The Mage's Daughter (19 page)

“Because, Morgan, my love, our road is dark and will likely grow darker as we journey down it. If we cannot find a few moments of pleasure and comfort along the way, it will be a grim road indeed. Don't you think?”

“Is that your reason?”

He took her face in his hands. “Nay, love. What I really want is you in my arms as often as possible. This seemed the best way to see to it.”

She would have glared at him, but she suspected he was telling the truth.

“Let me woo you, and we'll see how it suits you,” he said with a smile. “I'm sure my attentions won't include anything more interesting than sharpening your blades, cleaning your boots, and occasionally brushing your hair. If I'm feeling particularly clever, I might take you out in the lists and allow you to best me.”

“Allow?” she repeated incredulously.

He laughed at her and pulled her into his arms. “You're too easy to bait. Let's go inside and we'll work on that very first of all.”

She stopped him. “I don't think I can go in,” she said, feeling her voice catch in her throat. She managed a very uncomfortable swallow. “There are answers waiting for me in that solar that I can't face quite yet.”

“Shall we walk more?”

“Aye, but take your cloak back, then put it around us both. 'Tis foolish, I know, but I feel safer that way.”

He nodded, donned his cloak, then drew her under it again. She tried to decide if it was his nearness that soothed her so, or the warmth of his arm around her. She contemplated that for several circles of the courtyard, but came to no decision.

“You won't leave me?” she asked, at one point.

“Nay, love, I won't.”

She couldn't ask anything more of him than that.

So she continued to walk in the sunshine. The darkness that awaited her was something she couldn't bring herself to face.

Not even if Miach was there with her.

M
iach sat on the floor next to the low table in front of Nicholas's very fine sofa and tried to pay attention to what he was reading. He wasn't having much success, but just the effort gave him something to concentrate on besides what he would have to tell Morgan when she awoke.

He'd finally convinced her, after a score of turns about Lismòr's inner courtyard, to come inside the solar and sit down. He'd built up Nicholas's fire, then suggested she might like to stretch out on the sofa and listen to a story guaranteed to keep her awake. She had agreed, he imagined, only because she'd been so desperate to avoid anything to do with either her dreams or his wooing.

And so he'd told her the enormously fascinating tale of Tharra of Fearann Fàs who had scoured the wastelands east of Beinn òrain for a wife to suit his ugliness. He had hardly gotten Tharra out of the city before Morgan had succumbed to slumber. That had left him with nothing to do but patch his spells and wait for her to wake.

The door opened behind him and Miach looked back over his shoulder to find Lismòr's lord coming inside. Nicholas shut the door behind him and walked silently over to sit in his chair.

“You convinced her to sleep,” he noted.

“Finally,” Miach said. “She was reluctant.”

“I can't say I blame her,” Nicholas said, “especially after this morning.” He smiled. “You look to have survived your brush with death well enough.”

“It was a near thing,” Miach admitted. “She's very powerful.”

“I daresay. Her strength in many things has come back, though I will admit that there were times during those first few days that I truly feared it wouldn't.” He studied Morgan for a few minutes, then nodded. “Aye, she is much improved, even more so after being here such a short time.”

“Gobhann is not a good place to heal,” Miach said slowly, “though I'll own that Weger did coddle her as much as she would allow, and it did do her some good.”

“I don't understand why she loves it there so. It can't be pleasant.”

“It isn't,” Miach said without hesitation. “It's harsh, unforgiving, and cold as hell. A bit like its lord, actually.”

Nicholas smiled. “And how does Weger find himself these days?”

“Relentless.” Miach looked at Morgan to judge her depth of sleep, then turned to Nicholas. “I assume you know who he is.”

“Aye.”

Miach smiled. “And you never said anything to her.”

“Would you?” Nicholas asked, raising an eyebrow. “She had to run somewhere when she left Lismòr; I wasn't going to spoil her refuge for her. Besides, if I'd told her, she would have wondered how I knew, and that would have required too many answers I wasn't ready to give.”

“You were right not to,” Miach said quietly. “Weger admitted his heritage to her a se'nnight before we left Gobhann. It was, as you might imagine, very difficult for her to hear. I don't know what she would have done if you had told her eight years ago.”

