Unguilded

by Jane Glatt

  Something was tickling her nose. Kara turned her head. Now her face itched. She lifted a hand to swipe at it. If Osten was teasing her while she slept again she’d make him sorry. He was becoming as mean-spirited as his mother. She shifted, and grass rustled.

  She opened her eyes to the glare of the sun high overhead. It wasn’t her bed, it wasn’t her house, and it wasn’t her half-brother teasing her—it was tall grasses, bent over by the wind, caressing her face.

  She lay there for a few moments, trying to figure out how long she’d slept, trying to decide which way to go, trying not to let her fear and despair overwhelm her.

  A few hours, that was all. She brushed a wayward tear from her cheek and sat up. Her shawl slipped from her shoulders, and the heat of the sun warmed her arms and neck.

  She shielded her eyes and looked out over the valley. There was no sign of anyone on the road. Could they already have passed? Could she be safe up here, near the Mountain Road?

  She licked dry lips and ran a hand through her windblown hair. No matter where her searchers were, she needed to find water. She grabbed her pack, slung it across her shoulders, and glanced out over at the valley. And froze.

  What was that? She squinted. A dark mass flowed along the road, its shape uneven and so thin in places that she could see through it. When it reached the point where she’d left the road, it followed her path up the hillside.

  Is it tracking me? She glanced around in panic. She had to hide—but where? And how? She stared at the mass as it came her way. The colour—that dark, grey-black—was the same colour as the mist on Mage Guild Secundus Valendi’s horse.

  Shaking, she sucked in a breath. Was it magic? Was he searching for her with a spell? She’d assumed that her pursuit would come in the form of riders—she should have realized that a Mage as powerful as Valerio Valendi would use magic.

  She stood on the edge of the slope. The dark cloud flowed towards her too fast–she would not be able to outrun it. And it was a mist, Valerio Valendi’s mist. Could she do what she’d done to the mist that had swirled around the horse? Disperse it, or dissolve it or . . . Gyda, what did I do?

  She had made that mist disappear, Kara knew that for truth, but she didn’t know how. And she hadn’t done it on purpose.

  She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Either the mist would do whatever it was sent to do or she would make it disappear—watching it come for her wouldn’t change that. She might as well search for water.

  The twisted willow tree was out of place amongst the pines and hardy bramble and arbutus bushes. Kara stepped under its leafy canopy and peered past the gnarled trunk. Water bubbled up out of the soil into a shallow pool before it seeped into the ground. Her feet sank into the lush, green grass that grew around the spring.

  She knelt by the spring, her knees instantly becoming damp from the saturated soil. She’d just dipped her hand into the water for a second sip when the nape of her neck tingled.

  She turned around. It was here—the mist. The grey-black cloud glided across the sloped path towards her. She blew out a big breath, trying to dispel her fear. Then it was on her. She closed her eyes as a cool film settled on her exposed skin. Go away, go away, go away! Her damp skin warmed, just a little at first, then more, until it felt like a slight sunburn. She opened her eyes to find herself engulfed in a white haze. The white thinned, and in a few moments it had faded completely.

  The sun shone down from a clear blue sky, and not a trace of mist remained. Had it truly been a spell? If so, would Valerio Valendi know it was gone? Would he realize that she’d done—something—to get rid of it?

  She didn’t know exactly what she’d done, but she was still alive and free. And she still needed water—and food if she could find it. Worrying about Valerio Valendi and his magic wouldn’t help her with those tasks.

  Like all children in Villa Larona, she’d spent time on the mountain slopes gathering wild fennel and the dark purple mountain berries. Adults climbed higher, up to the tree line, to gather the cones from the stone pine trees. The seeds were hard to pry out, but worth the trouble.

  Kara shaded her eyes and stared up at the hillside. A scraggly stone pine tree clung to the side of the mountain above her, a few cones dotting its branches. There wouldn’t be much, but it should help to ease her hunger.

