He hugged her so tightly she squeaked.
“You do love me,” he whispered.
“Almost as much as you love me,” she agreed. She pulled out of his arms, then nudged him out of the way before he opened the stall door for Sianach. “I’ll saddle him while you give that some thought. Are we riding or flying?”
“Let’s fly, if Sianach will behave himself. Even on an errand of mercy, I don’t fancy all morning spent out in the rain. Besides, I’d like to be back before Soilléir offends everyone so terribly that we lose our accommodations. Also, I have a grandfather to opportune.”
She smiled and went to fetch Sianach’s gear.
It took only an hour or so to reach a little cabin on the edge of a clearing. She suspected they might have known they were in the right place by virtue of the enormous pastures nearby. If that hadn’t been enough, the good lord of Angesand standing near the front gates, pacing, surely would have.
Sianach did them the very great favor of waiting until they were off his back before he slipped into his hell-hound guise, which only earned a brief smile of satisfaction from Hearn. He shook her hand companionably, then looked at Acair.
“You were successful?”
“The maker of those shadows is gone,” Acair said, “and Fuadain of Sàraichte won’t be making mischief either for a bit.”
“What of Droch? I can understand why he wanted Falaire—who is mending properly at home—but he’s not known for his interest in riding.”
“Falaire was a bribe to keep him placated, or so I understand. Droch is still as he always was: looking for more power. I daresay he had his fingers in this stew, but he’ll soon find there’s nothing left in the pot. There’s nothing to worry about from that quarter that I can see.”
“You’ll see to him down the road, no doubt.”
“Your faith in me is gratifying.”
Hearn looked a little green. “I’m honestly not certain what I have faith in at the moment, but I don’t often find myself in this position.”
Léirsinn cleared her throat. “Trust,” was what came out of her mouth, though she certainly hadn’t intended to say it. She was acutely aware of how difficult that had been for her when Mistress Cailleach suggested the same.
Hearn took a deep breath. “Follow me.”
Léirsinn thought Acair looked as if he might rather do anything else, but that lad there didn’t lack courage. He simply nodded once, then started after Hearn up the path to the house. If he caught her hand on the way and squeezed just once perhaps a bit more firmly than he’d intended to, she understood. She imagined Hearn wouldn’t fault him if he couldn’t restore his son to his proper state, but there were people a body simply didn’t want to disappoint.
A woman was standing in the doorway, dressed as if she’d just come in from morning stables. Léirsinn supposed that was Hearn’s wife, mostly because she could imagine that pair having had more than one spirited discussion about the horses in their care.
Hearn stopped a handful of paces away. “Marcachd,” he said carefully.
“Hearn.”
“How is the bay I sent you?”
“Eating,” she said briskly. “Not ready to go back under saddle yet, but perhaps in another fortnight.”
Hearn stepped back and nodded. “I’ve brought the company I told you about. Léirsinn of Sàraichte, my wife, Marcachd. Marcachd, you may already know Lord Acair, if by reputation alone.”
Léirsinn was accustomed to the reception Acair generally received, so she wasn’t surprised by the wary look he was enjoying at present. He simply stood there and left his hands in plain sight, no doubt in an attempt to allay any fears about his intentions.
Hearn’s wife nodded once, then opened the door to allow them inside.
The house was full of the usual horselike clutter she was accustomed to—papers, bits of tack, boots in the corner—but what surprised her was the light. Perhaps she had spent too much time in Briàghde where the sun had shone relentlessly but with a harshness that had left her wanting to avoid it.
Or perhaps that had been her life before a black mage with terrible spells had stridden into her barn like a very unlikely Hero and filled her life with so many unexpectedly beautiful things.
What she knew was that whatever it was that left light streaming into Marcachd of Angesand’s house—spells or perhaps simply pure mountain air—it made the woman’s home a very peaceful, healing place. No wonder Hearn sent horses and sons to her.
A man sat just outside the back door, staring off across the pastures, unmoving. She stopped a few paces away with Acair and looked at him. He resembled Hearn so strongly she would have assumed they were kin even if she hadn’t already known who to expect.
Marcachd moved to stand in front of her son. “I think you’re mad to have brought this mage,” she said to Hearn bluntly. “Had I not been so desperate, I would have forbidden it.”
