The Seer (56 page)

‘Just enjoying
my last breath of freedom,’ she murmured, knowing he wouldn’t understand her.

Etienne’s cold
voice barked out again, issuing orders in French that she didn’t understand,
but the soldiers did and they instantly resumed their efforts to haul her across
the quay.  Mistral’s heart began to race at the enormity of what she’d
agreed to do.  She had willingly given herself to the Rochfortes, and in
doing so betrayed the Isle … the Ri … her brothers … the twins.  But what
she suddenly hated herself for more than anything was the fact that she’d
betrayed Fabian.  The image of his tormented face burned in her mind,
searing her with a pain so sharp she gasped out aloud.  Jerking her head
around Mistral stared with wild eyes across the harbour at the black silhouette
of the ship steadily carrying her Mage away.  The moon drifted out from
behind its veil of cloud to bathe the harbour in an eerie silvery glow. 
Mistral forced her aching eyes to take in every detail of the illuminated ship,
willing it to turn and come back for her … imagining the sound of his voice
calling her name as he strode towards her with his arms open...  

Furiously
blinking back the tears that stung at her eyes, Mistral gritted her teeth and
refused to let them fall.  She would rather die a thousand deaths than
reveal one single ounce of weakness to Etienne.

Etienne!

Black hatred
bubbled up inside Mistral, washing away her self-pity.  How
dare
he
rip her life apart to satisfy some pointless ancient blood feud?  He,
Etienne Rochforte, the Mage waiting so arrogantly for her to meekly surrender
her freedom ... he had forced her to betray Fabian, and for that she would make
him pay.  Her eyes gleamed brightly in the darkness, this time not with
unshed tears but with revenge.  She would kill him and then escape, or die
trying.  Either way, she would never permit Etienne Rochforte to make her
a traitor.   

With her
decision made, Mistral lifted her chin proudly and no longer limply accepted
the soldiers’ pressure on her arms but strode confidently between them across
the moonlit cobbles, towards Etienne; towards her fate.  Her destiny.

They quickly
drew level with the rows of boarded-up market stalls where Etienne was waiting
for her.  She was now mere strides away from him.  It was over and
they both knew it.  His arrogant features blazed with a triumphant
smile. 

It was the
same smile that Fabian had worn the first time he had kissed her … and on the
day she had married him ... and the moment he had found out she was carrying
their child.  And now Etienne Rochforte was daring to wear that same
glorious expression?  Rage coursed through Mistral.  Drawing her lips
back into a silent snarl she envisaged smashing her fists into his
condescending face.  In the same split-second she saw her crumpled body
riddled with arrows lying on the quayside and knew she couldn’t give way to her
impulsive anger. 

Forcing down a
calming breath Mistral nearly gagged when a familiar smell filled her nostrils
in a sickening rush.  Hope suddenly flared in her, hot and bright, burning
away her anger.  She sucked in another deep breath, and then another until
her stomach gave a queasy roll and rebelled against the lingering scent of
honey coming from the nearby stall.

Retching
loudly Mistral turned to liberally splatter both soldiers in vomit.  They
instantly sprang back with startled cries of disgust.  Wrenching herself
from their suddenly unwilling hold Mistral immediately sprinted towards the
edge of the quay, her feet pounding in time to her frantic heartbeats. 
Shouts erupted behind her followed by the sound of running feet but she didn’t
dare to look over her shoulder.  Reaching the stone edge Mistral didn’t
hesitate and dived headfirst into the black water.  She remained under the
water for as long as she could to hide from the archers, swimming until the
burning pain in her lungs forced her to surface.  Pausing only long enough
to draw in a single ragged breath, she struck out or the Ri ship, now half-way
across the harbour.

