Unguilded (25 page)

The food in the garden was almost gone. There were still some oranges and apples, but they’d dug up what they could find of the wild vegetables. Vook had made himself a fishing pole and was anxious to find a place to fish, and Pilo wanted to look beyond the cabin’s garden for berries and mushrooms. For Kara, it was time to search out Santos Nimali. If they wanted to stay in the cabin, she’d need to strike a bargain with him.

“
STAY TOGETHER,” KARA
said as Vook, Pilo, Sidra, and Mole headed out the door, fishing gear and foraging baskets in hand. “If you go past the dock, you can be seen from the house.”

“We’ve been doing this a lot longer than you,” Pilo said. “We know what we’re doing.”

“Sorry, of course.” Kara felt so responsible for the little group that she
had
forgotten that they’d been surviving without her for years. “All right. We’ll meet back here before dark.”

Once they’d gone, Kara stuffed her filled water skin and two oranges into her pack, alongside Santos Nimali’s book.

She’d been surprised to read about her mother in the journal. Santos Nimali had been curious about Arabella Fonti. He’d called her an exceptionally promising student from an unknown strain of magical talent. He’d written of the need to explore her origins. He’d also been aware of Kara, though if he’d known her name he hadn’t written it down. The last year of entries in the journal had been just before Kara turned nine—before the years of failed tests—when she’d still held so much promise.

Kara closed the pack and slung it over her shoulder. And she’d
fulfilled
that promise, though no one had recognized her magical talent.

Nimali also frequently mentioned Valerio Valendi in his journal. He’d been Nimali’s Journeyman for many years, and the older man had written of him proudly, as if Valendi were his son. But she was almost certain that Valendi had caused the most harm to Nimali—much of the mage mist that twined around him was Valendi’s colour.

There could be another Mage with the same colour mage mist, it was impossible to think otherwise, but the connection, the personal relationship between Nimali and Valendi, was there. And cursing someone into madness while allowing sane breaks so they knew their plight, knew they would soon go mad again, that seemed terribly personal.

She could not imagine anything justifying such unbelievable cruelty. It made her more eager to help the mad mage and not just to secure a safe place to live. He’d been wronged, horribly, and she could help.

She stepped into the tangled garden at the rear of the manor house. The house looked much the same as when she’d last seen it—the roof was blackened and caved in on the far wing, and the curtain was still open in the room where she’d confronted Nimali.

She skirted the garden bed, ignoring the onions and peppers, until she stood beside the stonework of the house. Nimali claimed he stayed in the destroyed area of the house, but that had been when he was sane. Even he didn’t know what he did when he was mad.

Kara edged up to a window and peered in. The kitchen was bigger than both rooms of the secret cabin—a huge brick oven with multiple openings made her mouth water at the thought of the hot bread that once had been pulled from it. Marble counters were dull with dust, and a stack of dishes had tipped over and scattered brokenly across the floor. Directly underneath the window she peered through was a basin with two pump handles. The basin looked like it had been dry for a very long time, and she wondered where Santos Nimali got his water. Did he go to the fountain out front? She shivered. If so, then she was lucky he hadn’t found her the night she’d slept under it.

A few steps past the window was a small wooden door. Only a few chips of blue paint remained, and the wood was warped and rotted in places. The door gave way with a dull squeal, and she quickly entered the room, tugging the door closed.

She rubbed her eyes against the dust and inspected the large room. Small patches of pale blue mage mist clung to the edges of the doors and windows. A fly buzzed into the mist by a window and disappeared. She looked at the door she’d entered. The blue mist lined the door frame, and she frowned. The spell hadn’t kept her out. Did it keep pests away from the food and supplies? It would be a good use of magic in a kitchen.

A door that was centered in the wall directly in front of her swung inward onto a short hallway. Two open doorways branched off the hall, and a final closed door seemed to head straight to the front of the house. The first doorway led to a formal dining room. Dusty goblets and plates sat amongst tarnished silverware. Next was a small, sunny room that looked out onto the garden, the compact table and two upholstered chairs obviously meant for more intimate meals.

