The Seer (94 page)

Fabian looked
at her over the brim of his goblet, raising his eyebrows in silent enquiry.

‘Who shot the
best at The Festival of the Arcane?’  she asked him in an excited voice.

He laughed and
lowered his goblet, ‘The centaurs.’

‘It’ll be the
ultimate distraction technique!  They’ll be so amazed at having a centaur teaching
them that they’ll forget all about their stupid inability to shoot
straight!  It’ll be the perfect chance for them to redeem themselves …
we’ll go tomorrow and ask Imperato for his help, I promised Alyssa I’d visit
her soon anyway.’

‘That was two months
ago Mistral!’  Phantasm admonished her.  ‘Is that your definition of
soon?’

Mistral pouted
unrepentantly, ‘Been busy.’ 

‘But, really
Mistral!  Two months?’

‘They are
centaurs Phantasm.’  Fabian cut in quietly.  ‘Time is of no
consequence to them.’

‘So that’s
where she gets her appalling timekeeping from then.’  Phantom muttered
under his breath.

Ignoring
Phantom’s muttered jibes, Mistral turned to Fabian, ‘Let’s go early, then we
can go home for the night after we’ve seen Imperato.  I could do with getting
out of the Valley for a bit.  I feel like a prisoner here sometimes.’

Fabian smiled
at her but when she returned her attention to her plate of food, his eyes
suddenly became guarded.  Samson caught his look and raised his
eyebrows.  Fabian gave an unperceivable shake of his head, letting him
know that it was not something they could discuss openly.  To cover the
silent communication between Samson and Fabian, the twins immediately began
making plans for their forthcoming day off.

‘So, Mistral’s
off to see the centaurs tomorrow, Xerxes and Brutus have gone east on a
Contract and Cain’s still painting his shop … what are we going to do with our
one hard-earned day off this week brother?’  Phantom asked brightly. 
‘It’s probably going to rain all day again, so please tell me it’s something
that doesn’t involve being outside, and I don’t particularly fancy helping Cain
either.’

‘Master
Wolfsnare has requested a meeting with us.’

‘Oh? 
What about?’

‘Some tribal
dispute that Ares is struggling to resolve; he wishes us to use our gift to
make the two quarrelling parties forget all about it.’

Phantom’s
cat-like eyes glittered with sudden interest, ‘Oh I do hope it’s over something
scandalous, a love feud, or perhaps a murder –’

‘Sorry
brother, but it’s a rather dull dispute over land rights between the Emerald
Forest and Southern Downs tribes, and we’ve got the starring role of sorting it
out.’

Phantom’s face
fell at the news that his one day off was going to be spent on such a mundane
matter, ‘Starring role!  I rather star in having a lie-in –’  He
suddenly stopped and gave Samson a sly look.  ‘Talking of stars, have you
any plans to see your star-named lady tomorrow Samson?’ 

Samson grinned
lazily and leaned back on his chair, ‘No need to try and be subtle with me
brother, I know of your insatiable need for gossip.  Sorry, but a
gentleman never tells.’

‘Gentleman?’ 
Mistral choked on her glass of water while Fabian laughed quietly.  ‘Come
off it Samson!’

‘I am a
perfect gentleman.’  Samson retorted, lifting his unshaven chin in a pious
expression.

‘Oh
really?’  Mistral scoffed.  ‘Tell me this then, were you being a
gentleman when you refunded that distraught Mage his Contract fee for
confirming that his wife was having an affair –  which was with you by the
way; then crept back into his house that night and stole it anyway?’

Samson threw
back his head and roared with laughter, waking Prospero who leapt up and
growled threateningly at the disturbance, ‘I’d forgotten about that!’ 
Samson gave her a gold-toothed grin and shook his head.  ‘Ah, what it was
to be young and reckless!  But tell me Mistral, do you know about the time
Fabian and I were stranded in this dingy port on the south side of the Desert
Lands, and damn, it was dull!  Until Fabian decided to take offense with
the landlord of the only tavern, then all hell was let loose –’

The rain
drumming against the windows became background music to their talk and
laughter; by the time the meal was finished and they had been entertained with
a selection of Samson’s more outrageous tales, Mistral’s eyes were starting
droop.

