you came to brave the trek up the side of the mountain to knock on Ruith’s door.”
Sarah was happy to think on something else besides Droch, which said much about her aversion to him if speaking of her brother’s evil was preferable. “I needed aid,” she began, “to stop my brother from nefarious deeds. I thought Ruith to be the ancient, curmudgeon of a mage who had lived in that house for centuries. His manners certainly denoted as much. At first, I should say. He followed me on my way to Bruaih and was good enough to share his bread with me, burned as it was.”
“Then all those years perfecting your recipe weren’t wasted, eh, Ruith?”
Another arrow whizzed by Soilléir and terminated in his window frame.
Sarah almost smiled. “I was grateful for it—and even more grateful that he didn’t hold against me my knocking him upon his, ah—”
“Arse,” Ruith supplied.
“Aye, that,” Sarah agreed. “He ignored the indignity of it, thankfully, and continued to help me along a path I soon found I couldn’t walk alone.”
Soilléir studied her for a moment or two. “How did you find your first views of the land beyond Shettlestoune?” he asked.
Sarah thought it an odd question, but she answered him just the same. She continued to recount her journey, but he seemed to be most interested in what she had seen. And not just seen, but seen. Then again, he was a mage, and they were no doubt interested in all sorts of things she wouldn’t have cared to examine too closely.
She did understand an invitation for chess, however, which she happily accepted, grateful beyond measure to concentrate on something that didn’t involve spells or magic or things beyond her ken.
“Who taught you to play?” Soilléir asked as he held out a chair for her at the board.
“The alemaster, Franciscus,” she said, “though now I believe he’s less alemaster and more mage.” She looked at Ruith, who was watching her in silence. “You didn’t see him after the castle collapsed, did you?”
He shook his head. “I was in a tearing hurry to take up your trail. I suppose given how many of Gair’s bastards escaped we can safely assume Franciscus escaped as well.” He shrugged. “I thought to do a bit of looking for him amongst lists of notable mages I’m sure will be found in the library downstairs. Just to pass the time, of course.”
“Why don’t you pass that time quickly,” Soilléir said wryly, “before you eat through my larder—nay, no more arrows my way, Ruith.” He smiled at Sarah. “Tell me he’s behaved better than this on your way here. His mother did try to instill manners in him, you know.”
Sarah didn’t dare look at Ruith. She would have happily trotted out all manner of terrible stories about him, but she couldn’t. She considered for a few minutes, then looked at Soilléir seriously.
“He was a perfect gentleman,” she said honestly. “He protected me, tried his best to leave me behind when there was danger ahead, then he lied to keep me safe when we were in the great hall of Ceangail.”
“Was he polite about that last bit?” Soilléir asked, politely.
“Not at all.”
Soilléir smiled. “Very sensible of him. And what did you think when you found out who he was?”
“I wanted to kill him.”
“Yet you rescued him instead.” Soilléir finished laying the pieces out on the board. “How did you do that, exactly? Given, as it were, your ... ah ...”
“Lack of magic?” she finished for him. She found, to her surprise, that admitting as much to Soilléir wasn’t as painful as she might otherwise have thought it would be. She shrugged. “I could see the strands of the spells woven around him.”
“Could you indeed?” he asked, sitting forward. “How did you break them?”
She reached down to pull one of her knives from her boot to realize she wasn’t wearing boots, she was wearing soft shoes. “I slit them with a knife Ruith bought me,” she said. “I’ll fetch the pair of them.”
She found them on the chest where she’d found clothes, then brought them back and handed them to Soilléir.
He froze.
She started to ask him what was amiss, but before she could find her tongue, he had taken the knives and was looking at them as if he noted nothing especial about them.
“Interesting,” he said with absolutely no inflection to his voice.
“Can you make out the runes?” Ruith asked, looking up from his whittling.
Soilléir set them down next to the chessboard. “I think