Dreamspinner (48 page)

Miach patted the spot next to him on the table, then put his arm around his wife when she hopped up to sit next to him. “You know what they do in Bruadair, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure I do. Do you?”

Rùnach growled before he could stop himself. His sister and brother-in-law looked at him briefly before they continued their conversation with each other.

“They’re dreamweavers.”

“Dreamweavers?” Mhorghain echoed. “How interesting. How is it they weave dreams?”

“I’m not sure,” Miach said thoughtfully. “There must be an art to it, wouldn’t you suppose?”

“I would,” she agreed. “It begs the question, does it not, where it is they get the dreams to weave? Someone has to spin them, I should think.”

“I couldn’t agree more—”

“They can’t,” Rùnach said flatly.

Mhorghain and Miach looked at him as one.

“They can’t?” Miach asked politely.

“They aren’t
allowed
to spin,” Rùnach said, realizing he was coming very close to growling again. “The penalty for spinning is death.”

“But,” Miach said slowly, fixing him with a look Rùnach couldn’t quite decipher, “your lady can spin and not die, can’t she?”

“Well, of course she can—” Rùnach stopped, then felt as if he’d just run into Aisling’s fist again. His mouth fell open. “What are you suggesting?”

Miach shrugged. “She spins air.”

“And spells,” Mhorghain added helpfully. “That’s unusual. I wonder what the penalty for
that
is.” She looked at her husband. “Because didn’t you say they weren’t allowed to spin there in Bruadair?”

“No, Rùnach said that. Didn’t you, Rùnach?”

Rùnach found that he was beginning to regret having regained consciousness. “What are you saying?”

“I think you should go get her now,” Miach suggested, “and do your damndest to keep her safe.”

“I was already planning on that.”

“And don’t lie to her anymore,” Mhorghain added.

Rùnach was tempted to clack their heads together, but it was his sister after all and he was a gentleman. He was willing to sharpen his tongue on her husband, though, without the slightest regret. He opened his mouth to do just that, but Miach held up his hands before he could even start.

“Don’t shout at me,” he said evenly. “I didn’t let her go; I’ve been here watching over you. Blame Morgan.”

“Coward,” she said, elbowing him companionably.

“He’s cranky,” Miach said with a shudder. “I don’t want to tangle with him in this mood.”

Rùnach turned a dark look on his sister. “What is this
go get her now
of which your husband speaks?” he asked with an attempt at politeness. “I suppose I don’t dare hope you managed to talk her
into stomping about safely in a chamber here until her pique has subsided, can I?”

“She wanted to leave the keep,” Mhorghain said. “Who was I to stop her? She’s a woman full grown and obviously about some noble quest.”

“To Diarmailt,” Rùnach said through gritted teeth. “The library at Diarmailt. You sent her off to that hellhole by herself!”

“Nay,” Mhorghain said reasonably, “I sent her off with your horse.”

“What!”

“You’re awfully interested for a man who said he didn’t care for her,” Miach said.

“I never said I didn’t care for her.”

“Then perhaps you weren’t vocal enough in your declarations of affection,” Mhorghain offered. “That’s important, you know.”

Rùnach threw up his hands and left the great hall. It was either that or tell both his sister and her husband exactly what he thought of them.

Which was that they were a very lovely couple and he envied them their happiness to the very depths of his soul.

By the time he reached the chamber he’d been sharing with Aisling, his own fit of pique had subsided to be replaced with something that left him feeling cold enough that he had to stand in front of the fire for several minutes before he thought his hands would work as they should.

He couldn’t follow her, because if he did, he would lead Acair to her.

And if Acair had any idea what she could do…

He forced himself to pack his gear without emotion. He started to leave the chamber, then saw what had been left on the table there.

It was the yarn Aisling had spun. Mistress Ceana had turned it into a skein and tucked a pair of knitting needles into it. He considered, then placed it carefully in the top of his pack. He left the chamber and started back through the castle. He didn’t bother to cover his face, for what need was there? He wasn’t going to put
Aisling in danger by being anywhere near her, so it didn’t matter who knew where he was.

