The Seer (72 page)

‘Yes!’ 
Cain’s exuberant cry echoed around the silent tavern, he quickly realised his
mistake and spluttered a hasty explanation.  ‘No not to him!  I just
won a bet that’s all!’

Mistral
laughed and looked around the tavern, reading the aura’s of the gathered
warriors.  A dreary fog of disdain, mistrust and boredom filled her
vision, apart from one sunburst of vibrant yellow.

‘Any
takers?’  Phantom asked lightly.

‘Only
one.  Our resident poet seems to like the idea of more talk and less
action.’

Phantom rolled
his eyes, ‘Ah, of course.  Mistress Lightwater.’ 

‘She’d be out
of a job if Mycroft got his way.’  Cain observed drily.  ‘Unless we
were all in the Infirmary with paper cuts and injuries from dropping books on
our toes!’

Mistral
snorted with laughter but quickly turned it into a cough when Leo stepped
through the door.  His intimidating presence instantly quelled her mirth
and any quiet conversations being held.  There was no question of him
having to force his way to the bar; warriors instantly moved aside to create a
clear path for him. 

‘Ah, the good
ship Leo in full sail,’ murmured Cain.

Mistral
smirked but she had to admit that Leo did move with the stateliness of a
galleon, straight-backed, square-shouldered and head held high he strode to the
bar and turned to face the packed room.  He remained silent for a long
moment, ensuring the full attention of every single warrior before he finally
spoke.

‘Warriors of
the Ri, tonight you will exercise your right to choose,’ he paused to rake the
room with his icy stare.  ‘Choice.  None of you chose the mixed blood
that runs in your veins, or the title of half-breed bestowed upon you by your
birth.  But your lives changed the day you embraced your right to choose,
and you chose the life of a warrior.  Know that we are not defined by our
blood but by the choices we make, and with that knowledge be proud of who you
are.  Live your life by this one simple fact and your funeral pyre shall
burn with righteous flames.’  Leo bowed his head and stepped back to
thunderous applause.

‘You’ve got to
admit, he knows how to work the crowd.’  Phantom whispered to
Mistral. 

She pulled a
face and clapped politely, ‘At least it was short.’

‘Round
three!’  Xerxes announced in an eager whisper. 

Mistral looked
up to see Malachi Nox already stood at the bar.  She hadn’t even noticed
him enter. 

‘Read him Mistral.’
 Fabian breathed in her ear.

Mistral nodded
once and immediately focused on the air above his short, dark hair.  The
hours she had spent inside his mind allowed her almost instant access and his
thoughts seethed into hers, broiling with anger and vitriol.  Other
emotions tore at her mind; revenge, the excitement of a long awaited moment
finally being reached and an overwhelming desire for vengeance that dominated
his thoughts ... but Mistral could See nothing of how he planned to achieve it.

Her eyes slid
back into focus with a frown, ‘I can’t See what he’s going to do, he’s not
thinking of it.’

‘The truth
will out.’  Fabian murmured softly and took hold of her hand. 

She slipped
her fingers between his and interlaced them tightly, glad of the comfort of his
touch.

Malachi gazed
coldly at the expectant faces before him then turned to address Leo with a
sneer, ‘Well spoken, Master Sphinx.  Truly, those were words to stir the
blood. 
Blood!
’  He cried more loudly and spun around to sweep
the packed tavern with his glittering black gaze.  ‘Master Sphinx speaks
of blood and of choices!  But what choices will he make for the Ri?’ 
Malachi paused and let the question hang dramatically in the air.  ‘Will
he choose to lead us into the Council’s enslavement?’ He continued in a softer
voice.  ‘I think we should know before we choose him.’

A rumble of
assent ran around the room.  Mistral had no doubt it had been started by
one of Malachi’s followers.  Leo remained silent and stared glacially at
Malachi until it became obvious that he wasn’t going to favour Malachi’s
pointed remarks with a response. 

‘Master Sphinx
speaks so grandly of the unimportance of blood!’  Malachi continued in a
scathing tone.  ‘And he does not lie!  Your blood is meaningless to
him!  It is less than the residue to be wiped from his blade after
battle!  Do not be fooled by the illusion of your loyal and steadfast
Training Captain!  He has deceived you with a plan so ingenious that had I
not born witness to the truth myself, I would never have believed the sheer
depths of its audacity.’  Malachi turned to look at Leo again, speaking in
a voice laden with disdain.  ‘The orphaned boy adopted by the Ri, raised
as a warrior to become the youngest Training Captain ever known.  It is
rather a heart-warming tale of achievement in the face of adversity is it
not?  But, have you ever stopped to consider just why he has been so
successful?’  Malachi turned sharply to face the room of warriors once
more.  ‘It’s almost like … magic.’

