The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (20 page)

Noises filtered through the
closed door, shouting voices and running feet, then the chamber door banged
violently open.  Guillane burst into the room, his dark features flushed
with anger.  He strode down the steps, shouting and gesticulating
wildly.  Mistral couldn’t understand his words but she heard Fabian exhale
in a sharp hiss.  She turned and knew something terrible had
happened.  His face was rigid with tension, his eyes fixed on the open
door.  His eyes widened fractionally and Mistral jerked her gaze away to
see Etienne and Christophe enter the chamber carrying between them the body of
Antoine Rochforte.

A scandalised gasp ran through
the Council.  Everyone rose to their feet to watch the two ashen-faced
cousins carry their dead kinsman down the steps.  Even Guillane fell
silent when they carefully laid his body on the white marble floor of the
Council chamber.  Mage Grapple slowly stood and stepped past Guillane to
gaze down at Antoine Rochforte’s dead body.  He knelt suddenly and pulled
something small and silver from Antoine’s neck.  Mistral felt her heart
lurch when she instantly recognised the object.  It was a throwing knife.

The silence seemed to thicken as
Mage Grapple held the blood-stained knife up to the bright light, studying it
carefully.

‘”M”,’ he announced heavily and
gazed slowly around the Council chamber.  ‘This rather distinctive
throwing knife is initialled with the letter “M”.’ 

Mistral gasped and Fabian
immediately gripped her hand tightly. 

Drawn by her shocked exclamation
Mage Grapple’s iron grey stare swivelled around to rest on Mistral, ‘Does this
knife belong to you, Mistral?’

Mistral stared frozenly back, her
mind reeling.  She had no doubt that Putreo was somehow behind this. 
Rage erupted, hot and cleansing, washing away the shock. 
Putreo!
 
She uttered his name like a curse in her mind.  Not only had he removed
the threat to his position and neatly framed her in the process but he was also
going to rob Fabian of her life.  To kill a Rochforte would surely be a
crime punishable only by death. 

‘Yes.’ 

The word escaped her lips in a
terse hiss.

‘I see.’

A heavy silence fell while Mage
Grapple continued to stare at her.

‘And did you kill Antoine
Rochforte?’

Mistral lifted her chin and
stared resolutely back.

‘No.’

‘Lies!’ 

Putreo’s abrupt shout shattered
the tense silence.  He leapt to his feet, pointing accusingly at her, his
face twisted in anger. 

‘We all know De Winter has blood
from the Noble line!  He has seen this as an opportunity to continue the
feud between Nobles and Rochfortes !  Look!  See?’  he pointed a
furious finger at Mistral.  ‘He bought another Ri warrior to the Council
to do his dirty work for him!  I demand her immediate arrest!  This
is an –’ Putreo suddenly sat down and fell silent, gazing into space with a
vague smile on his face. 

Mistral threw Fabian a confused
look but he had locked stares with Guillane.  The Frenchman was yelling
again, his mouth wide to release a torrent of unintelligible words.  He
said the same word twice then jabbed a finger at Mistral and spat on the
floor. 

Mistral felt the tension in
Fabian snap so violently it stung her mind like a whip crack.  He jerked
forwards, shouting back in French.  The room erupted into chaos with
everybody clamouring in two different languages.  Mistral felt her heart
quicken.  This was getting out of control.  Her gaze flicked
anxiously over the shouting faces, double-taking when a flash of red caught her
eye.  Guillane.  His aura exploded in the air above him in flares of
scarlet-streaked black.  Mistral knew what he was going to do a
split-second before the air around him began to shimmer.

‘Fabian!’

Mistral’s warning escaped her
lips in a panicked gasp then time seemed to slow and fragment into disjointed
segments.  Fabian pulled her back.  Something bright whistled through
the air by them.  Guillane gave a high cry and grabbed at his chest, his
eyes widening in surprise.  Still staring at Fabian he sank slowly to his
knees.  A booming silence filled the chamber, so loud his rattling breath
echoed like a drumroll.  He slumped over onto his side and suddenly
everything speeded up again. 

‘No Fabian!’  Mistral
whispered in horror staring at the hilt of Fabian’s dagger protruding from the
growing stain on blood on the front of Guillane’s robes.

