be careful about challenging her to any sort of contest with steel. After her release, Nicholas sent her on a quest to take a knife, which happened to be one of Mehar’s, to the king of Neroche.”
“And why would Nicholas ...” He found himself considering things he hadn’t before. “Something isn’t right there. Why would the head of a backward university on a provincial island have one of Queen Mehar’s blades?”
Soilléir only waited, silent and watchful.
Ruith suppressed the urge to scratch his head and instead settled for keeping his jaw from falling yet again to his chest. “He’s Lismòrian’s Nicholas. The wizard king of Diarmailt.” He looked at Soilléir in surprise. “I’d never considered that before.”
“I believe he counts on that sort of thing to protect his anonymity,” Soilléir said. “I also understand that your mother asked him to watch over you all if something happened to her. He looked after Mhorghain as best he could.”
“Then why in the hell did he allow her to go into Gobhann?” Ruith asked, incensed.
“I don’t think he had a choice. You’ll find that your sister is very determined when she’s chosen a path for herself.”
Ruith pursed his lips. “I’m surrounded by stubborn women.”
“Necessarily so,” Soilléir said, “to keep you from running rough-shod over them.” He smiled briefly at Sarah, then continued on. “And to continue, Mhorghain couldn’t refuse Nicholas’s request to take the blade to Tor Neroche, though I understand she wasn’t overly fond of the knife, having no knowledge of her own parentage and a healthy disgust for all things magical.”
“She didn’t know?” Ruith asked. “Anything?”
“I daresay she blocked most of it out, for reasons you would understand. Once on this quest, though, she began to remember things about her past. It would also seem that during the journey she also became rather ... fond, I believe is the word ... of a certain member of a company she acquired on her way north. When she found out he was not the simple farmer he’d claimed to be, she took the Sword of Angesand and slammed it against the edge of the high table in the great hall of Tor Neroche, shattering the blade into countless shards.”
Ruith looked at him evenly. “You can’t mean Adhémar. If you tell me my sister has fallen in love with that great horse’s arse, I will—” He spluttered a time or two before he could manage further coherent speech. “I’m not sure what I’ll do, but it will be dire and it will include departing immediately for Léige to bring her to her senses.”
“It wasn’t Adhémar, but you would know that if you remembered our discussion in the library below. He is wed to—”
“Adaira of Penrhyn,” Ruith interrupted with a sigh. “I’d forgotten.”
“Any other guesses, then?” Soilléir asked with a smile.
“Not Cathar,” Ruith said immediately. “Nor Rigaud, I daresay. I can’t imagine she would have patience for his preening. Nemed she would grind under her heel inside a se’nnight. That leaves Mansourah, but he hasn’t the wit to see to her.”
“Nay, he does not,” Soilléir agreed.
Ruith considered other brothers, then realized there was only one left to consider. He looked at Soilléir in surprise. “Miach?”
“It would seem so.”
“But, he’s a child!”
“He’s a score and eight,” Soilléir said calmly. “Almost a score and nine. A scant year and a bit younger than your own ancient self, if I’m counting it aright.”
Ruith sat back and shook his head. “How in the hell did she meet him?”
“As I hinted, he was a member of her company. He had been following Adhémar, who was supposed to be looking for a wielder for the Sword of Angesand but was instead studying the inside of as many taverns as possible. I believe that for Miach it was love at first sight. Your sister, I understand, resisted her feelings for a bit.”
“I’ll help her resist them a bit longer,” Ruith growled.
“Too late for that, I fear,” Soilléir said cheerfully. “Your grandfather betrothed them whilst they were here. In the garden of Gearrannan, if memory serves.”
“He did,” Sarah said helpfully. “The trees were singing about it this morning.”
Ruith shot her a dark look. “You didn’t say anything.”
“At the time I didn’t know who the names belonged to,” she said. She paused. “They were singing about quite a few people, truth be told.”
Ruith looked at her sharply. He’d heard the trees singing as well, but the only names he’d heard had been his own and Sarah’s. He frowned, promising himself a goodly think on it