HE KNEW WHERE he was, but he still didn’t know who he was. He was trapped in a cave with a Seyoyan and Arabella’s daughter.
That almost made him think he was dreaming—except that it made perfect sense. The child explained Arabella Fonti’s age when she’d arrived on Mage Guild Island: why she was powerful but untrained at an age when most Mages were well into their Journeyman schooling.
She’d been assigned to the workroom, like him, and he’d immediately been smitten. She’d allowed his attentions—he’d never been under the illusion that she loved him—but in that workroom—in that hopeless life—loving her, being able to see her every day—was enough.
And even better, he’d been the one to help her escape that life.
He’d been an Apprentice once, to a Mage of middling power. He’d never been able to manage his power, but the Mage had liked him. So he’d convinced—and paid—that Mage to take on Arabella as his student.
She’d been grateful—grateful enough that she’d bedded him—and he’d had that memory to help him get through all of the years in the workroom.
And he’d kept track of her, when he could. She’d soon outgrown his old mentor and had acquired a new master. Rumours said that she’d bed anyone who could teach her how to use her magic; how to harness her abilities.
He’d always assumed the rumours were true, and he didn’t blame her. He’d always known she’d use whatever gifts she had in order to lift herself up. Anyone would—anyone should. Anything was better than the half-life of a workroom.
He sat up. His head felt clearer than he could remember, but all he seemed to be doing was remembering. Except his name: he still didn’t know who he was. Or why he’d been banished to Seyoya. He must have come to this island by ship, but he would swear he’d never been on one in his life. He’d only been on a boat once: his master had taken him below the island and they’d floated around for a few minutes. That was before his master knew he was hopeless: before he realized that he’d never be able to control his magic.
“You’re awake.” It was the girl—Kara Fonti—the daughter of the woman he loved.
“Yes. You said you could help me. Did you?”
“Yes. I hope you’re not angry.”
“No, thank you.” He patted his head. “I feel much better. And I can remember things—mostly about your mother—although I still can’t remember my own name.” He sighed. Perhaps that was because he had never been important, not even to himself. Arabella Fonti, on the other hand, had become very important.
“You may never remember everything,” Kara said. “At least the other Mage I helped in this same way has yet to regain all of his memories.”
“Another Mage was like me? Did the same thing happen to that Mage?”
“He was cursed, yes,” Kara said. “By Valerio Valendi, just as you were.”
“Cursed!” He was shocked. That would be grounds for death, if caught. “The Mage Guild Secundus cursed me. Why? Do you know?”
“Because he could,” Kara replied. “My guess is that he learned of you—maybe from my mother—and decided to hurt you. Perhaps to hurt her or to make sure she had no one she could trust, or even to prove to her that he wasn’t above being so petty and mean.” She shrugged.
“Arabella and Valerio Valendi, yes.” He nodded. As soon as the girl said the name, he remembered: his Arabella had attached herself to the Mage Guild Secundus. Dangerous, is what he’d thought at the time. And then he’d . . . then he’d what? “Then I suppose it was worthless. Arabella never cared about me.”
“Or me,” Kara said. “She doesn’t even like to acknowledge that she’s my mother.”
“Has Mage Secundus Valendi tried to hurt her through you?” Valendi was ruthless—he’d seen the man kill a worker for not giving up his chair to him. The worker had been old and practically crippled, but that hadn’t mattered to Valerio Valendi. That’s why he’d . . . what? Had he done something to try to protect Arabella? Something that attracted Valendi’s attention? “He’ll try again if he has a chance.”
“Valendi’s dead, so he doesn’t matter anymore. My mother is Mage Guild Secundus now.”
He looked up at her in shock. His Arabella had risen to the second highest level of Mage Guild. And he’d helped her take that first step. He was very proud of his love. “She must be so happy.” Even as he said the word, he knew Arabella wouldn’t be happy. Satisfied, yes, pleased even, but happy? He thought that feeling was beyond her—just as love was.
“I’m not sure—”
There was a loud rumble and the ground shook. He shielded his head with his hands as pebbles and dust rained down on him from the ceiling. When he looked up, Kara had gone.
“WHAT HAPPENED?” KARA asked as she rounded the corner. Chal stood staring at the wall. “Did they break through?”
“No.” Chal turned to her, a horrified look on his face. “I think there was a cave-in.”
“What? How?” A cave-in? Had Reo been there? Was he hurt? She leaned against the wall, pleading with Gyda to keep him safe.
Dust filtered down from the rock ceiling above her, and she coughed.
“Can you tap on the wall and see if they’re all right?” she asked Chal. When she turned to look at him, his eyes were sad.
