Unguilded

by Jane Glatt

  She opened a door onto a room that was mostly intact. There was a dank smell, and the walls had water marks, but she found very little of interest anywhere. The next room she checked was a mess. Only half of the ceiling remained, and timbers and tiles had fallen from the second floor into this one. A mattress, which must have come from the room above, lay in the middle of the floor. A heap of dark rags and bedding was piled high in the corner nearest to her.

  And the room crawled with mage mist. The other two rooms she’d searched had been clear, but here it was everywhere. She glanced around nervously. Was this a room the mad mage frequented, or was the mage mist here because of all the damage?

  Cautiously, she walked around. Light green mist ebbed away from her, so thick and dense in places that she could barely see the tiles of the floor. She drew the curtains on one window and felt better when daylight spilled into the room.

  She wandered to the corner that was piled high with rags. Here, black and dark gray mage mist swirled and twined. Every once in a while a few lighter colours, including the light green that blanketed the rest of the room, were visible in the writhing mass of mist. Something about this mist was familiar. She leaned toward the mist, her hand outstretched. Then the heap of rags moved.

  “Gyda!” Kara backed away from it. The rags moved again, and then, incredibly, through the mage mist she saw two blue eyes staring out at her. The mad mage! She started to run, but her pack tugged her backwards, hard. He’d grabbed her! She struggled to slip her pack from her shoulders and turned towards her attacker.

  Except he hadn’t grabbed her at all. The mad mage continued to stare at her with sad eyes filled with pain and despair. She gripped her pack to leave again, but it tugged her towards the mage. She opened the pack and found Santos Nimali’s journal alight with the same green mage mist that filled the room. She pulled the book out of her pack and heard a grunt of surprise.

  “Mine,” the Mage said. He reached a hand out, and a strand of mage mist shot towards her. His mouth opened in horror. “No,” he cried. “No.” The despair in his voice apparent.

  But the green mist forked around her. It hit the door, sparking and sizzling as it charred the wood.

  “You’re not hurt,” the Mage said.

  He shifted and stood up, mage mist and dirty rags swirling around him.

  “No.” She shuddered. “What was that?”

  “I can’t control my magic,” the mad mage replied. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else. You must leave.”

  “That was a spell?” Kara asked. He could confirm that what she saw, that mage mist, was magic.

  “That was a spell,” the mad mage agreed. A brief spurt of green rushed out of his mouth and floated up two floors and out the gaping hole in the roof. He looked away, careful not to point in her direction. “Where did you get my book?”

  “Your book?” Kara held the journal up. Mage mist crawled all over it, disturbed only where her hand touched it. Without thinking, she brushed the mist off the book, and it stopped tugging her toward the mage. “Then you’re Santos Nimali.”

  “I was once,” was the sad reply. “Now I’m simply the mad mage.”

  “You don’t seem mad to me.” He seemed quite lucid. She felt sorry for him.

  “It wasn’t enough for me to be mad,” he said and sighed. “I had to realize my plight and not be able to do anything about it.” He looked at her sharply. “You can read. Did Mage Guild send you?”

  “No,” Kara said. “I’m from the docks. I got lost and ended up over here. I thought I’d see if there was anything useful.”

  “Ah, so you were going to steal from me.”

  “No, I . . .” Kara stopped. “Well yes, all right. But I didn’t think you’d miss anything I found. That’s why I explored the damaged part of the house.”

  “Damaged.” The Mage laughed, a sharp bitter sound. “By me. I don’t remember doing it. Perhaps I passed gas, and a spell burst forth and tore the roof off. Or maybe I did it on purpose during one of my mad periods. I’ll never know.”

  Santos Nimali, the mad mage, took a few steps towards her. There was a thick cloud of dark grey mage mist obscuring his face, and frustrated, Kara swept a hand out. A rope of mist shrank from her and dissipated. Now she had a view of a beaked nose and bushy white brows above startled blue eyes.