He continued to repeat that to himself as he made his way out to the stables, drawing the perfect sensibility of that around him like a warm cloak. After all, who could fault him for his reasoning? Aisling would be fine. In fact, she would be far better off without him than she would be with him. He had nothing to offer her, no means to see to her, no way to keep her safe, not even a plan to elude those he could hardly fathom would be looking for him.

Besides, he didn’t care for Aisling. She had none of the social graces he had come to expect in his women, no regal pedigree, no long list of suitors she had rejected in order to be free to receive his attentions.

But she could spin air.

By the time he reached the stables, he had a blinding headache. He squinted against the faint sunlight and wasn’t terribly surprised to find his sister and her husband waiting for him. A horse stood there as well, wearing wings on all four hooves. He looked at Miach.

“Dare I ask?”

“I wouldn’t,” Miach advised, “and definitely don’t tell Hearn when next you see him. Luath will carry you where you need to go, then you might send him back. I don’t want to answer to Hearn for your activities.”

Rùnach blew out his breath. “Thank you.”

“You should also, if I might be so bold,” Miach said carefully, “wear a spell of Un-noticing. You never know who might be watching.”

“And then how will Aisling see me?”

Miach looked at him knowingly. “Going after her, are you?”

Rùnach drew his hand over his eyes. “Aye, fool that I am.” He looked at Miach instead of Mhorghain because he knew that his brother-in-law would understand perfectly the thoughts that tortured him. “With a black mageling on my heels and absolutely no way to protect her.”

“I could possibly, with enough effort and thought, make it so the spell took a wee rest when you were within a certain distance of your love. If you like. Or, even better, have it respond to your voice. You could call it or dismiss it at will. It won’t protect you, but it will hide you.”

Rùnach closed his eyes briefly. “You are too generous.”

“My worst fault.”

“And annoying.”

Miach laughed and gave him a pair of useful words to use with the spell he cast over him. “This will cover your lady as well when you meet.”

“If we meet.”

“Fly hard,” Miach suggested.

“And be careful,” Mhorghain said quietly.

He pulled her into a quick, tight hug, slapped her husband on the back of the head, then mounted and held on as Luath leapt into the air without any of the grace of Iteach. He wasn’t entirely sure Miach hadn’t instructed the beast to make the journey as rough as possible.

He wouldn’t have been surprised.

A
n hour later, he was walking into a glade. His weapons were behind him, his pack hidden in the woods, his mount long gone. He saw Aisling first, sitting on a log, facing a man who was sitting across a small fire from her. It was the same tableau he’d seen from the air, but it was substantially more distressing to see it right there in front of him. Aisling didn’t look as if she’d been harmed, though she was very pale. He stopped with Aisling on his right, the fire in front of him, and one of his bastard brothers sitting on a log to his left.

At least it wasn’t Acair. He supposed he should have been grateful for small favors.

“Well, who have we here?”

Rùnach looked at his half brother, sixth out of seven, and
forced himself to maintain a bland expression. “I imagine you’ll divine that, with enough time.”

Gàrlach shook his head, wearing a faint smile of disbelief. “I could hardly credit it when your little wench there blurted out your name, but miracles never cease.”

“So they don’t,” Rùnach agreed. He nodded toward Aisling. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Gàrlach waved expansively. “Be my guest. I’ll make tea, shall I?”

Rùnach supposed anything Gàrlach did to keep himself busy could only be considered a good thing, so he nodded, then walked over to sit down next to Aisling on the log. She was trembling.

“How are you?” he murmured.

“I’ve had better days.”

“I can sympathize.”

She looked at him. “Sorry I hit you.”

“I fully intend to exact an excruciating penalty.”

She blanched. He realized immediately that perhaps she hadn’t told him nearly as much as she should have about her past. He shook his head just the slightest bit.

“Do you care to know what it will be?”

“Not particularly, but if you must tell me, say on.”

He smiled briefly. “You must allow me from this moment on to shamelessly coddle you at all times.”

She looked at him from rather bloodshot eyes. “You are a terrible man.”

“Is that why you ran?”

“Nay, I ran because…” She sighed. “Well, you did nothing more than I did, but you’re more important than I am, so it was worse.”

