The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (16 page)

They all murmured their assent.

‘Good.  Are you all wearing
armour under your shirts?’

They nodded and Fabian
scrutinised them all carefully.

‘Mistral!’ he snapped. 
‘Yours is still visible.  Button your jerkin up to hide the top of the
chest plate.’

Mistral kept her face carefully
neutral as she complied to his snapped command but couldn’t help feeling
slightly peeved that he hadn’t told the twins to do the same.  She had the
distinct impression that Fabian would have quite liked her to have put on a
cloak on with the hood up … he had mentioned the delegate’s rakish reputations
at least twice so far.

‘The cousins are all Rochfortes,
naturally.  Their names are Christophe, Etienne and Guillane.  None
speak any language apart from their own so you will not be expected to converse
with them.  Of the three Guillane is the most unpredictable.  He has
a habit of casting first and asking questions later.  You’ll easily be
able to tell which one he is by the distinctive scarring on his jaw and
throat.’

Mistral caught the twins glancing
at each other.  They loved a mystery.  She knew they wouldn’t dare
ask Fabian for more details but would probably spend the entire journey staring
at Guillane’s neck and trying to guess what had caused them.

‘Once we have met the delegation
we ride north across the High Moors and camp for the night there.  We
should reach the Council by mid-morning tomorrow. 

‘These are the hard and fast
rules to follow during the journey.  Do not speak to each other or any of
the delegates and avoid making eye contact with them.  Never leave each
other alone – for any reason –’

Mistral gave him a withering look
and decided not to drink any more water. 

‘And be prepared for
trouble.  If they cast, use your throwing knives and aim to kill.’

Mistral relaxed slightly. 
Finally, something she understood.

Fabian regarded them all for a
long moment, ‘We have already been through the procedure for when we arrive at
the Council but do you wish me to go over it one more time?’ 

They all shook their heads.

Fabian nodded, ‘Any questions?’

There was a brief silence.

‘Only one springs to mind Mage De
Winter.’  Phantasm ventured.  ‘Should Count Darke have bought a
Contract on Antoine and his cousins it will surely have been taken by another
Ri warrior, a brother.  What do we do then?’

‘Leave that to me.’

Mistral looked at him sharply but
he avoided her gaze and busied himself with buttoning his jerkin.  She
stood up.  Two could play at that game.

‘I think I’ll get a head start
and ride through the forests.  It’s a good time to catch the deer
grazing.’

‘Phantom will go with you.’
 Fabian said curtly.

Mistral paused, torn between the
desire to snap back her refusal and her promise not to make trouble.  He
finished buttoning his jerkin and looked up to meet her angry glare.  Her
promise promptly won in a resounding victory that vanquished her anger to the
darkest corner of her mind.  How could she refuse anything of him when he
looked at her like that? 

‘We’ll meet you in a couple of
hours.’  Phantom said brightly.  Oblivious to the suddenly charged
atmosphere between Mistral and Fabian he strolled past her carrying his horse’s
saddle and nudged her with his elbow.  ‘Get a move on!  I think that
swim washed your brains right out of your head!’’

In the end hunting with Phantom
turned out to be more fun than riding on her own and brooding over
Fabian.  Their impromptu spriggan hunt the previous evening seemed to have
re-ignited his relish for the more physical side of their training and she
found herself enjoying his company more than she had done for a long
time.  Prospero flushed out two small does which she and Phantom bought
down with their crossbows.  The carcasses were small enough to fit across
the back of their saddles but would easily provide enough meat to feed the
eight of them for the evening and leave enough for breakfast. 

‘Your Mage is getting a bit antsy
about the French cousins isn’t he?’  Phantom remarked casually.

Mistral rolled her eyes, ‘You
noticed that too.  Mind you Phantom, your comment last night didn’t help.’

Phantom gave her an apologetic
look, ‘I know.  I got the message when he stormed off.  I’m sorry
about that Mistral.  Do you want me to say something to him?’

Mistral fought down a
smile.  The thought of Phantom trying to broach the subject of seeing her
without a shirt on was almost laughable.  It wasn’t a question of whether
Fabian would kill him or how, just how long it took.

‘No, it’s all fine now. 
Don’t worry about it.’

