Unguilded (21 page)

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.

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 filmed 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.

A big bed, its mattress rolled up to the head board, took up a third of the space. A small table stood beside it, and four chairs were scattered at the other end of the room. A cushioned bench and two comfortable chairs were shoved into the far corner. A big stone fireplace stretched across the wall that was directly behind the kitchen. A few split logs were stacked beside it, but there was no residue of ash in the grate.

Santos Nimali had made this cabin. At least he had used magic on it—his green mage mist was everywhere. But it didn’t look lived in. Had he forgotten about it in his madness? She was willing to take a chance that he had. It was the best, most secure place to live that she could think of—right under the nose of the mad mage, yet not in his sights. And there was magic here, keeping the structure sturdy and whole, and a source of water.

She’d bring Pilo, Vook, Sidra, and Mole here—they’d move the furniture around and make it a real home.

ARABELLA LOOKED UP
from her desk when Annya, her Server, announced the visitor.

“Noula,” Arabella said. She didn’t bother to stand as the other woman bowed.

“You asked to see me, Master Mage?” Noula asked, twisting her hands in her skirt.

Arabella waited until Annya left the room, closing the door behind her, before she put down the paper she was reading.

“Yes, I wanted to see if you were settled.” She’d placed the woman in Castio’s household a few days ago—a favour for a distant relative from her home Villa, she’d said when she’d pleaded for his help. She’d had to hide her amusement when he’d agreed. She’d promised to return the favour of course—and depending on where her interests lay, she might even do it.

“Yes, Donna,” Noula replied. “I’m settled in. But . . . I’m sorry, I’m not actually in Mage Castio’s home. I’m to help school Mage Etta’s children. They’re little, like my Osten.”

“Etta, of course,” Arabella said. She knew who the woman was, but hadn’t realized how close she was to Castio. Unless . . . “And has Castio asked you to keep him informed of Etta’s activities?”

“No, Donna,” Noula paused. “But he did spend last night in her home.”

“Ah, I see. And the children, they are Castio’s?”

“I think so, Donna,” Noula replied. “He seems fond of them.”

“And of Etta as well, no doubt,” Arabella said. She’d ask Valerio if he knew about Etta. On second thought, she’d ask Rorik. No need to give Valerio information. If Rorik already knew this, she could assume Valerio did as well. And if this was news to Rorik, it would be another secret to tie them closer.

“Noula,” Arabella. “I hope that you appreciate everything both Secundus Valendi and I are doing for you.”

“Yes, Donna,” Noula said. “I am so very grateful for your help placing both me and my son.”

“Would you like to visit your son?”

“Oh Donna, that would be beyond my expectations.”

“I will arrange it,” Arabella said. “If you let me know if you see or hear anything unusual.”

“I promise,” Noula said. “Of course I promise. When can I see my son?”

“I’ll let you know in a few days,” Arabella replied. She had to find out where he was. She couldn’t ask Valerio, but Rorik might know.

Noula left, and Arabella returned to the papers she had been studying. She didn’t expect the woman to learn anything important—at least not more important than the fact that Castio had a family—but she wanted Noula to be hers, not Valerio’s.

KARA LEFT FOR
the docks at dusk. And for the first time in a long time, her belly was full. She’d eaten tart apples and carrots from an overgrown vegetable garden. More vegetables—squash, potatoes, and chives—nestled between weeds, and there was evidence of small visitors everywhere. If Vook could catch a rabbit, they’d eat meat, instead of their steady supply of fish.