The Seer (102 page)

‘Oh look at
this!  They’ve put you down as “Lady De Winter” and my brother and I as
“Representative of the Ri”!  Nice to know our place!’

‘Well they
were hardly going to put “Thought Spy” for me and “Mind Manipulators” for you,
were they?’  Mistral said and leaned across him to read the card in his
hand.

‘So, I’m
between Fabian and Phantasm, and you and Leo are opposite with somebody called
“Countess Whitley” between you –’

‘Oh no! 
Not Countess Witless!’  Phantom groaned.  ‘She’s the most boring old crone
on the face of the Isle!’

‘Good, then
she won’t be interested in what we’re up to then will she?’  Mistral said,
casting a meaningful look over her shoulder at the stream of laughing Council
officials and delegates filing into the room.

‘No,’ sighed Phantom. 
‘It is going to be all work and no play tonight.’

Mistral looked
at him more carefully.  He was definitely a bit drunk and seemed far too
relaxed considering the importance of the meeting they were due to attend
later.  ‘Why so complacent brother?’  she asked quietly. 
‘Tonight is definitely all about work, that’s the only reason we’re here! 
It’s certainly not to have fun!  If that’s what you could call this stupid
farce!’

Phantom
grinned smugly, ‘Yes, it’s hardly your thing is it?  Nor mine either, to
tell you the truth … anyway, blame your Mage, he’s the schemer behind this
one.  He’s had the invite for weeks.’

‘Has he
really.’  Mistral said icily, privately wondering why her gift saw fit to
wake her up in the night to warn her of threats on her life which, to her, were
a perfectly acceptable part of the warrior’s life she’d chosen … but for some
unknown reason her gift hadn’t warned her about Fabian’s plans; and they were
proving to be an infinitely more traumatic experience than any shouted death
threat ever could be.

‘Hmm, yes.’
 Phantom continued, idly tossing a name card back down onto the
table.  ‘But I don’t think he’d have given attending a second thought if
Master Sphinx hadn’t been summoned to present his case.  It provides a
perfect opportunity for us to size up the opposition you see, or rather
See
,’
he laughed at his own joke, making Mistral wonder if he’d been swigging more
champagne than his brother realised.  ‘And as for me being complacent,’ he
turned to grin at her, his green eyes filled with mischief.  ‘Tonight’s
hardly challenging is it?  This lot’ll be so drunk by the time the meeting
comes round they won’t remember who they were going to vote for anyway! 
Until my brother and I remind them that is!’

Not fooled by
his show of over-confidence, Mistral pursed her lips thoughtfully, ‘You
obviously think the meeting might get a bit tense.  Or why have you both
got knives in your boots?’

‘Habit.’
 Phantom shrugged.  ‘Anyway, the meeting will probably be the
highlight of the whole evening.  I’m looking forward to watching Master
Sphinx and Malachi shout at each other!’

Mistral
suddenly smiled, ‘I can almost hear Xerxes taking bets on how many times Leo
says his catchphrase –’

‘Oh, you mean,
“
endeavour to provide the Ri with the necessary leaderships skills required
to lead us forward into a brighter future and further strengthen existing bonds
with the Mage Council; for the mutual benefit of the richly diverse lives of
all who call the Isle a home blah de blah blah blah– ” ’
 Phantom recited
in a perfect imitation of Leo’s arrogant voice.

They bent
their heads together to try and hide their laughter, earning a disapproving
look from Mage Castledine who happened to be walking past.

‘Ah, such
silliness is fun, but hardly appropriate.’  Phantom sighed and adjusted
his expression into a something more serious.  ‘Tell me, have you Seen
Malachi yet?’

‘Yes and no.’
Mistral pulled a face.  ‘He’s here with Christophe, and I’ve heard him,
but not for long.  I thought it was a particular delight I would save for
after I’ve had something to eat.’

‘Please do try
and eat with the implements provided tonight, Mistral.’  Phantom said with
a condescending lift of his eyebrows.  ‘I know you might consider them to
be surplus to requirements since you have fingers, but to the rest of us they
are known as knives and forks.  We’re not camping now!’  

‘Quite, no
nymph tents here brother.’  Mistral said softly, keeping her gaze fixed on
the goddess-like figure of his mother moving gracefully across the room.

‘I do hope
that you have kept that little, er, episode, strictly to yourself!’ 
Phantom hissed, throwing a panicked glance in Melsina’s direction.

