The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  ‘Phantom! I am far from being able to joke about this! I thought Mage Grapple was going to order my instant execution, which in a way he has because I am now apparently dead!’

  ‘You’ll be old news by next week. Dead or alive.’ Phantom responded airily. ‘More importantly, can you believe we’ve been offered work by Mage Grapple himself?’

  ‘I’m thrilled for your careers!’ Mistral snapped as they rounded the corner of the building and entered the stableyard, slowing to a walk. ‘But how am I going to work if I’m dead?’

  She had reached Cirrus’ stable and paused to stroke his nose briefly before opening the door to be promptly knocked flat by Prospero leaping up at her.

  Phantasm reached out to haul her upright, ‘I think that is going to be the least of your concerns.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Mistral demanded with a frown, pushing an excited Prospero off when he leapt at her again. ‘How can being dead be the least of my worries?’

  Phantasm shrugged and walked across to unbolt Jupiter’s stable door, ‘It’s just a feeling I’ve got.’

  ‘Feeling? What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘I don’t think Mage De Winter took too kindly to the insults Guillane was throwing at you.’ Phantom suggested helpfully.

  Mistral stared at him, ‘Can you two speak French?’

  ‘We were taught at a Council School Mistral. It’s a mandatory part of the curriculum.’

  ‘Quit the superior act and just tell me what Guillane said!’ Mistral snarled.

  ‘Why?’ Phantom asked bluntly.

  Mistral ground her teeth, ‘Because I want to know what could be so bad that Fabian felt the need to kill him!’

  Phantasm popped his head back over Jupiter’s stable door, his expression thoughtful, ‘It was pretty bad.’

  Mistral clenched her fists and fought for patience, ‘Just tell me what he said.’

  Phantom frowned, ‘I couldn’t. Sorry, but I’m too polite. However I did notice that your Mage really takes exception to you being called a whore.’

  Mistral gave a disbelieving laugh and shoved past Cirrus to begin tacking him up, ‘Is that what Guillane called me? I’m glad Fabian wasn’t around when the Training Lieutenants were in full flow last year. They called me a lot worse than that!’

  They didn’t speak again until they had all finished tacking their horses and were leading them out into the yard.

  ‘I’ll get Spirit.’ Mistral threw her reins to Phantom. ‘You can hold Cirrus while your brother comes with me and gives me the full rundown on Guillane’s compliments.’

  ‘Sorry Mistral, but no. Mage De Winter didn’t want you to know what Guillane said.’

  ‘No, he said he wouldn’t repeat it. That’s quite different!’ Mistral snapped. ‘Now out with it!’

  Phantasm sighed and held the stable door open for her while she pushed past Spirit and quickly began to saddle the nervous mare.

  ‘Well, apart from calling you an assassin’s whore he said that he hoped Mage De Winter liked sleeping with dead women because he was going to kill you, and then went on to describe in detail how he was going to do it … oh, and then he said that your soul would rot in hell because you were a whore … I think he liked calling you that … and then he started to cast on you –’

  ‘He was casting on me?’ Mistral looked round in surprise. ‘I thought it was at Fabian because they were shouting at each other!’

  ‘I can see why you thought that. I don’t know quite what Mage De Winter was saying to him, our French teacher didn’t provide that much instruction on swearing, but it certainly evoked a powerful response.’ Phantasm paused and looked thoughtful. ‘Probably need to brush up on French swearwords if we’re going to working at the Council more –’

  ‘I’m not sure you’ll ever need French again after today,’ Mistral tightened Spirit’s girth with a savage tug, ‘since we successfully wiped out the top layer of the Rochforte family.’

  ‘Yes, I fear that won’t have done relations many favours. I would love to hear how Mage Grapple is going to explain this to the rest of the Rochforte tribe.’

  ‘By saying he’s had me executed.’ Mistral replied grimly and led Spirit from the stable.

  The sound of running feet made them all turn, reaching automatically for the daggers concealed in their boots.

  ‘Fabian!’ Mistral couldn’t help but call out in relief when she saw her Mage running swiftly towards her with his arms full of weapons.

  ‘Here –’

  Mistral gratefully strapped her swords and knife belt on, feeling instant reassurance in the weight of steel across her back and around her waist. The twins accepted their swords with similar relief and soon they were all fully armed again.

  ‘We must go.’

  Fabian was already in the saddle. Pulling Spirit around he urged her into a canter. Mistral and the twins quickly followed, clattering across the paved courtyard towards the warlocks guarding the wrought iron gates leading to the avenue. They passed through unchallenged and galloped wildly down the wide avenue of lavish Council homes but were forced to halt at the second set of gates. They waited in tense silence while the warlocks slowly opened them. Fabian suddenly turned to Mistral and reached out to briefly touch her cheek, his dark eyes full of an unfamiliar emotion. He did not speak but immediately spurred Spirit through the half-opened gates. Mistral and the twins followed on, ignoring the angry shouts of the people in the busy market street forced to leap out of the way or be trampled.

