by Jane Glatt
And that was the answer. Mage Guild wouldn’t care what happened to anyone else on this island—unguilded, foreigners, low level Guildsmen—they wouldn’t care. Easy and cheap to simply foist a mad mage onto a defenseless population, people Mage Guild would consider worthless and expendable. Gyda, how she hated them!
“The magers, they come by every few weeks,” Vook said. “Hoping he’s dead, I expect. I seen ’em. They leave him food and stuff.”
“And the mad mage, that’s what he lives off? What Mage Guild gives him?” Kara asked. Guild Law required a guild to look after any law abiding members who could no longer care for themselves. This must be how Mage Guild fulfilled its obligation. But surely they could use magic to render him safe?
“Yeah, I guess so,” Vook said. “I don’t know where they leave it, only that they come with packages and leave with nothin’.” Vook looked back at her. “It’s not like I’m gonna steal from him. Gotta be stupid to steal from a Mage, mad or not. And I ain’t stupid.”
“No, you’re not,” Kara agreed.
“Shh. Gotta be quiet for a while,” Vook whispered. He slowed until she was right behind him. A road ahead was clear of debris from the fire. “Clammers sometimes come this far at night, if they run out of water.”
Vook stopped and cocked his head to listen. With a nod, he stepped out into the road and ran across it. Kara hurried after him. They traveled in silence for another half an hour before they reached a line of trees. Once hidden in the trees, she inhaled deeply, glad to have the burn out behind them.
“We can talk now,” Vook said. “We’re real close to the docks.”
“That’s where we’re going?” Kara asked. Until now she’d been too grateful to have Vook as her guide to even wonder about their destination. Now, she was curious—and nervous.
“Yep, the docks. Home.”
Vook smiled when he said it, and she realized that he’d been tense during their trek. The dangers he’d spoken of were real—banditos, clammers, even the mad mage.
“Who do you live with? What do I need to know about them?” Kara asked, but before Vook had a chance to answer, there was a shout from their right.
Startled, she stopped. Vook surged ahead with a whoop.
“It’s me,” Vook yelled. “Brought a friend.”
“Mika?” A girl of about twelve or thirteen edged out from behind a tree. She ducked behind the tree when she saw Kara.
“Mika’s been caught,” Vook said. “No doubt he’s halfway home by now. This here’s Kara. She was traveling with Mika.” Vook turned to Kara. “That’s Pilo. She don’t like many people. They stare at her.”
Kara nodded. All right, she’d do her best not to stare.
“What are you doing out so late?” Vook asked as they neared the tree. “Where are Harb and Lowel?”
“Over to the clammers,” Pilo said. She stepped out into view with her head down and her eyes on the ground.
Kara drew in a breath. Half of the girl’s face was melted, a drooping mass of scars that seemed to be sliding off her face. The scars flowed down her neck and disappeared under a dirty shirt that once might have been blue, but now was a dingy grey-brown. The shirt sleeve ended just above the wrist, where yet more scars trailed down to a hand with fingers that were partially fused together.
Kara was horrified. Not at the burns, but at that fact that nothing had been done for this child. They were practically within sight of Mage Guild Island and its Mage Healers. This child could be whole, should be whole, but wasn’t.
She glanced away from Pilo to Vook, who stood staring at her. Her face must have given away some of her thoughts, because he relaxed and nodded.
“Pilo was caught in the fire,” Vook said quietly. “Her parents survived, but never really got over it. Her pa died first, and then her ma died two years ago. Mika found her and brought her here. Pilo,” he said more loudly. “When did those two idiots head to the clammers?”
“Just after you left,” the girl replied. “I thought you were them. They should be back soon.”
“On our way here you said you didn’t want to run into clammers,” Kara said as she followed Vook and Pilo. It was close to dawn, and there was enough light for her to see the large metal fence and gate that blocked the path.
“I didn’t,” Vook said. “And Harb and Lowel shouldn’t have gone to see them. It’s dangerous. I was hoping Mika could talk some sense into them.”