‘I suppose I’d
better wash up,’ she yawned and made to rise from the table.

‘I don’t think
so!  We’ll clear away.’  Phantasm sprang to his feet and pulled her
chair out for her.  ‘You go to bed.’

Phantom eyed
the mountain of washing up unhappily, ‘Will we?’  

‘Yes we will,
my godson needs his sleep.’  Phantasm said firmly and shooed Mistral off
up the stairs.

They watched
her vanish up the stairs.  Once they heard the bedroom door close Samson leaned
across the table to speak in a low voice to Fabian.  ‘Tell me now brother,
what did Mistral See last night?’

Fabian swirled
the dregs of wine in his goblet and gazed broodingly at the ruby liquid for a
moment before he replied, ‘The final preparations have been made. 
Christophe and his party are ready to leave for the Isle.’

‘How long
before they arrive?’  Samson asked quickly.  

‘According to
what Mistral heard last night, less than a week.’

Samson narrowed
his eyes thoughtfully, ‘Tight timescale … but workable.  What are their
plans?’

‘To contest
Leo’s right to rule and propose Malachi as Divinus.  The vote held in the
Valley was too close for that not to be a viable option.  And, sadly,
Malachi has sufficient reserves of gold to ensure his success in any Council
vote.’

‘Then he dies
before that happens.  We must intercept the party – but it’ll have to be
done unofficially.  Leo can’t be seen to be involved.  It’ll just
have to be just you and I.’

‘I agree.’
 Fabian’s face was tense.  ‘But I am torn.’

Samson nodded
slowly, ‘Mistral.’

‘I dare not
leave her unprotected now!  Malachi plans to send a party to the Valley to
rally his supporters here and abduct her –’

‘You would not
be leaving her unprotected, Mage De Winter.’  Phantasm interrupted softly.

Fabian looked
up to meet Phantasm’s eyes and frowned, ‘It is not my intention to offend you,
Phantasm.  You know of my reputation.  My destiny was to be paid to
die on some blood-soaked battlefield.  Every Contract I fulfilled meant
less to me than the air I drew into my lungs.  Then, after half a lifetime
of such a soulless existence, destiny saw fit to offer me something I lacked
even the ability to imagine.’  Fabian paused and turned to look out of the
rain spattered window.  A long silence fell before he spoke again, his
voice so quiet it could barely be heard over the sound of the rain.  ‘And,
despite the fact that she deserves so much more, for some reason she chose to
share her life with a worthless creature like me.  I thought her my
absolution, but in truth she is my redemption, and I refuse to fail her.’

‘We would not
fail her either Mage De Winter.’  Phantasm’s green eyes were hard as the
cold jewels they mimicked.

Fabian locked
gazes with Phantasm, his own blazing with a sudden fire, ‘I know that you three
are bound in ways that defy any definition, but I cannot simply delegate the
responsibility of her life to another!  I wish nothing more than to deal
out death to Malachi and every cursed Rochforte that ever saw fit to suck
breath into their unworthy bodies, but I will not ... I
cannot
... leave
her now!’ 

A tense
silence fell while Fabian and Phantasm continued to glare at each other across
the table.

‘Join me for a
drink in The Cloak, brother.’  Samson rose to his feet.  ‘We have a
day’s grace to find a solution, destiny permitting.’

‘Great!’ 
Phantom muttered when the door had closed behind Samson and Fabian.  ‘Do
you think destiny’s going to do the washing up too?’

Monday morning
saw the start of August and the end of the heavy thunderstorms that had
blighted July’s usually glorious weather.  Fabian and Mistral were in the
Arena waiting for the apprentices to arrive, having an argument.