Phantom exhaled with obvious
relief, ‘Oh, well as long as you’re sure.’   

They left the forests and rode
out towards the cliffside path Phantasm and Fabian were riding along, spotting
them easily on the exposed  ground.  Fabian’s palomino shone like
burnished gold in the sunlight, making Mistral smile.  Fabian was rigidly
disciplined in almost every aspect of his life but Spirit was his one
indulgence.  After her.   

Emboldened by that thought she
looked over at Phantom and raised her eyebrows.

‘Race you?’

‘No.’

‘Five bronze coins?’

He pursed his lips, the bartering
angel, ‘Six.’

‘Done!’

‘You have been!’  Phantom
laughed and kicked Mars into a gallop.

‘Cheat!’ 

Mistral dug her heels into
Cirrus’ side, a shout of joy escaping when he plunged forwards in deep,
powerful strides.  She could feel the muscles in his haunches bunching and
flexing, pushing himself into a flat-out gallop after the Phantom’s lighter
horse.  They tore along the path at breakneck speed.  The cliffs to
their left dropped steeply away to meet the sea, an endless blue that sparkled
enticingly in the morning sunlight.  Mistral breathed in deeply, savouring
the fresh, salty tang of the sea mixed with the sharp scent of the pine trees.
 Phantom’s horse was light, but Cirrus had stamina.  She quickly
caught him up and stuck her tongue out as she thundered past, grinning at his
response. 

She hauled Cirrus to a snorting
halt at Fabian’s side, breathless and glowing. 

‘Just the level of
professionalism Mage De Winter expected of you,’ said Phantasm in a reproving
tone.

Mistral glared at his
disapproving expression before she risked a cautious glance at Fabian, his face
was expressionless but his eyes betrayed a flash of humour.

Mistral composed her face into an
apologetic expression, ‘I’m sorry, that was definitely my final outburst of bad
behaviour … well, for the next couple of days anyway,’ she amended quickly.

Phantom rode up at a more sedate
pace, his face carefully arranged into a suitably bland expression. 

Wordlessly, Fabian pulled Spirit
around and continued to ride along the path, taking up his quiet conversation
with Phantasm as he rode alongside him. 

Phantom rode up beside Mistral,
his expression wooden and his eyes fixed straight ahead.

‘You owe me six coins brother,’
Mistral murmured out of the side of her mouth.

Phantom’s mouth twitched into the
semblance of a smile and they rode on together in silence.

By the middle of the morning they
were nearing the Port of Holdridge.  The cliff path they were following
dipped steeply, presenting them with a stunning view of the open sea and the
cluster of white-washed houses gathered around the small fishing harbour, all
made miniature by the distance.  Fabian called a halt and studied the port
carefully; Mistral followed his gaze and could make out a larger sailing vessel
moored alongside the simple fishing skiffs.

‘They have already
arrived.’ 

Fabian turned to face them,
keeping his back to the port.

‘I am sure that we are being
watched even now; we are now under Contract.’

The twins nodded tensely and
Mistral met Fabian’s cool gaze calmly.  She would not let him down.

Riding between the twins as
Fabian had instructed; they followed him the rest of the way down the path and
into the village, riding at a deliberately slow walk into the harbour and
reining their horses to a halt.  Mistral and the twins remained mounted as
Fabian swung himself out of the saddle and led Spirit over to greet the four
Mages waiting on the quayside.  It was apparent they had only recently
docked as their horses were in the process of being led out from the belly of
their ship.  Mistral cast a swift eye over the party.  One stood out
as obviously being Antoine, he was richly dressed in robes of darkest blue
trimmed with black fur and greeted Fabian in a self-assured manner bordering on
arrogance.  The other three held back, waiting to be introduced.  Two
were tall and thin with shoulder length fair hair worn loose.  Mistral
guessed that the third must Guillane.  He was a head shorter than his
cousins and as dark as they were fair with small black eyes that never seemed
to be still.  Her eyes roved over his jaw and neck and noticed the white
scarring that Fabian had mentioned … definitely Guillane.  