“Why do they go?” To Kara, life seemed difficult enough without searching out trouble.
“’Cause of the women.” Vook snorted in disgust. “Six months ago Harb decided he wanted a woman. Can’t afford the bandito whores so he trades water to the clammers. Harb don’t care that it hurts Pilo that they go.” He reached over and patted Pilo’s sound shoulder. She shrugged away from his touch. “Her ma ended up whoring when her pa died. She didn’t last long in that life. Harb talked Lowel into it of course. Harb can talk Lowel into anything.”
When they reached the gate, metal mesh with gaps big enough for a small person to slip their hands through, Pilo took a key from around her neck. She slipped her hands through the mesh and unlocked a rusty padlock.
“Mika helped us set all this up,” Vook said.
Pilo slipped the padlock off.
Vook swung the door open. “The lock, the gate—keeps us pretty safe.”
He ushered Kara through, and Pilo locked it again, leaving the lock on the inside.
“Come on,” he whispered. “I don’t want to wake the little ones up. You can meet them later.” He led the way down an overgrown path.
Little ones, she thought in alarm. There were children younger than poor Pilo and Vook? How many children lived here?
A fresh breeze rustled through the treetops, and Kara took a deep breath. She’d gotten so used to the underlying smell of the burn out, that it took her a second to understand what she smelled—water, the salt water of the bay.
Suddenly the dense brush gave way, and they were at the edge of a clearing. Straight ahead, moonlight glinted off water. A few crumbling wooden buildings sagged toward the bay, and evenly spaced posts stuck straight out of the water, a couple of feet of planks still attached. It was the remnants of a dock much like the one she’d walked on to board the ferry.
“Here’s where we sleep,” Vook said. He headed toward an overturned boat, ducked down, and disappeared into it.
Kara followed, her hands scraping on the splintered wood of what was once a window frame. Inside, it was dark and smelled of musty wood and stale sweat. She remained bent over, feeling as though the roof was just inches away from her head.
“This way.” Vook grabbed her hand and gently tugged her forward.
Underfoot there were soft mounds of cloth, or maybe grass. Her eyes started to adjust, just a little. Then, off in the gloom, she saw a swirling mass of mist. White and light green, it shed enough light for her to see the blanket that lay beneath the mist. And beneath the blanket, two small heads crowded together, one tiny fist curled against a chin.
They were so small, too small to be here, living under an overturned boat. Children looking after children. Where were the adults, where were the guilds? Thanks to Mika, at least these children had a reasonably safe place to live, but how many other children were out there, living in worse conditions than this? Such bleak futures. Then she remembered that she shared their future. Her mother had sent her into this life, into this future. Well, she had some skills. And if these children let her stay, she had a fairly safe place to live. She could help make all of their lives just that little bit better.
“There, in the corner.” Vook pointed towards the sleeping children. “Find a spot under the blanket if you want. Just be careful of Sidra and Mole.”
He led her towards the sleeping children, and Kara realized that for Vook, there was no glow from the blanket, no radiant mist to light the way.
Kara settled down away from the blanket, her pack stuck under her head. Suddenly she was exhaus
ted. It had been less than twenty four hours since she’d last seen Mika. She hoped the woman truly was on her way home because Kara knew she couldn’t help her friend.
Chapter ten
ARABELLA PAUSED IN the doorway. Primus Rorik stood at the window of her salon, staring out into her small garden.
“Are you a fan of gardens, Primus?” she asked as she stepped into the room. “I’m afraid mine will disappoint you if you are.”
“I don’t often get outside,” Rorik said. He turned to face her and smiled.
She had put extra effort into her appearance today; her beauty was one of her tools, after all. She strolled to the centre of the room, the silk of her skirt whispering as she walked.
“Please, sit down,” Arabella gestured to the velvet settee. She settled on one end and placed her hands demurely in her lap while Rorik sat on the other end.
“I could order tea,” she said. “Or wine if you’d prefer something stronger.”
