The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (18 page)

They rode along the busy street
until Fabian halted before a set of ornately wrought gates guarded by two more
warlocks.  Mistral could see a wide avenue beyond, quiet and empty. 
She stared at the open space longingly while the silent warlocks opened the
gates, every movement they made mirrored perfectly by the other, making the
simple action appear almost rehearsed, like a staged performance.

The Council Officials all live
on this avenue.  The Council is the building at the end.

The thought rang with bell-like
clarity in her mind, courtesy of the twins.  Mistral’s curious gaze slid
over the tall houses flanking the tree-lined avenue.  The road was not
cobbled but paved in smooth slabs, stretching down to end in the huge white
building she had seen from the ridge on the moors.  The houses were all
built of the same cold grey stone as those on the market street but had an air
of grandeur that spoke of prosperity.  Painted iron railings enclosing
neat courtyards, most boasting a marble statue or two.  They rode further
along the avenue and Mistral found herself struggling not to gape.  Every
house they passed seemed to vie with its neighbour to be the most
extravagant.  Fountains and lush gardens now replaced the neat courtyards
and one even contained a pair of bored looking lions.  By stark contrast
the house next door was a derelict shell.  The obviously once grand
courtyard was overgrown; brambles tangled over a fallen statue and rubble
filled the empty basin of a ruined fountain.  Mistral glanced up at the
blank and broken windows and wondered who had lived there.

The De Winter mansion …

Mistral felt her eyes widen
involuntarily.  This was the house that Fabian had grown up in, and surely
now owned as he was the heir to the De Winter name.  She looked at the
building again and could see why he would never want to live there. 
Despite its crumbling state Mistral could tell the mansion could never have
been called a home, not like their small mountain house near the Valley. 
Turning away from the place that held nothing but ghosts and bad memories for
Fabian, Mistral swiftly checked up on the delegates’ auras.  They were
still predominately blue signifying the sense of purpose that had been
prevalent but now also held a distinctive metallic sheen revealing that,
despite their rigid silence, they were also filled with curiosity about the
abandoned mansion.

On the opposite side of the
avenue Mistral noticed a house that was more of a fortress than a private
residence.  A bare courtyard sat behind tall spear-topped railings, the
narrow windows of the forbidding house beyond seeming to frown down at avenue
below. 

Mage Grapple’s residence …

That fits
, Mistral thought
with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

They were now nearly at the gates
to the Council.  Mistral studied the white building before her more
carefully.  She had assumed that the grey stone had simply been painted
white, but could now see that she had been mistaken and the entire Council
building was actually constructed from white marble.

Ostentatious isn’t it?

Mistral hid a smile.  It was
certainly eye-catching.  A huge glass cupola sat over the centre of the
main building with two wings stretching out at right angles, creating an
open-ended square that was the courtyard they were about to enter.  More
warlocks opened another heavy set of gates with the same eerily harmonised
movements, permitting them entrance to the paved courtyard.  Fabian and
Antoine dismounted and passed their reins to the liveried grooms that ran
forward.  Mistral watched the horses being led away around the side of the
Council building and guessed they were headed in the direction of the
stableyard.  She was about to follow after them with Cirrus when she
noticed the twins passing their reins to more grooms that appeared. 

Feeling suddenly apprehensive
Mistral reluctantly handed her reins to the groom that approached her, eyeing
Cirrus nervously.  Cirrus promptly flattened his ears and bared his teeth
threateningly.  Mistral watched the boy dragging her bad-tempered horse towards
the stables and almost felt sorry for him.

Time to go Mistral.

Leaving the unfortunate groom to
his fate, Mistral took her place between the twins with Prospero pressed
closely to her side.  They walked in silence, following Fabian and the
Rochfortes up a wide flight of white marble steps to a pair of huge black
doors, flanked on either side by more faceless warlocks.

We’re about to enter the
Council atrium.  Be prepared to give up your weapons.

Mistral felt another wave of
apprehension at the thought of entering a building full of powerful Mages
without any weapons other than the dagger she had concealed in her boot.

