The Unmage (30 page)

“I’ll kill them,” Inigo said confidently. “Just as I’m going to kill you.”

Timo laughed even as he braced himself for the blow that came.

“You tried for years but couldn’t even kill
me
, a half-trained Apprentice. Do you really think you can kill the Mage Primus, a Master Assassin, and my sister, who can drain your magic?”

“I’ve already killed one Mage Primus,” Inigo said. “I expect I’ll have little trouble with this one.”

“So you
do
admit it,” Timo said. “You killed Rorik, the Acting Primus. I also hear you were responsible for my mother’s death.” He looked over at Jinaro. “The Council finds this acceptable? Inigo’s admission should be cause for his death.”

Jinaro shrugged. “I really don’t care what the Council thinks. I simply want to be left in peace.”

“You’ll be next,” Timo said. “Neither you nor Hestor can be allowed to live with this knowledge.” He looked over his shoulder at the guard who still gripped him. “You might be last, after you’ve killed the other two, but one day soon you’ll have an accident that will take your life. No one will connect it to this, of course, because of the five of us in this room, only Inigo will be left alive.”

The guard pulled his arms, and Timo winced at the pain.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Inigo said smoothly. “Of course nothing is going to happen to my friends here. In fact, they will all be rewarded for helping me catch and kill such a dangerous enemy of Mage Guild.”

“Then you’ll all pay the price,” Timo said. “Once my sister knows the truth.”

“Your sister,” Inigo spat, “has no magical talent. I checked the records. She was tested and found wanting, for years and years.” He smiled down at Timo. “No wonder her own mother rejected her.”

“But she took
your
magic,” Timo countered. “On Founders Day. She walked into a room full of Mages and reduced you all to non-mages. Because she doesn’t have magic, she has
unmagic
.” As do I, he finished silently. His head was starting to clear and he could feel himself getting stronger.

“Unmagic,” Ingo said. “What uses does it have? So she temporarily took away my magic. It’s returning even as we speak.” He held his hand up as if to show Timo his power but there was no trace of mage mist anywhere on Inigo.

Timo smiled. Maybe he would never get his magic back.

“She can undo spells,” Timo said. “
Any
spells.”

“I repeat, what can she do with it?”

Timo started to laugh again. Inigo raised his hand but Timo couldn’t stop laughing. The last few days had taken their toll, and now that he had nothing left to lose, he couldn’t stop laughing.

“What keeps Mage Guild Island aloft?” Timo asked. “What keeps the water running and the lights on?” Inigo’s hand struck him—hard. The last thing he saw was Jinaro’s horrified face.

HE ACHED. HIS
head throbbed, his arms felt like they’d been pulled from their sockets, and he tasted his own blood, but as bad as he felt, at least it was proof that he was still alive.

He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. One eye, at least; the other was swollen shut, either from the blow or the fall to the floor. A foot shuffled into view—the guard, from the look of the boot. Timo braced himself for more pain—a blow, a kick, more wrenching of his shoulders, but nothing happened.

“Keep still,” the guard said.

Timo nodded. He wasn’t sure he could move anyway. The boot edged away from him, and when Timo looked up, the guard was leaning with his ear against a wooden door.

“I say we let him go,” a muffled voice said from the other side of the door. “We can’t risk the island.”

“She can’t undo all the magic.” That was Inigo speaking, Timo would recognize his tone of superiority anywhere.

“How do you know?” Jinaro said.

“It’s not possible,” Inigo said. “No one could do that.”

“Before Founders Day we would have said that draining the magic from over a hundred of the most powerful Mages wasn’t possible. And yet it happened. I will not risk it.”

“It’s not your decision.” Inigo was yelling now. “I’m Primus now. I say we kill him.”

“No, we need him alive. We can negotiate with his sister—Timo for her promise to leave us alone.”

“Jinaro, I’m warning you . . .”

“Or you’ll what? Kill me? He was telling the truth about that, wasn’t he? It’s better for you if none of the rest of us survive.”

“How can you even think about listening to that boy’s delusional ideas? Didn’t you hear him laugh? He’s insane.”

“In that case, I’ll leave. I want no part of your decision. When his sister comes asking questions—and I do think she will—I’ll be able to say that I couldn’t talk you out of it. That it was all your fault.”

“I can’t let you leave.”

Timo had to strain to hear Inigo’s voice.

“You can’t make me stay,” Jinaro said. “I’m the one with magic.”

After a pause, Inigo spoke again. “I don’t want us to fight about this. Why don’t we let the full council decide?”

“That’s acceptable,” Jinaro agreed. “I can just as easily blame the full council as I can you.”

“Guard, bring the boy,” Inigo called.

The guard stepped from the door just as it was opened from the other side. Timo was hauled to his feet and slung over the guard’s shoulder. He grunted as his bruised ribs met the guard’s shoulder, and then he was being carried through the door, his hands still bound behind his back.

Timo carefully dispersed all the spells that Jinaro had placed on him—a new one formed just as an old one faded, and he dispersed that too. He held his breath. He couldn’t see Jinaro, but there was no shout or exclamation from him—he must not have included a warning spell this time. Exhausted, Timo strained to cast a rudimentary healing spell. By the time they reached the first turn in the hallway, his ribs no longer ached and his head was relatively clear.

HE WATCHED THE
solid stone blocks of the floor pass beneath him as he was carted through the dimly lit corridors. Timo tried to shift his head to see past the guard—to see the path they were taking and determine who was with them—but all he managed to do was strain his already sore neck. He relaxed and let himself hang limply as the guard strode forward.

Was Jinaro still there? Inigo’s decision to involve the whole council confused Timo—there would be no chance to keep his death a secret. Or would he try to kill Timo along the way? Inigo could lead the guard directly into a trap that would kill both him and his burden.