“Nothing, thank you,” Rorik replied. “Unless of course you feel I will need something stronger.”
He smiled when he spoke, but she sensed the challenge beneath his words. She should not forget that Rorik had risen through Mage Guild, no matter that she thought he was Valerio’s creature now.
“No, of course not,” Arabella said. “I simply thought that it would be nice to get to know each other.”
“You mean it would be nice for you to know the Primus better.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Although I flatter myself that I do have my own . . . charms.”
“Ah.” Rorik leaned back and stared at her. “I believe I will let others enjoy those charms.” He fixed her with his gaze. “What do you want from me?”
“I really do want to get to know you better,” Arabella said. “After all, we have much in common.”
“Which is what?”
“Why our dedication to Mage Guild,” she replied. And Valerio Valendi. She’d heard rumours that Valerio had engineered Rorik’s ascendancy to Primus, much as he’d ensured that she was elected to the council. But she didn’t know why Valerio was content to be Secundus. “And now that I’m on the council, I can help you.”
“Can you?” Rorik asked.
“With your advice,” Arabella said. “Yes. You know my fellow council members far better than I do—I expect that you would know how I should manage them in order to get the result that you want.”
“Why?”
Arabella paused and considered the Primus. He was suspicious, as she’d expected, but she also thought that he would appreciate honesty.
“Being a woman in Mage Guild is difficult,” she said. “But worse, I found my power late and did not start training until I was the age when my peers were becoming full Mages.” She met Rorik’s eyes. She saw understanding there, and a little pity, and she knew she would convince him. “I need allies—strong allies—if I am to survive. Who better than the Primus?”
“Why would I need your help?” Rorik asked. “I already have allies of my own.”
“Yes,” Arabella said. “But they are all known to each other. Sides were chosen years ago.” Rorik nodded, and Arabella smoothed a hand across her skirt. “I’m new to council. Most of them barely know me, and since I’m a woman, they will all underestimate me.” She gave him a half-smile. “What has always been a burden will now be an advantage. Don’t you wonder which of your allies you can truly trust? Who is secretly aligned against you? I can help you find out.”
“Because you’re a woman?” Rorik asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. “And new to council and from a small villa in the country. No one will see me as a threat. No one will suspect that I already have formidable alliances.”
“They will be circling you,” Rorik replied. “Trying to make you an ally.”
“They’ve already started,” Arabella said. “I’ve had lunch and dinner invitations, as well as invitations for more . . . intimate meetings.”
“Yet you come to me.”
“Yes. You are the Primus,” Arabella said simply. “You have more political importance than any of the council members. And we are both allied with Valerio, in our own ways.”
“Valerio,” Rorik repeated. “Finally you mention his name. Did he ask you to do this? Perhaps he’s using you to test my loyalty.”
“He’s not,” Arabella replied. “I approached you of my own accord, but I can’t imagine he would be unhappy that two of his allies are getting better acquainted.”
“No, of course not,” Rorik agreed.
Arabella met his gaze and nodded. Valerio wouldn’t like it, of course. She had to trust that Rorik wouldn’t tell Valerio—just as he had to trust that she wouldn’t either.
“Then it’s settled,” Arabella said. “We are friends. You will let me know when you can use my help?”
Arabella closed the door after Rorik left and took a deep breath. She hoped the Primus wasn’t in a rush to task her with anything—she did not want Valerio to suspect she was allied with Rorik. But after only a few weeks, she knew how deeply some council members hated Valerio. She may be carrying his child, but she could not afford to have him be her only ally. If he fell, so would she. She would not allow that.
“GET UP.”
Something tugged at her hair, and sleepily Kara swiped at it.
“I said get up.”
A sharper tug.
“Hey.” She clutched the hand that was grabbing her hair. “That hurts.” She opened her eyes and twisted the hand.
“Ow! You whore.”
The hand reared up as if to strike her, and Kara glared at the boy behind the hand.
