He sighed. "I am not treating your questions lightly. I suppose there are evil mages enough for any number of nightmares."
"Ones who did what that man did?"
Miach crossed his feet at the ankles. "Possibly. Lothar of Wychweald is, as you know, someone who could have done something like that, but I don't know that he was ever that interested in doing any magic that wasn't visible to everyone for leagues." He paused. "There was, of course, Gair?"
Morgan gasped. A terrible chill went down her spine. She opened her mouth and words came tumbling out. . "Then came the black mage of Ceangail, Gair by name, who never aged and begat children after a thousand years?'"
Miach sat bolt upright, suddenly not relaxed at all. "How didyouknow that? "
"I read it," she managed. "In Nicholas's study." She paused. "Do you know more about this man, Gair?"
He closed his eyes briefly. "Aye." Then he looked up at her and the serious expression on his face chilled her.
"Do I want to know any more?" she whispered.
"Wanting and needing are often two different things," he said gravely. "You may not want to know, but perhaps you need to know."
She nodded.
Miach sighed. "Gair's history is a troubled one. The magic he made was not exactly of a wholesome sort. "
"Is any magic wholesome?" she asked tartly.
He looked at her solemnly. "Aye, it is."
Morgan decided she would argue that point later. "Very well, so he was not a nice man. What else?"
"He lived a thousand years, then he wed. I know he had seven children. I do not know how many of them survived him." He paused and looked at her. "But 'tis said he uncapped a well of evil that slew everyone within the sound of his voice. "
Morgan closed her eyes briefly. It could not be.
But it had to be.
"You know too many tales," she said faintly.
"It is possible that I passed too much of my time sitting before the fire listening to tales and not enough time training with my sword."
"Aye." She paused for several minutes, then slowly met his eyes. "I have the feeling I am dreaming of him."
Miach looked at her gravely. "I'm afraid so. "
Morgan bowed her head and sighed deeply, feeling as it she'd been holding her breath for days. Perhaps she had her answer, but it raised another question she couldn't answer.
Why was she dreaming about Gair of Ceangail?
She pushed the name away. She would think about it later, perhaps while she was doing everything in her power to keep from falling asleep again.
She looked around for something for something else to discuss. Her gaze tell upon her pack and she thought about her blade. Perhaps Miach might know something about it. She looked at him hopefully.
"Do you know anything about swords?" she asked.
"I know which end of them to point away from me."
"One could hope," she said. "Actually, I'm thinking of daggers. "
"I would recognize one as such, were I to see it."
She glared at him briefly, then went to fetch her pack. She could hardly believe her actions; she seemed powerless to keep herself from doing things with Miach she wouldn't have done with anyone else. There was something about him that inspired the telling of confidences. She suspected Nicholas would have liked him very much.
