The Unmage (3 page)

What’s more, he owned the island of Old Rillidi. He was the only Guildsman in all of Tregella who didn’t have to rely on the Guilds, any Guild, for the place he called home.

Timo’s old room was where he’d lived until he was apprenticed but it was not his home. He hadn’t even spent a single night here since he’d moved to Rorik’s over six years ago. A move his mother had arranged, just as she and Rorik controlled his education. But he had a right to see the Mage Guild records.

He stood up, pushed the chair against the wall and lifted his right hand, watching as the soft mauve mist collected around his wrist.

He would learn what he could from Rorik—he was duty bound to teach Timo, after all. But Timo vowed to do everything he could to learn what Rorik
wouldn’t
teach him. Things he believed were beyond Timo’s power and skill level, because just like unmagic, his mother and Rorik didn’t want to know he had strong magic.

He concentrated, and the mist spiralled out from him towards the chair. There was a small puff of mage mist and the chair disappeared. A second puff and the chair re-appeared in the centre of the room. He grinned. The chair was much bigger than the stone Rorik had given him to practice relocating with, but the stone hadn’t seemed like any effort at all. Even the chair hadn’t taxed him. Timo eyed the bed, letting the power build and curl around his wrist again. He’d play with the stone later and he’d use that when Rorik tested him, but for now, he wanted a challenge.

“
YOU’VE BEEN TOO
lenient on him.” Arabella glared at Rorik. Annya had left, closing the door behind her. A steaming cup of tea sat ignored beside her chair. “I do not like the insolence Timo demonstrated today. You need to drive that out of him, I don’t care how.”

“He needs to ask questions,” Rorik replied. “I need him to trust me if I’m to teach him the magic he needs.”

“But not about his father,” Arabella replied. “He can learn all he needs to know about Valerio Valendi from me!”

“Can he?” Rorik asked. “You knew the man for a brief time. I knew him for years. I knew him when he
was
Santos Nimali’s Apprentice.”

“Are you implying that you knew the father of my child better than I did?” Rorik may have the title of Primus but they both knew who kept the council in check.

“Not better,” Rorik said quickly. “But in a different light.” He touched a hand to his head. “It’s probable that he cursed Santos.”

“I don’t care,” Arabella replied. “As I told Timo, if he did, he would have had good reason to. You are not to tell him anything.” She was fairly certain that Valerio
had
cursed Santos—she was only sorry that the old Mage was no longer mad. What had that witch she’d given birth to done to him?

“All right,” Rorik agreed. “But surely he can see the records now. Santos was right about that—six years is far too long to keep the boy away from them.”

“No! I forbid it.”

“He is my Apprentice,” Rorik replied. “I am the one who decides on his training.”

“But he is my son.” Arabella stared at Rorik until he looked away. She smoothed her hands along her skirt. “Now. We must not tell anyone about our meeting. No one must find out that Santos is no longer insane.” She wished she’d known just how lucid the man was and had come prepared with her own spells to use on him. She would never again get close enough to him to curse him. Although . . . would the woman have seen any spell she’d cast? That was what she’d claimed: she could see spells and determine their intent. Once Timo was her Journeyman, she would see if he had some of the same talents. But not until then. She did not want Rorik to control her son’s other abilities. They would be hers to use—and she would.

“It is not in my best interests to tell,” Rorik assured her.

“Not if you want to remain Primus,” Arabella agreed. “Make sure Timo doesn’t mention this to anyone. Can you at least do that? We can’t have anyone on council insisting Santos take up his duties.”

“Timo has no friends to tell,” Rorik replied. “Besides, telling would not be in his best interests either.”

“How do you mean?”

“If I’m no longer Primus then you’re no longer Secundus. Any protection he has because of that, he will lose.” Rorik paused. “Although he would be Apprentice to the Secundus—me.”

Arabella pasted a smile on her face and pretended that Rorik hadn’t just threatened her. But it was true. If Santos was to resume his responsibilities as Primus, then Rorik would become Secundus. And she would become just another council member—unprotected and vulnerable to attack. She and Rorik would have to make sure that never happened.

KARA STUDIED THE
mage lights that dotted the underside of Mage Guild Island and shivered. She knew the island wouldn’t fall on her, knew that it had been kept aloft for years—decades—by the myriad spells that wisped around it, but she still felt in danger. The small boat parted the water silently, as silently as Kara parted the mage mist that swirled around.

“They haven’t sent any spells after us,” Kara said, turning around to face Reo and Santos.

Reo nodded before he resumed scanning the small docks they passed. He wouldn’t ease off until they were on Old Rillidi, back behind their barriers—both magical and non-magical. Even then she knew he wouldn’t feel completely safe. A result of his early training, he’d told her years ago. A relaxed Assassin was a dead Assassin and he had too much to lose now that he had her and their children.

“I didn’t expect it,” Santos said. “But it’s better to be sure.” He flung his right hand out and grass green mist surrounded the small boat. Santos turned to face her.

“He looks like you,” the old man said.

“Do you think so?” Kara asked. “I thought he looked like Arabella.”

“Yes,” Santos replied. “And so do you.”

“Already fourteen and I only now get to meet him,” Kara said. “I hate her for that.”

“Only for that?” Reo asked. “She tried to hire me to kill you, and when I refused, she tried to kill us both, and you hate her for keeping you from your brother?”

Kara sighed. She’d made her peace with her mother’s actions years ago, although Reo never would. She’d tried to explain to him that she’d expected nothing other than betrayal from her mother. How could she be angry when that was exactly what happened?

