asked it. “I’ve spent twenty winters in a place with a library that, for all its remote location, rivals what you have downstairs—”
“And you would know, given all the time you spent in the bowels of this keep, looking for obscure spells,” Soilléir conceded.
“I would,” Ruith agreed. “So, without being a braggart, I can say that I think I am familiar enough with lore and craft to satisfy the masters below.”
“And your collection of memorized spells no doubt rivals Miach of Neroche’s,” Soilléir agreed.
“Since we appropriated many of the same things together, I suppose that might be true.”
Soilléir studied him for several minutes in silence. “But you didn’t come here for rings.”
Ruith suppressed the urge to shift uncomfortably. Nay, he hadn’t come there for rings, but the truth of it was, what he had come to Beinn òrain for was something he couldn’t even begin to admit to himself.
Because if he did, it meant a change in his life that would leave him never being able to retreat to that safe, fairly comfortable, undeniably isolated house on the mountain where all he needed do to carry on was worry about what he would have for supper.
“I came here for safety,” he said, when he realized he hadn’t responded.
“You could have provided that for yourself.”
Ruith opened his mouth to protest, but found he couldn’t. He drew his hand over his eyes, then looked at Soilléir.
“I don’t want to continue this conversation.”
Soilléir only raised one pale eyebrow.
Ruith looked at him evenly. “It is, as I said, the only safe place I could bring to mind on short notice.”
“Not all magic is evil, you know. Your legacy is more than your father’s spells, which Sìle would tell you, were he here.”
“Fadaire is smothered by Olc more often than not,” Ruith said.
“If you believe that, Ruithneadh, then you do not give your mother’s power its due. However, if you fear losing control of yourself and undoing the world with your mighty power, then I can understand your reticence.” Soilléir smiled pleasantly. “You always were a hotheaded, impetuous boy.”
“I have outgrown whatever you think you imagined in me,” Ruith said with a snort. “And I was never hotheaded.”
“Then what have you to fear?”
Ruith found himself standing in the midst of a trap he hadn’t realized he was walking into. Obviously he had been out of the world too long. He didn’t waste time answering, for there was no answer that satisfied. Soilléir only looked at him, but said nothing. Ruith didn’t bother to wonder if he agreed or disagreed. With Soilléir, one just never knew.
“And you know, all this could have been Fate,” Soilléir continued with a shrug, “shoving you in a direction you needed to take for reasons you have yet to discover, reasons we’ll look at later.” He dropped his booted foot to the floor and put his hands on his knees. “I don’t think your lady will want a midnight supper, but you might. Then you can toddle off to bed and curse yourself to sleep.”
Ruith cursed him just the same, but it was without any true malice. He would admit, almost readily, that he had always rather liked Soilléir of Cothromaiche. If he were to be entirely truthful with himself, he would have to admit that more than once he had wished his mother had wed the man instead of Gair of Ceangail. He had come with his mother to Buidseachd several times and found Soilléir’s chambers to be where he felt most comfortable. No pretentious trappings of nobility, though he knew Soilléir’s lineage was a noble one. His forefathers, many of whom Ruith assumed were still alive, were content like Hearn of Angesand to simply tromp about in their boots, doing whatever it was those lads from Cothromaiche did. Weaving spells that truly would have undone the world if they’d gone awry, no doubt.
Yet Soilléir had chosen none of those things for himself. He could have walked down any street in any large city in the Nine Kingdoms and passed himself off as a youthful, not hideous-looking man of no especial distinction. Not even those with any powers of seeing would have recognized him as the keeper of the spells of Caochladh, had Soilléir not revealed himself as such.
But there was no reason Ruith couldn’t glare at him a bit, just to make himself feel better.
“And perhaps you would indulge me in a game of chess after supper,” Soilléir suggested, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Ruith looked at him sharply. “What