‘I want you to
stop now.’

‘No,
Fabian!  What would I do?  Clean tack and polish your boots?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you
serious?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘No
chance!’ 

‘Mistral! 
You are entering the ninth month of a pregnancy we have no idea how long will
last!  You could give birth any day!  It is time for you to stop
teaching now, or do you wish for our son to be born in the Training Arena?’

Mistral
pouted, ‘It has a certain appropriateness about it –’

‘No it does
not!’  Fabian snapped furiously.     

Mistral eyed
the rigid set of his jaw with a sinking feeling.  He was impossible to
argue with when he wore that expression.  She opened her mouth to try
anyway when her son decided to give her a few well-timed reminders of his
presence.  Grimacing and pressing a hand over her belly, Mistral realised
that for once, she was going to have to give in.  ‘Maybe it is time now,’
she muttered reluctantly then shot him a mutinous look.  ‘But I refuse to
clean your boots!’

The hard lines
on Fabian’s face softened fractionally, ‘And I would not expect you to, so I
have taken the liberty of finding you some more suitable employment.’

Mistral sighed
despondently, ‘Where?’ 

‘Working with
Cain, starting this morning actually.’

‘What?  I
can’t go just like that!  Who’s going to help you with the apprentices?’

‘Ah, now that
pleasure is going to be all mine.’

Mistral spun
around to see Samson loping towards her, his gold-toothed smile glinting in the
bright morning sunshine.

‘Is this what
you two snuck out to plan last night?’  Mistral demanded
suspiciously. 

‘Yes.’
 Samson grinned brazenly.  ‘Don’t tell me you weren’t listening?’

‘No I damned
well wasn’t!’  She seethed.  ‘I was more interested in sleep, more’s
the pity!  Because if I’d heard what you were scheming I would’ve come
straight down to The Cloak and given you a piece of my mind!  Oh! 
You two are incorrigible!  I can’t believe I’ve let myself be so easily
deceived by a pair of such low-down reprobates!  That’s it!  I’m
going nowhere!  You can go be Cain’s new shop assistant, because I’m
staying put!’  Mistral folded her arms and glared stubbornly at Samson and
Fabian.

‘Low-down
reprobate?  Have you been speaking to Gemma?’  Samson lifted a
mocking eyebrow.

‘No!  But
I can assure you I will be!’  Mistral narrowed her eyes.  ‘Which
story would you like me to begin with?  Persia maybe?’

Samson’s grin
faltered slightly, ‘You wouldn’t do that to your son’s godfather, would
you?’ 

‘Yes I damned
well would!  You double-crossing son of – ’

‘Hello my
daughter.’

A voice spoke
with quiet resignation from directly behind her.  Mistral spun around to
meet the deep gaze of Imperato; the centuries old chief of the Isle’s most
famed centaur tribe.  Her father.  Once again bearing witness to her
fiery temper.

‘Oh, er, hello
Imperato … Dravite … Faras.’  Mistral had the grace to look ashamed for
being caught in the act of screaming at Samson by the austere centaurs.

‘Are they the
apprentices you wish for us to teach?’  Imperato gazed over at the line of
pale-faced first years, some openly gaping at the three centaurs stood in the
Arena, others eyeing Mistral fearfully. 

Mistral
cringed, realising that not only had her father just witnessed her complete
loss of temper, but so had the apprentices – and probably half the Valley from
how loudly she’d been shouting.  ‘Yes, and good luck with them, you’ll
need it!’  she snapped and giving Fabian a final glowering look, she
turned on her heel and stalked out of the Arena.

‘Well-handled
Samson.’  Fabian muttered, watching her leave with a dark look on his
face.

‘It was never
going to be well received news Fabian, you know that.’  Samson
shrugged.  ‘But never mind!  Let’s see if we can’t sort out this
bunch of weak-wristed excuses we’ve been lumbered with!’