The warlocks opened the doors and
Mistral tried not to let her jaw drop.  The room beyond was unlike
anything she had ever seen.  She would have stood and gaped but the twins
swept her forward, neither seeming to bat an eyelid at the unworldly splendour
of their surroundings.  In essence it was simple, albeit on a huge
scale.  The atrium was constructed entirely from white marble; floors,
walls and ceiling.  A double row of slender columns stretched from either
side of the double doors to the far wall of the atrium where Mistral could see
a series of tall black doors, all closed.  The highly polished floor
reflected light from innumerable tiered candelabras hanging from the high
ceiling.  Every surface in the atrium shone and gleamed with a dazzling
intensity that made Mistral want to shield her eyes.  Dragging her
attention back to ground level Mistral’s gaze instantly fell upon the scarred
features of Mage Grapple.  Unsmiling as ever, he stepped forward to greet
Antoine.  At his back a group of Council officials waited their turn to be
introduced, all smiling politely, but their eyes were calculating. 
Mistral watched from her place between the twins at the back of the room,
feeling awkward and out of place.  None of the officials so much as cast a
glance in their direction.  Even the massive form of Prospero sat by her
side didn’t attract any obvious attention, as though huge wolf-hybrids were an
everyday occurrence inside the Council chambers.  The twins continued with
their commentary in her mind, their green eyes sliding surreptitiously over the
gathered officials.

Mage Grapple.

You don’t say
, Mistral
thought sourly.

In the group.  Third from
the left.  Count Putreo Darke.

Mistral felt a spark of interest
and looked over at the man Fabian hated.  His appearance was markedly
unexceptional, almost bland.  He was not particularly tall and had the
unmistakable soft appearance of someone not used to physical exertion. 
His hair was a non-descript shade of brown, carefully swept back from a face
that bore regular features vaguely similar to Antoine’s.  Mistral was
about to read his aura when the twins’ startled thoughts invaded her mind again.

!!

Mistral frowned and glanced at
them, their faces were expressionless masks but their green eyes were wide and
staring in the same direction.  Following their gaze Mistral felt a burst
of disbelief as she took in the familiar ugly features of Columbine hovering
uncomfortably behind Putreo.  The twins' thoughts rushed into her mind in
a confusing jumble.

What is she doing here? 

Is Columbine really working
for the Council?  How for crying out loud?

She hasn’t Qualified! 
How can an warrior get work without Qualifying?

Suddenly Fabian was stood before
her, his pale face taut.  Hardly moving his lips he spoke to them in an
urgent voice, barely audible above the loud conversations going on around them.

‘Columbine is here.’

Mistral and the twins gave the smallest
of nods.

‘She is Putreo’s new bodyguard.’

!!

Mistral flinched.  She was
going to have to tell the twins to get out of her head.  It was starting
to get annoying.

‘You need to read Putreo now
Mistral, before she sees you three and tells him what gifts you have.’

Mistral immediately snapped her
gaze back to Count Putreo.  She was relieved that the twins seemed to be
keeping their thoughts to themselves for the moment, allowing her to
concentrate without interruption.  She studied the air around his
carefully styled hair, willing his aura to appear.  A wearily familiar
haze of blue shimmered gently into view and Mistral sighed.  Purpose again
… Darker hues began to drift into her sight; russets, blacks and lime greens
that appeared then quickly vanished as Putreo’s thoughts influenced his
emotions.  Splashes of dirty brown appeared and faded at regular intervals
as his roving eyes roved alighted on people he disliked, then an explosion of
scarlet blotted out everything, swamping her vision with such blinding
intensity that Mistral was forced to blink and break the illusion to find
herself staring straight into the bland face of Putreo.  For a
split-second her heart faltered then she realised that he was not looking at
her, but at Fabian. 

Red.  Rage.  And it had
been for Fabian.

Resisting the urge to grab the
knife in her boot and fling it straight at him, Mistral drew in a deep breath
and looked at Fabian.  Holding his gaze she raised her eyebrows an
infinitesimal amount to let him know she had successfully read his aura.

