The Unmage (11 page)

The ferry jerked and slowed, and nervous, Timo looked ahead. Arts Guild Island also glittered with light. Mage lights lined the dock and the street leading from it, and the land gave off its own muted glow of mage mist. Like all islands except Old Rillidi, this too was created by magic. What was on the island, however, was not, and the flickering light of torches cast shadows across the faces of buildings.

Timo had assumed they were heading for Server Guild Island when he’d boarded the ferry but overheard that their destination was Arts Guild. The group of Servers closest to him planned on enjoying themselves for a few hours before heading back at dawn to finish their work preparing for Mage Guild Founders Day.

The crush of Servers pushed towards the front of the ferry, carrying Timo along with them, their excited chattering lifting his mood.

He was here! He was finally off Mage Guild Island. He took a deep breath and felt his shoulders relax.

Arts Guild was the most informal of the guilds, from what Timo knew, although in truth he’d never met an Arts Guildsmen.

Now he planned to lose himself in the crowd visiting Arts Guild Island. Singers, actors, dancers, jugglers, and prostitutes—so he’d overheard—all performed nightly. Guildsmen from all across Tregella came to Arts Guild. Strangers were the norm and rooms could be rented with little explanation required.

TRYING TO LOOK
like he belonged, Timo picked his way through the crush of people. Night had fallen hours ago, and the streets, instead of emptying, were even more crowded. The crowd surged to one side, and nearby voices rose in wonder. Timo automatically looked ahead. In a space between buildings, a trio of tumblers somersaulted through hoops that were ablaze with flame. A woman dove head first through two hoops and hit the ground and rolled. The crowd cheered as she danced back up onto her feet.

“Hey.” Someone tried to drag his pack from his shoulder, and Timo clutched it to his chest. He scanned the crowd but no one seemed to be paying particular attention to him. It was the third time someone had tried to rob him. He settled his pack under his arm after making sure that the flap was tied closed. It was the third time that he’d
noticed
someone trying to rob him. He’d checked his pack earlier—the string he tied the flap closed with had been half undone. Mole would probably have caught the would-be thief, but Timo hadn’t felt a thing. But no one would actually try to steal from Mole, not if they watched him for a few moments. Timo wished he looked as capable and dangerous as Mole—it would save him some trouble.

Besides a few guilders, the pack only contained his clothes and a small journal. But they marked him as a Mage Apprentice, so losing them to a thief could compromise his disguise. He needed to stay dressed as a Server until he reached Old Rillidi. Timo glanced around before quickly muttering a spell. A puff of mage mist settled around his pack. That should keep the thieves away.

Half an hour later he’d left the largest crowds behind him. He studied a small sign above a brightly lit door. He had to assume that the picture of a cot tucked into one corner of the sign, beside the mug of ale, meant that there were rooms to let. He pushed the door open and entered a small vestibule. An older woman with a Server patch on her shirt stood behind a counter. A noisy rumble came from the left, where a door no doubt led to a tavern. Across from the woman was a narrow set of stairs.

“Can I help you?” the woman said. She looked up and smiled. “A fellow Guildsman. Are you looking for a meal or a room?”

“Both,” Timo said. “A private room, if you have one.” He didn’t dare share with anyone in case he said or did something to give himself away.

“A private room?” The woman studied him for a moment, taking in his rough clothes and small pack.

“With a lock,” Timo added. “I’m about to start my Journeyman placement, and my new Master wants me to get a taste of Arts Guild.” He smiled, hoping she didn’t see how nervous he was. “He wants me to experience excellent service.”

The woman nodded. “You’ve come to the right place for excellent service. We’re known for it. And you won’t find a cleaner establishment in all of Tregella. How long are you staying?”

“My Master suggested four days,” Timo said. He untied his pack and reached in and pulled out three guilders. “But he only gave me this much to cover food and lodging.”

The woman leaned over the counter and frowned down at his outstretched palm. She sighed and nodded. “Four nights plus two meals a day,” she said. “It’s not one of my best rooms but it’s big enough for you.”

Timo placed the coins on the counter, and she scooped them up before she reached under the counter and pulled out a few items.

“Here’s the key. And a token for your meals.” She dropped a metal key and a greasy, carved, wooden cylinder on the counter. “Don’t lose them, you won’t get more. The room’s at the top of the second set of stairs.” She nodded her head towards the tavern door. “Best get supper first. Kitchen shuts down when the food’s gone, and it won’t last much longer tonight.”

Timo grabbed the key and the token. “Thank you. I’m sure my stay will be one I remember always.” He nodded and headed for the tavern.

The air inside the tavern smelled of smoke, old grease, and unwashed bodies. He sat at the empty end of a long table, cautiously waving his token at the Server. She set a pitcher of ale down in front of a group of stocky men and came over and stood in front of him.

“All’s we got left is fish stew,” the Server said. “And bread.”

“Thank you,” Timo said. “And an ale, if you please.” As he waited for his meal, he surveyed the other guests, happy enough to have found a place to stay. They were noisy, and he thought there might be a fight or two before the night was over, but no one did more than glance at him. And no one looked like Mage Guild. When his meal arrived, he ate quickly. The stew was at least filling. Not up to Mage Primus Rorik’s standards, but he’d been the most important Mage in Tregella—he could afford the best. Timo could not.

As he passed from the tavern to the stairs, Timo nodded to the Server who’d rented him his room. A mage light lit the second flight of stairs, which ended at a locked door. He fit his key into it and pushed the door inward. The light from the stairs illuminated a small lamp and flint beside the door, and despite Timo’s lack of practice with a flint, the lamp soon sputtered to life.

He closed the door and looked around the tiny room. The narrow bed was tucked under the eaves and a dormer window glowed with the light from the streets. He dropped his pack on the bed and crouched by the window.