She eased open the door at the end of the hall. A row of paintings hung on the wall in front of her. She peered at one, recognizing the fountain at the front of the house. Three, four, five paintings and then the wall ended, and sunlight bathed the floor.

Kara peered around the corner and into the main hallway of the manor. She was behind the staircase. The front door was directly across from her. She was about to step into the main entranceway when she heard a noise at the door. She ducked around the corner, out of sight. The door opened, and a rush of fresh air swept in.

“I hate this old place,” a low-pitched male voice said. “And I hate this duty.”

“You say that every time,” a second man said. “But it’s a great honour to serve the former Mage Primus like this.”

“We drop a basket off for him. That’s all. We don’t serve him. Gyda, we don’t even see him.”

“Mage Secundus Valendi’s instructions are to make sure we
don’t
see him. And if the Mage Secundus takes a personal interest in his former Master then we should too.”

Something heavy hit the floor.

“Be careful, you’ll sour the beer.”

“As if the mad mage would even notice.” Something was dragged across the tiles. “There. Let’s go.”

The wind swirled in as the door opened again.

“To think I worked so long and hard to become a Mage, and I end up doing this.” The door slammed shut.

Kara slid down the wall and sat on the cool, marble floor. The food for Nimali was sent by Valerio Valendi? It was mostly his mage mist swirling about the mad mage. Was he trying to help his former Master? That didn’t fit with the man she’d met in Larona.

The house had been quiet for close to an hour before she felt safe enough to creep around the corner.

A large basket sat beside the door that led to the damaged wing. And it crawled with dark grey mage mist. Kara waved the mist away and peered in.

The apples and oranges didn’t tempt her, she’d had her fill of those in the last few days, but there was bread and—Gyda, were those sausages? She picked one up and sniffed, smiling at the garlicky odour. She hadn’t had sausages since she’d left home over four months ago. Gently she put it back into the basket.

“You can have them if you’ll help me.”

Kara whirled to find Santos Nimali staring at her from the doorway to the undamaged part of the house.

“I thought you didn’t go into that wing?” she asked as she backed into the opposite hallway.

“I woke up there,” he said.

He looked tired and so forlorn that she stopped edging away.

“I came looking for you,” Kara said. “I want to trade.”

“You want to trade?” Nimali’s laugh made him seem years younger. “Do you know how to bargain? It’s not a skill taught to Mages.”

“No, but I traveled with an unguilded trader for a while,” Kara said. “I know how it works.”

“What do I have that you want?”

Nimali’s gaze sharpened, and Kara forced herself to keep still.

“You must know that I’ll give you anything within my power to have your help.”

“I know,” Kara said. She paused and raised her eyes to his. “There’s a small cabin on the property. I want it.”

“The cabin,” Nimali said. “You found it.” He turned away, but not before she saw a flash of pain on his face. “It’s very dear to me. Can you do what I want?”

“Yes,” Kara said. “I can undo the spells. Although I’ll undo the good ones as well as bad. And it might take some time.”

“Thank you,” Nimali said. His shoulders sagged, and he relaxed. “If you’ll help me, the cabin is yours.”

He smiled, a little shyly, she thought.

“It will be good to finally have someone living in the cabin,” he said. “And don’t worry about removing any helpful spells—no one who tried to help me made much progress.”

“Good.” She moved over to the basket of food. “Because I already removed the spells that Valerio Valendi had placed on your supplies.”

“The food was spelled?” Nimali asked. “Are you sure it was Valendi?”

She nodded. “The mage mist was his colour, and I overheard the Mages who delivered it say that he had sent them.”

“His colour,” Nimali repeated. “Is that what you see, different colours? How is it you recognize his colour?”

