The Unmage (6 page)

“We will return,” the clammer said, and the whole group silently rose to their feet and headed off into the night.

Kara slumped against Reo.

“I hate that,” she said softly.

“I know,” he replied. “But it’s for the best. We can’t afford to have Mage Guild suspect that some unguilded have traces of magic. No one would be safe.”

“Including Pilo. I just wish there was another way, a way that didn’t involve me.” She always felt tainted after draining the clammers of their magic. She knew it made her family and friends safer, and she herself never actually touched their mage mist, but it left a stain, somehow. She glanced at the patch of lawn where the magic had pooled. There wasn’t a trace of magic left but she knew she’d avoid this area for a few days just the same.

“Let’s get the children and go home,” Reo said.

Kara nodded and let him lead her into the kitchen.

Among the warmth and smiles of her family, she felt some of the taint wear off.

TIMO SAT DOWN
at his work table and winced as he rubbed his hand along the bridge of his nose. Not broken, at least not this time, but there would be a bruise.

He’d been dodging attacks like this last one for the past year and a half, ever since he’d persuaded Barra and Hestor to take him to the Hall of Records. He knew who had set this spell—he always knew—that was one of the hardest things about his unmagic. He knew whose magic made him fall, or spill ink on his notebook, or interfered with his own spell casting. He knew, but had to pretend he didn’t. No retaliation, no dark looks sent the offender’s way, nothing that would reveal that he knew who was to blame. The only thing worse was deliberately walking into the traps.

He’d become very good at determining not just whether a spell was meant to harm or humiliate, but how much power was behind it. It had taken one bad fall, one fall that had been meant to kill him—that
would have
killed him if his own magic hadn’t been so strong and he hadn’t practiced relocating so diligently—for him to realize that his life depended on knowing which spells to avoid. He’d spent every waking hour for a month on that task, but now he could read spells with a single glance. After he’d mastered that, he’d concentrated on learning an invisibility spell. It was advanced—far beyond most Apprentices’ skills. If they couldn’t see him coming they wouldn’t set a trap in the first place. He’d startled more than one person by turning up in the library when they’d been watching for him.

“They’re a despicable lot.”

Timo froze. Then he let his breath out slowly and readied a spell, mage mist wrapped around his fists. Slowly he turned in the direction the voice had come from, a voice he didn’t recognize.

“Who are you?” he asked. There, in the corner, was something moving? He peered into the darkness, cursing himself for not bothering with a light. But he’d been humiliated enough for one day. There’d been no need to see the bruise he knew was forming. Eventually he made out the faint glow of mage mist. Grass green, a colour he’d seen once before.

“Santos?” he whispered.

“Hah!” came the reply. “Kara said you were the same as her.”

A shadow detached itself from the corner, green mage mist softly weaving around the figure. A boy, no, a man—shorter than Timo but half a dozen years older than him—stopped in the middle of the room, his stance relaxed and his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Somehow that didn’t make Timo feel any less nervous. He’d seen someone move like that before, with dangerous, calculated, barely leashed energy.

“I’m Mole,” said the figure. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He frowned. “Unlike them burro-spawned brats you study with.”

“You know Reo,” Timo blurted, then wished he hadn’t when the man, Mole, narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest.

“What have you heard?”

“Nothing . . .” Timo stammered. Mole
seemed
calm but the menace in his voice said otherwise. “I’ve never heard of you . . . it’s just . . . you move like him.”

“You only met him once?” Mole’s tone was skeptical but he let his hands drop to his sides again. They were fisted though, Timo noticed, so he wasn’t really at ease.

Mole’s gaze followed Timo’s, and he laughed and loosened his fists. “Sure, sure, you’d notice a thing like that.” Mole’s lips tightened. “Your life depends on it.”

“What have
you
heard?” Timo asked. He’d been so careful to keep up the pretence of being a fumbling, inept Apprentice with little magic and less intelligence. Who might know the truth?

