The White Spell by Lynn Kurland

“Let’s just say my father was not unwilling to sire the occasional bastard. My mother bore him seven sons, of which I am the youngest. After gazing for quite some time on my admittedly superior self, he decided he had done all he could with my dam and cast his eye elsewhere. I am also unhappily aware that my mother was not his first encounter with the fairer sex given that I seem to never be able to turn a corner at home without running into yet another of his early forays into fatherhood.”
    â€œA busy man, your father.”
    â€œExtremely.”
    â€œDo you have large suppers together with the extended relations?”
    He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re very cheeky.”
    â€œAnd you’re a terrible stable lad.”
    â€œWhich is obviously what makes you curious about my true skills,” he said. “A pity I am unable at the moment to enlighten you. Rest assured, the list is very long.”
    She could only imagine and she suspected that
stable hand
was definitely not on that list. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what
was
on that list. She’d had watched too many things over the past few days turn out to be something other than what she’d expected them to be.
    That thought was unsettling enough that she decided perhaps a change of plans was in order. She would indulge in a quick, cheap mug of ale only because she’d come too far to refuse it withoutlooking like a fool, then she would turn around and go back to where she belonged before she found herself embroiled in things she had the feeling she wouldn’t like at all.
    â€œDo you have brothers?”
    She looked at him in surprise. No one ever asked her about her family, as a rule. Doghail had, when they’d first met, but she hadn’t cared to talk about them so he’d never brought it up again. Of course Acair couldn’t have known the particulars of her past, so she supposed that was reason enough not to give him the look she generally reserved for lads too stupid to know when to keep their mouths shut.
    â€œOne,” she said. “And a younger sister. Both gone now.”
    He studied her casually for longer than she liked, but he was apparently wise enough to know when not to pursue forbidden topics of conversation.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said simply.
    She nodded briskly, then continued on with him toward
The
Preening
Pelican
, congratulating him silently on his good sense. That task accomplished—and far too quickly—she turned to wondering just who he was and why it was he found himself in Sàraichte. It was truly the last place she would have chosen to live if she’d had a choice.
    Perhaps she did have a choice. If there were any way to increase her funds, surely Mistress Cailleach would know. If all else failed, perhaps Acair, if he proved adept with cards, could teach her how to make a decent living at it. She could imagine worse occupations. Well, perhaps not very many, but a few—
    She pulled up short, putting her hand out to stop Acair before he walked into a patch of shadow. He stopped, then looked at her.
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œNothing,” she said quickly. “Let’s, ah, go over there. Better to admire the signage from a different angle, wouldn’t you agree?”
    She didn’t dare look at him. It was enough to think herself daft. Seeing irrefutable proof that someone else thought the same mightbe more than she could take at the moment. She stood well away from the spot she had seen and looked at it without trying to appear as if she were looking at it. Unfortunately, she couldn’t deny that she was seeing what she
couldn’t
be seeing because there was simply no possible way that shadows that weren’t shadows could be lingering on the ground in odd, random places—
    A lad came around the corner of the pub and walked right over the patch of ground before Léirsinn could stop him. He froze, as if