The room was
gripped with suspense.  Mistral felt Fabian’s hand tighten around hers,
confirming her fear of what Malachi was going to do, and there was no time left
to instruct the twins to stop him …

 ‘Your
Training Captain, the would-be Divinus ... is a Mage.’

There was a moment’s
stunned silence before the room erupted into shocked exclamations and shouted
denials.  Xerxes swore under his breath and instantly scanned the
parchment in his hand to see if anyone had bet on that outcome.

Malachi held
up a thin hand calling for silence, turning to fix Leo with his malevolent
black stare, ‘You speak of blood!  Yet you deny your own!  What do
you know of loyalty and the brotherhood of the Ri?  You are Mage
born!  No half-breed condemned to a life of killing for money, but born of
the ruling class!  Destined to a life of privilege by the blood that runs
in your veins.  How long were you to live this farce?  Was this the
plan all along?  Infiltrate the Ri; gain a position of power, then lead us
straight into the Council’s thrall?’

Leo’s face was
like a death mask, utterly devoid of any emotion.

‘Are you
really saying that Master Sphinx is a Mage?’  A warrior called out in a
disbelieving voice.

‘Oh yes. 
A full-blooded Mage.’  Malachi’s face twisted into a snarl of
contempt.  ‘Proposing himself as the next Divinus of the Ri!’

Leo did not
speak but stared with icy calm at Malachi while a taut silence spread out
across the room.  Every pair of eyes stared at Leo with a mixture of
accusation, disbelief and anticipation; waiting for him to refute Malachi’s
claims.  It was so quiet that Mistral could hear every breath she drew,
shallow and rapid.

‘You do not
speak Master Sphinx!’  A voice cried out. 

Mistral turned
to see one of Malachi’s followers glaring insolently at Leo. 

‘Or should that
be Mage Sphinx?’  The warrior beside him jeered.

Leo fixed the
warrior with his cold stare and lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug,
‘There is nothing to speak about.’

‘Do you deny
your blood?’  The warrior demanded harshly.

‘It is
irrelevant.’

‘Maybe to you,
Mage
, but not to us!  We deserve an explanation!’

An angry
murmur rippled through the room in response to the warrior’s outburst. 
Mistral gripped Fabian’s hand more tightly while they waited for Leo’s
reply.  The sounds of discontentment grew louder and Mistral realised with
dawning horror that Leo wasn’t going to respond to the warrior’s demand. 

‘He’s got to
speak!’  Mistral hissed urgently to Fabian.  ‘He’ll just look like an
arrogant Mage otherwise!’

Fabian didn’t
reply.  He was staring at Gleacher Shacklock. 

‘We deserve
the truth!’  The warrior shouted.  ‘The Ri can’t have a Divinus of
Mage blood!’

The room
erupted in a roar of agreement and Malachi’s face blazed victoriously.  He
turned to give Leo a pitying smile before facing the room again, raising his
hands to call for order. 

‘Blood!’ 

It was not
Malachi’s voice that silenced the tavern, but the granite hard voice of
Gleacher Shacklock.  He stared impassively across the sea of watching
faces and slowly began to roll up his shirt sleeve, exposing a scarred
forearm.  Drawing his dagger he pressed the razor-sharp edge to the inside
of his elbow and deliberately drew a long line down to his wrist.  ‘The
liquid essence of life.’  He tilted his head to regard the crimson line of
blood welling up along the length of the cut, running down his arm to gather
and fall in heavy droplets onto the table, splashing the surrounding tankards
with their fine scarlet spray. 

The resulting
silence in the room was absolute.  Every warrior was utterly transfixed by
the sight of Gleacher’s blood dripping down onto the table. 

‘Mine has
flowed on more occasions than I care to recall.’  Gleacher smiled
humourlessly and held his arm up a little higher, watching the blood running
down to gather in the crook of his elbow.  ‘Is my blood not the same
colour as yours?  Does it not run with the same vigour when
released?’  Gleacher’s grey eyes roved questioningly around the room of
warriors; warriors that had all entrusted their lives to him countless times.
 ‘When my blood is nothing but ash at the base of a funeral pyre, how will
you remember me?  As a half-elf?  Or a half-Mage?  I desire
neither to be my epitaph.’  Gleacher concluded.  ‘I ask only to be
remembered for my actions, not my blood.’