  “What did you just do?” Santos asked. He moved closer and peered into her face. “Just now, with your hand. Tell me!”

  Kara stepped back, unnerved by intensity in his eyes. Now he looked the part of a Primus of Mage Guild, now he looked like the most powerful man in Tregella. “I, uh,” she paused. How to explain? “I just wanted to see your face.”

  “And you couldn’t before?” he asked. “Why? What do you see when you look at me?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied nervously. This Santos Nimali frightened her. She’d rather deal with the madness. She tucked his journal into her pack and took another step backwards. She was only three steps away from the door. He was an old man, she could outrun him.

  Santos raised a hand and pointed it right at her.

  “Stop right now, and I won’t hurt you,” he said.

  She took another step away from him. He clenched his raised fist and pursed his lips.

  “Stay there,” he said. He opened his fist, and a stream of green flowed towards her.

  Kara stared at the mist as it circled her feet. It cinched tighter until she stood inside a ring of green mage mist that was about knee high. She looked behind. Two more steps to the door. She stepped over the mist. Eyes forward again, she met the wondering gaze of Santos.

  “Can you see the spell?” he whispered.

  She took the final step backwards, then pulled the door open and ducked through it.

  “Wait!”

  She heard him call out, but she was already halfway down the hall. Santos sane was a dangerous man, she didn’t want to stay and see what changes insanity brought.

  She was out the front door a few moments later, running down the curved, rutted lane past the fountain and out over the unkempt lawn. When she looked behind her, there were no sign of Santos Nimali, no signs of pursuit.

  She retraced her steps to the first fountain. Thankfully Harb was gone. She dipped a hand into the stream of fresh water and drank before she refilled her water skin.

  The mad mage and Santos Nimali were one and the same. She studied words that edged the fountain. Santos Nimali owned Old Rillidi—the whole island belonged to that mad, old man. No wonder there was so much chaos and lawlessness here. He was dangerous—he’d tried to use magic on her. It hadn’t affected her, but he had sent a spell her way—a spell meant to capture her.

  But now she knew for certain that mage mist was magic—and each mage had a different colour mist.

  Santos Nimali’s spells were grass green, like most of the mage mist she’d seen on Old Rillidi. Kara slumped over her pack, feeling the square shape of Santos Nimali’s journal.

  Now what she’d seen on her journey to Rillidi made sense. The mist that had followed her along the road and the mist that had clung to the body of Terach—they were spells. And they were the same colour as the mist that surrounded Valerio Valendi—a dark grey that was almost black. He’d sent a spell to kill her, but it had killed Terach—another Mage Guild runaway.

  And her mother had expected Valerio Valendi to kill her—her problem—a child who had no magic.

  Except that she did have magic. Maybe she couldn’t do magic, but she could see it. And undo it. That’s what she’d done to Nimali’s journal, that’s what she’d done to Nimali’s face. She’d waved her hand and dispersed the spell. Too excited to sit, Kara paced around the fountain.

  What if she could undo magic? Could she find work? Could she join a guild? Not Mage Guild, never that. She was dead to them, and she needed to stay that way. But what about another guild?

  She sat down on the edge of the fountain. There must be another guild who would want someone who could undo magi
c, who could use her against Mage Guild. One that would never tell her secret—Mage Guild would never let her live if they found out about her talent,

  Would she be willing to become a tool in order to gain the safety and protection of a guild? Not for herself, but for Vook and the others, yes. They had no chance at a real future, and she couldn’t bear to watch Vook turn into Harb, a mean, angry youth with no hope. Yes, she would become a weapon if that was required. She would do that, for the others.

  According to Mika, Warrior Guild had Assassins—they would want her. But could she approach them and ask them if they could use her? Was she willing to deal with Assassins?

  She sat down. She couldn’t worry about that, not yet, not when she didn’t understand her abilities. She’d need to figure out exactly what she could and couldn’t do before she even considered offering her services to anyone, including Warrior Guild. Especially Warrior Guild.

