Mansourah pursed his lips. “I would remember that, but I’m not sure ’tis worth the effort.”
“I’ll make a note of it for you,” Acair promised, “at the bottom of my list of tedious but necessary engagements to be seen to the moment I am back fully to myself.” He pulled his hood up over his face. “Let’s stow our gear, then I want something marginally edible before we’re about the true business of the day.”
Mansourah elbowed Acair out of the way and held out his arm. “Lady Léirsinn?”
“I’m no lady—” she began.
“Your uncle is, I believe, lord of his own hall, which gives you station enough for me,” Mansourah said gallantly. “Here, let me take your gear and give it to him whose task it is to carry it.”
Léirsinn would have protested that as well, but Mansourah had already taken her pack and held it out toward Acair. Acair took it without hesitation, shot her a brief smile, then turned a look of fury on Mansourah. She wasn’t sure the pair wouldn’t kill each other before they managed to achieve their purpose in coming to Eòlas, but there was nothing she could do to change that. She simply followed Mansourah through rather worn and uninviting doors into the antechamber of an inn that revealed itself to be far more lavish than expected.
Her opinion of the inn only improved when they were shown to their accommodations. Mansourah managed to listen politely to the innkeeper falling over himself to make certain he was content while at the same time shooting Acair looks that promised him nothing more comfortable than the floor. She was torn between checking her companions for weapons or finding the first marginally suitable spot to use for a quick nap. All recent events aside, she was most definitely not accustomed to the methods of travel she’d recently been subjected to. If she never saw the Nine Kingdoms from farther off the ground than a decent horse put her, it would be too soon.
“She would be safe enough here,” Mansourah said firmly. “She looks weary.”
Léirsinn came back to herself to find herself standing in the middle of the chamber, staring at nothing and hearing not much more. She realized the innkeeper was gone and her companions were close to blows.
“I am absolutely not leaving her in some slum you’ve chosen,” Acair growled.
“You said you’d taken lodgings here before,” Mansourah protested.
“I have stayed here before because I have the means to protect myself, unlike my lady here,” Acair said. “As for anything else, you know as well as I that the entire bloody city is dangerous.”
“I have excellent taste in—”
“Pubs, no doubt,” Léirsinn said loudly enough to be heard over their snarling. “Breakfast sounds wonderful, thank you.” If the distraction of a warm bucket of grain was good enough for horses, it was surely suitable for those two there.
Mansourah looked as if he were having trouble choosing between finding breakfast and dealing out death, but good sense apparently prevailed. He left off with his glaring and walked over to the door. She followed him from the chamber with Acair on her heels, then found herself between the two of them as they made their way down the street to a pub that seemed to suit them both.
A meal was provided posthaste, which fortunately occupied her companions long enough for her to manage to gulp down what had been set in front of her. By the time she had fed and watered herself sufficiently, the sun had somehow managed to get itself above the horizon and make its presence known through the window she was facing. She was tempted to doze off right there, which made her wonder if she shouldn’t have remained back in that chamber and taken a nap on what had looked to be a perfectly serviceable divan.
She fought an enormous yawn and turned her attention back to the conversation going on in front of her, if conversation it could be called. She reminded herself that stepping between two crotchety stallions was never a good idea, but at the moment she was very tempted. She needed those two fools to keep from killing each other long enough for Acair to see to his business so he could then help her see to hers. At the moment, she wasn’t entirely sure she would manage it.
“I wonder if you understand whom you’re dealing with here,” Mansourah said, holding his fork as if he could hardly stop himself from plunging it into Acair’s chest.
“Do you?” Acair returned.
Mansourah pursed his lips. “Aye, a black mageling with no power.”
“That is a temporary condition, I assure you.”
Léirsinn watched them in fascination, wondering if they actually believed they would draw blood with words alone. Mansourah was obviously quite used to having everyone jump to humor him, and Acair, well, she supposed if she had met him in a darkened alley, she would have done exactly what that lad earlier had done, namely turned tail and run.
“I wonder,” she interrupted, “if it might be time to go.”
Mansourah took a deep breath, then very deliberately set his fork down. “An excellent thought. I’ll go see what the street contains.”
“Oh, please do,” Acair said, waving him off. “Can’t wait to see what you scout out.”
Mansourah swore at him, then rose and made his way to the entrance to the pub.
Léirsinn glanced at Acair to find him watching the doorway. Either he was considering the lay of the land himself or he was plotting their companion’s demise. She honestly wouldn’t have been surprised by either.
“You can’t do what you’re contemplating, you know,” she said, because she thought she should.
He glanced at her. “What? Smother him in his sleep?”
“Aye.”
He shook his head. “I’ll forebear, but only because I might need his aid.”
She toyed idly with her mug of ale. “Perilous deeds await, is that what you’re saying?”
“Hopefully not. All we have to look forward to here is a pleasant stroll to the library, though I will admit I might need someone to serve as a distraction. I believe I know just the lad—and there he is by the door, obviously ready to be about the business of the morning.” He rose and put his hand on the back of her chair. “Shall we?”
She couldn’t think of a decent reason why not, so she pushed herself to her feet, then followed him across the room and out into the pale winter morning sunlight. It was chilly, true, but she was wearing a discreet but extremely well-made cloak given to her by the queen of Neroche so the cold didn’t trouble her overmuch.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be helping the unease she felt. It was mad to think she was being watched, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling. Perhaps it was nothing more than that lad from earlier, the one Acair had sent off with a stern look and a handful of harsh words—
“My lady?”
She blinked when she realized Mansourah was holding out his elbow toward her. Damnation, too late to run. She took a deep breath, took his arm, and nodded. Acair fell in on her other side, breathing out fiery threats under his breath.
“Do shut up, peasant,” Mansourah drawled.