“I’ll try.” He picked up the rock he’d used before and hit it against the wall three times, paused then hit it another two times.
With her eyes closed, Kara pressed her ear to the wall. Was that—? No, there was nothing, no sounds coming through the rock. Just the earth settling on this side.
Chal struck the wall again and paused, but there was still no reply.
“It doesn’t mean they were . . . caught in it,” Chal said.
“It doesn’t mean they weren’t,” she replied. And Reo would have been there—he would have been the first one to pick up a tool and start digging in the morning and the last one to put it down at night.
She stepped back from the wall, shaking her head. They’d need to try again later. She turned to find the Mage staring at her.
“Can you make a way out now?” Chal asked him. “You need to make an exit.”
The Mage backed away, cowering. “I can’t,” he said, “I never could. That’s why I was sent to the workroom: I have power but I could never direct it, never make it do what I wanted it to do.” He leaned against the opposite wall, his head bowed.
“You have to try!” Chal said. “You have to!”
“You’re saying that you’ve never been able to create spells?” Kara asked. It would explain his story about the workroom.
“Only mage lights,” the Mage replied, not meeting her eyes. “I’ve never been able to create any other spells worth anything.”
“But you did while you were mad,” Chal said. “You created a way in here—or filled in an existing passage. How can you do something while you’re cursed that you can’t normally do? We should have left him mad, then at least he’d be willing to try to help us get out of here.”
“You tried that,” Kara said gently. The Mage walked away from them, rounding the bend until he was out of sight. “For weeks, you tried that. And it didn’t work.” She sighed. She was tired and trying very hard to not worry about Reo, and she didn’t want to give in to the panic and anger that was gripping Chal. “We’ll figure something out,” she said to Chal. “Or they’ll start digging us out again soon.”
Sha sat down and stared at the rock wall in front of her. What was happening on the other side of the wall? Where was Reo? She closed her eyes, blinking back tears.
For all her thoughts about staying in Seyoya, she wasn’t running away, especially not from Reo. She was trying to give him time to realize that he did care for her—or give herself time to get used to living with the possibility that he never would.
But in no way did she plan on being away from Old Rillidi—or Reo—forever. And now with the thought that she might never see him again—that he might be dead—she knew she didn’t want to be away from him. Not even for a few months.
Why hadn’t she told him how she felt? Why had she thought it would be easier to simply leave instead of being honest with him?
The unnamed Mage was braver than she was. He readily admitted that he loved and that his love was not reciprocated. Did he wallow in self-pity? Did he distance himself from the one he loved? Did he run away from the pain of loving someone who didn’t love him back?
No. He did his best to help her get what she wanted, and then he cheered all of her accomplishments after that. And he cherished the time he’d had with her.
He was self-less in his love. Kara knew her mother would never understand, never appreciate that she was loved in this way; nor would she realize how much she didn’t deserve it.
But Reo did. Reo deserved to be happy, to get what he wanted out of life after not being allowed to hope for a life of his own. He had one now—at least he did if he was still alive—and he deserved to have a chance to live it.
Which meant that when they got out of this cave, she wouldn’t run away: she would fulfill her obligations to Warrior Guild and make sure that Reo remained free. And she would tell him how she felt and not expect anything in return. And she would be happy for him. Even if he found happiness with someone else.
Chal sighed and wandered away, taking the mage light with him. The other light still glowed from beyond the bend where the Mage was.
Kara stood against the wall, with her ear pressed to it. She should look in on the Mage—maybe try to remove the last curse—but she felt she needed to be here in case someone—in case Reo—tried to communicate with them. For as much as they were worried about those on the outside, they would be just as worried for them in here.
Chal came back and stared at her.
“It’s worse than we thought,” he said. He held up the waterskin. “The cave-in has cut off the stream and this is all the water we have left.”
Kara held the mage light up as she knelt and pushed the pile of rocks and stones aside. There was a damp spot, but water no longer trickled out from the crevice in the wall. She sat back on her heels.
“It may come back,” she said. “But it may not.” She ran a hand through her hair. They had water for a day, maybe, if they rationed it carefully. She looked over her shoulder at Chal, who was pacing the width of the cave.
“So that’s it,” Chal said. He sighed. He tore a strip off his shirt and handed it to her. “Leave this on the water. It might soak up a few drops. It might be enough to delay the inevitable for a day or so.”
Kara shoved the fabric into the dirt. It was better than giving up, but whatever moisture collected in the scrap of cloth wouldn’t save them.
She stood up and handed the mage light to Chal and headed down the passageway.
“Where are you going?” Chal called after her.
“To remove the final curse from the Mage,” she said. “He might be our only hope.”