“Don’t you dare,” she snapped. She scrambled to her feet, still glaring at him. He was her height and only a few pounds heavier. He shuffled a little and mumbled something.
“Harb, stop that.” Vook put his smaller body between them. “This here’s Kara. She’s a friend of Mika’s. And my guest.”
Kara couldn’t see the look in Vook’s eyes, but from his body language she wouldn’t assume the younger boy would back down. Or that he would be easily bested. Harb must have thought so as well because he scowled at her and then turned on his heels, stumbling as he walked away. Drunk and mad at the world. It was a dangerous combination.
“Don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Vook said, more to himself than to Kara. “It’s like he can’t live in his own skin anymore.” He turned to her. “You all right?”
“Yes. He just startled me,” she said. She rubbed a hand over her hair. Would she be the same in a few years? So angry and hopeless that she wouldn’t be able to stand her mean, miserable life? Because that’s what she’d seen in Harb—the knowledge that he had nothing ahead but a hard life and no chance to make it better.
She shivered. Vook nodded to her and settled under the glowing blanket with the other, smaller children. Four heads there now—Pilo had joined them. Kara slid down to her pack. It was morning, there was light in the upside down boat, but she was still tired from her long day yesterday.
KARA WOKE SUDDENLY and found herself staring into the eyes of a boy about the same age as Osten. A pang of loneliness washed over her, and she drew in a ragged breath.
“You sad?” the boy asked. He reached out a grubby hand and awkwardly patted her hair.
Kara smiled, and he smiled back at her.
“I’m Kara,” she said.
He repeated her name a few times, nodding. “Good name,” he said. “I’m Mole. That’s a good name too.”
“It is?”
“Yep. ’Cause I see real good in the dark.” He gestured around the dim structure. “Like in here. Don’t like outside too much. Least not until night.”
“But a sunny day is a gift from Gyda,” Kara said.
“Hurts my eyes,” Mole said. “You hungry? Vook said to come get you. Pilo’s made soup.” Mole turned and shuffled a few steps. “Come on.” He looked back at her. “Lowell will eat it all if you don’t come now.”
She ros
e and slung her pack over her shoulder, not daring to leave any of her things.
Mole ducked out of the boat, and she followed. It was dusk. The sun had just set, and the sky was streaked with pinks and golds. Vook, Pilo, and a younger girl sat around a small fire. A pot, its bottom blackened from countless fires, sat in the middle of the flames. Pilo stirred the pot with a branch stripped of bark.
“Here she is,” Mole said. He sat down on a flat rock by the fire while Kara stood awkwardly a few paces away.
“Kara,” Vook said. “This here’s Sidra, and you met Pilo last night. We’re just about to eat. Find a mug and get some soup.”
Grateful, Kara retrieved her mug from her pack. She waited until all the others had their own mugs of soup before she dipped into it. She smelled fish, onions, and garlic.
She took a sip. It was good, and she was hungry. Her mug was empty very quickly. Not knowing if there was enough for another helping, she put her mug down and picked up her pack. She had some travel rations still. Her hand closed on the hard edges of a book. She peeked into the bag. Her book! The one Chal had stolen. He’d returned it after all.
“What are you smiling about?” Mole asked.
He tried to look into her pack, but Kara held it closed.
She looked up to see four sets of eyes trained on her. She hesitated, just for a moment, then she drew the book out of her pack. Mika had trusted these children so she would too.
“What is that?” Mole reached a hand out and stroked the cover of the book. “Can you eat it?”
“It’s book,” Pilo said. Her eyes were wide with interest. “I’ve seen one before. Why do you have a book?”
“Mika gave it to me,” Kara said. “It belonged to a friend of his.”
“Mika don’t read so it makes sense he’d let you have it,” Vook said, nodding.
“Mika reads now,” Kara said. She stopped. What if Mika didn’t want anyone to know she could read?
“Mika reads?” Pilo asked. “How?”
“I taught him to read,” Kara said. “On the way here. That was our trade. Reading for a safe trip to Rillidi.”