‘Might have.’
 Mistral shrugged nonchalantly and let him squirm for a few seconds before
giving him a wide smile.  ‘Relax brother!  I haven’t said a word
about your indiscretions; however, I am looking forward to a glass of wine.’

‘One it is
then, but no more!  Believe it or not, I’m actually more afraid of your
husband than you!’

‘More fool you
then.’  Mistral’s smile tightened.  ‘Because I am far, far more
vindictive than he could ever be.’

‘And don’t I
know it.’  Phantom muttered and moved away from her to make the long trek
down the table to take his seat on the other side.

‘Oh, Phantom?’

He turned and
arched an eyebrow questioningly.

‘Have it
brought to me in a water glass won’t you?’  She mouthed.  ‘Less
obvious –’

He laughed and
turned away and continued to walk down the length of the table, sublimely
oblivious to the covetous stares he attracted from every female he
passed.  Mistral watched him go with an affectionate smile, reflecting
that it would take a very self-assured woman to settle down with one of the
twins.  It was fortunate that they didn’t have Xerxes’ wayward tendencies,
or no female on the Isle would be safe.

‘Would you
care to be seated Lady De Winter?’

Mistral took
the seat she was offered by a waiter clad in the same eye-catching mauve livery
and gazed uncertainly at the confusing array of silver cutlery on the table
before her.

‘Start from
the outside and work in.’ Phantasm advised in a low whisper as he took his seat
next to her.

‘Right,’ she
muttered, picking up a steak knife and lifting it to the light to examine the
serrated edge carefully.

‘Mistral.’
 Phantasm warned, placing his hand over hers and putting the knife back
down on the table.  ‘These are for eating with only.’

‘Of course
they are!’  Mistral agreed quickly, eyeing a silver fruit knife
thoughtfully.  ‘But surely, they could double-up, at a push –’

‘No, they
couldn’t.’  Phantasm said firmly.

Their
whispered argument was broken up by the arrival of the first course; an
elaborate display of melon and some other fruits Mistral couldn’t identify.

‘Do I eat it
or wear it?’  she asked, poking dubiously at the artful arrangement with a
fork.

‘Depends; you
are pregnant after all – are you feeling hungry or irrational?’  Phantasm
enquired, gracefully spearing a grape with his fork.

‘Neither
tonight,’ she muttered and dropped her fork down onto the table.

‘Mistral.’

She
immediately turned in response to Fabian’s voice.

‘If you expect
me to allow you to drink that glass of wine you don’t think I know Phantom has
passed to you, then I insist that you eat something,’ he murmured.

‘Oh, right.’
 Mistral muttered guiltily and instantly picked her fork up again. 
She managed a couple of mouthfuls of fruit before giving up with a sigh.

‘How can you
not be hungry?’  Phantasm asked.  ‘I’ve seen you practically demolish
an entire roast boar, and that was before you were pregnant!’

‘I don’t think
there’s much room left for food anymore, thanks to your godson,’ she said,
giving her midsection a reproachful look.  Heaving a dissatisfied sigh,
Mistral gazed at the other delegates seated near them but didn’t recognise anyone;
she half-wished Phantom was sat next to her instead of his brother so they
could at least have a laugh.  She glanced at Fabian but he was engaged in
conversation with a Mage who was obviously part of a foreign delegation. 
His dark skin and close-cropped hair spoke of much more exotic climes than the
Isle offered; she gazed at the Mage, idly reading him while she reached
distractedly for the water glass full of wine in front of her.  There was
nothing untoward in either his aura or his thoughts; he was genuinely
interested in the conversation he was having with Fabian.  Although
Mistral couldn’t see for the life of her how a discussion of the proposed
revision of the Treaty of International Relations could ever be anything more
than a cure for insomnia.

Taking a sip
of her wine, Mistral pulled a face and put it down quickly, ‘Have you given me
off wine as a joke?’  she hissed across the table at Phantom.

‘No,’ he
replied in a surprised voice.  ‘It’s the same as mine, which tastes just
fine!  Don’t you like it?’ 

‘No.’ Mistral
pushed the glass away with a disgusted look and suddenly longed for some good
honest ale. 

‘It’s your
pregnancy.’  Phantom informed with a knowing look.  ‘Your tastes
change … along with everything else.’