He laughed a little. “When I come up with the reply that deserves, believe me, you’ll hear it. Quite possibly quite loudly.” He nudged her companionably with his shoulder. “Will you survive it?”

She blinked rapidly a time or two. “I truly don’t understand why you are kind to me.”

“Let’s scamper off somewhere else, and I’ll see if I can’t explain it to you.”

“Will we manage that, do you think?”

He tried to maintain an air of carelessness, but he feared he had failed to do it properly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m less armed for this than I would like to be.”

“I have an idea.”

He started to tell her
absolutely not
, but he realized he might not have a choice. “Let us have a bit of pleasant conversation here, then we’ll conclude the interview. We’ll see if your idea suits then, shall we?”

“Very well.” She leaned against him. “Is that truly your brother?”

“Half brother,” he admitted. “Appalling, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think he’s very nice,” she said very quietly, “though he did nothing untoward to me.”

Yet
was Rùnach’s first thought, but he thought it might be wise to keep that to himself. If he didn’t get them both away soon, the misery would be spread about equally.

Again, at least it wasn’t Acair.

He accepted a china cup and saucer from Gàrlach, watched Aisling do the same thing, but knew he didn’t have to tell her not to drink.

“It has been a year or two, Rùnach,” Gàrlach said. “We thought you were dead. I’m surprised, since you seem to be quite alive, that you haven’t made a visit.”

“Oh, with this and that,” Rùnach said waving a hand dismissively, “one neglects these sorts of social calls. You look as if you’ve been traveling. Somewhere interesting?”

“Shettlestoune,” Gàrlach said, fixing Rùnach with a look utterly empty of all emotion. “I wonder if you know who I found there?”

“I’ve heard,” Rùnach allowed. “How is the old rapscallion?”

“Let’s just say Ruithneadh isn’t going to want to be planning any pleasant strolls through Doìre any time soon,” Gàrlach said with a smirk. “Father was not pleased with his current accommodations.”

“And did you offer aid?”

“Are you daft?” Gàrlach snapped. “I don’t want him free, I want his damned book!”

“Didn’t you have his book?” Rùnach asked, frowning as if he were truly puzzled. “I thought it would be in the library at Ceangail.”

“It was initially, for all the good it did me,” Gàrlach said curtly. “I could never find it. There was some damned spell on the spines of everything there.”

Rùnach didn’t suppose there was any use in telling him that the original idea for that spell of his father’s that did indeed hide all the books there had been his and that he’d created a counterspell that worked beautifully.

“What a shame,” Rùnach said with a heavy sigh.

“Oh, I’m much less broken up over that than I was before,” Gàrlach said smoothly. “Now that I have you.”

“And what could you possibly want with me?” Rùnach asked, affecting an innocent look. “Recipes for teatime delights?”

“I believe I’ll have your power first.”

“I have no power,” Rùnach said, then he heard his teacup shatter. That was likely because he had dropped it against something; a rock, most likely.

He had forgotten over the years just how powerful all his bastard brothers were. They might have been fools, but they were full of a terrible legacy. Gàrlach’s ransacking of his soul was almost enough to kill him, truth be told. He felt Aisling’s hand clutching the back of his cloak, keeping him from falling backward off the log. It took him a moment or two before he stopped seeing stars, but he managed it eventually.

“You’re telling the truth,” Gàrlach said, sounding stunned.

“I told you so,” Rùnach gasped.

“No matter,” Gàrlach said coldly. “I know what you have memorized.”

“Sorry, don’t have that either,” Rùnach managed. He stood up and pulled Aisling up with him. “We have to go
now
,” he whispered frantically, “or we won’t manage it at all.”

She was shaking so badly, he wasn’t sure which of the two of them would fall over first. He stepped in front of her, then turned to give her time to get over the log without being in his half brother’s sights.

The spell slammed into his back, sending him sprawling over Aisling and the log both. He staggered to his feet, braced for the next volley, certain it would mean his death. But at least it would allow Aisling time to flee—

But instead, she began to spin.

He vowed right there that he would find a way, any way, even if he had to beg spells that worked on their own without anything from him besides pulling them from his pocket, to keep her safe.