Time to work …

Freeing her mind of all thoughts,
Mistral focused on the air mid-way above the small gathering.  Fabian’s
aura obediently strengthened, flooding her vision in a halo of perfect royal
blue that commanded her undivided attention.  Forcing herself away from
something she could happily stare at for hours, Mistral turned her attention to
the French delegates.  Their auras shimmered into view more slowly,
drifting across her vision with the laziness of clouds in a summer sky,
circling each of them in a blue to match Fabian’s. 

Royal blue.  Focus and
intent. 

She concentrated harder, looking
for a warning or some hint of a hidden agenda.  Seeing none in the two
tall delegates she narrowed her eyes and fixed her attention solely on
Guillane, the unpredictable element.  His aura was uniformly blue too but
still Mistral stared, unwillingly to believe that Fabian’s warnings had been in
vain.  Her eyes ached, watering from the strain not blinking but she
refused to give in and was finally rewarded with the briefest flash of vivid red.

She blinked and drew in a deep
breath.  The twins stirred on either side of her but she had no way to
warn them of what she had seen in Guillane’s aura. 

Red.  Rage.  Never a
good sign.

Fabian waited politely while
Antoine and his party mounted their horses before he swung himself back into
the saddle.  He held Spirit back to ride alongside Antoine, the three
cousins riding a respectful distance behind to allow them to converse more
privately. 

Mistral heard Fabian reply to
something Antoine said and was surprised to hear him speaking in French, as
easily as though he did it every day.  She was struck for the hundredth
time by how much she still didn’t know about her Mage.

Fabian and Antoine rode past them
without looking up or breaking off from their murmured conversation. 
Keeping her eyes fixed on the tightly bunched reins in her hands Mistral waited
for the three cousins to pass, feeling their curious gazes on her as they rode
by.  Female Ri warriors were not unheard of but definitely unusual. 
They stared openly at the massive form of Prospero sat obediently beside
Cirrus, but did make any comment.  Lifting her gaze once they had passed
by, Mistral glanced briefly at the twins on either side of her.  Their
eyes slid over hers and with no words spoken they urged their horses forward as
one.

The day passed slowly. 
Mistral quickly developed a headache from the strain of continually reading
auras – and from not drinking any water.  She was adamant that the twins
would not be accompanying her to the toilet anytime soon.  They did not
stop for lunch but rode on, trying to cover as much ground as possible before
they made camp for the night.  The landscape changed as they headed north,
the sweep of the forests giving way to bleak open moorland and occasional flat
grey lakes.  Mistral was glad to have hunted the deer in the morning,
there wasn’t much to hunt on the moors but rabbits and grouse, both of which
Prospero stared at longingly but didn’t move from his position beside his
mistress.  He had instinctively switched from hunting to guard dog.

The sun finally began to drop
into the western horizon, streaking the vast expanse of sky with violent pinks
and purples.  Antoine raised a hand and called a halt, subtly reminding
all who that it was he leading the party, not Fabian.  They were to camp
for the night in the shelter of a natural hollow.  A lake lay close by,
offering both fresh water and the opportunity to wash.

The three cousins dismounted with
the horses being led away by one of the taller fair haired ones, either
Christopher or Etienne, Mistral didn’t know which yet.  She could see from
their auras that they were pleased to have stopped for the day and also
slightly depressed, probably by the thought of spending a night on the bleak
moors.  The other fair haired cousin took Antoine’s horse from him and
Mistral dropped her gaze to hide her contempt.  They treated Antoine as
though he were a king, not a dispossessed Mage begging for sanctuary on the
Isle.

Mistral and the twins dismounted
and Phantom took all three horses.  They had agreed beforehand tasks for
the duration of the Contract.  Phantom would tend the horses, Phantasm
would take charge of the fire and Mistral would prepare and cook the
meat.  She had grudgingly accepted the role, knowing that the Rochfortes
would expect the task to be performed by a woman.  In truth, the reason
for her allocated task was less to present an image of conformity but to
provide her with the perfect opportunity to continue reading the delegates
without appearing to be obviously staring at them.

Settling down a short distance
from the rest of the party Mistral drew her dagger and began to skin the deer,
watching the group from beneath her eyelashes while she worked.  Outwardly
the three cousins gave every impression of being relaxed and enjoying the game
of cards they were playing yet their auras spoke differently.  A haze of
deepest blue hung over their heads with Guillane’s erupting into violent
flashes of red and black that threatened to engulf his aura.