The Seer (105 page)

‘Er, I think
I’d better get back to him now –’

‘When the
dance is over!’  Leo hissed in a glacial whisper. 

‘Why?’

‘Because
Mistral, the whole purpose of my intervention was to avoid a scene between you
and Christophe, and I will not create one now by walking from the floor in the
middle of a dance!’

‘Fine!’ 
Mistral snapped ungratefully.  ‘But if I don’t get to sit down soon your
nephew is going to be born on this damned dance floor!’ 

Leo looked at
her sharply and Mistral instantly realised her mistake.

‘Oh come on, I
am a Seer,’ she muttered, avoiding the piercing look he was giving her.

‘Your
inability to lie is your one saving grace Mistral; however I was actually more
concerned about your announcement that you had gone into labour!’

‘Oh,
right!  No, I haven’t … I don’t think … but I am being kicked to death, my
back hurts and my feet feel like Cirrus has been standing on them for an hour!’

Leo’s eyes flicked
away to stare coldly across the dance floor, ‘It’s only a dance Mistral, hardly
an onerous undertaking even for someone in your condition.  Just get on
with it.’ 

Mistral bit
back the sarcastic retort that sprang to her lips and concentrated instead on
trying to stand on Leo’s toes while they danced.  To her irritation he
proved adept at avoiding her attempts and they continued to move with perfect
accord around the floor.  It was with undisguised relief that Mistral
stepped out of his hold the moment the music stopped, and was already walking
from the floor before the polite applause had finished.  She had barely
taken one step from the edge of the dance floor when Fabian was there, his
expression tightly controlled.  His dark gazed flickered briefly over her
face then he placed a protective arm around her and guided her wordlessly
across the room back to their seats.  He pulled out a chair for her before
taking one next to her, leaning forward to take both her hands while he stared
into her eyes with a burning intensity.

‘Tell me what
he said to you,’ he demanded in hard voice.

‘Oh, just the
usual threats.’  Mistral lifted her shoulders in a light-hearted shrug,
determined not to allow Christophe the satisfaction of riling Fabian.  ‘He
wants to rule the Isle with me as his pet Seer … nothing we haven’t heard
before.’

Fabian’s face
darkened.  ‘Did he –’

‘No,
Fabian.  He didn’t kiss me.’  Mistral cut in firmly.  ‘But
unfortunately Leo interfered before I could punch him in the face for even
thinking it!’

Mistral heard
Phantom stifle a snort of laughter but Fabian continued to stare forcefully at
her.  He abruptly switched his gaze to stare down the table at Christophe
Rochforte.  ‘My patience has worn thin with their repeated attempts at
debasement!  This ends tonight!’ 

‘Then you
accept the use of our gift to slew the vote?’  Phantasm murmured softly.

‘I will have
the satisfaction of his defeat by whatever means necessary!’

A heavy brass gong
sounded, giving the signal for the start of the meeting and ending their
conversation.  Mistral looked across the candlelit banqueting hall to meet
the inscrutable grey stare of Mage Grapple.  She abruptly experienced an
unpleasant sensation, like cold water being trickled down her back.

‘Did you feel
that?’  Phantom whispered with a shudder.

Mistral
nodded, ‘Mage Grapple’s cast a protective spell on us.’

Fabian’s black
gaze snapped up to stare at Mage Grapple.  He nodded coolly at them then
swept from the room flanked by two faceless warlocks. 

Fabian led her
from the banqueting hall in rigid silence.  She had no need of Sight to
share in the tension radiating from him.  Leo strode alongside them, his
face composed into his usual glacial expression, his thoughts similarly cold. 
By direct contrast the twins appeared quite relaxed and chatted lightly between
themselves.  Laughing together, they exited the door ahead of Fabian and
Mistral and immediately headed towards another ubiquitous black door set in the
back wall of the atrium.  Mistral knew their nonchalance was just an act
to fool the stream of Council officials behind them; she could hear their
thoughts objectively assessing each Councillor they’d seen rise to their feet
to attend the meeting, deliberating their susceptibility to Malachi’s
bribery.  Mistral was suddenly determined to conduct herself with the same
cool professionalism.  She would not embarrass Fabian, or let her brothers
down by losing her temper tonight.  She would carry out the role expected
of her with calm detachment and not allow anything any distractions. 

The door to
the Council chambers was guarded by two cowled warlocks.  An officious
looking Mage bobbed impatiently between them.  He opened the door as the
twins approached but stood pointedly in the way, looking at them expectantly.

‘Weapons,’ he
demanded brusquely when the twins made to walk straight past him.

Phantom looked
at him in surprise, ‘I’m sorry, was I expected to bring some?’

‘Oh dear
brother.’  Phantasm murmured.  ‘It appears we have committed a
dreadful faux pas!’

The expression
on the Mage’s face grew stony while the twins sighed and gazed sorrowfully at
each other.

‘You know,
when I was dressing for this evening I had the strangest feeling that something
was missing!’