Mistral
reached Cain’s shop in record time, completely out of breath but still
fuming.  She slammed open the door and stormed in, making the bell peal
with a satisfyingly startled sound at the violence of her entry. 

‘Good
morning!’  Cain called brightly and poked his head out from the
storeroom.  ‘I see you’re thrilled with your new appointment then?’

‘Overjoyed,’
she muttered and leant against the counter to get her breath back, inhaling the
scents of herbs mixed with the smell of fresh paint while she massaged the
stitch in her side.

‘Stitch or
labour?’  Cain asked briskly while he carried a tray of ingredients out of
the storeroom.

Mistral gave
him a furious look, ‘Stitch!’

‘Well just
take deep breaths then and it’ll pass.  In the meantime, can you start
chopping these for me?  Gleacher’s placed an order for twenty vials of
Theriac.  It’s not a huge earner since I can’t really charge the Ri’s
Contracts Officer full rate, but I want it to become a regular order so we need
to make sure it’s a good quality brew.’

Mistral spent
the morning carefully chopping up the seventy ingredients needed to brew
Theriac, the antidote that cured all known poisons and had saved Fabian’s life
the year before.  The task required little thought but kept her hands
busy, allowing her mind to wander while she listened with half an ear to
Cain.  His hob-blood endowed him with the ability to talk more than the
twins, and in Mistral he had the perfect recipient for his constant stream of
inane chatter since she was more or less completely silent, only offering the
occasional murmured response when she felt some input was really necessary.

‘Can you crush
the ginger root rather than chop it?  I find it improves the flavour –’

Mistral nodded
distractedly and reached for the pestle and mortar.

‘Then Boaz had
the cheek to come around asking if I wanted to hire his decorator!  Can
you believe it?  Only a goblin would agree to do the work then try and
sell you the service!  I soon told him where to go –’

‘Cain?’ 
she asked over the grinding sounds of the pestle working the ginger into a
pulp.

‘Yes?’ 

Mistral
frowned down at the pestle she was using, ‘Did Saul have any other names?’

‘What like
nicknames?  None that he admitted to!’

‘No.’
Mistral’s frown deepened.  ‘Not nicknames … other names, like
middle-names.’

Cain gave her
a thoughtful look, ‘No Mistral.  He was an Arcane; it’s only chieftains
who have two names.’

‘Oh, yes, of
course,’ she nodded vaguely and continued to mash the ginger. 

By midday
Mistral had finished the painstaking task of preparing all of the ingredients
to brew the Theriac; her job for the afternoon.

‘Come on, I’ll
buy you lunch, it’s quite nice having someone to talk to other than the
customers.  I get a little tired of discussing the benefits of
wrinkle-reduction creams with Eudora.’

Mistral nodded
abstractly and followed Cain out of the shop; her mind absorbed in a
conversation that was happening across the other side of the Valley between
Fabian and Leo …

‘I have been
summoned to present my case to the Council.’  Leo announced, waving a hand
irritably at an official looking piece of parchment on his cluttered table.

Fabian strode
over and picked the parchment up, scanning it quickly before he raised an
eyebrow and looked at his brother, ‘The Council are unable to approve you as
the new Divinus –’

‘I know that!’
 Leo snapped coldly.  ‘Read on!’

Fabian met his
brother’s icy stare expressionlessly and returned his attention to the
parchment, ‘Malachi challenges you for the right,’ he looked up again. 
‘This is as we expected.’ 

Leo inhaled
sharply and nodded, ‘Yes, the snake that is Malachi dares to claim the right to
bear the title of Divinus and rule the Ri!  And unsurprisingly, enough of
the Council are backing him to make that a very real possibility!’

‘Gold speaks
more loudly than words.’  Fabian dropped the parchment back down onto the
table. 

Leo gazed
broodingly out of the long window, ‘We must leave immediately.  I wish for
the Gemini to attend … and Mistral.’

‘Out of the
question!’  Fabian snapped.  ‘She is not fit to travel!’