  BY THE TIME Kara crossed the rutted tracks of the Mountain Road, her fingers were stained purple from berries, and her shawl, tied and slung over her shoulder, held more than two dozen pine cones. The road stretched ahead, the earth bare where countless wheels had passed. Tall grasses swayed between the wheel tracks.

  On her left, the mountain sloped skyward; on her right, it fell away towards the valley floor. Scrubby pine trees partially blocked her view of the valley, and brambles and myrtle plants covered the ground at the edge of the road.

  She shifted her shawl and started forward. It was beginning to cool down, and she was thirsty again. The River Dag was below her, too far for her to reach before dark. Not that she wanted to head to the valley—but if she didn’t find another spring or stream she wouldn’t have a choice.

  When she’d climbed the stairs to her room, she’d been nervous about what her mother wanted, worried about her future—but she hadn’t expected to leave her life behind with not much more than the clothes she was wearing.

  She didn’t think Arabella Fonti had come to Larona planning to help her daughter run away—she didn’t think Arabella had given her that much thought. Arabella certainly hadn’t brought anything to help her daughter when she’d visited her room—she just happened to have a few guilders and some jewelry at hand. So why had she told her to run?

  Kara rounded a bend and stopped, surprised. Two burros stood in the middle of the road, facing her. One snorted and shook its head, while the other browsed on the tall grass. They appeared well-fed with smooth grey coats and white noses that were clean and dry. While Kara tried to see if there were any halter marks on their heads, one burro eyed her warily, its ears swiveling from side to side.

  She took a single step towards the pair.

  “Hello,” she crooned. “Are you owned by anyone?”

  Was someone out here with them? This close to Larona anyone she met might recognize her. But she needed water, real food, and a blanket to keep the chill of the night away. She was willing to risk being recognized in order to have those things.

  The wary burro edged away from her. The other one raised its head slightly and eyed her before it resumed tearing at the grasses that grew between the ruts in the road. Maybe the one eating had escaped captivity? Like me.

  She took another step forward, and the anxious burro backed into the calm one. With a snort, the calm animal stared at her, as if to make sure she understood that it did not appreciate being disturbed.

  “Hey!” Kara said. “You don’t own the road.” She waved her arms, but the burro ignored her.

  She tried to remember if wild burros were dangerous. Villa Larona owed its existence to the burros, but they hadn’t been part of Kara’s daily life. Maker Guildsmen trained burros for use on their farms or sold them to Merchant Guild to transport goods. Even in Larona the different guilds kept to themselves, so Kara hadn’t had much contact with anyone not Mage Guild. She’d bought the odd item from a Merchant, but that had been rare since Noula had all of Kara’s money.

  The calm burro rubbed its head along the back of its companion, scratching an itch or dislodging a fly. It barely seemed to notice Kara so she took another step closer. If it was tame, could she ride it? The children of the Maker’s Guild rode them up and down the lanes of Larona. Surely she could do it too? And the burros might help her find water!

  The animal seemed sweet and gentle. Kara took another step. The horse had enjoyed it when she’d rubbed its nose, maybe the burro would too. She reached out her right hand.

  The burro’s ears swiveled forward, and it stretched its head towards her. Teeth clamped down on her hand.

  “Ow!�
�� She snatched her hand away and stumbled backwards. “Gyda! I didn’t hurt you.”

  The burro she’d thought was so calm bared its teeth and brayed.

  Kara’s fingers were red, and the skin was broken on the middle finger. Blood oozed from the wound. She winced when she stretched her hand and carefully bent each of her fingers. They all worked, thank Gyda. Nothing seemed broken. She glared at the burros, and they steadily stared back.

  “Get going.” Kara cradled her hurt hand to her chest and waved at the animals with her other one. “You better take me to water. I need to clean my hand.” She didn’t really expect the burros to lead her anywhere, so she was surprised when they ambled away.