‘Hmm, let me
see, formal shirt … evening trousers …  sword!  How could I have
forgotten the essential item for every official Council function?’

‘How terribly
remiss of you brother!’

‘Shocking!’

The queue
behind the twins had fallen silent to listen in on their exchange, flustering
the Mage on duty.  

‘Just hand in
your weapons!’ 

‘So sorry to
disappoint, but I am unarmed.’  Phantom smiled and spread his arms
out.  ‘Care to search me?’

A Councillor
waiting in the queue chortled, ‘Go on Simmons!  Give him a pat down! 
You never know, you might enjoy it!’

Simmons
flushed an angry red, ‘I do not wish to search you!’

‘Really?’ 
Phantom asked, looking disappointed.

‘Just get in
there!’  Simmons snapped, his eyes popping with anger.

Phantom sighed
and shook his head as he strolled past the furious Mage, ‘I must apologise for
this gross oversight.  I shall endeavour to ensure that I attend all
future Council functions with my full complement of weaponry.’

‘You know
brother, I think a knife-belt would be quite a fetching addition.’

‘No, you are
mistaken there brother.  The longbow is this season’s must have
accessory.’

When Fabian
approached the door with Mistral on his arm, something in his expression
forbade Simmons from even considering asking the same question of him.
 Leo favoured Simmons with a frosty glare and also passed through without
being challenged.

‘I assume that
you have taken your usual precautions?’  Mistral whispered once they’d
passed into the chamber.

Fabian smiled
grimly, ‘Of course.’

Mistral found
herself musing bitterly that Mage Grapple expected them, the Craftless lower
class, to give up their only means of defense when every Mage blithely entered
the room armed with their own personal weapon: the Craft.  Taking her seat
between Fabian and the twins, she looked around the white marble chamber she’d
been in only once before.  The first thing that struck her was how bright
it was, not the soft flickering light of torches or candles, but the honest,
glaring brightness of a midday sun.  She looked up at the glass cupola and
saw not the black of a night sky, but a glowing orb of light suspended in the
centre, like a miniature sun.

‘What’s
that?’  she whispered to Fabian, not taking her eyes off the surreal
object.

Fabian didn’t
even look up, ‘Eximius,’ he muttered.

‘Oh!’
 Mistral exclaimed quietly.  Now that Fabian drew her attention to
the fact that it was a spell, she instantly recognised the tell-tale scent of
ozone lingering in the air.  Mage Grapple wanted the same unforgiving midday
light to fill his chamber even though it was night.  She was suddenly glad
that she and the twins had agreed not to use the Ri’s code to communicate; it
would painfully obvious in the glare of the fake sun.

Talking and
laughing loudly, the Council officials filed in to take their allotted
seats.  Mistral watched through narrowed eyes when Christophe and Malachi
entered and strode arrogantly down to the lower level to assume the seats
allocated for guests.

Act like
they own the place already, don’t they?

Mistral felt
her lip curl disdainfully in agreement with Phantom’s unspoken thought. 
She quickly remembered her earlier promise not to allow her temper to fray and
quickly composed her features into what she hoped was an expression of
indifference.

Many of the
Councillors were blinking uncomfortably beneath the harsh glare of Mage
Grapple’s personal sun, the abrupt brightness an unwelcome assault on their
wine-dulled senses.  Mistral glanced quickly at Phantom to see if his
earlier champagne indulgence was having a similar effect but he was his usual
collected self, gazing calmly across the chamber and nodding politely to some
of the Councillors.

Mage Grapple
entered last of all, sweeping down the marble steps to assume his seat on the
wooden chair placed on the floor of the Council chamber.  He sat down to a
resounding silence and leaned one elbow onto his knee, his cold grey stare
raking the full chamber before he addressed them all in a ringing voice.

‘We gather
tonight to decide the future Divinus of the Ritualis.’

Mistral
blinked in surprise, she had never heard the Ri called by its full name before.

‘The
Divinus.  A position of untold responsibility and power.  Councillors
… you must be honestly convinced of your decision before placing your vote tonight.’

Mistral felt
her eyebrow lift involuntarily at the unmistakable infliction in Mage Grapple’s
voice when he pronounced the word “honestly”.  Where was the honesty
tonight?  Apart from her, each of the Ri had entered the Council chambers
with concealed daggers, and half of the Mages present had been bribed to vote
for Malachi.  Honesty was a rare commodity at the Council on a normal day,
but it was definitely absent tonight. 

‘We will hear
the petition of Leopold Sphinx first.’

Leo rose
soundlessly to his feet and looked slowly around the chamber, ‘I shall
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 –’

Mistral
suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and concentrated instead on the matter in
hand, namely who had accepted Malachi’s coin in return for a favourable vote
and who had not.  Resisting the temptation to read the whole chamber at
once and save herself the mundane task that lay ahead, Mistral forced herself
to be methodical and decided to read each Councillor in turn.  She felt
Fabian’s hand take hers as her eyes slid out of focus, her mind reaching out
for the first red-faced Councillor seated on the far left of the uppermost
tier, as they had agreed.

