The Unmage by Jane Glatt Read Free Book Online

spell casting. He knew, but had to pretend he didn’t. No retaliation, no dark looks sent the offender’s way, nothing that would reveal that he knew who was to blame. The only thing worse was deliberately walking into the traps.
    He’d become very good at determining not just whether a spell was meant to harm or humiliate, but how much power was behind it. It had taken one bad fall, one fall that had been meant to kill him—that would have killed him if his own magic hadn’t been so strong and he hadn’t practiced relocating so diligently—for him to realize that his life depended on knowing which spells to avoid. He’d spent every waking hour for a month on that task, but now he could read spells with a single glance. After he’d mastered that, he’d concentrated on learning an invisibility spell. It was advanced—far beyond most Apprentices’ skills. If they couldn’t see him coming they wouldn’t set a trap in the first place. He’d startled more than one person by turning up in the library when they’d been watching for him.
    “They’re a despicable lot.”
    Timo froze. Then he let his breath out slowly and readied a spell, mage mist wrapped around his fists. Slowly he turned in the direction the voice had come from, a voice he didn’t recognize.
    “Who are you?” he asked. There, in the corner, was something moving? He peered into the darkness, cursing himself for not bothering with a light. But he’d been humiliated enough for one day. There’d been no need to see the bruise he knew was forming. Eventually he made out the faint glow of mage mist. Grass green, a colour he’d seen once before.
    “Santos?” he whispered.
    “Hah!” came the reply. “Kara said you were the same as her.”
    A shadow detached itself from the corner, green mage mist softly weaving around the figure. A boy, no, a man—shorter than Timo but half a dozen years older than him—stopped in the middle of the room, his stance relaxed and his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Somehow that didn’t make Timo feel any less nervous. He’d seen someone move like that before, with dangerous, calculated, barely leashed energy.
    “I’m Mole,” said the figure. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He frowned. “Unlike them burro-spawned brats you study with.”
    “You know Reo,” Timo blurted, then wished he hadn’t when the man, Mole, narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest.
    “What have you heard?”
    “Nothing . . .” Timo stammered. Mole seemed calm but the menace in his voice said otherwise. “I’ve never heard of you . . . it’s just . . . you move like him.”
    “You only met him once?” Mole’s tone was skeptical but he let his hands drop to his sides again. They were fisted though, Timo noticed, so he wasn’t really at ease.
    Mole’s gaze followed Timo’s, and he laughed and loosened his fists. “Sure, sure, you’d notice a thing like that.” Mole’s lips tightened. “Your life depends on it.”
    “What have you heard?” Timo asked. He’d been so careful to keep up the pretence of being a fumbling, inept Apprentice with little magic and less intelligence. Who might know the truth?
    “Not what I’ve heard,” Mole said. “What I’ve seen.” He padded over to the chair in front of Timo’s work table and sat down across from him. “The stumbles, the ruined books and clothes, always walking into tables and doors.” Mole shook his head. “Don’t worry, none of them suspect. I only know because I’m trained, like you guessed, by Reo.” Mole leaned back in his chair and frowned. “But that older one with the pinched face?”
    “Hestor,” Timo said. There was only one Journeyman who still set traps for him.
    “Yeah, him. He’s getting frustrated. He wanted you dead long ago and he doesn’t know why it hasn’t happened.”
    “I was hoping he’d start to doubt his own skills,” Timo said.
    Mole grunted then laughed. “That’s working then.” Mole nodded. “And likely