  The burros were slow—too slow for Kara to feel safe, even on the Mountain Road.

  The road was perched on the mountainside with steep slopes both uphill and down, makingit impossible to pass the burros. The search party could be on her any minute, but she was afraid to get any closer to the burros—at least one would bite, and they both might kick.

  She picked up a clump of dirt and tossed it. It hit the ground behind the trailing burro and disintegrated in a cloud of dust. The animal eyed at her with disdain, but it didn’t move any faster.

  WORRIED, KARA GLANCED behind her. The road was still empty. She’d been following the plodding burros for over an hour, and her hand throbbed, her throat felt like it was coated in dust, and she was afraid that those searching for her would catch up.

  Suddenly the two grey rumps left the road and dropped out of sight behind a rocky outcrop. Were they heading for water?

  She leaned against the rock and peered down a narrow dirt path that wound through desiccated bushes and past a rock ledge. Beyond, the valley spread out below.

  From this distance, Villa Larona was just a smudge of white clinging to the side of the mountain. Nothing moved along the thin ribbon of road, but that didn’t mean they’d given up looking for her. She focused on the trail—her immediate need was for water, both to drink and wash her wound.

  Cradling her injured hand, she worked her way down the steep track to a small glade. It was little more than a ribbon of green and a few stunted willow trees. But—thank Gyda—a shallow stream trickled through it. The burros drank with front feet planted in the water. When they finished, they started cropping the grass that lined the bank.

  Kara warily edged around the animals, giving them a wide berth, and stopped a few yards upstream. She knelt and gulped the cold, clear water, letting her injured hand dangle in the swift flowing stream until her skin tingled from the cold and she no longer felt the hot, aching pain.

  She pulled her hand from the water, hardly daring to look. It was swollen and red, and the edges of the wound were raw and seeping. She stared at it, praying that it wasn’t infected, praying that she’d cleaned it in time. She folded her damp hand against her body. For now, there was nothing else she could do for her wound.

  By the time Kara had pried the last stone pinecone open and eaten all of the tiny brown seeds, the sun was sinking towards the far range of mountains, and half of the plain below her was shadowed in darkness.

  She flexed her hand and winced.

  Her journey had already been impossible, but if her hand was infected, in this heat, without treatment, an infection could easily get into her blood. If that happened, she’d only live a few painful days.

  She brushed her left hand across her eyes. She would not cry, she would not! In the morning, when it was light, she’d find what she needed to treat her hand—she had to. She was not going to die on this mountain.

  She looked out towards Villa Larona—the buildings at the top of the mountain glowed in the late day sun. If she did die, none of them—no one she called family—would care. Especially not her mother.

  The burros had long ago ambled off west, following the stream as they browsed. Kara leaned against one of the willow trees, wrapped her shawl around herself, and fell into a restless sleep.

  ARABELLA DISMOUNTED AND handed the reins to the Guildsman who stood waiting. The ferry wasn’t due to dock until late this evening, and it wouldn’t leave until morning. She planned on taking full advantage of her time with Valerio Valendi.

  “We need rooms,” Valendi said to the man who hovered at his side.

  A Merchant—Arabella recognized the guild patch on his jacket.

  “Yes, Master Mage,” the Merchant said. “Right this way.”

  “It’s Mage Guild Secundus,” Valendi replied as he swept past the man.

  Arabella paused long enough to see the man’s ruddy complexion pale as he realized just how powerful his guest was. She smiled and nodded as she stepped past him, following Valendi into the small inn. One day men would tremble in fear of her power, she promised herself. But for now, she must follow another.

  Valendi was already seated at the best table, and a Server was scurrying towards the bar, waving her hands to catch a fellow Guildsman’s attention.

  Arabella calmly sat down.

  “I’ve ordered tea,” Valendi told her. “If you want anything different, you’ll have to order it yourself.”