“He can’t do magic,” Chal said from right behind her. The light he was holding made her shadow stretch out in front of her.
“I know. But he still has magic—he might be able to do something.” Or she might be able to direct his magic, if he could create even an unfocussed spell. She’d used Valerio Valendi’s magic against him, so she knew she could do it. And so she would, because she had to.
SOMEONE WAS SHAKING his shoulder.
“Wake up,” a woman said.
He squinted up at her. His love! No, it was her daughter. He sat up.
“What is it, Kara?”
“I need to remove the last curse, and I think it’s best if you stay awake while I do it.” She leaned over him, the Seyoyan hovering behind her with a mage light in his hand.
“All right.” Something had happened—had it? “The cave-in,” he said. “There was a cave-in—it happened when they tried to tunnel in from the other side.”
“Yes,” Kara replied. “And it’s diverted the stream. We’ll be out of water soon so we need to get out of here. For that, you must be able to do magic. Which means that I have to remove the curse.” She stared down at him so intently that he wanted to squirm away.
“But I can’t do spells,” he said. “It’s hopeless.” He couldn’t do magic. That was the bane of his life—that he couldn’t do magic. If he couldn’t make himself do magic in order to stay out of the workroom another desperate situation wasn’t going to change that. “I’ll fail again. Like I always do.”
“Not always.”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken that out loud until she responded.
“You didn’t fail my mother, did you?” Kara asked. “You helped her, and now you’re going to help me.” She waved a hand over his head. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on what he was feeling. She was right—he hadn’t failed Arabella—he was the reason she’d escaped the fate of the workroom. Him. He smiled. He hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t realized that he’d been successful in that one thing.
“Ow.” A splitting headache sucked the breath from him. He lifted a hand to his head, but Kara brushed it away.
“Sorry,” she said. “I need to see. Does that feel better?”
“Yes,” he gasped. He still had a headache but it no longer felt like a vise was tightening around his head.
“All right. This might be bad.”
Pain stabbed his temple, and a scream tore from his throat. He clutched his head and fell onto his side. He took a deep, shuddering breath—and then suddenly the pain was gone.
“Gyda that hurt!” He was weak, too weak to even lift his head, but he was alive. And he knew who he was. He lay there for a few moments before he opened his eyes.
“Dario Todaro,” he said.
“What was that?” Kara leaned over him, and he looked into her relieved eyes. “Did you say something?”
He smiled and she smiled back, tentatively.
“My name. Dario Todaro.” He closed his eyes. “I think it worked.” He was so tired. “Whatever you did, I think it worked.”
“HE’S ASLEEP,” KARA said as she straightened and stood up. “I’m not surprised. It happened with Santos sometimes. He’d fall asleep right after I removed a particularly nasty curse.”
“But he’s alive,” Chal said. “And I don’t see any more mage mist around him.”
“I’ve removed it all,” Kara agreed. She was thankful that he was alive—she hadn’t been certain but she’d thought the last spell she removed had been a killing spell. Well, she’d treated it as one, and the Mage had lived through the removal of it.
“And he knows his name,” she continued. “Dario Todaro. Hopefully he won’t sleep for very long and we can try to get out of here.”
“You have a plan,” Chal said as he led them away from where the Mage—Dario—was sleeping back to the wall they hoped to escape through.
“I have an idea for a plan,” Kara said. “And no way to know if it will work or not. Whatever spells Dario can create—or the magic he uses to try to create them—I hope to manipulate to . . . I don’t know, dig through the rock and make a tunnel.”
“You can do that?”
“I hope so.” She really had no idea if she could or not, but she couldn’t think of anything else. “I know I can redirect spells, so even if that’s all I can do, it should work.” It would work—there was no other choice. Not unless Dario could suddenly create a spell that saved them all.
“If anyone can, you can,” Chal said. He sat down with his back to the wall, and Kara joined him.
She appreciated his confidence when she wasn’t feeling quite so certain. She’d need to convince Dario that he, too, could do what was required.
She sighed. It was still quiet; digging had not resumed so either everyone was dead—her heart constricted at the thought of Reo being gone—or it was no longer safe to dig there.
She pushed down her fear for Reo’s safety—it wouldn’t help her—and instead stared at the wall in front of her.
“You said that you knew the exact spot where I came in?” she asked Chal, who had been pressing his ear against the wall.
Head bent, Chal paced along the wall. “Right here.” He pointed at a spot on the rock. “I made this mark just after you arrived.” He met her eyes and rolled his. “I’d been here long enough to know that everything looks the same after a few days.”
“All right.” Kara stared at the spot. “That’s where I’ll focus the magic. Once Dario wakes up.”