Christophe and Etienne cried out
and threw themselves down beside Guillane, pressing their hands uselessly to
the wound and shouting urgently in French.  Mistral tore her gaze away
from them and turned to Fabian.  He was staring down at Guillane’s body
with a cold expression on his face.  With a burst of shock Mistral
realised that his hand had never left hers, he had retrieved and thrown his
dagger without her even noticing.  For the first time she began to see why
the twins feared his reputation so much.  The twins!  Glancing
quickly at them Mistral saw their faces set in expressions of intense
concentration.  Her gaze darted over the chamber and fell upon Mage
Grapple’s Captain, sat alone in on the empty row of chairs with a distant look
on his face, utterly oblivious to the pandemonium erupting around him.

‘Enough!’

A wave of energy exploded across
the room.  Mistral felt her legs buckle and fell back against the marble
bench.  Winded, she stared around dazedly for the source of the spell to
see Mage Grapple stood in the centre of the floor with his arms held out, the
air around him still rippling with the remnants of the spell he had cast. 

‘I will have order in this
Council!’

His ringing shout was met with a
few quiet groans from the Councillors sitting up and looking around
groggily.  Mistral watched them struggling to sit up and wondered how it
would have felt if she hadn’t been wearing gorgon skin armour.

Mage Grapple turned his cold
stare to the twins.

‘Release my Captain.’

They nodded and the statue-like
Captain of the Guard immediately leapt to his feet and stared around wildly.

‘Clear the chamber.’  Mage
Grapple ordered sharply.

His Captain instantly sprang into
action and began ushering people from the room.  Only Etienne and
Christophe took some persuading to leave the bodies of their two kinsmen and
had to be forcibly escorted from the room by two silent warlocks.

‘You will remain.’  Mage Grapple
ordered curtly, looking in turn at Fabian, Mistral and then the twins.

Mistral stared at the
twins.  She desperately wanted to tell them how sorry she was to have got
them into a mess that had probably ruined their dreams of a career at the
Council.  They stared back at her, their faces identical masks of
resignation, obviously thinking the same as her. 

 ‘Let me handle this.’
 Fabian muttered, releasing her hand and rising slowly to his feet.

The door to the chamber closed
with an echoing bang, leaving them alone with the two dead Rochfortes and Mage
Grapple.  He stared down at the body of Antoine for a moment before
lifting his cold grey stare to meet Fabian’s.

‘Did you really have to kill
Guillane?’  he demanded abruptly.

‘He insulted Mistral.’

Mistral stared at him, totally
aghast, ‘You killed him because he was rude about me?  What the hell did
he say that could be that bad?’ 

‘I will never repeat what he
said.’  Fabian growled, his black stare not leaving Mage Grapple’s.

Mage Grapple looked away from
Fabian to regard Mistral impassively, ‘You don’t speak French,’ he stated
quietly.

Mistral looked at him and shook
her head silently. 

‘Then how, I wonder, would you
have been able to persuade Antoine to accompany you to the secluded chamber
where his body was found with your knife in his neck?’

‘I – I couldn’t … I didn’t –’

Mage Grapple continued to regard
her for a long moment then switched his iron stare back to Fabian, ‘Who killed
Antoine?’   

Fabian’s lip curled,
‘Putreo.  Or rather, his new bodyguard.  I doubt Putreo would know
which end of a throwing knife to hold.’

‘What proof do you have?’  

‘None.’

‘Where were you during lunch?’

‘The stables.’

If Mage Grapple thought this was
an unusual place to have meal, he gave no sign, ‘Did anyone see you?’

Fabian’s brow furrowed in
concentration before he shook his head angrily, ‘No.’

‘Then we have a problem.’

Mistral turned to Fabian. 
He continued to stare at Mage Grapple, his face rigid with tension.  A
wave of sadness washed over her as she looked at the face she loved so much,
every contour and hollow so achingly familiar but no less divine.  With a
burst of panic Mistral realised that she may be looking at him for the last
time.

‘Am I going to die for this Mage
Grapple?’ she blurted desperately.

‘You will not die today.’
 Mage Grapple responded crisply.  ‘However, you do present me with
something of a quandary.’  he walked over to stand between the two dead
bodies and gazed down at Antoine thoughtfully.  ‘The crime of killing
Antoine Rochforte cannot go unpunished or there will be a war.’ he paused and
switched his attention to the slumped form of Guillane.  ‘Guillane is of
no consequence.  He insulted another Mage and lost the duel that
ensued.  It happens.’  Mage Grapple shrugged disinterestedly and
turned to face the twins.