Mistral
suddenly
really
wished that Phantom was sitting next to her so that she
could stick her fruit knife in his leg.

‘Mistral?’

She broke off
from glaring at Phantom to meet the cold blue gaze of Leo, sat directly
opposite her and blatantly ignoring Countess Whitley’s enthusiastic attempts to
draw him into a conversation.  Mistral hadn’t seen him so far that evening
and couldn’t help but lift her eyebrows in surprise.  He was also formally
dressed, the starched white shirt emphasising his pale skin and bright blue of
his eyes … Delphine De Winter’s eyes.  She watched them narrow slightly as
his lips moved, making no sound but inviting her to read his thoughts. 

I need some
information to prepare for the meeting … I want you to read everyone in this
room and let me know what you hear, we cannot leave anything to chance …
Eximius may ban you from the meeting as well as the vote  … and pay
particular attention to Christophe and Malachi …

So much for
having something to eat first.  Mistral sighed and let her eyes travel
along the long table, assessing the colourful swathe of multiple auras hovering
in the air above diners, searching for any tell-tale negative flashes that
would require further investigation. 

Mistral was
only half-way along one side of the table when the next course arrived; a huge
white plate with a beautifully presented fillet of fish arranged in the centre.

‘Oh, no,
please take that away from me!’  She groaned, going suddenly pale. 
‘I detest fish!’

‘Since
when?’  Phantasm asked with a frown as he quickly pulled the plate away
from her green-looking face.

‘Never been
keen, but it’s got worse–’

‘I wish Cain
was here.’  Phantasm muttered, watching her carefully.  ‘I’m getting
worried about you.’

Fabian looked around
sharply and met Phantasm’s eyes while Mistral took a gulp of water and promptly
choked, realising too late that it was actually the wine she had persuaded
Phantom to give her.

‘I think I
need a few minutes,’ she gasped and made to rise to her feet. 

Fabian and
Phantasm instantly leapt up, solicitously pulling her chair out and helping her
up.

‘What d’you
think you’re doing?’  Mistral hissed as Fabian took her arm to escort her
from the room.  ‘I’m going to the bathroom!’

‘I know,’ he
murmured, nodding coldly at a foreign Mage who called out a greeting to them as
they passed.

‘Well, I
really don’t need any assistance in that one area of my life, thank you very
much!  So you can just go sit back down!’ 

‘No, Mistral,
I will not,’ he said flatly.  ‘Unless you have forgotten, Malachi is here
tonight and you are the payment he’s promised the Rochfortes in return for
their support!’

‘Well I don’t
think he’s going to be hanging around in the bathrooms for me do you?’

Fabian turned
to give her a black stare, ‘I think Malachi has already proven that he’s
willing to do anything to fulfil his ambitions.  Hiding in a bathroom is
definitely something he would do.’

‘Oh
alright.’  Mistral gave in with a scowl.  ‘But you can wait
outside.  I’ll scream loudly if he’s in there.’

Fabian smiled
briefly and paused outside a polished black door, ‘I shall be right here.’

Mistral pushed
the door open and stepped into an austere but typically grandiose white marble
bathroom.  Closing the door firmly behind her she leaned against it and
drew in a deep breath, eyes closed in relief.  Opening her eyes slowly she
looked down the empty length of the bathroom and suddenly smiled.  She was
alone.  Exhaling loudly, she walked over to one of the polished marble
basins and pressed her hands against the edge.  Staring at her
unrecognisable reflection in the mirror, Mistral took a deep, slow breath,
dispelling her lingering nausea.  By the third breath she felt the queasy
knot in her stomach lessen.  Released from the effort of concentrating on
not being sick, her mind immediately began to filter in thoughts from Fabian
once again.  A whisper of despair reached her ears, making her frown in
puzzlement; it was not his voice.  Instinctively, she tilted her head in
the direction of the soft sound.  It was coming from behind one of the
closed cubicle doors.  She focussed, listening intently … it was
definitely a thought, not a spoken sound … Mistral turned and looked fully at
the closed door, her eyes widening with recognition at who was inside.

They were
undeniably Golden’s thoughts, but the timbre was wrong; gone was the arrogance
and cold ambition.  Mistral listened more closely to the anguished voice
in her ear and to her utter surprise suddenly felt pity welling up inside
her.  Christophe had been cruel; he had seen Mistral’s obvious condition
and had humiliated Golden with mocking comments about her inability to bear
children.