  Another set of gates and the dry taste of ozone filled Mistral’s mouth then they were free, galloping flat-out across the damp moorland in their haste to put some distance between them and the sprawling city.

  They slowed their blowing horses to a canter once they had crested the same rise that had given Mistral her first view of the Council city only that morning. She glanced over her shoulder at the gleaming white building, reflecting that the morning felt like a lifetime ago.

  The twins were full of talk. Their enforced silence during the Contract had been harder on them than Mistral or Fabian, who were both comfortable with long periods of silence.

  ‘I don’t suppose we’ll be getting any work off Count Darke anytime soon do you?’

  ‘Doubt it!’ Phantom laughed.

  ‘That reminds me.’ Mistral gave the twins a quizzical look. ‘Putreo looked set to demand my instant execution then he suddenly sat down with this vacant look on his face. Was that down to you two by any chance?’

  Phantasm went for smug while Phantom grinned.

  ‘Of course it was!’

  ‘We agreed what to do if he started, but even I have to admit it worked better than we expected.’

  ‘What thoughts did you put in his mind?’ Mistral asked curiously.

  ‘We made him suddenly want to think about his wedding night.’

  Mistral pulled a face, ‘What a disturbing thought!’

  ‘Oh I don’t know, it seemed to keep him occupied for quite a while.’

  ‘I have no idea what Golden did to him but whatever it was must have been memorable!’

  ‘Yuk! Enough!’

  ‘Bit of a shock seeing Columbine again though wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, and there’s something I just can’t work out. How did Columbine persuade Antoine to follow her to a secluded chamber in order to kill him? She can’t speak French. I know Antoine had some English, but not a lot –’

  ‘I doubt Columbine lured Antoine into that chamber. She can barely string two words together without a grunt in the middle and can hardly be described as alluring. I would hazard a wild guess that the new Countess Darke was the bait.’

  ‘Golden!’ Mistral’s hands clenched on her reins. ‘Of course it was her! She’s always been a shameless –’

  ‘Quite. Putreo could easily have coached her on a few simple phrases but it wouldn’t really be necessary considering his reputation. I’m sure Golden would have been speaking in body language. And when Antoine made
the fatal translation and followed her to that private chamber it was to meet Columbine armed with a throwing knife stolen from your belt.’

  ‘Bitch!’

  Phantasm frowned, ‘I am not sure which you are referring to, but the description applies to both.’

  ‘And it looks like they both still want you dead.’ Phantom added.

  Mistral looked up sharply, ‘Talking of being dead – Fabian?’

  Fabian seemed to drag himself out of a deep reverie and turned to look enquiringly at her.

  Mistral smiled brightly, ‘Now that I’m officially dead, can I drop the second year and come and live with you?’

  Fabian frowned distractedly, ‘No, I don’t think so. Not yet anyway,’ he murmured and gazed off into space again, apparently preoccupied by his own thoughts.

  Mistral was fed-up with reading auras so she simply shared a look with the twins and shrugged. Fabian would tell her what was on his mind when he was ready.

  They camped for the night at the far edge of the moors. After a meal of roasted grouse they all turned in early, exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before and the intense events of the day.

  Curled between Fabian and Prospero, Mistral sighed in contentment when Fabian slid his arms around her.

  ‘Fabian?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Will you still get paid for the Contract even though half the delegates got killed?’

  Fabian laughed softly into her hair, ‘Yes, my Contract was to deliver them safely to the Council, which we did. The fact that I killed one of them after that is, thankfully, immaterial.’

  ‘Good, because I would hate you to be out of pocket because of me.’

  Fabian didn’t reply and kissed her gently. The fire crackled as a log shifted and Prospero growled softly at the noise. Mistral felt the gentle pull of sleep and began to drift.

  ‘Mistral? Are you still awake?’

  ‘Just.’

  ‘I was wondering … when we get back, do you want to go straight back to the Valley or would you care to spend a quiet evening with me?’

  Suddenly wide awake, Mistral snapped her head up to gaze at him. The firelight flickered across his face and she was surprised to see that his expression was serious, almost anxious.

  ‘What do you think? Of course I want to go home with you! The Valley can wait! Anyway, I’m dead aren’t I?’

  A shadow crossed Fabian’s face, ‘Please stop making a joke about that, it really isn’t very funny.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m a bit concerned about how I’m going to be offered work if I’m not meant to be actually alive too.’

  ‘Mistral, I’m not worried about you not being able to work! I had to watch you nearly get killed today and yet you lie here joking about it!’

  ‘I’m not dead though am I? Thanks to you,’ she smiled and kissed him. ‘Which reminds me, I thought you kept a knife in your right boot. How did you get it out without letting go of my hand?’