More shouts rang
out from the quayside, quickly followed by a series of loud splashes. 
Mistral risked a glance over her shoulder and saw four soldiers swimming
towards her.  With a panicked curse she pushed her arms and legs to work
harder, her already tired limbs aching under the extra weight of her
waterlogged clothes.  She kept her eyes fixed on the Ri ship, just visible
over the mounting waves, gliding smoothly away from her towards the harbour
entrance and the open sea.  She let out a sob of frustration; to be so
near to Fabian and yet so far away was unbearable.  The water grew rougher
the further away from the quay she swam.  Strong waves buffeted at her,
pushing her back towards the soldiers.  Mistral began to panic in
earnest.  The soldiers were stronger swimmers than her, she could hear
them steadily gaining and the resulting spasm of fear gave her fatigued muscles
new life.  She dived under water, changing direction to surface further
away to their left.  The tactic seemed to work; for a moment all she could
hear was her own laboured breathing then a hand grabbed her leg.  With a
shout of surprise she kicked out sharply and heard a satisfying snarl of pain
when her boot connected with something solid.  Diving back under, Mistral
changed direction again and pushed up to the surface for much needed air. 
She opened her mouth to draw in a lungful of air only to suck in a burning
mouthful of salty water instead.  Coughing and choking, she floundered,
her wild gasping filling her aching lungs with more water.  Her feebly
kicking legs slowed and she began to sink.  A large wave broke over her,
sending her tumbling down into the black depths of the harbour. 

Mistral
drifted spread-eagled down through the disorientating blackness.  She
gazed around in vague disinterest at her surroundings.  Realising dimly
that she was under water she turned her head to look up at the surface, but she
couldn’t decide which way was up and which was down.  The burning urgency
for air faded, leaving in its place a feeling of tranquillity.  Mistral
smiled.  She was drowning.  But it didn’t matter.  Nothing
mattered anymore.

Hands gripped
her arms, pulling her up.  She broke the surface and immediately spewed
out a lungful of salty water.  Someone was dragging her through the water
but Mistral had no strength left to fight.  She submitted weakly to the
grip of her captor, staring dazedly up at the stars in the black sky. 
Sounds filtered through her waterlogged ears; the persistent slapping of waves,
shouts, screams of pain, and a high-pitched whine that reminded her of
something ... but she couldn’t force her stupefied mind to remember what. 

‘Mistral? 
Can you hear me?’

Ah, now that
sound she would know anywhere.  She closed her eyes and smiled, knowing
for certain that she had drowned and was in heaven.

‘Mistral! 
Look at me!’

She
frowned.  Being nagged didn’t fit in with her image of heaven, and neither
did being cold.  Mistral opened her eyes, shuddering violently.

‘It’s
shock.  You’ll be fine when we get you on board.  Hold this –’

Mistral felt
strong hands taking hers and wrapping them around something solid.  The
grip was comfortingly familiar.  She stared at her hands, wrapped tightly
around the hilt of her own dagger, buried deeply into the side of the Ri’s
ship.

‘Fabian?’ 

‘I’m here
Mistral.  Just try and hold on a little longer.  You’re nearly safe.’

His hands were
pulling something around her and tying it tightly beneath her arms.  She
felt a powerful tug wrenching her out of the water, lifting her up through the
air towards the deck of the ship.  Gleacher’s hands reached out to grab
her and pull her over the balustrade.  He didn’t speak to her but quickly
unknotted the rope and dropped it over the side again.  Soaked to the skin
and shivering uncontrollably Mistral stared about her in utter confusion. 
The ship wasn’t moving.  The crew were no longer at the oars but lined up
at the stern, firing their longbows into the water ... then Fabian’s arms were
suddenly around her, pulling her tightly against his drenched body and nothing
else mattered. 

‘So, as
honeymoons go, that one was an unmitigated disaster!’  Phantom declared in
an impressed voice.

Mistral pursed
her lips thoughtfully, ‘Oh, I don’t know –’

‘I quite agree
Mistral.  I would hardly say that rescuing one of the last remaining
unicorn herds and reading both Etienne and Pierre Rochforte could be called a
disaster!’

‘What? 
And nearly drowning?’