“Each Mage seems to have their own colour of magic,” Kara said. “Of what I call mage mist. And I’ve met Valerio Valendi. He came to my villa with my mother after I failed to find my magic at sixteen.” She hesitated before she added, “My name is Kara. My mother is Arabella Fonti.”

“You’re the young Fonti girl? I often wondered about you.”

“I know,” Kara said. “I read your journal.”

He glared at her, and she looked away.

“I needed to know what sort of man you were before I trusted you. I needed to know if I’d be safe with you.”

“Yes, bad enough I’m mad much of the time,” Nimali said. “I would be even more dangerous if I were mean and corrupt as well.” He looked glanced at the basket of food. “You said you can’t tell if the magic is evil or good,” he said. “Maybe Valendi has been trying to help me all these years?” Nimali shook his head, and the gray-black mage mist twined tighter around him. “I can’t assume that. I can’t assume anything.” He turned back to her. “Except that you can help me. Can we start now?”

Kara nodded. “I’d prefer to be outside.”

SANTOS NIMALI LEANED
against the kitchen wall and closed his eyes. Kara had been trying to untangle one thread of mage mist, but it kept wriggling away.

“I feel it tighten around my temple,” Nimali said. “Is that what you see?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I can make it move, but it refuses to let me cut it or disperse it or whatever it is I do that makes the spell go away.” She poked her hand into the mage mist, and it shrunk away from her. “There must be something keeping it here.” She stared at the strand of mist. “Turn around, please.”

Nimali turned to face the wall. His shadow stretched out along the stone path that ran beside the kitchen window.

“Ah, that might be it,” Kara said. There, near his shoulder, the mage mist seemed to be tied to another strand. This time when she jabbed, it clung to her. She pulled her hand away, and the mist followed in one long trail. Once it was a foot from Nimali, the mage mist thinned until it was gone.

“I felt that,” Nimali said. He looked over his shoulder at her. “My head is different. I think I’ve lost my boat. Have you seen my boat?”

When Nimali finished speaking, he lifted a hand, and green mage mist seeped towards her.

“Santos, are you all right?” Kara waved her hand, and the mage mist dissipated.

“Who are you?” Nimali asked. “What have you done with my boat?”

Abruptly Santos Nimali got up and walked away. Kara edged towards the door into the kitchen, but Santos turned to face her.

“Listen,” he said. Another wisp of green mage mist spread out from his hand. “They’ll be here soon. We have to hide.”

Nimali tried to grab her arm, but she shrugged away from him.

“Come with me!” Santos Nimali, the mad mage, glared at her. Despite the madness in his eyes, he was an imposing figure, one she could easily imagine giving orders to his Journeyman, Valerio Valendi.

Nimali turned away from her again, muttering to himself, and Kara crept closer to the door. She didn’t feel threatened exactly, but neither did she want to stay and cause him more confusion. With one last glance at him, she slipped through the door and into the kitchen.

She hurried through the house to the front door, pausing by the basket of food. One sausage, that was all. She’d earned at least that, hadn’t she? Besides, who knew how long the madness would stay with Nimali. The food might spoil in the meantime.

Oh
. She stopped and stared at the basket of food. Maybe that was what the spell was for. Maybe all Valerio Valendi was doing was keeping the food fresh for his former Master. She exited the house and trotted across the yard towards the cabin.

Is that why Nimali went mad as soon as the spell was removed? Had Valendi’s spell been helping? Had removing it plunged Santos Nimali into madness? Her instincts said no, there was no compassion in Valerio Valendi. He’d sent a spell after her that had killed Mika’s friend, a spell that was supposed to kill her. She had to assume that any spell Valerio Valendi created was harmful.

The little cabin was empty. Kara dropped her pack on the table and wandered over to the kitchen. She put the sausage on the counter and pumped some water into her mug. She’d go to see Santos tomorrow, and every day after that, until she had rid him of the spells. If that made things worse, well, they both knew the risks. The important thing was that he’d agreed to let her have this cabin. He didn’t have to know about the rest of her little group, at least not right now.