Fabian gave the briefest of
nods.  His eyes lingering on hers for a moment longer then he was gone.

Mistral watched him walk away
with a burst of longing.  His dark figure stood out starkly amongst the brightly
robed Council officials milling pointlessly around the white marble
atrium.  The talk was loud and effusive.  And all of it in
French. 

Mistral suddenly felt beyond
ignorant.  She felt inept.  Insignificant.  A nobody hovering at
the back of a room full of such rich, influential and educated people, no more
than the poor guest at a dinner party. 

We are here to do a job.

Oh that does it!
 
Mistral inhaled sharply.  Could they read her mind now as well as stick
their stupid thoughts in it?  Or was her sudden feeling of insecurity that
obvious to them.  She sighed.  Probably.  The twins knew her
almost better than she knew herself.

‘Enough now.  Thank you.’

You’re welcome.

Mistral hissed a swear word and
heard the twins’ laughter in her mind abruptly cease.  She drew in a
breath of relief that was short lived when two warlocks appeared before them,
black robed and menacing.  They towered above her and pointed wordlessly
to the swords strapped to her back.  With a feeling of vulnerability that
increased with every weapon she unstrapped, Mistral reluctantly handed over
both swords then her knife belt.  Suddenly anxious thought that she might
not get them back again, she was at least grateful to have left her crossbow
strapped to the pommel of her saddle. 

Soundlessly, the warlocks
collected her weapons before moving on to Phantasm and finally Phantom. 
Mistral sincerely hoped that they had also heeded Fabian’s advice and managed
to conceal a knife too.  

Feeling strangely underdressed
Mistral stood between the twins and gazed across at the sea of Council
officials.  Blocking out their unctuous voices and forced laughter she
focussed on their conjoined auras.  All of the Council officials’ personal
agendas were laid on display for her viewing in a churning mass of envy, greed
and ambition.  The clashing lime greens and rusty colours broiled and
bubbled like a stormy ocean, swirling sickeningly round and round. 
Feeling nauseous with revulsion Mistral closed her eyes, clearing her vision
and steadying her reeling mind.  She kept her eyes closed, savouring the
peace behind her eyelids and suddenly longed to be with Fabian enjoying a
tankard in The Cloak and Dagger.  She couldn’t for the life of her imagine
why the twins hankered for a career at the Council when all it seemed to be was
a haven for corrupt narcissists.

As though responding to her
silent plea Fabian appeared before her again, startling her from all dark
thoughts.

‘We have a while until the
meeting starts.  A formal luncheon is being served in the banqueting hall
to which the Ri have not been invited.’

Glancing down at the clothes she
had been wearing since yesterday, Mistral was not surprised.

‘Are you going with them?’ 
Mistral’s voice was hoarse from lack of use.  She avoided Fabian’s eyes and
tried to hide the desperation steadily building inside her.

‘No.  I am not interested in
the endless platitudes and empty flattery that will be served up along with too
much wine and over-cooked meat.  I suggest we eat together in the
stables.’

The twins shared a bemused look
at Fabian’s choice of destination but Mistral couldn’t have cared if he’d
suggested eating in the Council tannery.  She was leaving the place that
made her feel like less than something on the sole of a finely heeled shoe and nothing
could please her more.  He took her arm and walked her briskly back
through the double doors and out into the courtyard. 

‘Fabian, I –’

‘Not yet,’ he muttered curtly,
keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.

He led her around the side of the
Council building into the largest, cleanest stableyard she had ever seen. 
Rows of immaculately groomed horses swung their heads over their stable doors
to look enquiringly at them.  Mistral glanced along the line of gleaming
heads, looking for the familiar features of her horse and spotted him almost
immediately, snapping viscously at the horse stabled next to him.

‘Perfect.’  Fabian headed
straight towards Cirrus’ stable.  Opening the door he shoved the big horse
out of the way and stepped inside.  Leaning his back against Cirrus’ chest
to prevent him from barging out he gestured for Mistral and the twins to enter.