She looked at him narrowly. “You could have made that list from memory, my lad. What are you looking for truly?”
He would have invented some lofty-sounding errand to throw her off the scent, but it was his mother and he’d inherited from her the whole of his ability to obtain details from even the most reluctant of victims. Distracting her from ferreting out the truth would be difficult, if not impossible.
He sighed deeply. Where to start? He was there for answers to several vexing questions, beginning with who was creating those pools of shadow he seemed to be finding in untoward places and ending with who had created the spell that continued to prevent him from delighting and astonishing everyone around him with his mighty magic.
It also might have been useful to know who was chasing him, particularly since he had the feeling it wasn’t just the usual collection of workers of substandard magic he tended to offend.
If he happened to help himself to a few spells he’d jotted down and left folded up beneath tins of healthful herbs he was positive his mother would never disturb, so much the better. It could count as a bit of housework, which might earn him a kind word or two.
“I don’t know, Mother,” he admitted. “I am besieged by a handful of vexing mysteries. More shocking still, I find myself without a decent idea of where to turn.”
“Take the path leading to that red-haired wench,” she said wisely.
“Do you think so?”
She blinked. “Are you asking my advice?”
“Ye gads, nay.” He paused, then considered. “I wouldn’t completely discount it if you cared to give it.”
She felt about in her hair for what he could only hope wasn’t a dagger or a witchly wand of some sort. She pulled a pencil free, licked the tip of it, then drew forth a notebook from the pocket of her apron, all the while watching him as if she expected him to suddenly leap up and rush off.
“What are you doing?” he asked carefully.
“Making a note of this historic moment. I’ll find out later whether or not the world cracked in two during the same.”
He pursed his lips. “I am not above the occasional bit of humility.”
She blinked, jotted down something, then looked at him again. “I would guffaw—indeed, I imagine I will after you go—but I’m too stunned at the moment to indulge.”
“Indulge away,” he said wearily. “It won’t be the worst thing I’ve endured so far this year.”
“I understand you’ve been on an apology tour.”
“From whom do you understand that?” he asked politely.
She shrugged lightly. “Can’t say I’m able to bring to mind the exact teller of that tale. Word gets ’round, you know.”
He imagined it did and whilst he wasn’t sure he wanted to know who was spreading that word around, he thought he might be able to latch on to a name or two just the same if pressed.
“I’m assuming you’ll give me the details,” she continued, “considering I’ve given you refuge.”
“Happily,” he said. He couldn’t say he cared for gossip—well, if he were to be completely honest, he didn’t care for silly, useless gossip, but tales of riches and rumors of things that might be useful in the odd spot of blackmail, aye, he wasn’t above bending an ear for that sort of thing. His mother cast a wider net for items of note, but her days of making as much mischief as he indulged in were perhaps discreetly behind her.
Perhaps. With Fionne of Fàs, one never knew.
“It is true,” he conceded, “that I’ve spent the last several months spreading sunshine and happiness from one end of the Nine Kingdoms to the other. I imagine I can find things you’ll want to make a note of, but you might want to wait until I’m better rested lest I forget important details.”
“Hmmm,” she said studying him. “I would certainly prefer that you be at your best for the grilling, so we’ll leave it for the moment. As for the other question that you tried to so neatly sidestep, why are you here? Past the obvious need to show me that feisty little miss of yours, of course.”
He suppressed a snort. If Léirsinn still wanted to speak to him after having encountered his mother, he would be fortunate indeed. The other thing, though, he wasn’t above addressing.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” he said slowly, “and want even less to find out who’s been yammering on about my activities, but the truth is, I am looking for a particular mage. I might need a rather lengthy look through your books to find him.”
She waved her pencil at him. “You’re starting in the middle, which you know annoys me. Begin at the beginning and concentrate on your troubles, something I’ll thoroughly enjoy. I’ll keep an ear cocked for details you might inadvertently reveal. Before you get yourself launched, however, I will tell you that I heard that that delicious prince from Cothromaiche had you for supper a month or two ago.”
“He invited me for supper,” Acair corrected. “He and that meddling half-brother of mine, Rùnach, lured me to a pub where they were very unkind to me, never mind scarce having the manners to pay for my ale.”
“Rùnach chopped wood for me—I believe I mentioned that before—so I’m not inclined to disparage him. Besides, I understand he saved your life in Beul.”
“Unfortunately,” Acair said, rubbing his chest to ease the sudden tingling there. It was as if the damn spell Rùnach had healed him with had heard itself being noticed and was clamoring for more praise. “I took a blade meant for Rùnach’s bride and he restored me with some elvish rubbish instead of mercifully letting me die. I’m still troubled by the aftereffects of it.”
“Fadaire?”
He nodded grimly.
She licked her pencil again and waved him on. “Continue.”
He supposed if anyone would understand the terrible affliction of his straits, it would be his mother, so he obliged her.
“As you’ve obviously heard,” he said, settling in for a decent recounting of his continuing nightmare, “I’ve spent the past many months—I try to forget the exact count in deference to my mental state—going about apologizing to various offended crown-wearers in order to make reparations for a modest piece of business, the particulars of which slip my mind at the moment.”
She only pursed her lips and continued to scribble in her book.
“I had thought my days of prostrating myself before kings, ministers, and their puffed-up ilk were over, but, as you heard, I found myself summoned to supper with both Rùnach and Soilléir.”
“I would have given much to have been eavesdropping on that conversation.”
“No need, for I’ll give you the details freely. There was very little chitchat and no inquiries about my health. I had scarce begun to imbibe a rather undemanding pint of ale when I was put off my drink by their telling me that my days of acting against my nobler nature were not yet over and that there was more for me to do to bring peace and justice to the world.”
“Beginning in Sàraichte,” she said slowly, looking up from her notes. “Or did I mishear that rumor?”
“Nay, you have that aright.”