While Phantasm
argued with his brother Mistral looked down at her dog to hide a smile. 
She would remember their brief honeymoon for quite different reasons.
 ‘Have you seen the unicorns yet?’  she asked when Phantasm had
finished berating his brother.

‘Yes, and
thanks so much for bringing them back to the Valley, feisty little gits aren’t
they?’  Phantom said sourly.  ‘One of them actually chased me across
the paddock this morning!  I thought the damned thing was going to stick
its horn –’

‘Brother.’
 Phantasm interrupted curtly.  ‘I think we ought to hear more about
the Rochfortes, if you don’t mind.’

Mistral sighed
and leaned back against the wall of The Cloak and Dagger.  Lifting her
feet up onto the stool in front of her she stroked Prospero’s head.  He
groaned contentedly rested his head into her lap.  She smiled fondly at
him while she replied.  ‘Well, I couldn’t understand the language of their
thoughts, but their determination to secure the services of a Seer was
blatantly apparent.’ 

‘And they
nearly did by the sounds of it!’  Phantasm exclaimed.  ‘You weren’t
seriously going to hand yourself over to Etienne were you?’ 

‘Yes,’ she
replied truthfully.  ‘It was the only way I could ensure everyone got away
alive.  I knew Fabian would come back for me, eventually.  And
anyway, I had my butterfly knives hidden in my boots.’

‘So if your
plan to vomit your way to freedom failed you would’ve resorted to the more
standard tactic of taking on the entire Rochforte tribe armed with just a pair
of knives?’ 

Mistral
shrugged, ‘That was about the size of it.’

‘And just what
did Mage De Winter have to say about this master strategy of yours then?’ 
Phantom asked.  ‘Because I think I can actually hear him using the phrase
“over my dead body”.’

‘Which was
precisely why I did it brother.’  Mistral said quietly.  ‘And no,
Fabian wasn’t particularly keen, but I got Gleacher and the crew to help me
out.’

‘Help you
out?’  Phantasm frowned.  ‘How?  I can’t see that Master
Shacklock or the crew have any particular sway over Mage De Winter.’

‘No, but they
did manage to restrain him.’

‘Master
Shacklock agreed to restrain Mage De Winter in order to let you defect to the
Rochfortes?’  Phantom asked dubiously.  ‘That doesn’t sound like
him!’

‘Gleacher’s
not like Fabian.  With Gleacher its logic over emotion every time, and
this was no different.  I surrender to Etienne and everyone stays
alive.  He knew the Rochfortes didn’t want to kill me –’

‘No, just use
you for your gift until you were nothing but an empty shell!’  Phantasm
retorted.  

‘Well then,
let’s just be thankful for your amazing ability to vomit on command these
days!’  Phantom declared cheerfully and lifted his tankard.

Mistral
laughed and took a sip of water from her own tankard.  Despite having
slept for most of the return crossing she was still feeling tired, and the
nausea that had plagued over the last few months seemed to have returned with
vengeance.

‘I bet Mage De
Winter was livid once he’d got you safely back on board.’  Phantom
continued with a gleeful look on his face.

Mistral sighed
and looked down at Prospero again, happily soaking her trouser leg with loving
drool, ‘He was furious,’ she agreed.  ‘But as usual, not with me. 
Fabian blames himself for the whole wretched fiasco; for not seeing through
Pierre sooner, for asking me only to read Etienne and not Christophe – ’

‘Why? 
What was Christophe doing?’

‘He took a
party of Rochforte soldiers to the farm.  If I’d read him I’d have
recognised the scenery and realised that Etienne was somewhere else, probably
setting a trap for us.  Instead I just kept reading Etienne, and because
he was being very clever about not thinking of his plan and I didn’t recognise
any of the landmarks he was seeing, we concluded that they were still
travelling somewhere close to their stronghold.  We had no idea that they
were really heading to the harbour to cut off our escape route.’

‘I admit, it
was a well thought out plan.’  Phantasm conceded.

‘But there’s
one part I don’t understand.’  Phantom frowned and slowly lowered his
tankard onto the table.

‘Just
one?’  Phantasm asked, feigning surprise.