‘You two are assured of work in
my Council from now until the end of my time.’

The twins stared back,
astonishment etched on both their faces.  They quickly regained their
composure and gave double nods of polite acceptance, intoning as one, ‘Thank
you, Mage Grapple.  It will be an honour.’

Mage Grapple nodded curtly and
turned to face Fabian and Mistral.

‘I need you all to leave the
Council and travel back to the Ri Valley at once.  You will not seek out
Putreo or his bodyguard – am I understood?’ 

Mistral met his cold stare evenly
and nodded.

‘I will take a small party of
warlocks to escort the Rochfortes back to Holdridge and travel back to France
with them.  This fiasco is going to take some smoothing over.  I may
have to lie.’  he paused, holding her gaze.  ‘Be prepared for people
to believe that you are dead.’

Mistral blinked then quickly
nodded when Fabian squeezed her hand.

Mage Grapple continued to hold
her gaze for a moment then something shifted in their mismatched depths and he
looked at Fabian once more.

‘If you were so insulted by
Guillane’s words then you really should do something about it.’  On that
enigmatic note he turned and began to walk up the steps, snapping
brusquely.  ‘I want you all out of the Council and the city within the
hour!’

Then he was gone, closing the
chamber door behind him with a quiet snap.  Mistral stared at Fabian,
utterly bewildered.

‘What just happened?’ 

‘Not now.  We need to get
out of here.  Get to the stables and saddle the horses.  Stay
together!  I will retrieve our weapons – ’

He leapt lightly down the marble
benches and strode over to Guillane’s body.  Kneeling swiftly he pulled
his dagger from Guillane’s chest and cleaned it the dead man’s robes before
slipping it back inside his boot. 

‘Here.’  

After a moment Mistral realised
he was holding her throwing knife out for her to take.

Her legs felt as though they had
been turned to lead.  She forced them to respond and clambered down the marble
benches to where Fabian was standing.  Reaching out wordlessly for her
knife she slipped it into her pocket.

‘Are you ready to go?’  he
asked urgently.

She nodded and felt the air
beside her stir.  She glanced around to see the twins appearing silently
by her side.

‘Don’t be split up for any
reason.’  Fabian instructed them in a low voice.  ‘I will meet you in
the stableyard as soon as I’ve retrieved our weapons.  Now go!’

Mistral felt a slight pressure on
either arm as the twins took hold of her, forcing her to move.  Stumbling
up the marble steps with the twins still gripping her arms Mistral realised
they would have to leave through an atrium full of angry Council officials that
might well include Count Putreo and his faithful bodyguard.  Adrenalin pumped
through her veins and she welcomed its fire, burning away the numbing
shock. 

‘How the hell are we going to get
out of here alive?’ 

‘I have no idea.’  Phantasm
hissed back and opened the door a fraction to peer out into the open expanse of
the Atrium.

‘Oh, thank you Mage
Grapple!  It’s clear.  Let’s go!’

Dragging Mistral by the hand the
twins ran out across the white marble floor.  It was eerily deserted,
making their booted steps sound unnaturally loud. 

‘Where is everyone?’ 
Mistral whispered.

‘Don’t know ... don’t care.’
 Phantasm muttered back then swore under his breath.  Slowing to a
walk he nodded towards the two huge warlocks positioned on either side of the
closed double doors that lead out to the courtyard.

‘How do we get them to open the
doors?’  he whispered to his brother.

‘No need.  Mage Grapple
wants us gone as much as we do.’

The warlocks were already moving
to unbolt the heavy doors.  They slipped through the moment the gap would
allow them through, leaping down the steps and sprinting across the paved
courtyard to the stables.

‘Talk to me brothers!’ 
Mistral demanded breathlessly.

‘Oh, and is it good to be able to
again!  That was the longest I’ve ever gone without speaking!’ 
Phantom exclaimed and grinned at her.  ‘Well!  Having you around
certainly livened up what would have been one long, dull Council meeting!’

‘Phantom!  I am far from
being able to joke about this!  I thought Mage Grapple was going to order
my instant execution, which in a way he has because I am now apparently dead!’