  “Tea sounds lovely,” Arabella replied. She smiled gently and ducked her head. After the dusty ride, she would have preferred a cold lemon drink, but she wasn’t going to challenge Valendi on anything as minor as his choice of refreshment.

  “You look troubled, Mage Guild Secundus,” Arabella said. “I hope it wasn’t anything I have done?” Valerio Valendi believed the girl had left Arabella alone to view the sunset. At least, he seemed to believe her. But a man didn’t rise to such prominence without being able to read people. She bit her lip and lowered her gaze.

  “What? Oh, no.” The Server placed the tea pot and cups on the table, and Valendi scowled until she left. “My spell has not yet been activated.”

  “The one you sent after . . .” Arabella hesitated. She didn’t want to remind the Secundus that it was her daughter he’d sent the spell after. “The Mage Guild runaway?”

  “Yes. The runaway.” Valerio Valendi glanced at her. “She couldn’t have gotten very far, and yet my spell has not been triggered.”

  Arabella leaned forward. “How could that be?”

  “It’s possible I was too specific,” Valendi said. “The spell might have found her but not recognized her as the target.”

  “Or, perhaps she has already succumbed to some other . . . misadventure,” Arabella said. It would be just like the girl to die before they could get proof. “By all accounts she had neither the skills nor the supplies required to travel on her own.”

  “Perhaps,” Valendi said. “Before we board the ferry in the morning, I will execute another spell. We cannot allow a runaway to remain free.”

  “Of course not,” Arabella said soothingly. She picked up the tea pot, filled a cup, and pushed it towards the Secundus. “Until then, why don’t we enjoy our tea?”

  Chapter three

  KARA BOLTED AWAKE.

  “Gyda!”

  Agony radiated from her wounded hand—she must have jarred it in her sleep. She whimpered, lying still until the pain subsided to a steady throb. Gently, she pulled her shawl off her hand and held her finger up to her face. Even in the dim light of pre-dawn she could see that the wound was infected. She crawled over to the stream and dipped her hand into the cold water. A few moments later, her pain numbed, she sighed and stretched out along the bank. The sun peeked out from behind the mountains, and a kestrel twittered as it flew overhead.

  She dragged herself to her feet. She had to get moving. She was probably still being pursued, and—even more pressing—she had to heal her hand.

  She’d learned the non-magical healing arts, of course, had even taught them to the younger Mage Guild students in the villa. Garlic, basil, calendula, any of them would reduce the infection. She knew what they looked like—she’d grown them in pots on the windowsill of the school. But she wasn’t sure if they grew wild, here on the mountain.

  She closed her eyes, f
ighting despair. Stupid burro—stupid me!

  Villa Merchant had a Mage Healer—she could be there by sunset—but then she’d be caught. Mage Guild would still be searching for her. If she wanted to survive, she needed to find the plants and treat herself.

  It took less than an hour to search the glade and the path that led up to the road—but there was nothing to help her wound.

  She settled her hand against her chest and studied the few scrubby plants that grew beneath the pine trees on either side of the road, but they were dry and brittle, nothing like the bright greens of the pots of healing plants.

  She didn’t want to turn back for Villa Merchant, but would she rather die than become a breeder?

  She looked behind her, back the way she’d travelled. Life was there—but not a life she wanted. She looked forward and shivered despite the heat. She was afraid of what lay ahead—her wound could kill her, pursuers might catch her, or Valerio Valendi’s mist—his spell—would do whatever unpleasant thing it had been sent to do. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—become a breeder.

  KARA’S MOUTH WAS dry and her finger throbbed. Despite the early hour, the hot wind that blew down the mountain offered no relief from the heat.

  The ground was hard and rocky where she stood, but when she peered over the edge, she could see green bushes. She had to hope it was another stream or maybe a spring.

  She pulled the shawl off a finger that was so swollen she could hardly move it.

  With her skirt tucked into her waistband, she carefully made her way down through scraggly trees. Her foot caught on a root, and she reached out with her right hand to steady herself against a tree.