where any fire could warm them. She wasn’t afraid, never mind that she was leaving a place of safety and comfort—and that she should have found either in a clutch of mages was alarming in and of itself—or that she was walking into a future filled with no safety and likely very little comfort—also filled with mages, but of a different sort entirely.
Nay, she wasn’t afraid.
She was speechless with terror.
It was one thing to sit at a loom of such quality she half fancied she could have woven spiderwebs into something that would have been sung about for centuries to come and know that taking up the task of looking for her brother, stopping his stupidity, and aiding Ruith in whatever small, inconsequential thing he contemplated was still comfortably far in the future.
It was another thing to know that future was now waiting just outside the door.
She didn’t want to think about that future or where it might lead her, so to distract herself, she began a list of things that seemed to be in her favor. She was still without gold or home, but she was wearing very sturdy boots, warm leggings and a tunic, and the cloth she had woven had been gifted—no doubt by Soilléir himself—a measure of glamour that she was confident would hide her if necessary. She was wearing a pack that she hadn’t filled herself, but had been assured by Rùnach would contain all she needed for at least the beginning of the trek. She had drawn a map of what she’d seen in her dream, which Ruith had studied as well and nodded over.
So, if she were to look at the quest without putting herself in the middle of it, it was a simple one and easily accomplished. She would lead Ruith from spell to spell, he would stuff them in a safer place than his boots, then when they had them all, he would destroy them. That would leave his bastard brothers nothing to want to kill him for and leave her free to imagine Daniel attempting to convince some poor village he was equal to being their local wizard.
She couldn’t think any further than that. She didn’t want to think about which of the ten princesses Ruith would learn to love, want to wed—
“Sarah?”
She looked up from her contemplation of the fire to find Ruith and Soilléir standing to her left. Ruith was dressed as she was and looked as if he too might have been contemplating his assets. She supposed he had a few more than she did, but then again, he had a larger burden to bear.
She couldn’t think about that either.
She smiled at them both—or attempted to, rather—then took a deep breath. “Ready?”
“Almost,” Soilléir said. He pulled up a chair for her, then motioned for Ruith to sit in the one next to her. He sat, then looked at them with a grave smile. “Before you go, I have gifts for you both.”
“Nay,” Ruith protested. “Soilléir, you have already given us more than we needed already.”
“That was done willingly,” Soilléir assured him. “However, there are other small things you’ll need that I can provide.” He looked at Sarah. “My dear, I have a spell for you.”
Sarah looked at him in surprise. “A spell? What would I need with that?”
He smiled gravely. “’Tis a spell of Discernment. It may serve you when things before you become unclear.”
“But surely it would be of more use in someone else’s hands,” she protested. “Someone with magic.”
“The spell comes with a sort of magic wrapped around its warp threads, if you care to think of it that way.” He shrugged. “Many can wield spells, some can wield weighty spells, but the truth is, most mages are blind because of it. It is easy to use a spell and affect a destiny without thought. More difficult is to see how the patterns of lives are woven and how they might be bettered. It takes a certain sort of magic to offer naught but a single word or a simple thought, then stand back and allow things to progress as they will.”
Sarah supposed trying to convince him she wasn’t even equal to putting her oar in occasionally was futile, so she listened to the spell, memorized it, then repeated it dutifully when Soilléir asked her to. She felt nothing, but she hadn’t expected anything else. Soilléir obviously had more faith in her abilities than she did, but the words were pleasant, so she was happy