‘Which part
brother?’  Mistral asked with a smile; she had missed the twins’ banter.

‘Your
dagger.  You said you didn’t know you were going to try and swim back to
the ship, but you stuck it into the side at just the right height to be a
handhold.’

Mistral gave
an embarrassed laugh, ‘Oh, that.  Well, I would like to say something
profound like Sight gave me a premonition, but in reality I did it for two
reasons.  Firstly, as you know, I’m very fond of that dagger and in some
stupid way I thought that if it went back to the Isle on the Ri’s ship then a
part of me would too.’  The corner of her mouth lifted in a
self-depreciating smile.  ‘And the second and infinitely less sentimental
reason was out of pure temper at Etienne daring to order me to throw my
favourite dagger into the sea.’

Phantom gave
an angry shake of his head, ‘You should have lobbed it at Etienne.’  

‘Yes, that
would have been an excellent move, wouldn’t it brother?’  Phantasm
tutted.  ‘Kill the only reason she was still alive?  Good plan! 
Do you think the Rochforte soldiers would’ve thought twice about avenging the
death of the head of their tribe?  Seer or not, Mistral would have been
floating face down in the water ten seconds after that knife hit Etienne.’

‘It’d have
been a happy ten seconds knowing you’d killed him though.’  Phantom
muttered stubbornly.

Mistral
laughed into her tankard of water.  Watching the twins bicker was better
than any tonic. 

‘But what of
the Rochfortes plans?’  Phantasm abruptly asked, abandoning his squabble
with his brother to lean across the table to fix her with his piercing green
eyes.  ‘Mage De Winter made sure that Pierre Rochforte was left alive so
that you could read him; have you?’

‘Not since we
left.’

Phantasm
looked shocked, ‘Why not?  It’s vital we know what they’re planning, now
more than ever!  What were you doing for the whole voyage back! 
Sleeping?’

‘Yes!’
 Mistral snapped back.  ‘I was a little bit tired out by all the
fresh air and exercise!’ 

‘What? 
You
slept
the whole way back?’ 

‘Pretty much.’
 Mistral muttered and looked down at Prospero again.

‘Well, what
about when you were in France?’  Phantasm tried again more gently. 
‘You read both Pierre and Etienne then didn’t you?’ 

‘Yes, but it
didn’t mean a lot, I don’t speak French you see.  Sorry.’

Phantasm
rolled his eyes in exasperation, ‘Come on Mistral!  Stop being so
obstinate!  You must remember some words!’

Mistral gave
in with a defeated sigh, ‘Oh alright, I remember a few … let’s see … d’or, but
I know that was when Pierre was thinking about Golden… who I am personally
going to kill by the way –’

‘Yes Mistral,
I’m sure you want to, but I think there’ll probably be a queue by the time the
opportunity to fulfil that particular ambition finally arises!  Now please
focus!’

‘Oh I don’t
know, it all sounded the same to me!  Lots of something that sounded like
temps … and changer … oh and there was this one word that was really funny,
Fabian told me what it meant – vengeance.’

‘So, time for
change and vengeance.  Hardly the pleasant musings of someone planning a
holiday are they?’  Phantom commented drily.

Phantasm
didn’t respond and stared broodingly at the rain drumming against the dirty
window.

‘No.’ Mistral
agreed and reached out to take another sip of water from the tankard on the
table.  ‘But at least I should now be able to read both Pierre and Etienne
remotely.  They’re both good at hiding their true thoughts, but no-one can
do that all the time.  They’ll slip up sooner or later.’

‘You could try
reading Golden.’  Phantasm suggested quietly.

Mistral gave
him a disgusted look, ‘There’s no way I’m reading that trollop unless I really,
really
have to!  And I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention
your idea to Fabian either.  I’ve got a list as long as your arm of
charming individuals he already wants me to read, and I could do without adding
her on the bottom.  The very bottom I might add.’

‘Forget
Golden!’  Phantom waved a hand dismissively.  ‘How about having a go
at reading Etienne for us?  We could translate!’