The Server had been truthful—the room was clean. And private. He put the key and the token on the window sill and smiled. He doubted she could rent it out to anyone other than an inexperienced Apprentice, though. He paused, his smile faltering. Except he had nothing to compare it with. He’d grown up living with two of the most powerful people in Tregella. He had no idea how other Guildsmen lived or what their homes looked like. Maybe they would consider this small, private room extravagant.

Timo stared out across the rooftops of Arts Guild Island. He would explore the island tomorrow and look for the safest way to Old Rillidi and the protection of his sister. He only hoped that now that Rorik was dead and his mother was blaming
him
he could find a way there.

He frowned. He knew he wasn’t the true cause of Rorik’s death—he would not have lived even if Timo hadn’t interfered. Inigo’s spell was meant to kill him—
had
been killing him. And his mother was right, the only thing Timo’s interference had done was put himself in more danger.

“THAT’S ALL FOR
tonight, Annya,” Arabella said.

“Yes, Secundus.” The Server took the empty tea cup to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Arabella heard the door that led down to the corridors close. She waved a hand, and the lock clicked. It wasn’t quite midnight. Early for her to send Annya away, but Arabella hadn’t had any visitors—didn’t
expect
any visitors—not since Rorik’s death.

And that troubled her.

Her attempts to talk to the Eska girl had been thwarted by Hestor, and a message she was certain was received by Castio had been ignored. She hadn’t bothered to try to contact the rest of council. Inigo controlled them.

She was still Secundus, although no one else seemed to care. The council meeting to discuss Rorik’s death had devolved into an attempt by Inigo to take control of Mage Guild. Arabella had thought she’d retained her power, but she may have been wrong. If so, it could be a costly mistake.

Absently, she removed all of her defensive spells.

She could barricade herself in her workroom—it was the most easily defended room in her house—but to what end? Even if Timo succeeded in reaching Old Rillidi he still had to convince Kara Fonti and Santos Nimali to come to her aid. She wasn’t even certain Timo would even go there, let alone plead on her behalf.

She knew what she would do. She would stay as far away from the political upheavals of Mage Guild as possible. But perhaps that’s why she was here, alone. She’d never risked herself for anyone—not even her children.

She didn’t expect rescue and her options were exhausted.

She might be able to reach Old Rillidi herself. She grimaced. She would not run away from the guild she’d given her life and talents to. Nor would she beg those she’d tried to harm for a safe haven. She would accept their help to remain in control of Mage Guild, but she would not become an outcast.

No, she would wait for Inigo or whatever lackey he sent to kill her and know that she was beaten not by Inigo, but by herself. She could see the ways she had failed—but they were
her
failures, not someone else’s successes.

Arabella sighed and rubbed her hand along the worn fabric of the chair. It was her favourite place to sit. She didn’t quite mind dying in it, if it came to that.

It was almost dawn when they came. Hestor entered first—from the door that led down to the dock.

“I see Inigo has sent you to take the first blow,” she said. She lit a mage light, and it flared to life overhead. Hestor stopped mid-stride, his face a mask of fear. She chuckled. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “What would be the point? But another might have.”

“He’s shielded,” Inigo said. He stepped out from behind the Journeyman. “I would not let anything happen to him.”

“Ah, Inigo, surely you don’t have uses for a Mage who believes
that
.” Arabella smoothed a hand over her hair. “No one is safe, not in Mage Guild. Come, sit, I will not make this difficult. You’ve won—there is no need to be uncivil.”

“I want the boy,” Inigo said. He made some hand motions before he sat down opposite her.

“I have no dangerous spells lying in wait,” Arabella said. “That is your method, not mine. Rorik said you wanted Timo dead—I should have listened to him, shouldn’t I?”

“He
should
be dead,” Inigo said. He glanced at Hestor, a scowl on his face. “We’ve been trying for years.”

Arabella sighed. “If my Journeyman had failed so miserably for so long they would not have my trust.” Hestor’s face grew red, and she smiled.

“He has his uses,” Inigo said.

“Don’t we all,” Arabella murmured.

“Except you.” Inigo leaned over and smiled. “I no longer have any use for you, Mage Guild Secundus. Just as I no longer had any use for Rorik.”

“I’m sure that at some point you’ll no longer have a use for Hestor either,” Arabella said. The door to the docks opened again, and she swiveled her head to see Faron step into her hallway. “Ah, there we are. Secundus to your Primus. Where does Hestor fit in, Inigo? I’m sure we’re all wondering.”

“He knows his place,” Inigo said. “Now tell me where the boy is.”

“I don’t know,” Arabella said. “You can try another truth spell on me.” She smiled when Inigo glared at her. “Yes. I know what you’ve been doing. A word of caution, Faron. Inigo feels it appropriate to use magic to force the Secundus to tell him the truth.”

“I don’t believe you,” Inigo said. “You know where he is.”

“Truly I don’t.” She paused and watched his anger grow. “I do know where I told him to go.”

“Where is that?” he demanded.

“Old Rillidi. I told him to join his sister on Old Rillidi.”

“You lie,” Inigo said. “She hates you.”

Arabella’s laugh startled even her. She was going to die—she hadn’t expected to have anything to laugh about.

“Oh Inigo, you think you know all my secrets but I think you’ve overlooked a few.”

“I know you were nobody until you bedded Valendi,” Inigo said. “I know you took my rightful place as Secundus when he died. Because you were carrying his child.”

“Rorik chose me because he trusted me, as did Valerio,” Arabella countered. “I think Rorik would have died years ago if he had selected you—because you need to be Primus.”

“I deserve to be Primus!” Inigo yelled. “I’m the only one who deserves it.”