The White Spell (7 page)

A lad came around the corner of the pub and walked right over the patch of ground before Léirsinn could stop him. He froze, as if something were holding him there. She felt a cold chill settle over herself that had nothing to do with the twilight. What in the hell were those things?

The lad suddenly came back to himself from wherever he'd been. He shook himself like a dog, then continued on his way as if nothing untoward had just befallen him.

Léirsinn couldn't look at Acair. If he looked at her as if she were mad—

“Let us be about seeing to our supper,” Acair said, taking her by the arm and tugging her toward the door to the pub. “I'm starved.”

“Again, what is it you expect me to do about that?” she asked, her mouth utterly dry. She looked up at him to find that he was watching her far more closely than she was comfortable with. “Shall I whistle a cheerful tune or dance a jig?”

“You're throwing my words back at me, which means you were paying enough attention to me to remember them.” He nodded knowingly. “Promising, that. As for your task, it is to merely sit quietly whilst I see to the necessary funds.”

“I'm not accustomed to sitting quietly,” she managed.

“Consider this a challenge, then,” he said. “You can intimidate stallions again on the morrow, hopefully much better fed than by the slop your man Doghail prepares.”

“He's not the cook,” she said, trying not to shudder. “You wouldn't want to meet the man who prepares our meals.”

Acair made a noise of disgust, which she had to admit was entirely justified. If he steered them both past that shadow that shouldn't have been there, he made no note of it and neither did she.
She simply walked with him and was happy to reach somewhere at least marginally safe, even if she only had enough coin for a small mug of ale.

Unfortunately, now that the moment was upon her, she found it was coin she couldn't bring herself to spend. She stood at the threshold of the pub, frozen as surely as a pony might have been when faced with a locale he simply couldn't enter.

“I promised you supper,” Acair said easily. “Allow me to see to it.”

“But—”

“'Tis as simple as that, if that concerns you.”

She couldn't begin to describe what concerned her, so she took a deep breath and settled for a nod before she walked on. He found a darkened corner near the fire, saw her seated, then went to the bar to order. She had no idea how he paid for their ale, but he seemed to have funds enough for that at least. He set a mug down in front of her, sat down next to her, then looked around the gathering room.

“This will do nicely,” he said pleasantly.

“Are you a gambler by profession?” she asked, realizing how prim she sounded only after she'd said the words.

He raised his eyebrows briefly. “Not in the sense you intend it, certainly. I'm not above attempting the impossible, but I generally don't do so unless I know I'll win.” He looked at her. “Do you play cards?”

“Only children's games.”

“Collecting animals of a certain color?”

“Something like that.” She sipped her ale and tried not to sigh in pleasure. “You?”

“I don't think anyone here is going to ask for purple dragons anytime soon, so to answer your question, nay. Not in years.” He had a large drink of his ale, then draped his cloak over the back of his chair. “Wait here. I'll be back soon enough.”

She didn't suppose waiting was going to be much of a hardship given that she was sitting next to the enormous hearth, the fire was
crackling nicely, and she had a very drinkable mug of ale in her hands. As long as Acair didn't behave badly and get them thrown out, she thought she might be able to allow herself the pleasure of simply being warm and doing nothing for a bit.

She watched Acair introduce himself to a group of men sitting at a table, already hard at their evening's labors. She had to admit that for as brutal as he'd been to those men who had wished her ill, he was utterly charming to those gamblers he was soon sitting down to join. If she'd been at that table and he'd asked her to hand over all her green ducks, she would have done so just to have him flash that smile of his at her—

She put her hand to her forehead and suppressed the urge to place it there repeatedly and with vigor. Obviously too much intrigue at the barn had left her considering things she never would have if she'd been in her right mind. She had a hefty swig of ale and hoped it would not only settle her stomach but clear her head.

It took three generous sips before she began to feel any more like herself. She kept hold of that cold pewter mug and watched Acair with a newfound detachment. He labored in her uncle's barn and he was spotting her coin for supper. He was no more interesting than that.

He waited until the game had ended and a new one was in the offing before he showed his companions a coin they seemed to find to their liking—a Nerochian half-sovereign, whatever that was. He joked affably with them as they set to their labors. She shook her head. He looked harmless enough, but she couldn't let go of the thought that he just wasn't at all what he seemed.

Why would a man that handsome find himself mucking out stalls to feed himself? If his sire had so many sons, then why—

She stopped herself before she wasted the effort to finish that thought. If his sire had so many sons, perhaps he hadn't been able to provide for them all properly. For all she knew, Acair, being the youngest, had been at the tail-end of the line when it came to an inheritance and found himself with absolutely nothing to his name but a handsome face and some skill with cards.

Or perhaps no skill with cards. She watched him and felt a bit of alarm sweep though her over the way he was frowning, as if he hadn't a clue what he was doing. The truth was, he was losing badly. He scratched his head, made a few noises of dismay, and looked at his cards as if he'd never seen anything like them before. One of the men at the table made a rather vile jest at Acair's expense. Acair only laughed in a good-natured fashion, then set to another bit of looking at his cards with an expression of utter bafflement.

And then, quite suddenly, he wasn't losing any longer.

He won several hands in a row, gathering to himself a respectable pile of coins. The others fought valiantly, but in the end, the rest of the table threw in their hands in disgust.

“You cheat,” a man said, rising and pointing a finger at Acair. His face was mottled red. “You're a bloody cheat!”

Acair looked up at him coolly. “If you're going to call a man a cheat, friend, you'd best have damned good proof of it, don't you think?”