By the third
Councillor Mistral felt her earlier resolve of professionalism slipping
away.  They were all drunk and thinking about anything other than the
importance of the matter at stake.  Did the Ri mean nothing to them? 
Over-privileged … pompous … arrogant … she felt angry resentment growing with
every mind she read.  Most were more concerned with how quickly they could
get to the vote then return to the banquet before it finished, not the future
leader of the Ri. 

Come on
Mistral!  Which party are the top tier going to vote for?

Mistral heard
Phantasm’s urgent thought and clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to snap back
that most of them were voting for a party, not a Divinus, she quickly signalled
right with her eyes ... Malachi’s gold had weaved it’s magic on that particular
bunch of inebriated imbeciles.

‘And now we
shall hear the case to be the Divinus from Malachi Nox.’

Mage Grapple’s
steely voice cut through her angry thoughts, drawing her attention back to the
unnaturally bright chamber and Malachi, now upright and gazing around
importantly.

‘I am not
unknown to many of you.’  Malachi began with a knowing lift of his
eyebrows.  ‘The Council has relied upon my skill and discretion on
innumerable occasions.  I have no need to prove my sincere dedication to
the continued safe existence of the haven we inhabit; it has been done,
countless times –’

So he’s killed
a few loud-mouthed Mages!  Lucky him!

Mistral kept
her face wooden while Phantom’s thoughts echoed precisely her own sentiments.

‘I have no
concealed agenda –’

Liar!

Bare-faced
cheek!

Mistral could
only silently agree with her brother’s thoughts and try to control her own urge
to stand up and loudly denounce Malachi for the lying, conniving, blood-sucking
megalomaniac that he was.

‘Only a desire
to lead the Ri in accordance with the Council’s wishes; knowing that they have
both our, and the vested interests of the Isle, at their heart.  As do I.’

Oh
please!  He doesn’t have a heart!

Lying son
of a –

The rage that
filled Mistral was insuppressible.  She leapt to her feet, her eyes
blazing with an anger that challenged the glare of the enchanted sun hanging in
the air above them.  ‘You
lie
!’ 

Her furious
declamation reverberated around the chamber, drawing theatrical gasps of shock
from any Councillors sober enough to react and disdainful sneers from Malachi
and Christophe.

‘Ah, but of
course, the Seer would protest.’  Malachi countered softly.  ‘For she
is bound to, quite literally I assure you.’  His scathing gaze swept the
room, finally coming to rest on Leo.  ‘The Seer is tied to the would-be
Divinus, Leo Sphinx, to be his creature in return for the apprenticeship she
has served.  Can you bring yourselves to trust such power in the hands of
one person?’

A low grumble
is dissent met his cold words.  Mistral ignored the stares she was
receiving and glared furiously at Malachi.  ‘It is the way of the Ri! 
Training incurs costs that must be paid for!’

‘Ah, but you
have bartered, have you not?  An entire year beholden solely to his will,
expending your rare and powerful gift in any way he sees fit, instead of two
spent serving the Ri?’ 

Mistral’s eyes
remained locked on Malachi’s; her own filled with unspeakable loathing, ‘So
what if I have?  It’s my life to barter!’

‘Precisely my
argument.’  Malachi sneered.  ‘How can we trust a Divinus who has at
his beck and call three of the most gifted individuals on the Isle?  He
already has the Gemini beholden to the Ri for two years to pay back their
apprenticeship and now he has the Seer … who has somehow managed to beguile him
into reducing her own servitude to just one year –’

Mistral ground
her teeth at the barely concealed suggestion that she’d somehow persuaded Leo
to give her special treatment … that she was sly, devious … no better than
Golden …

‘Tread with
care Malachi.’ 

Fabian’s
quietly spoken words were more chilling than any shouted threat.  He had
risen to his feet to stand beside Mistral, his arm curled protectively around
her while his black stare bored into Malachi’s.

‘Ah, the Mage
De Winter.’  Malachi smiled contemptuously.  ‘How you so revere the
brotherhood of the Ri, yet shun your own blood!  How can we ever believe
the word of such a singularly confused individual?  You are a Mage, yet
you deny your right.  You are Ri, yet blatantly cannot be so by your blood
… what, I wonder, are you?’

‘Irrelevant.’

Christophe’s
condescending announcement echoed across the chamber as he rose to his feet and
gazed arrogantly at Fabian.

Mistral sucked
in a sharp breath but was prevented from hurling a stream of abuse at his
supercilious face by the smallest amount of pressure on her hand by Fabian.

‘Irrelevant?’ 
Leo stood up to lock stares with Christophe, his own icy blue eyes challenging
the coldness of the Rochforte’s gaze.  ‘I think not.  Fabian is a De
Winter, the last surviving member of one of the most revered and powerful
sorcering families in Mage history –’