‘More bold
words!’  Malachi snarled.  ‘But they change nothing!  Master
Sphinx has concealed the true nature of his blood from us all for years! 
How can we trust such deceit?’

‘Deceit?’ 
Gleacher demanded sharply.  ‘There is no deceit in an orphaned baby not
knowing his blood!’

‘You
knew!’  Malachi pointed an accusing finger at Gleacher.  ‘Yet you
helped to conceal the truth!  You are as guilty of deception as he!’

‘There is no
crime in concealing the nature of his blood!  Show me a warrior that
boasts of the blood that runs in their veins and I will show you a warrior who
is lying!  We all hide from the prejudice our mixed-blood evokes!  It
is the very reason for the existence of the Ri!  

‘Warriors!’ 
Gleacher’s voice thundered across the tavern with renewed force.  ‘Summon
to mind the times your Training Captain has stood shoulder to shoulder with you
on a battlefield, when his blood has soaked the earth at your feet!  Those
are the only times that his blood should matter … when it fell in place of
yours!  There was no conspiracy!  Only an unwanted baby left to die
in the forests!’

A ringing
silence fell over the room.  Gleacher stepped back, rolling down the
sleeve of his shirt while Malachi glared at him with corrosive hatred.

‘It is time to
vote!’  Mycroft’s shouted order was immediately followed by a surge of
restless muttering amongst the warriors.

‘What do you
See Mistral?’  Fabian whispered urgently.

‘Indecision.’
 Mistral murmured, her eyes scouring the olive green haze of auras. 
‘Some anger from Malachi’s supporters –’

‘Is he really
a Mage?’  Xerxes whispered quickly to the twins.

They nodded
wordlessly and Xerxes snorted angrily. 

‘Not voting
for him then brother?’  Phantasm murmured softly.

‘Oh, the
Leoship’s still got my vote.’  Xerxes replied with a shrug.  ‘Doesn’t
change anything for me , I’d still rather have a Mage as a Divinus than
Malachi.’

‘There’s no
choice really.’  Brutus agreed.  ‘Mycroft would turn us into some
sort of ballet school, and Malachi would work us into the ground, or just let
his nearest and dearest feed off us!’

‘How about you
brother?’  Xerxes asked Cain in a low voice.

‘Better the
devil you know.’  Cain replied grimly.  

‘But Master
Nox, you have not told us how you would lead the Ri yet!’ 

Mistral turned
at the sound of Samson’s rasping voice.  He was seated at a table on the
far side of the room surrounded by a group of stony faced warriors.

Malachi
favoured Samson with a lengthy cold stare before he replied, ‘It is no secret
–’  he paused to lay heavy emphasis on the word.

‘Like he’s so
honest!’  Xerxes muttered under his breath.

‘– that I
believe the future of the Ri lies in severing all ties with the Council.’

There were
several enthusiastic shouts of agreement but Samson raised his voice above them
to call loudly, ‘What?  No more Council Contracts?  The most highly
paid work we get is from the Council!’

Malachi’s
voice became angry, ‘There would be other work as highly paid!’

‘Oh
really?  Where from exactly?’  Samson looked around as though trying
to spot some, causing a smattering of laughter from the tables near him.

‘Mercenary
work –’ 

‘Ah yes,
mercenary work.’  Samson intoned heavily.  ‘How we all adore selling
our lives for a cause we don’t believe in.’

‘You believe
in money!’  Malachi spat, his thin face twisting in anger at the ridicule
in Samson’s tone.

‘Not as much
as you do!’  Xerxes suddenly shouted.  ‘How many Contracts did I take
as an apprentice with little added extras for you?  All those odd items
that I sweated and bled to bring back to impress the mighty Magnate with my
abilities!  All just for you to sell on the black market!’

Several
warriors turned to give Xerxes curious looks, but most merely raised their
eyebrows in silent agreement.  Malachi’s misuse of the apprentices had
obviously been long suspected by many.

Malachi
stiffened, his narrowed glare full of black hatred, ‘You dare accuse a member
of the Magnate, warrior?’ He demanded in a voice that vibrated with fury.

Xerxes
shrugged nonchalantly, ‘Accuse?  No.  I’m just embracing this new
concept of being open and honest,
Master
Nox.’