring up the past at this particular moment?”
Léirsinn watched the exchange with fascination. Acair’s grandmother was fingering that cake knife as if she intended to do damage with it, though why the woman didn’t just reach for a spell was anyone’s guess.
“Well, you did send minions after me, Grandmother—” Acair began carefully.
“Which was far less than you deserved, and you’ve now made up my mind for me.” She set the knife down and held out her hand. “Book.”
Acair gathered it to his chest and cradled it there reverently. “One more look.”
Cruihniche leveled a look at him. “Do you truly want to brawl with me in front of my own hearth, child?”
“Nay, but I would endlessly sing your praises if you’d just let me make one more brief, casual study of this marvelous, one-of-a-kind foray into perfection on my way out the door.”
“If I let you near the door, you’ll just bolt.”
He nodded. “I might, but at least then you would see me fleeing and know where to direct your thugs. Perhaps I don’t need to point out that I could have simply turned myself into a discreet little breeze—”
“If you think, grandson, that I don’t have the magic to keep you firmly trapped in your own current shape,” she said mildly, “think again. If you further think I haven’t the stomach to do worse, well, you’re a disappointment and nothing but.”
Acair blinked. “Could you? Or, more to the point,wouldyou?”
Léirsinn found Acair’s grandmother looking at her. “This is your doing, isn’t it? This newfound politeness on his part?”
Léirsinn hardly knew where to begin denying anything to do with Acair’s current condition. “Ah—”
“I sense a gentler edge to his general ruthlessness, which I find alarming. Did you do that?”
Léirsinn shook her head and pointed behind her at the spell that she didn’t have to look for any longer. If it wasn’t two paces behind Acair, it was lingering at her elbow.
Cruihniche looked at the spell, then lifted an eyebrow. “Interesting bit of business, that,” she said slowly.
“Any suggestions on how to rid myself of it?” Acair asked quickly. “It is greatly hampering my ability to make mischief, and we both know how that grieves you.”
His grandmother turned her attention back to him and her expression darkened. “I almost forgot about you in theexcitement of encountering something that wants you dead. And to answer your surprisingly astute query, aye, I damned well could keep you in your own blasted shape and I don’t need any spells of essence changing to do so.”
“Your sister,” he ventured, “Cailleach—”
“I onlyhaveone sister, dolt! You needn’t remind me of my connection to her or her name.”
Léirsinn would have smiled, but she didn’t imagine that would improve matters any. She decided that perhaps it was best to just apply herself to her tea and stay out of the fray. She wasn’t as adept at reading humans as she was horses, but she would have laid money on that woman there having a soft spot for her grandson. A very small one, true, but perhaps enough to get them back out the door while they were still breathing.
“Your sister who admires you to the very depths of her being said ours was the power I should be seeking,” Acair said carefully, “not my father’s.”
“Bah, Gair is a spoilt little boy,” Cruihniche said dismissively. “Why my daughter thought him to be such a prize I don’t know, but who listens to their mothers in matters of the heart?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Acair ventured.
“I imagine you don’t listen to her aboutanything, which is a mistake,” Cruihniche said. She considered him then frowned again. “What do you want from that book?”
