Unguilded (20 page)

With an oath, Harb charged directly into the mage mist. This time his yell was from further away. He shook a fist and shouted, but his words were lost to the wind. Finally he turned and stalked, back to the other fountain and his water jugs.

Relieved and puzzled, Kara sat down on the lip of the fountain. The same thing that had happened to her at the feathered willow had just happened to Harb. They’d been . . . misdirected. By a spell? She’d let the mage mist envelop her, and then she’d been somewhere else.

Mist swirled around her feet, but didn’t touch her. If she let it touch her, would it send her somewhere else? She didn’t dare try it. Right now she was safe from Harb—she should stay here until she was sure he wasn’t going to return.

She had water at least. And Vook had said that Mage Guild left food for the mad mage. She glanced up to the front door of the manor house. It would probably be left inside. Was she willing to risk meeting the mad mage for something to eat?

Kara studied the front of the house. Although mage mist filled the space between the fountain and the house and lapped at the walls, it thinned to nothing before it reached any of the windows.

Despite the disrepair, the house was still impressive. A wide stone staircase led up to double doors that were twice her height. The wood of the doors was weathered to silver, but they were still solid Grey field stone soared above the entrance, and two rows of windows ran across the length of the entranceway. To the left and right, red-tiled roofs sloped over stone extensions that curved out along the drive. To the left, the far side of the house had been reduced to rubble and a section of the roof was missing, but the wing on the right side looked intact, right down to the white curtains that hung in each window.

She settled her pack on her shoulders. The house was big—she should be able to steer clear of the mad mage. She’d stay to the ruined part of the house; surely he never went there.

When she ascended the stone steps, mage mist twisted away from every footfall. She pushed one door, and silently it swung inward, revealing a cracked tile floor. She stepped in and closed the door, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the gloomy interior.

The entrance hall was about twenty feet across. On each side there was a set of double doors, one opening to the left and one to the right. Directly opposite from where she stood was the bottom step of a grand marble staircase—ornate iron bannisters lined stairs that swept out and up in a curve.

The doors of the ruined wing opened onto a long hallway. Tall windows that faced the curved drive cast rectangles of light that guided Kara down the marble-floored hall. She’d passed a few closed doors when, at the fifth window, a breeze teased her hair. Up ahead the wall had fallen inward, and rubble and stone blocks lay tumbled across the floor. She looked up. The roof was intact for a few more steps, but beyond that she could see the lightening sky.

Kara opened the next door, the sixth along the corridor. Windows that lined the far wall let in just enough light to allow her to navigate around two tables and a long settee. She pulled aside a dusty curtain and peered out the grime-streaked window. Scrubby bushes partially blocked her view, but out beyond them was a stretch of overgrown lawn, and past that, she saw the waters of the bay. If she could get out to the rear of the house, she could follow the shoreline to the docks.

Except for the damage to the house there was no sign of the mad mage. This destruction happened a long time ago. If the mad mage didn’t come in here anymore, could they stay here for a day or two? It had to be better than waiting for the clammers to arrive. She would look around a little more before getting the rest of them. Not Harb, though, she didn’t want Harb here. And Lowel would stay with Harb.

Kara drew the curtains open on all the windows in the room and opened a few casements to air the room out. She dropped her pack on a wooden bench and sat down beside it. She pulled out her almost empty waterskin and took a small sip. She should have refilled it when she was at one of the fountains, but she’d been too distracted by Harb. She’d have to retrace her steps and fill her waterskin before she returned to the docks.

She poked around the room, opening any drawers or cupboards she came across. There were a couple of spoons and a cloth that looked reasonably clean, but that was all.

She finished searching the room and went back into the hall. She’d investigate a few more rooms before looking for a way out of the house and into the garden.

She opened a door onto a room that was mostly intact. There was a dank smell, and the walls had water marks, but she found very little of interest anywhere. The next room she checked was a mess. Only half of the ceiling remained, and timbers and tiles had fallen from the second floor into this one. A mattress, which must have come from the room above, lay in the middle of the floor. A heap of dark rags and bedding was piled high in the corner nearest to her.

And the room crawled with mage mist. The other two rooms she’d searched had been clear, but here it was everywhere. She glanced around nervously. Was this a room the mad mage frequented, or was the mage mist here because of all the damage?

Cautiously, she walked around. Light green mist ebbed away from her, so thick and dense in places that she could barely see the tiles of the floor. She drew the curtains on one window and felt better when daylight spilled into the room.

She wandered to the corner that was piled high with rags. Here, black and dark gray mage mist swirled and twined. Every once in a while a few lighter colours, including the light green that blanketed the rest of the room, were visible in the writhing mass of mist. Something about this mist was familiar. She leaned toward the mist, her hand outstretched. Then the heap of rags moved.

“Gyda!” Kara backed away from it. The rags moved again, and then, incredibly, through the mage mist she saw two blue eyes staring out at her. The mad mage! She started to run, but her pack tugged her backwards, hard. He’d grabbed her! She struggled to slip her pack from her shoulders and turned towards her attacker.

Except he hadn’t grabbed her at all. The mad mage continued to stare at her with sad eyes filled with pain and despair. She gripped her pack to leave again, but it tugged her towards the mage. She opened the pack and found Santos Nimali’s journal alight with the same green mage mist that filled the room. She pulled the book out of her pack and heard a grunt of surprise.

“Mine,” the Mage said. He reached a hand out, and a strand of mage mist shot towards her. His mouth opened in horror. “No,” he cried. “No.” The despair in his voice apparent.

But the green mist forked around her. It hit the door, sparking and sizzling as it charred the wood.

“You’re not hurt,” the Mage said.

He shifted and stood up, mage mist and dirty rags swirling around him.