“Not what I’ve heard,” Mole said. “What I’ve seen.” He padded over to the chair in front of Timo’s work table and sat down across from him. “The stumbles, the ruined books and clothes, always walking into tables and doors.” Mole shook his head. “Don’t worry, none of them suspect. I only know because I’m trained, like you guessed, by Reo.” Mole leaned back in his chair and frowned. “But that older one with the pinched face?”

“Hestor,” Timo said. There was only one Journeyman who still set traps for him.

“Yeah, him. He’s getting frustrated. He wanted you dead long ago and he doesn’t know why it hasn’t happened.”

“I was hoping he’d start to doubt his own skills,” Timo said.

Mole grunted then laughed. “That’s working then.” Mole nodded. “And likely part of why he’s so furious. Which makes him unpredictable.”

“I know,” Timo said. He slumped in his chair, defeated.

“No,” Mole said quietly. “I don’t think you do.”

Timo looked up and met Mole’s eyes, and he felt the blood drain from his face. “That’s why you’re here,” he whispered. “He’s done something, or he’s planning something.”

“Yes.” Mole nodded. “He’s trying to contract an Assassin.” He put his crossed feet up on the corner of the work table.

“Gyda,” Timo said. “How do I outsmart an Assassin?” He tugged his notebook from underneath Mole’s soft-soled boots. He’d run—would Mole take him to Old Rillidi? He eyed him. He only had the man’s word that he was a friend of Kara’s and Reo’s. For all he knew, Mole
was
the Assassin Hestor hired to kill him.

“You don’t. But you don’t have to.” Mole paused. “I can kill him for you if you want,” he added softly, so softly that Timo almost missed it.

“Hestor? I, no, no I don’t want that.” Timo looked at Mole. He was serious.

Did he want Hestor dead? Timo wouldn’t mourn Hestor’s death, but he didn’t want it on his conscience. It was too much like something his father would do. But he didn’t think Mole would offer to kill Hestor if he’d been hired by him. Mole might be who he said he was. But he was still a stranger to Timo.

“No?” Mole seemed almost disappointed. “Your decision. But you don’t have to worry about Assassins. None will take this contract. Warrior Guild has an arrangement with Kara and Reo. They notified them the minute they realized that you were the target.” Mole shrugged. “Not exactly Guild Law but they want what Kara offers them.”

“Which is?”

“She visits Warrior Guild Island once a month to clear out any spells Mage Guild has cast.” Mole smiled. “There’s always a few.”

“There would be,” Timo agreed. “Mage Guild hates Warrior Guild. Did Kara send you?” Maybe he
could
leave with Mole.

“Yes,” Mole said. He dropped his feet to the ground and leaned over the table. “After you met, Kara and Reo asked me to keep an eye on you. To keep you safe.”

“What?” This Assassin had been trailing him, spying on him, for close to two years? “How?” As unnerving as it was to think of being spied on for so long, Timo was a little relieved. He hadn’t been as alone as he’d thought—his sister had been trying to look out for him.

“It wasn’t hard.” Mole ran a hand down the front of his shirt. “Santos gives me a little keep away spell, and you magic wielders think so highly of your power that you forget that there are other ways to do things.”

“Like what?”

“Unhappy people are often willing to look the other way. Server Guildsmen are unhappy, but the Mage Guildsmen who have little or no magic? They are miserable.”

“You’ve been spying on me,” Timo said. “Did you learn anything?” How many of his secrets did Mole know? Could he trust him—and Kara—with them? Did he have a choice?

“Yes.” Mole’s tone was serious. “I’m impressed. You’ve managed to avoid serious injury while letting minor spells hurt you.” He gestured towards Timo’s bruised face. “Like today. You get hurt just enough that no one suspects you know what’s happening or that you can do anything about it.”

“I’ve managed to stay alive,” Timo said. “Good for me.”

“Yes, good for you,” Mole said. “But I don’t understand what you’re waiting for, why don’t you leave?”

“I’m only half-trained and am not yet an adult.” Timo dropped his eyes to the desk. “I would be considered a dangerous runaway.”

Mole shrugged. “You’d be safe on Old Rillidi.”