“She likely would have called me a fool,” Nicholas said ruefully, “and gone inside anyway.”

“Perhaps,” Miach said. “As for Weger, I can understand why he has chosen his current home. He hates Lothar—and perhaps his own magic—with a fierceness that is all the more terrifying because he expresses it so calmly.”

“I can't blame him,” Nicholas said. “A pity his father was such a fool. I told Smior he was mad to wed Eisleine inside Riamh instead of bringing her out, but he wouldn't listen. He underestimated Lothar and found himself in Lothar's dungeon as a result. But you can understand how that would happen, can't you?”

Miach shut his mouth when he realized it was hanging open. He wasn't sure if he was more surprised that Nicholas had spoken with Weger's father or that Nicholas knew of his own incarceration in Riamh. “I have no secrets, I see.”

“I only know because your mother came to see me whilst you were captive there,” Nicholas said mildly.

“My
mother
?” Miach echoed, stunned. “How did she know who you were?”

“Because she was notorious for knowing things she would have been better off not knowing. She tracked me here and came to ask if I knew anything that might help her. You must understand that she was well aware how delicate a balance it was between Lothar keeping you alive and slaying you simply because he could. She was exceptionally powerful, but Lothar is capricious. Smior could have told you that, I suppose.” He studied his hands for a moment or two. “There is, I believe, more to besting Lothar and his evil than simply slaying him. Besides, slay him and he has a dozen lads standing behind him to take his place.”

“Yngerame should have killed him whilst he had the chance,” Miach said grimly.

“I imagine you've talked to Yngerame about that already, haven't you?” Nicholas asked. “He had his reasons for leaving his son alive. He and Symon bound him once, as you well know, even though they knew the spells would not last forever. It wouldn't surprise me if they had foreseen your turn as archmage of Neroche and left Lothar as your challenge—just as Mehar saw Morgan as a wielder of the Sword of Angesand.”

“Do you think so?” Miach asked in surprise. “About us both, I mean.”

“I am speculating about you,” Nicholas said, “though it is a rather educated guess. I've talked to them both about you many times. They are particularly impressed with how you've handled your duties. And as for Morgan, aye, I know that Mehar saw her hand on the sword. She told me so herself.”

“Who
don't
you know?” Miach asked in astonishment.

Nicholas smiled. “When you've walked as long on the world's stage as I have, Miach my lad, you'll find that the Nine Kingdoms are not as large as you once thought. You know your share of souls from legend.”

“I suppose so,” Miach admitted.

Nicholas sobered. “As for Lothar, I imagine there will come a day when you must make the same decision Yngerame and Symon made: either to kill him or to let him live.”

“I don't relish the thought,” Miach said grimly.

“Neither did they, I imagine,” Nicholas said. “But we're moving away from simpler things. Weger's heritage doesn't surprise me, nor does his choice of occupations. And speaking of magic, have you told your lady what she needs to know about hers?”

“You know I haven't.” He looked at Lismòr's lord crossly. “Tell me again why I'm the one giving her these tidings and not you?”

“Penance.”

Miach would have laughed, but the subject was too serious. “I suppose,” he said wearily.

Nicholas smiled. “I'm needling you a bit, lad. You did what you had to in the fall. As for the other, 'tis simple. She will accept the tidings from you because she knows you will tell her the truth. Me, she would discount.”

“I don't think so, but I know what you're getting at. I owe her a fair bit of truth and this is as good a place as any to begin. She's been avoiding it, though, as thoroughly as I have. It has been pleasant to remain within your walls and not have to face our future overmuch.” He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Thank you for telling me about my mother.”

“You're welcome, lad,” Nicholas said with a smile. “Some day, when you have a chance, come for a visit and I'll tell you more about her more noteworthy escapades. Desdhemar was a remarkable woman and you're fortunate to have her blood in your veins.”

“I know,” Miach said quietly.

Nicholas rubbed his hands together suddenly. “Let's speak of less sentimental things. Have you decided what you'll do after you leave here? If you can pry yourself away from my supper table, that is.”

Miach smiled. “It will be difficult, I assure you. As for what I'll do, I thought to make a journey to Beinn òrain.”