“No.” She shuddered. “What was that?”

“I can’t control my magic,” the mad mage replied. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else. You must leave.”

“That was a spell?” Kara asked. He could confirm that what she saw, that mage mist, was magic.

“That was a spell,” the mad mage agreed. A brief spurt of green rushed out of his mouth and floated up two floors and out the gaping hole in the roof. He looked away, careful not to point in her direction. “Where did you get my book?”

“Your book?” Kara held the journal up. Mage mist crawled all over it, disturbed only where her hand touched it. Without thinking, she brushed the mist off the book, and it stopped tugging her toward the mage. “Then you’re Santos Nimali.”

“I was once,” was the sad reply. “Now I’m simply the mad mage.”

“You don’t seem mad to me.” He seemed quite lucid. She felt sorry for him.

“It wasn’t enough for me to be mad,” he said and sighed. “I had to realize my plight and not be able to do anything about it.” He looked at her sharply. “You can read. Did Mage Guild send you?”

“No,” Kara said. “I’m from the docks. I got lost and ended up over here. I thought I’d see if there was anything useful.”

“Ah, so you were going to steal from me.”

“No, I . . .” Kara stopped. “Well yes, all right. But I didn’t think you’d miss anything I found. That’s why I explored the damaged part of the house.”

“Damaged.” The Mage laughed, a sharp bitter sound. “By me. I don’t remember doing it. Perhaps I passed gas, and a spell burst forth and tore the roof off. Or maybe I did it on purpose during one of my mad periods. I’ll never know.”

Santos Nimali, the mad mage, took a few steps towards her. There was a thick cloud of dark grey mage mist obscuring his face, and frustrated, Kara swept a hand out. A rope of mist shrank from her and dissipated. Now she had a view of a beaked nose and bushy white brows above startled blue eyes.

“What did you just do?” Santos asked. He moved closer and peered into her face. “Just now, with your hand. Tell me!”

Kara stepped back, unnerved by intensity in his eyes. Now he looked the part of a Primus of Mage Guild, now he looked like the most powerful man in Tregella. “I, uh,” she paused. How to explain? “I just wanted to see your face.”

“And you couldn’t before?” he asked. “Why? What do you see when you look at me?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied nervously. This Santos Nimali frightened her. She’d rather deal with the madness. She tucked his journal into her pack and took another step backwards. She was only three steps away from the door. He was an old man, she could outrun him.

Santos raised a hand and pointed it right at her.

“Stop right now, and I won’t hurt you,” he said.

She took another step away from him. He clenched his raised fist and pursed his lips.

“Stay there,” he said. He opened his fist, and a stream of green flowed towards her.

Kara stared at the mist as it circled her feet. It cinched tighter until she stood inside a ring of green mage mist that was about knee high. She looked behind. Two more steps to the door. She stepped over the mist. Eyes forward again, she met the wondering gaze of Santos.

“Can you see the spell?” he whispered.

She took the final step backwards, then pulled the door open and ducked through it.

“Wait!”

She heard him call out, but she was already halfway down the hall. Santos sane was a dangerous man, she didn’t want to stay and see what changes insanity brought.

She was out the front door a few moments later, running down the curved, rutted lane past the fountain and out over the unkempt lawn. When she looked behind her, there were no sign of Santos Nimali, no signs of pursuit.

She retraced her steps to the first fountain. Thankfully Harb was gone. She dipped a hand into the stream of fresh water and drank before she refilled her water skin.

The mad mage and Santos Nimali were one and the same. She studied words that edged the fountain. Santos Nimali owned Old Rillidi—the whole island belonged to that mad, old man. No wonder there was so much chaos and lawlessness here. He was dangerous—he’d tried to use magic on her. It hadn’t affected her, but he had sent a spell her way—a spell meant to capture her.

But now she knew for certain that mage mist was magic—and each mage had a different colour mist.

Santos Nimali’s spells were grass green, like most of the mage mist she’d seen on Old Rillidi. Kara slumped over her pack, feeling the square shape of Santos Nimali’s journal.

Now what she’d seen on her journey to Rillidi made sense. The mist that had followed her along the road and the mist that had clung to the body of Terach—they
were
spells. And they were the same colour as the mist that surrounded Valerio Valendi—a dark grey that was almost black. He’d sent a spell to kill her, but it had killed Terach—another Mage Guild runaway.

And her mother had expected Valerio Valendi to kill her—her
problem
—a child who had no magic.

Except that she
did
have magic. Maybe she couldn’t do magic, but she could see it. And
undo
it. That’s what she’d done to Nimali’s journal, that’s what she’d done to Nimali’s face. She’d waved her hand and dispersed the spell. Too excited to sit, Kara paced around the fountain.

What if she could undo magic? Could she find work? Could she join a guild? Not Mage Guild, never that. She was dead to them, and she needed to stay that way. But what about another guild?

She sat down on the edge of the fountain. There must be another guild who would want someone who could undo magic, who could use her against Mage Guild. One that would never tell her secret—Mage Guild would never let her live if they found out about her talent,

Would she be willing to become a tool in order to gain the safety and protection of a guild? Not for herself, but for Vook and the others, yes. They had no chance at a real future, and she couldn’t bear to watch Vook turn into Harb, a mean, angry youth with no hope. Yes, she would become a weapon if that was required. She would do that, for the others.

According to Mika, Warrior Guild had Assassins—they would want her. But could she approach them and ask them if they could use her? Was she willing to deal with Assassins?

She sat down. She couldn’t worry about that, not yet, not when she didn’t understand her abilities. She’d need to figure out exactly what she could and couldn’t do before she even considered offering her services to anyone, including Warrior Guild. Especially Warrior Guild.