‘No.  I’m
too tired.’

‘Oh come on
Mistral!  You got back yesterday and you’ve already admitted that you
slept for most of the crossing!  You’ve had plenty of time to rest!’ 

‘Sorry, not
until the patient has been passed as having a clean bill of health.’

The twins
swung around to look at Cain, looking uncharacteristically grumpy.

Mistral
groaned, ‘Do I have to?’

Cain eyed her
irritably, ‘Let’s see shall we Mistral?  According to Mage De Winter’s
brief synopsis of events you were slightly over enthusiastic during rounding up
the unicorns, were held at knife point, thrown around, stamped on, rode for
several hours non-stop in a mad dash for your life and then you topped it all
off with a nice leisurely swim in near freezing water!  So, yes!  You
do have to!’

‘Easy
Cain!’  Mistral looked at him in surprise.  ‘What’s with the bad
mood?’

‘Nothing!’

Mistral raised
her eyebrows and contemplated her brother silently for a moment, ‘Ah, I
understand,’ she smiled sympathetically at Cain’s scowling face.

‘What?’ 
Phantom demanded impatiently.

Mistral
sighed, ‘Tooth ache.’

Cain exhaled
sharply, ‘I think I preferred it when you couldn’t hear my thoughts!’

‘Well I can.’
 Mistral immediately retorted.  ‘And your pain too!  Come on
Cain, I can pull teeth as well as Serenity.  Why don’t you let me treat
you for a change?’

‘No!’ 
Cain snapped and abruptly strode over to the bar.

The twins
watched him storm off then turned back to Mistral.

‘That’s not
like Cain.’  Phantom said, looking intrigued.  ‘He’s not usually
bothered about painful treatments, I’ve watched you stitch him up whilst he carried
on playing cards before!’

Mistral looked
down at Prospero thoughtfully, ‘From what I could gather in his thoughts the
healer from his tribe was a bit brutal when it came to pulling teeth, you know
the type of thing, one foot on the shoulder to pull it out –’

‘We get the
picture!’  Phantom interrupted hastily.

Mistral looked
over at Cain, now leaning against the bar with his back to them, ‘Do you mind
if I use your house for a bit?’  She asked the twins.  ‘I think I
could persuade him to let me pull that tooth out if you two weren’t around to
encourage his manly pride.’

‘Of course.’
 Phantasm responded promptly.  ‘We will let Mage De Winter know where
you are.’

Mistral pulled
a face and rose from her seat, ‘You could tell him I’d run away with Floris and
he wouldn’t notice when he’s with Leo.’

Fabian walked
into the twins’ house an hour later to see Mistral throwing a blood-soaked rag
onto the fire.  Mistral looked around to see him standing frozen in the
doorway, his face white with shock.  For a moment she was confused then
his thoughts told her that he had leapt magnificently to the wrong conclusion.

‘No, no Fabian
I’m fine!  I just pulled a tooth for Cain that’s all!’

Fabian closed
his eyes with relief then strode across the room to her, ‘Are you sure? 
Did Cain say you were fine?’

‘Fine would be
a slight overstatement.’  Cain’s slightly muffled voice carried through
from the kitchen.  He walked in holding a clean linen cloth to his
mouth.  ‘Try dehydrated, exhausted and despite watching her trying to eat
an entire roast boar in The Cloak and Dagger, she’s not gaining weight quite as
I’d like – and she really should to try and vary her diet a bit more too.’

Mistral pulled
a face at him and turned to smile sweetly at Fabian, the contrasting expressions
making Cain roll his eyes in exasperation. 

‘I feel fine
Fabian.  Cain’s just grumpy because he hates having teeth pulled.’

‘Who
doesn’t?’  Fabian murmured then looked at Cain expectantly.

‘Definitely no
more travel abroad please Mage De Winter.’  Cain continued in a brisk
tone.  ‘And I would go so far as to advise no long journeys of any
sort.  No climbing, no hard riding –’