  Santos Nimali had asked her if she could see the spell. Did he know about mage gifts like hers? Should she trust him? She pulled his journal from her pack. She’d read about him—his words, his thoughts, his goals—before she decided if she could trust him, if she wanted to help him. Because she had the ability to undo the spells that surrounded him. He knew. That’s why he’d tried to stop her.

  What had he said to her? That it wasn’t enough to be mad, he had to realize his plight and understand his own inability to change things. A terrible reality for a man who at one time was the most powerful person in all Tregella. And his madness was deliberate—someone had used magic to make him mad.

  She sucked in her breath—she knew who. The mage mist had been familiar. The dark grey that twined around him and obscured his head and face was the colour of Mage Secundus Valerio Valendi’s magic.

  Perhaps the journal would tell her why Valerio Valendi had cursed the Mage Primus into madness. She opened it to the first page and leaned over the book.

  Chapter twelve

  HER STOMACH GROWLED as she squinted at the spidery script. She’d read all day, desperate to determine how dangerous the mad mage was. The moon was a sliver but the faint light of the mage mist that circled the fountain was enough for her to read by. A sound from the other side of the fountain startled her, and she almost dropped the book into the water.

  Two yellow eyes peered at her from across the fountain—a cat. It sat on the edge of the lower basin and stared at her, its tail swishing angrily. Eventually it leaned in and licked at the stream of water that flowed from the upper bowl. Finished, it sat on its haunches and watched her. After a moment, it began to groom itself. Kara stared as the pink tongue lapped the grey fur, over and over again. With a trill, the cat jumped off the edge of the fountain and disappeared into the night.

  Were there more animals—dangerous animals—out there? The fence at the docks kept them so safe that she’d never had to worry about it.

  Water on the island was scarce. That’s why Harb and Lowel came here for it, why they could trade it to the clammers for time with their women. Animals had the same limited options.

  Had she waited too long? Was it too dark to find her way to the docks?

  She put the book in her pack before following the path to the house.

  The manor was dark except for the trails of mage mist that swirled from the base of the fountain to the door. It cast an eerie glow over the shadowed destruction, and she wondered where Nimali was—and whether he was still sane or had descended into madness.

  It would be safer to wait for dawn to search for the shore line. She might have to go through the house, and she didn’t want to come across the mad mage in the dark.

  Kara sat down with the fountain between her and the house. The mage mist—the magic spells—simply flowed around her. The spells must have been set to keep people away from the house. They had kept Harb from reaching her so she hoped they kept animals away too.

  She lay down and pillowed her head on her pack. It was closer to the house than she liked, but this was the safest place she could think of. The mad mage didn’t want her hurt, he wanted her help. And if his mind was gone, well, she’d have to trust that her talent would keep her safe from his uncontrolled magic.

  KARA ROLLED OVER and tucked her hand up by her chin. Her fingers scraped dirt, and her cheek butted up against something hard and unyielding in her pack. Her mug. She shifted her head until her cheek rested on something softer and tried to settle back into sleep.

  The wind picked up, sending a spattering of water drops onto her head and face, and she opened her eyes and sat up. The base of the fountain was directly in front of her, and beyond it, beyond the roiling mage mist, was the door to the house.

  The sun was low—it must be early morning. Her stomach clenched—a reminder that she hadn’t eaten for a while. She rummaged in her pack and brought out the chipped porcelain mug. Two mugfuls of water from the fountain didn’t ease her hunger, but at least she could think of something other than food.

  Kara put the mug into her pack and walked through the mage mist. In case Santos Nimali was watching, she stayed as far away from the windows as possible as she circled the intact wing of the house to the garden.

  She followed the crash of waves to the shoreline. A crumbled boathouse stood sentinel over pilings that stretched out into the bay. A few stray planks were all that was left of the deck, and no overturned boats were conveniently beached and ready for occupation. The water of the bay was a blue-green, and there was a cool breeze. No shelter, although it might be a good fishing spot for Vook. She glanced back—it might be too close to the house, though.

