The White Spell Read Free

would suspect my lord Soilléir feels the same way.”
    Acair couldn’t believe Rùnach would be satisfied with anything that wasn’t
more
, but what did he know? Soilléir likely had too much of it, but what decent mage wasn’t interested in adding to his cache of spells?
    Nay, mischief was being made right there in front of him and he didn’t care for it when he wasn’t the one at the helm, as it were. But if he’d learned anything over the past several months, it was that his companions were tight-lipped about their plans. He was going to have to pretend to go along with their plans until they made a misstep and he could see what they were truly about. Patience wasn’t anything that came easily to him, but if having it at present would win him freedom from the meddling ways of the two alewives sitting across from him, he would use any last bits of it he might still possess.
    He would pay the price, but not gladly and he would certainly take note of every pesky moment of it for use later. He didn’t like to admit any sort of defeat, but he knew when to pause and retrench. The inability to do that was his sire’s fatal flaw, a flaw he had no intention of allowing to take root in himself.
    â€œVery well,” he said heavily, “let’s have this over with. To spare myself an endless existence on the front stoop of some mindless faery, as well as secure the guarantee that I’ll never have to encounter either of you again unless there are spells of death involved, I will agree to a month without magic.”
    â€œA century, Acair,” Soilléir said mildly.
    â€œAbsurd,” Acair said. “Two months and no more.”
    Soilléir only looked at him. Acair managed to keep himself from rubbing his arms against the sudden chill that blew over him but damn it if he couldn’t keep himself from shifting.
    â€œVery well, a year,” he snarled. “And not a heartbeat longer.”
    Soilléir and Rùnach exchanged a look. Acair sensed a softening of the resolve of the pair, something he didn’t dare disturb with even a mild epitaph.
    Soilléir looked at him. “Very well, then,” he said. “A year. Upon your honor.”
    Acair refused to respond to that. “I assume you are leaving me free to roam where I choose to,” he said. Considering the number of souls he had been less-than-friendly with in the past, the list of places where he might find sanctuary was very short indeed. There was, ofcourse, no use in pointing that out. The two fools across from him knew that very well.
    â€œOh, nay,” Rùnach said, with a feeble attempt at solemnity, “we wouldn’t dream of leaving you so—how shall I put it, my lord Soilléir?”
    â€œExposed,” Soilléir said.
    â€œExposed,” Rùnach agreed. He smiled. “We wouldn’t want you to be vulnerable, of course, which is why we’ve selected an appropriate destination for you. Lots of opportunities there to do good. You’ve become so adept at that sort of thing, we thought you might want to keep on with it for a bit longer.”
    Acair thought many things but decided it would be best if he didn’t voice any of them. He would have attempted a smile but found it was simply beyond him. He settled for something just short of a grimace. “Where?”
    â€œSàraichte,” Rùnach said, looking terribly pleased with himself. “A stroke of genius, if I do admit as much myself.”
    Acair was past surprise. “Indeed.”
    â€œI suggest a labor of some kind,” Soilléir said thoughtfully. “With your hands.”
    Besides wrapping them around your neck?
was what came first to mind, but Acair decided that was perhaps something also better left unsaid. If he didn’t get away from the pair of imbeciles in front of him, he was never going to be able to speak again.
    â€œI don’t need a labor when I