Panicked, Timo strained his neck, struggling to see around the guard’s body. He felt something in his shoulder shift and he bit down against the pain. Ignoring his throbbing shoulder, he maneuvered his head so he could see between the guard’s body and elbow.

The way forward was clear of mage mist.
Of course it was
. Inigo had no magic to waste, not since Kara had drained him during Founders Day. Timo relaxed his neck and let his head bump against the back of the guard. With a deep breath, he gathered his power and closed his eyes.

He heard footsteps up ahead, two, no three sets of feet scuffing the flagstones—Inigo, Jinaro, and Hestor. The leather strap that held the guard’s sword creaked when he moved, and he panted as he carried Timo down the hall.

One set of footsteps receded into the distance slightly, and Timo held his breath. Did Inigo already have a trap set along this path? He had to rely on his instincts, but those instincts had been honed over the past two years—two years spent avoiding all kinds of traps—two years of staying alive despite the increasingly determined efforts of first Hestor, and later Inigo, to kill him. Right now those instincts told him that Inigo had no intention of parading him before the full council. He had something planned, some trap was readied that he expected would kill Timo, probably the guard, and even possibly Hestor and Jinaro.

He heard a subtle click. Timo released his spell and
shifted
the guard—and him—about five feet ahead. The guard swore and stumbled to his knees, dropping Timo. He landed on his sore shoulder and sucked in his breath, staring down the corridor.

“Gyda cursed brat,” the guard muttered. He leaned over Timo, his hand raised, ready to strike him.

“Look behind us,” Timo said, his voice nothing more than a croak. “I could have saved only me.”

The guard followed Timo’s gaze along the path they’d been about to travel. He dropped his hand and stared. His eyes hardened, and he looked at Timo. One quick nod—that was the only acknowledgement he gave his saviour. Then the guard gripped Timo, more gently than before, and pulled him into his arms.

“What’s happening back there?” Jinaro called.

“I tripped is all,” the guard said. “And dropped the boy. But we’re both no worse for wear.”

“Then get moving,” Inigo said.

Now cradled in the guard’s arms, Timo could see the corridor ahead—and the Master Mage. He was hovering behind both Jinaro and Hestor, no doubt hoping to be the first to see the disaster he thought they’d find in the hallway.

Timo glanced up as the guard took one last look behind at the taut wire strung across the corridor, reflecting the light. Waist high, it would have sliced right through both of them if Timo hadn’t relocated them. When he turned and looked forward, Jinaro was watching him with narrowed eyes. The Mage turned and headed down the hallway.

Eventually Inigo led them through a doorway and up some stairs. They were close to the council chambers—Timo recognized the corridors they travelled now. Had Inigo given up trying to kill him or would he dare to use a trap so close to their destination? The guard walked more slowly and now lagged half a dozen steps behind Hestor. The new Mage glanced back, quickly, and then trailed his left hand along the wall. The guard grunted and stopped.

“What’d he do?” he asked softly. “Ah, I see it.” He shook his head and dropped to his knees, setting Timo on the ground.

That’s when Timo saw it. Another wire, set at shin height this time. There was a faint line in the dust of the flagstone floor where the wire had been buried. The guard unsheathed his sword and jabbed at the line, cutting it. There was a whoosh and something bounced off the walls and hit the floor. Steel tipped arrows, four of them.

Once again the guard bent over Timo and gently picked him up. “Is it all of them?” he asked softly.

“No,” Timo replied. “Just Inigo and Hestor. The rest of the Mages aren’t involved.” At least he didn’t think they were.

“Am I dead?”

“No,” Timo said. “Not if we make it to the council chambers.” He looked up and met the guard’s eyes. “But you’ll need to leave Mage Guild Island as soon after that as you can.”

“Gyda,” the guard swore. “And go where? I’m Mage Guild. Four generations, not that it’s done me any good. What about you?”

Timo shrugged. He could feel his magic building, but physically he was weak. He wouldn’t be able to run—he wasn’t even sure he could walk.

“They won’t kill me right away,” Timo said. “Besides, I have friends on the way.” He thought he did. He
hoped
he did. How long ago was Founders Day? Were Kara and Santos on their way? Five days, Mole had said, and then they would come looking for them. But would they find him? And if he was being held by the council would they
dare
rescue him from here?

They rounded the final corner, and Timo grinned. A nervous looking Hestor fidgeted outside of the door to the council chamber. He paled when he caught sight of them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the guard said. “Had to fix my boot.”

He swept past Hestor and into the room and didn’t stop until he’d carried Timo all the way to the very front. A dozen Mages milled around, and Inigo and Jinaro stood near the head of the table. Inigo looked up when the guard stopped in front of him and gently set Timo onto his feet. The guard ignored Inigo’s motion to leave, instead settling one hand on Timo’s sound shoulder, steadying him. His other hand dropped to the rope around Timo’s wrists and quickly untied it. Timo kept his hand behind his back and closed his eyes, focussing his power. He used some of his magic to help his hands and shoulder heal enough to be usable. The rest, he let build around his hands.

When he opened his eyes, the Mages in the room were manoeuvring around the table. Older Mages sat down, the younger ones like Hestor, along with some Journeymen, stood nervously with their backs against the wall. When everyone was settled, Inigo swept his gaze around the room, ignoring Timo.

He’d told the guard that he’d be all right if they made it to the council, but any confidence Timo had disappeared as he watched Inigo. He looked like a man who had every expectation that his orders would be obeyed.

Jinaro was staring at his hands, wisps of rust-red mage mist eddying about his fingers. He didn’t care whether Timo lived or died—he only cared that he escaped blame in case Kara came demanding answers. A council decision to execute Timo would allow him that.