He was looking for a lad with power to match his own, perhaps. At any other time, such a thought would have had him perking up his ears and preparing a few dire things for use in a tight spot, but things were what they were at the moment. The best he could do was see whom he provoked, then be out of the vicinity when the storm arrived.
The truth was, he knew he was being watched. He knew that because the watcher had recently sent along a missive telling him as much. His catalog of enemies was substantial and, it had to be noted, very well deserved. But this felt different somehow. He was accustomed to outraged monarchs and papas coming after him for wives, daughters, and priceless treasures he might or might not have absconded with, but this . . . this was something else entirely. He wasn’t sure whom he could have possibly angered recently in light of all the damned do-gooding he’d been engaged in, but there you had it. Life on the wrong side of black magery was unpredictable. If he could solve that with a little nipping in and out of the library, so much the better.
If he also used his time wisely enough to acquire a new pair of boots and perhaps a decent shirt or two, who could blame him?
They continued on toward the library. Acair patted himself figuratively on the back several times for resisting the urge to pull the dagger from his boot and slide it between Mansourah’s ribs for spending more time chatting with that beautiful woman on his arm than he did watching where he was going. At least there wasn’t much opportunity for getting lost between where they were and the library’s front doors. Mansourah came to a halt a dozen paces away from the same, then stood there, frowning thoughtfully. Acair waited until it became painful to continue.
“What?” he asked shortly.
“I’ve been thinking,” Mansourah said slowly.
“Ye gads, not that,” Acair said before he could stop himself.
Mansourah gave him a look that Acair had to admit left him almost impressed.
“You realize most everything precious resides in glass cases,” Mansourah said pointedly. “Protected by impenetrable spells.”
“The quality of those spells is debatable,” Acair said with a shrug, “but aye, I realize that.”
“But if your book is hidden in such a place, how are you going to get past all that magic?”
Acair sighed. “Let me walk you through this gently. If you were me—and you’ll never manage that so don’t try—and you wanted to hide a perilous book, where, with your superior intellect and cleverness, would you hide it?”
“Behind glass and impenetrable spells, of course.”
Acair studied him. “The trouble with you, my young friend, is that you fail to use any imagination when presented with these conundrums. If you have a priceless treasure, you don’t hide it behind something that screams I’m hiding something priceless behind myself! You hide the damned thing in plain sight.”
Mansourah looked thoroughly baffled. “You’re not afraid someone will simply pick it up and walk off with it?”
“Not when it’s slathered with the kinds of spells I prefer to use for that sort of slathering.”
Mansourah looked at Léirsinn. “I don’t know how you haven’t pushed him off the back of your horse before now.”
“I have a strong stomach.”
Acair would have preferred a compliment about his flawless face, but he had dragged her places she hadn’t wanted to go. He had also called her hair red, which didn’t begin to describe the glorious fire of that mane she was currently hiding under the hood of her cloak. He vowed to compliment her properly on not only her locks but her strong stomach later, then looked at Mansourah.
“We’ll walk in as normal patrons, go to the appropriate spot without garnering any notice, then I’ll retrieve my book. I suggest we not linger over any fashion papers, which I’m sure will be a great blow to you.”
Mansourah bit back something, his agreement no doubt. He considered, then looked at Acair. “And your book is behind spells.”
“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.