Leo turned to
fix his brother with a hard look, ‘It is not an illness brother!  She’s
pregnant!  I need a Seer at that meeting!  The future of the Ri rests
on the outcome, and without her Sight the Gemini cannot act efficiently, they
need her to tell them who to influence!’

‘And whatever
happened to succeeding on merit?’  Fabian demanded icily.

‘I will play
fair when I am played fairly with!  There is too much at stake here to
quibble over morals!’

‘You would use
the twins’ gift to influence the outcome of the vote?’ 

‘I will do
whatever is necessary to ensure that Malachi never holds the title of
Divinus!  He would debase the very principles the Ri exist to
uphold.  It would no longer be a sanctuary for the dispossessed, but a
haven of corruption where warriors are exploited for his profit!  If I have
to lower myself to his level in order to secure the future of the Ri, then I
shall Fabian!  And I need you, the Gemini and Mistral there to ensure it!’

Fabian shook
his head and turned away, ‘I cannot allow it.  She is too close to term.’

Leo made an exasperated
noise, ‘And if she went into labour at the Council, how would that be such a
disastrous event?  They have an Infirmary there as well appointed as our
own!’

‘Who are not
used to treating the Arcane!’  Fabian growled, his black eyes blazing
dangerously.

‘Then we take
Cain with us!  Either way, she would be well cared for should anything
untoward happen ... and should it not, then it will provide an interesting
diversion for her, or have you not noticed how bored she has become of late?’

‘Do not taunt
me Leo!’  Fabian hissed.  ‘Of course I know she is frustrated with
being kept in the Valley!  But it is for her own good!’

‘And what of
the good of the Ri?’  Leo demanded coldly.  ‘Or is it only your
personal happiness that matters?’

‘You question
my loyalty?’

‘No brother,
only your clarity of thought when it comes to Mistral!’

Fabian drew in
a deep breath and held it before exhaling slowly and meeting Leo’s cold blue
eyes more calmly, ‘You know that Malachi’s plans extend far beyond just
assuming control of the Ri.  He has offered Mistral as payment for the
Rochfortes’ support at the Council, yet you are asking me to take her
there?  It is an insane suggestion!’

‘I
disagree.  It is the last move they will expect us to make.  They
will be expecting her to remain in the Valley surrounded by Ri warriors. 
I have already taken the precaution of doubling the guard on every gate in
preparation for whatever attempt Malachi will make to procure his prize. 
He
will
try, that is certain.  Mistral would be safer travelling to
the Council where Eximius will personally ensure her safety, than left cowering
in the Valley waiting for the inevitable attempt to abduct her!’

Fabian turned
away and strode over to the long mullioned window, leaning his hands against
the stone window ledge he stared down into the Valley.  Two diminutive
figures strolled across the sunlit square towards The Cloak and Dagger, one
bore the unmistakable swell of a pregnancy near its end.  Fabian’s hands
clenched the window ledge more tightly.  Leo was right; to leave her
behind while he travelled to the Council was unthinkable, but if he were to
stay too he would seriously jeopardise Leo’s chances of succeeding in the vote,
and also of leaving with his life.  No-one else had both the skills of a warrior
and the knowledge of the Council that he possessed, plus a family name that
commanded instant respect and would give credence to Leo’s case; something he
would sorely need in order to challenge the mighty name of Rochforte. 

‘We will go.’
 Fabian finally conceded in a quiet voice.  ‘But only on Cain’s
approval, and even then the travel will be light.’

‘As you wish.’
 Leo replied.  ‘We leave in the morning.’

In the smoky
interior of The Cloak and Dagger Mistral suddenly let out a peal of laughter.

‘Why would a
bowl of stew make you laugh out loud?’  Cain gave her a bemused look.

‘No, it’s not
the food.’  Mistral shook her head but was prevented from continuing by
the appearance of Samson.

‘Is it safe to
sit down?’  he asked, offering her a lop-sided grin.