Morgan is lovely, your wine is lovely as well, and I might need a nap soon,” Miach said lazily.
Léir pursed his lips. “Stay awake long enough to discuss this. Why is it, do you suppose, that the lad who made a clandestine foray into the keep last night didn’t just use the front gates?”
“Not challenging enough?” Miach suggested.
“What did you want from Droch, my friend?”
Miach sighed and waved a fond farewell to any hope of a rest anytime soon. Léir was relentless when he was in the pursuit of answers.
“I needed a particular spell,” Miach admitted, “and I thought I might find it in Droch’s chambers. I was, as you might imagine, less than eager to have him know I was looking for it.”
“Indeed,” Léir said with interest. “And what is this particular spell meant to do?”
“Close a well of evil.”
“Ah,” Léir said slowly. “Gair’s well?”
“Aye,” Miach said. He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, holding Morgan’s hand in both his own. He considered for a moment or two, then looked at Morgan. “May I be frank with him about what we’ve seen?”
“You said he was trustworthy,” she said.
“And so he is,” Miach agreed. He took a deep breath and looked back at Léir. “What I left out earlier was that it was Morgan I was traveling with in the fall. I began to suspect at one point that the dreams she was having of Gair of Ceangail were actually memories, and that she might be Gair’s long-lost daughter. Nicholas of Diarmailt confirmed this to both of us at different times. I thought that perhaps Morgan should meet her mother’s family—giving me a chance to ask her grandfather permission to wed her—so we traveled to Seanagarra.” He paused. “I also thought I might have a little peep at the books in Sìle’s library whilst we were there.”
“Miach, you are going to nick one too many spells someday,” Léir said, sighing lightly.
“So I tell him,” Morgan agreed without hesitation, “constantly. He’s incorrigible.”
“Well, in this case it turned out to be useful,” Miach said seriously. “I found directions to the well Gair opened, then traveled there myself. Not only is the evil still trickling forth, that evil is being shaped by a spell into the creatures that are roaming unchecked.”
“And whose is the latter spell?” Léir asked. “Lothar’s?”
Miach pursed his lips. “That isn’t much of a surprise, is it?” He started to say more, then looked at Morgan. “I didn’t tell you everything I learned there, but I likely should now. Care to hand me all your blades before I do?”
She blanched. “I think you’ve been traumatized enough for the day. Carry on.”
He smiled at her, then turned back to Léir. “These creatures fashioned from the well’s evil have instructions to hunt two things: those with Camanaë magic and those with Gair’s blood. The heirs of Camanaë are to be slain.” He couldn’t look at Morgan, but he supposed he didn’t need to. She was holding his hand so tightly it pained him. “Those of Gair’s legacy are to be captured and carried back to Riamh.”
Morgan was absolutely silent. Léir only continued to watch him without surprise.
“Avoiding the monsters is, perhaps, the least of our worries,” Miach continued. “We must shut the well once and for all. I tried to shut it myself, but failed, of course. I thought to have a look inside Droch’s solar and see if there might be something there that would lead me to the spell we need.”
“Why did you think Gair’s spells would be Olc?” Léir asked.
“Because of a letter Sarait left for Sosar,” Miach said. “It contained as much of Gair’s spell of closing as she could piece together. I’m not certain if it was one he’d used before, or one he intended to use, though I suspect the latter. It was mostly Olc with a bit of Camanaë thrown in for good measure, if you can fathom that.”
Léir pursed his lips in
Léir pursed his lips. “Stay awake long enough to discuss this. Why is it, do you suppose, that the lad who made a clandestine foray into the keep last night didn’t just use the front gates?”
“Not challenging enough?” Miach suggested.
“What did you want from Droch, my friend?”
Miach sighed and waved a fond farewell to any hope of a rest anytime soon. Léir was relentless when he was in the pursuit of answers.
“I needed a particular spell,” Miach admitted, “and I thought I might find it in Droch’s chambers. I was, as you might imagine, less than eager to have him know I was looking for it.”
“Indeed,” Léir said with interest. “And what is this particular spell meant to do?”
“Close a well of evil.”
“Ah,” Léir said slowly. “Gair’s well?”
“Aye,” Miach said. He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, holding Morgan’s hand in both his own. He considered for a moment or two, then looked at Morgan. “May I be frank with him about what we’ve seen?”
“You said he was trustworthy,” she said.
“And so he is,” Miach agreed. He took a deep breath and looked back at Léir. “What I left out earlier was that it was Morgan I was traveling with in the fall. I began to suspect at one point that the dreams she was having of Gair of Ceangail were actually memories, and that she might be Gair’s long-lost daughter. Nicholas of Diarmailt confirmed this to both of us at different times. I thought that perhaps Morgan should meet her mother’s family—giving me a chance to ask her grandfather permission to wed her—so we traveled to Seanagarra.” He paused. “I also thought I might have a little peep at the books in Sìle’s library whilst we were there.”
“Miach, you are going to nick one too many spells someday,” Léir said, sighing lightly.
“So I tell him,” Morgan agreed without hesitation, “constantly. He’s incorrigible.”
“Well, in this case it turned out to be useful,” Miach said seriously. “I found directions to the well Gair opened, then traveled there myself. Not only is the evil still trickling forth, that evil is being shaped by a spell into the creatures that are roaming unchecked.”
“And whose is the latter spell?” Léir asked. “Lothar’s?”
Miach pursed his lips. “That isn’t much of a surprise, is it?” He started to say more, then looked at Morgan. “I didn’t tell you everything I learned there, but I likely should now. Care to hand me all your blades before I do?”
She blanched. “I think you’ve been traumatized enough for the day. Carry on.”
He smiled at her, then turned back to Léir. “These creatures fashioned from the well’s evil have instructions to hunt two things: those with Camanaë magic and those with Gair’s blood. The heirs of Camanaë are to be slain.” He couldn’t look at Morgan, but he supposed he didn’t need to. She was holding his hand so tightly it pained him. “Those of Gair’s legacy are to be captured and carried back to Riamh.”
Morgan was absolutely silent. Léir only continued to watch him without surprise.
“Avoiding the monsters is, perhaps, the least of our worries,” Miach continued. “We must shut the well once and for all. I tried to shut it myself, but failed, of course. I thought to have a look inside Droch’s solar and see if there might be something there that would lead me to the spell we need.”
“Why did you think Gair’s spells would be Olc?” Léir asked.
“Because of a letter Sarait left for Sosar,” Miach said. “It contained as much of Gair’s spell of closing as she could piece together. I’m not certain if it was one he’d used before, or one he intended to use, though I suspect the latter. It was mostly Olc with a bit of Camanaë thrown in for good measure, if you can fathom that.”
Léir pursed his lips in
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