“As I said before, aye.”
Silence descended.
It descended softly, as if it had been a delicate snowfall somewhere between the first sloppy business of autumn but not yet the brittle stuff of winter that sounded like glass shattering as it fell through the air.
It was a fairly substantial silence, actually.
Acair had known that moment would come, of course,because he never walked into any dodgy situation without first having studied it thoroughly. It had obviously occurred to him that what he needed was hidden behind his own spells that he couldn’t very well undo in his present condition. He had also given thought to the master spell he’d laid there, a very pedestrian but useful thing that could be triggered by a single word.
Only he couldn’t utter that single word without causing that damned spell currently resting its bony shadow of a chin on his shoulder to fall upon him and, as he would have told anyone willing to listen, slay him instantly. He flicked it off as if it had been an annoying fly, then waited for the abuse he knew was coming his way.
Mansourah arched his back and did everything but yawn hugely before he began to purr in satisfaction. “I suppose,” he drawled, “that you might need my help.”
Acair smiled instead of snarling because he knew which side his bread was buttered on, as the saying went. “Terribly kind of you, of course.”
“It also seems as though you might need my aid in getting past the guards at the door given that they’ll want a list of anyone in our party who has magic.”
“Indeed they will and that would be absolutely sporting of you, Your Highness.”
Mansourah was obviously enjoying the situation far more than it merited, but Acair wasn’t about to spoil the man’s pleasure. He was above all a pragmatist. If he had to use that empty-headed flirt to get what he wanted, he would and swallow his pride in the bargain.
Mansourah nodded toward the doors. “Léirsinn, stay close to me. If things go badly, we’ll toss him to the wolves and escape whilst they’re feasting.”
Acair had heard worse ideas, so he kept his head down as they made their way to the front doors and waited with the rest of the rabble to be allowed inside. He didn’t expect Mansourah to keep his own identity a secret and the lad didn’t disappoint. Léirsinn was introduced as his fiancée, a practice Acair fully intended to put a stop to sooner rather than later. He was himself presented as a lowly servant with enough magic to his name to find his master’s slippers but not quite enough to prepare morning chocolate in any but the most pedestrian of ways. He didn’t argue, but he made a mental note of the insult for future repayment.
He followed along behind Mansourah and Léirsinn as deferentially as possible. He spared a look over his shoulder and wasn’t at all comfortable with the notice they were still attracting from those at the front door. Mansourah might have been a prince from that rustic hovel of Tor Neroche, but he wasn’t at all shy about using any of his nobility credentials. The head librarian was still in a bit of a swoon, leaving a handful of under librarians saddled with the task of holding him up.
It could have been worse, Acair supposed. The lad with the nose for magic they generally used for sniffing out interlopers could have been standing there as well. He was perhaps off having his morning ale, which was definitely a boon for them.
Acair gave Mansourah directions to an unassuming spot in an even more unassuming stack of extremely dry and rather poorly written—he’d checked previously, of course—tomes on the production of various varieties of cheese to be found only in the country of Meith. He’d been to Meith several times and whilst he could definitely say they were masters at their craft, they were also quite possibly the worst writers in the whole of the Nine Kingdoms. He paused with his companions, enduredan opinion or two about his taste in literature that Mansourah couldn’t seem to keep from sharing, then turned his mind back to the business at hand.
He shared the single word necessary, then stood back and waited to see what would happen.
He honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire library had come crashing down on their heads, which was one reason he’d pulled Léirsinn over to him where he could keep her safe in the case of such an event. Fortunately for the patrons within, however, not even a vigorous vocalization of the appropriate magical key had any effect. He considered Mansourah’s failure to obtain that slim, worn volume he could plainly see hiding there and came to the only conclusion possible.
He was a damned good mage.
Obviously his spells were every bit as formidable as he’d always considered them to be. He examined that particularly marvelous piece of work there to make certain it hadn’t been tampered with, but saw only what he’d left behind several months ago.
“What now?” Mansourah asked shortly. “Given that this is a dead end.”
Acair was disappointed, of course, but not ready to consign the whole of the journey to the rubbish heap. He hadn’t made a copy of his book, true, but it was possible perhaps to find the pertinent information in other places. Whether or not he wanted to go to those places was another matter, but it looked as if he might not have a choice.
He smiled gamely. “We’ll continue the search for what I need, of course. The journey has certainly not been wasted. The city does offer other delights worthy of our visit.”
“If you tell me we’re here to sit by and watch as you haveanother pair of boots fashioned,” Mansourah managed, “I will take them and shove them down your throat.”
“I’d rather see my tailor, actually,” Acair said without hesitation. “He always keeps a few things on hand for my sartorial emergencies. I might or might not have an extra pair of boots tucked into his workroom as well, so not to worry.”
Mansourah’s mouth fell open. It was possible he made one or two inarticulate sounds of amazement, but Acair thought it wise not to comment.
“You,” Mansourah said, apparently finding his tongue, “dragged us here to see yourtailor?”
“My barber as well, if we’ve the time—”
He had to admit that the present moment wasn’t the first time he’d used Léirsinn of Sàraichte as a shield, and it was true that she’d stepped in front of him of her own accord, but there would come a day when he wouldn’t allow that sort of thing any longer. Convincing her of that might prove to be another thing entirely.
He peeked at Mansourah over her head. “Don’t bother with your puny spells.”