“Would I?” To Timo it seemed far too close to Mage Guild Island for safety—especially if he ran away. Would his mother try to kill him the same way she’d tried to kill her daughter?

“Kara has been safe there for years,” Mole said. “It can’t be more dangerous than staying here.”

“I suppose,” Timo said. He met Mole’s gaze. He seemed sincere, but Timo would expect an Assassin to lie convincingly.

“Every month Kara and Santos request that Mage Guild allow you to visit.”

“They do?” Timo asked. “I assumed they didn’t want to anger Mage Guild and were waiting for me to turn sixteen.” He didn’t want to be a Mage Guild runaway. They would never stop trying to kill him.

Mole snorted. “Kara angers Mage Guild just by being alive. If they can get you to Old Rillidi returning here would be optional.”

“I didn’t know,” Timo said and frowned. “My mother kept this from me.”

“Sure, sure,” Mole said. “But she’s also been keeping you alive.”

“She has?”

“You study a lot,” Mole said and smiled.

“So?”

“When you’re studying I go looking for more . . . interesting things to watch.”

“You spy on my mother?” Timo asked. Then his curiosity overcame his surprise. “What does she do?”

“Mostly tries to control council,” Mole replied. “But none of them trust each other, and they especially don’t trust Arabella Fonti. Not with her daughter sheltering on Old Rillidi and Mage Guild unable to kill her after years of trying.” Mole’s smile was grim. “Then there’s you.”

Timo forced his hands flat on the table, hoping they wouldn’t shake and betray his fear. “Do they know?” He looked up and met Mole’s serious gaze. “That I’m like Kara?” If the council knew he had unmagic he wouldn’t live long. He wouldn’t be dodging traps and tricks set by Apprentices and Journeymen—he’d be dealing with deadly spells created by powerful and experienced Master Mages.

“No, thanks to your mother,” Mole said. “They’ve used spells on her to make her tell them the truth. She doesn’t know. She suspects but she doesn’t
know
.”

“She never
wanted
to know,” Timo said. He dropped his gaze to his hands. She and Rorik had made it clear that he was never to mention if he had anything like his sister’s talents. And he hadn’t. But the council had used magic on the Secundus. That frightened him.

“Smart,” Mole said, and Timo looked up in surprise. “She made sure she could pass their tests. And you’ve helped,” Mole continued. “Council argues about you. They know about the magical pranks—some of them encourage them. But because you don’t avoid all the traps, and often are hurt by them, the majority on council believe that even if you are like your sister, your magic is so weak that you can’t affect the spells.”

“You said the majority,” Timo said. How by Gyda’s star had Mole managed to listen in on the Mage Guild Council? “Who doesn’t believe it?”

“Inigo,” Mole said.

“Of course,” Timo said. “He’s behind Hestor’s request.”

“Yes,” Mole agreed. “A worm like Hestor wouldn’t have the courage to contact Warrior Guild on his own. Inigo doesn’t believe you’re what you seem to be.”

“He cursed Rorik,” Timo whispered. “Kara removed it.”

Mole nodded. “I’m not surprised. He’s ambitious. He’s very obvious about that in council. And he hates that your mother—a woman—is Secundus over him. Blames your father for that.”

“Is he to blame?” Timo asked.

“Probably,” Timo said. “Rorik too.”

“Rorik?” Timo asked, surprised. Rorik always followed his mother’s direction—but she wasn’t the first Secundus Rorik had appointed. Had Valerio Valendi engineered Rorik’s ascendancy to Primus? He
had
cursed Santos, the previous Primus.

“Santos trusted Valendi,” Mole said. “But the council at the time was divided—he felt he couldn’t appoint him Secundus. Rorik was Valendi’s suggestion.”

“My father cursed Santos and had Rorik appoint him Secundus,” Timo said. Even after decades as Primus, Rorik was weak. If Valerio Valendi had helped him become Primus he would have done whatever was asked of him. Including ignoring the sudden madness of the previous Primus. Now Rorik took direction from his mother. He leaned his head on his hand and sighed. “Knowing why Inigo hates me doesn’t help me decide what to do.”