  She skirted along the edge of the grounds as far from the house as the tangled shrubs and bushes allowed. A back door, probably to the kitchen, led out onto a bedraggled garden. Even from where she stood, she recognized peppers and the trailing vines of grapes. There were even some mountain berries growing wild beside the house. If they dared, they could replace some of what they’d be forced to leave behind in Pilo’s garden. With winter approaching, they had to gather as much food as they could.

  The damage to the house looked even more extensive from here. Just before she drew even with the worst of the destruction, she stopped and crouched low beside a shrub.

  The large windows of the room where she’d found Santos Nimali face directly out here. She wished she’d never opened the curtains, but if she hadn’t she might never have seen the mad mage—she might have stayed in the house and even now would be his captive.

  Kara returned to the boat house and followed the shore away from the house. Eventually she’d find the docks and bring Vook and the rest of them here. She didn’t want to think about not being able to stay here. Trusting Harb and the clammers was not an option, nor could she just leave the rest of them to that fate. So this had to become their safe haven.

  It was so well hidden behind a thicket of willow trees and brambles and—thank Gyda—an orange tree, that she almost missed it.

  It was the oranges that drew her. Birds had been at them, and the sweet, citrus scent on the wind made her mouth water. She grabbed the first whole orange she saw and tore into it, letting the sticky juice run down her chin. The orange was gone in moments, and she opened her eyes to search for another. And there, through the branches, was what she’d been looking for, more than what she’d hoped for—a cabin.

  It was small, one room, maybe two, but it was intact. The dark green paint wasn’t peeling, the roof didn’t sag, and no shingles were missing. It blended in with the trees and foliage perfectly.

  A very fine mage mist ghosted around the structure—grass green mist. Did the spell keep people out, or did it keep the structure sound? The rear and sides of the cabin had no windows, so she crept to the front, the side that faced the bay. A small door was set into the left corner, dwarfed by a large clear window that covered most of the front of the structure.

  Kara peered in. A layer of dust covered the floor even though the window itself sparkled as if freshly scrubbed. More mage mist filme
d across it, possibly the reason the window was unbroken and clean.

  She tapped on the window, and a bird cried out from a nearby tree, but nothing moved inside. She edged over to the door and gently pushed it inward. Dusty air puffed out past her, and she wrinkled her nose. The cabin hadn’t been aired in ages—no one had been here for a very long time. She toed the dust on the floor in front of the door. It might even be years since anyone had been inside.

  Excited and nervous, she entered the cabin, leaving the door wide open. Sunlight spilled in, illuminating the floor tiles. She squinted to see through the dust motes that floated in the sunbeams—the floor had a faint pattern—squares inset with flowers—and a small kitchen ran along half of the rear wall. There was an open hearth for cooking, and was that a pump? She kicked up dust in her haste to get to it and coughed. More green mage mist swirled around the pump. She pulled on the handle and grinned when clear water began to flow from the spout into the basin below it.

  “Gyda bless you, Santos Nimali,” she whispered. Her own source of water on an island where it was the most precious thing to have and the most dangerous thing to get!

  She pulled her chipped mug from her pack and filled it. The water was cool and sweet when she tasted it. They wouldn’t even need Harb, not that she would allow him in here.

  Except for a wooden bench that was pushed up against the far wall, the room was bare of furniture. Kara paused in front of the window. It was a spectacular view and no doubt why the cabin had been built. Through the trees she could see a rocky shoreline and beyond that, the clear blue of Pontus Bay. In the distance was another island. She could see some buildings at the edge of the land and the movement of people as they carried on with their lives.

  She put her mug on the counter by the pump and opened a cupboard door at the end of the counter.

  It wasn’t a cupboard at all; it was a separate sleeping chamber. Nearly as big as the main room, this one had furniture. In fact, it had all the furniture for the whole cabin.