“At least he looked well,” Kara said, grateful that her brother seemed fit and healthy. She’d tell them the other news—that he could see magic—once they were home and safe. It was too dangerous to mention here, where any of the spells that swirled around them could be listening to them. Timo seemed to realize that as well. He’d tried to ignore Santos’ spell but Kara had seen him react. “Even if he didn’t seem happy,” she finished.

“Happy,” Santos said with a chuckle. “What child that age is happy? But he did not seem to trust either Rorik or your mother.” In the flickering mage light, the old mage’s face looked eerily solemn. “Which is a good thing for the boy.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asked.

“I grew up here on Mage Guild Island,” Santos said. “It’s a dangerous place for even the youngest with power. Your position in life is secured by strength, both magical and political. Trust is not something you can give safely, even to your own mother.”

“You think she would sacrifice him to further her own ambitions,” Kara said flatly.

“She’s done it before,” Santos said. He referred to the way Arabella had traded Kara, her daughter—leaving her behind in the small villa where she was born—in order to go to Rillidi and the seat of the Mage Guild. “I’ve seen others—men and women—use their children for their own gain. No matter the cost to the child.”

“That’s why they kill the children a Mage leaves behind.”

“Yes,” Santos said, and sighed.

Kara knew he was regretting the loss of his own children, children who had been killed after Santos had been cursed to madness by Valerio Valendi. She didn’t understand how they could do it, how the council could condone—even order—the deaths of innocent children. It explained why her mother was willing to assassinate her own daughter, but not why she seemed so attached to Timo. Although to Kara, it looked more controlling than caring.

After half an hour of travelling in silence, the boat edged out from under Mage Guild Island. A few minutes later they were in bright sunlight. Kara turned and stared at the hulking mass that floated above the surface of the sea. She never wanted to go to Mage Guild Island again but she’d go everyday if she could see Timo, her brother, and let him know that there was someone out there who cared. Growing up that was all she’d hoped for—that wherever she was her mother missed her, wanted to see her, wished her well. Her hope had been shattered once she met her mother, of course, but for years that hope had sustained her. Looking back she was glad she’d had that dream—that hope—even though it had been extremely painful to learn the truth. But Timo wouldn’t find the truth painful. Kara
did
want to know him,
did
want him to live with her. And she wanted him to have that hope.

TIMO LEANED ACROSS
the library table, his shadow falling across the book that Barra Eska was reading.

“Will you help me?” he asked.

“Why should I?” Barra replied. She tugged the book into the light.

Annoyed at being disturbed, a few other Apprentices glared at them from other tables scattered around the library. Timo ignored them and leaned closer to Barra.

“I helped you when you needed to find that book Inigo was looking for.”

Barra looked up at him with a frown. “That was a year ago,” she whispered. “And it’s hardly the same thing. An Apprentice is only allowed access to the records when they’re with a Master Mage.”

“Or his Journeyman,” Timo said. “We could go with Hestor. If Rorik had a Journeyman I’d ask him, but he doesn’t. There’s just me.”

It had been a week since he’d approached Barra with his request. He’d chosen her because although not his friend, at least she didn’t seem to hate him, like some of the other Apprentices. And he was desperate to see the records—he had to know what they said about his father. The truth would help him know who he could trust.

“That’s not my problem,” Barra said. She was a small girl, about Timo’s age but half a foot shorter than him. Her dark hair was tied back with a pale blue ribbon that almost matched her eyes, a gift from her parents, Timo knew, on her last birthday. She’d been very proud of it.

“I can get you more ribbons,” Timo said. “Any colour you want.” He couldn’t actually
buy
her ribbons, but he could
make
them. All he needed to do was look at the one she was wearing, so he could use it as a pattern. Then he’d be able to duplicate it from any scrap of twine or rope. He’d been practicing all week.

“Any colour?” Barra asked. “I have a dress that I plan on wearing on Founders Day. It’s a grey-blue silk—at least it looks a lot like silk. I need a ribbon the exact same colour.” Absently she reached up and touched the ribbon she was wearing. “This one is just a little too blue.”

“I can get one, I promise. All you have to do is get Hestor to let me join you in the records room.” Timo wasn’t sure why Barra was dressing up for Founders Day—Apprentices were only invited to the day events, not the formal evening party—but if she wanted the ribbon he could get it for her.

“I can talk him into an hour,” Barra said. “That’s all. And you don’t get to ask him any questions. He hates you.”

“I know,” Timo said. “But it’s not my fault that Rorik didn’t accept him as his Journeyman. He should have.” It
was
his fault, in a way. Rorik’s Journeyman would be expected to teach his Apprentice, teach
him
. It would be harder for Timo to hide his true magical abilities from someone not deliberately ignoring them. That meant his mother and Rorik would no longer be able to pretend he was weak.

“Yes, he should have,” Barra said. “It’s not right for the Primus to have a single Apprentice.” She frowned at him. “Especially when you have such a small talent. At least you realize it’s wrong even if your master doesn’t. That’s the only reason Hestor might consider helping.”

“I appreciate it. I’ll need to see the colour of your dress if I’m going to find ribbon to match it.”

“I’ll bring a piece of fabric next time,” Barra said.

Timo nodded and settled in his chair and picked up a book.

“There’s one more thing I want from you.” Barra leaned over the table. “Mention me to your mother.”

“My mother?” Timo asked, surprised. “What do you want me to say to her?”

“Tell her that I’m a strong and accomplished Apprentice. I know there’s time still, but a posting as Journeyman for the Mage Guild Secundus would suit me.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Timo said. And he would, since it would keep Barra in his debt. He might need more than an hour with the records, after all. But he didn’t think his mother would value his opinion of Barra—she didn’t seem to value it for anything else. Besides, his mother seemed to think
he
would be her Journeyman.