Nicholas nodded. “Wise. They'll have kept a list of anyone who's shown promise of magic over the years. I imagine you'll find several souls there to add to your list. But what of Morgan?”

“I've asked her to come with me.”

“And she said you aye?”

Miach had to smile. “I worried there for a bit that she wouldn't, but she agreed in the end. In spite of my magic, no doubt.”

“You should stop in Tòrr Dòrainn,” Nicholas advised. “But I imagine you've already thought of that.”

“Aye, I have,” Miach agreed reluctantly. “I have a question or two for Sìle—not that he'll be willing to talk to me.”

“He won't have much choice when he realizes that his granddaughter loves you.”

Miach smiled briefly. “Do you think she does?”

“I do,” Nicholas said, “though it may not serve you much today. I would suggest that you make certain she doesn't have any blades to hand when you tell her what you must. I don't imagine it will go well for you otherwise. I think I'll leave you to it before she wakes.” He rose and walked over to the door. He put his hand on the wood, then looked at Miach. “Be careful with her, won't you?”

Miach cleared his throat roughly. It was either that or grow as misty-eyed as Nicholas was.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Miach said quietly. “I wouldn't think to do less.”

“Which is why I'm trusting you with her,” Nicholas said simply. He turned and left the solar, shutting the door softly behind him.

Miach rubbed his hands over his face and wondered how in the hell he was going to manage to spew any of what he needed to say before Morgan turned and bolted. Being the seventh child and only daughter of a black mage so arrogant and so evil that no one spoke his name without loathing was not going to be something that was easy to accept.

Then again, he had a few unsavory characters in his own family tree, so perhaps he would have a few things to tell her eventually to make her feel better.

He sat and stared at her, wanting nothing more than a few more minutes of looking at her in peace. He'd spent weeks at her side without telling her who he was, or what he was, and they had both paid the price. He couldn't do that again. Not now.

He watched her for quite a while before she finally stirred. She opened her eyes, looked at the ceiling for a moment or two, then turned her head and saw him.

She smiled.

It smote him to the heart.

“You're still here,” she said.

“Where else would I go?” he asked gravely.

“Oh, I don't know,” she said. “You could have flapped off anywhere.”

He took her hands in his. “I told you I wouldn't leave.”

“So you did,” she agreed. She rubbed her free hand over her face. “I didn't mean to sleep.”

“You needed it. Perhaps you'll be able to stay awake tonight for a game or two of cards with me. I learned everything I know about cheating from Glines of Balfour.”

She smiled. “It won't serve you, given that he taught me as well.”

“He taught me different things. He promised that quite faithfully.”

She snorted. “And he's too far away for you to do damage to him when you realize he lied to you. But I will indulge you, if you like, just so you'll see the truth of the matter.”

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Then we'll save that as something to look forward to later.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I fear, Morgan, that we can put off the unpleasant no longer.”

She closed her eyes briefly, then sat up, pulling her hand from his. “So our days of peace are now ended.”

“They need not be,” he said. “Truth is that cold, bracing wind you feel ripping through you on the parapet at Gobhann, but it will pass and you will be here again at Lismòr, in this place you love, where you are loved.”

Her eyes were unusually bright. “Must you be the one to give me these tidings?” she asked, pained.

“Would you prefer Nicholas?”

“Would I prefer Nicholas,” she echoed. She looked at him in outright shock. “Nicholas of Lismòr? What would
he
know of any of this?”

Miach shrugged with a casualness he most certainly did not feel. “He gave you Mehar's knife and sent you on your quest, didn't he? I daresay he knows more than you might think.” That was an understatement, but he wasn't going to elaborate at present.

“I think I prefer you,” she said grimly.

That was fortunate, as he doubted Nicholas could be found to question. He nodded. “Do you care to talk while you are sitting down, walking, or flying?”

“Walking,” she said without hesitation. “In the exercise yard where no one will see.”

Miach decided at that moment that the only thing he had possibly dreaded more than what he had to do in the next hour had been dawn in Lothar's dungeon.

So, he approached it as he had that unenviable task: he kept himself busy. He put Morgan's boots on her, helped her to her feet, fetched her cloak for her, and suggested strongly that she leave her sword behind. He put his hand on the door only to find that she had caught him by the arm.