“Ralf, he bested you fairly,” one of the other men said with a sigh. He looked at Acair. “He does this to everyone. Can't say I'm happy about losing my gold for supper, but I watched you closely enough. I saw nothing foul.”

Acair rose. “And with that, my good man, supper and ale for the three of you is yours. Your friend can go drink out of the horse trough.”

The man seemed to find that a reasonably acceptable outcome and gathered up his companions to go find the innkeeper. Léirsinn glanced at them, then looked back at the possessor of many more coins than he'd started the evening with. He sat down at the table, apparently not needing to go stand at the bar and wait for someone to take his supper order. A barmaid was immediately at his side, breathlessly inquiring about his desires. Unsurprising, but Léirsinn wasn't about to argue. Acair might have been a rogue and a gambler, but he was generous with his funds. He ordered food to feed them, paid for meals for his newly fleeced friends, then looked at her.

“I hope that will suit.”

“I can't repay you.”

“Don't think I asked you to.”

She studied him because she liked to know what she was facing. “You didn't, which bothers me.”

“You might just be grateful.” He stopped, then frowned. “What a notion.”

“Being grateful?”

“Well, the very idea of doing something pleasant for another soul is appalling enough, but doing it without expecting something very dear in return is another thing entirely.” He looked at her. “I think I've been in your barn too long.”

She almost smiled. “Not accustomed to that sort of altruism, is that it?”

“That is it,” he agreed. He had another substantial drink of ale. “I believe I might be losing what few wits remain me.”

“Where did you lose the first batch?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then pursed his lips. “I'm not at liberty to say specifically, but I believe I may have lost most of them at a table just like this.”

“Playing at cards?”

“Nay, talking to my half-brother and one of his do-gooding companions.”

“Horrors.”

“If you only knew,” he said with a fair amount of feeling, “and look you here is supper, come at just the proper time to prevent me from answering any more questions I'm not free to answer.”

She had never in her life seen food appear so quickly. Then again, if she'd been that barmaid, she would have served Acair just that quickly and returned often simply for the chance to have another look at him. “Are you on a mission of secrecy?”

He glanced around himself as if he feared someone might be listening, then looked at her. “As it happens, aye, I am. And unfortunately, giving you any details at all will be detrimental to my health, so I will forbear.”

“Then what shall we discuss?” she asked. “Your skill with cards?”

“As interesting a topic as that is, perhaps we should save that for later.” He had another sip of ale. “Instead, why don't we talk about what you keep avoiding on the ground?”

She would have spewed out what she was eating, but she hadn't managed to yet get a spoonful of stew to her lips. She did drop that spoon into her bowl which had the same effect given that she was now wearing a decent amount of broth. Acair sighed lightly and signaled for the barmaid. Léirsinn would have protested, but she didn't have a chance before she was presented with a towel and a new supper.

She honestly couldn't remember when she had seen so much food in front of her at one time.

“I'm not avoiding anything,” she said, holding on to her spoon and keeping it well away from anything spillable.

“I believe there are those who consider lying to be a sin.”

“I'm not lying.”

He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “I am not a good man,” he said seriously, “and my failings are legion. But I will tell you that the one gift I have from my mother is the ability to tell the absolute truth at all times. As a tasteful accompaniment to that unfortunate shortcoming, she gave me the ability to spot a lie from a hundred paces. And you, mistress, are lying.”

“I don't want to tell you the truth,” she said.

He grunted. “Well, now there is a piece of truth.” He studied her for a moment or two, then nodded slowly. “Very well, keep your secrets. I understand that well enough. Let's speak of supper instead. Is yours edible?”

“Surprisingly.”

“Considering what you've likely been eating, I understand. How long have you been at the barn?”

“Since I was scarce ten-and-two,” she said, because she supposed there was no harm in saying as much.

“Did your parents send you off to work for your uncle or was that your choice?”

She wasn't surprised that he knew her connection to Fuadain; it was common gossip amongst the lads. She couldn't say she was interested in knowing what else they said about her, though. She was even less interested in giving anyone details that would likely be spread about just as quickly.

“My parents are dead,” she said, because that was also common knowledge. “And so I've been at the barn for several years now.” She looked at him to find him looking at her not so much with calculation as pity. “My uncle thought I might find a happy distraction amongst the horses.”

“How generous of him.”

She looked at him sharply. “It could have been worse.”

“Aye,” he agreed, “it could have been.”

“I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I understand. Let's talk about this fine meal and how we might lure the innkeeper's cook out to your uncle's stables.”

She supposed that might have been a fine distraction, but it proved not to be necessary. The lads Acair had bought supper for asked if they could join them at their table and the rest of the evening passed very pleasantly in a discussion of local politics. If Acair said absolutely nothing of substance, Léirsinn supposed she could only credit him with an impressive display of mining for a great deal of information without giving any up. He might never have set foot in a barn before, but she had the feeling this wasn't his first pub.

She was starting to wonder with far too much enthusiasm just who he was.

The lads left eventually, well fed and properly watered, with praises to Acair's name on their lips. Léirsinn toyed with her mug, feeling rather decently fêted herself, then looked at her benefactor.

“You made a trio of friends there.”

He shrugged. “Idle conversation and edible food. That doesn't seem very memorable, but perhaps for them it was.”

“Where are you from?” she asked, because she had been fighting the question all evening and found she couldn't resist it any longer.

He was leaning back in his chair, looking like nothing more than an average, if not painfully handsome, man with no remarkable past. “I can't answer that.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you and the telling of that particularly useless piece of trivia would hardly pass my lips before I was dead.”

She would have laughed at him, but she could see he was serious. “But you aren't a stable hand.”

“I am for the foreseeable future.”