  ‘I keep a knife in both boots actually,’

  Mistral was quiet for a moment, ‘That’s a really good idea. I need another knife.’

  Fabian smiled and then suddenly looked concerned, ‘I didn’t frighten you today did I?’

  Mistral buried her head against his chest, ‘Only when you walked away from me at the Council. I’ve never felt more ignorant and insignificant in my whole life as I did today, surrounded by all those officials talking away in a language I’ve never even heard spoken before and me barely even able to speak our own language!’

  Fabian stroked her hair gently, ‘They are the ignorant and insignificant ones Mistral, not you. You read their auras didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, not a pretty sight.’

  ‘And how did you feel when you saw all that naked greed and ambition?’

  ‘I wanted to be with you, in The Cloak, surrounded by good, honest thieves and assassins who speak the same damned language as me.’

  Fabian laughed and kissed her.

  ‘And so you shall. Sleep now Mistral. Tomorrow is another day.’

  The Lifelong Contract

  The next day dawned bright and clear with blue skies overhead and sunshine to warm them. They left the bleak moors behind and rode past the Port of Holdridge to pick up the cliffside path taking them towards The Velvet Forests and home.

  Phantasm and Phantom were making up for their enforced silence by talking continually. Mistral half-listened to their ceaseless flow of banal chatter, marvelling at how they barely seemed to pause for breath. It was a relief when they halted to eat and the twins were briefly unable to speak with their mouths full of food.

  Mistral sighed wearily and closed her eyes when Phantom swallowed his last mouthful of cold grouse and immediately began talking to his brother again.

  ‘Did you see Mage Rosenberg?’

  ‘Couldn’t miss him! He’s put on rather a lot of weight – and those robes! Whoever is advising him on what to wear should be taken outside and run through!’

  Mistral blew her cheeks out in exasperation. The twins had dissected with minute precision every last detail of their visit to the Council and it was starting to drive her insane. ‘Are you both finished?’ she asked and pointedly stood up. ‘Only we need to make the edge of the forests before nightfall.’

  Without breaking the flow of their conversation the twins sprang lightly to their feet and strolled over to collect their horses.

  ‘Talking of robes, do you think we should purchase some new ones for when we’re at the Council?’

  ‘Good idea! I can see me in blue –’

  Mistral rolled her eyes. It was a continual source of surprise to her that the twins didn’t actually talk in their sleep. Still, on the plus side they seemed content to talk to each other and expected little or no input from her and Fabian. She glanced at Fabian out of the corner of her eye. He was rarely verbose but had been even more reticent than usual during their journey back from the Council, seemingly preoccupied by some complex matter. Anxiety made Mistral pry. Feeling slightly voyeuristic, she called up the vision of his aura. It sprang obediently into view in a uniform haze of all too familiar royal blue. Tilting her head slightly, Mistral studied his aura more closely. Her initial reading wasn’t quite right. Other faint colours flickered in and out of the blue. A spurt of amethyst revealed that he was worrying about something, and … surely not! White? Fear? What was there for Fabian to fear?

  She blinked and the illusion vanished, leaving her gripped by apprehension. Cursing her gift for showing her what he was feeling but not why, she was left to stew over the endless possibilities in silence. Was it something to do with what happened at the Council? Did he think the Rochforte tribe would seek to avenge Antoine and come looking for her? That made sense … but what would Fabian do if that were the case? Would he become unbearably over-protective again? She quickly discounted that idea since it had failed so magnificently with the cyclops incident. No, knowing Fabian he would probably go straight to the source of the problem and deal with it directly. Yes, that’s why he was so worried, he was going to tell that he was leaving for France and was no doubt concerned about how much trouble she would get into during his absence.

  Fabian ... away from her. She immediately felt desolate. How long for? Days obviously, maybe weeks … or even months. The thought of a prolonged separation left her feeling miserable. As the day wore by she found herself increasingly grateful for the twins’ perpetual chatter, hiding her silence. Prospero denied her the excuse of going off alone to hunt by bringing her endless rabbits until a string of them hung from her saddle. They rode hard, keen to be back in familiar territory and it was long after sunset when they finally made camp. Mistral sat beside the fire, quietly skinning her first rabbit, saying little but pausing often to gaze morosely into the flames. Thankfully Fabian seemed to be brooding on his own thoughts too and didn’t appear to notice her melancholy mood.

  After a half-hearted game of knuckle bones Mistral announced her desire for an early night. Wrapp
ed in her wolverine skin she hugged Prospero for comfort, wallowing in misery until the sound of quiet footsteps told her that Fabian had come to join her. When he dropped down beside her she sat up and turned to look at him, letting the misery in her face speak for her.

  He abruptly frowned and stroked her cheek, ‘Why have you been crying?’

  ‘I know what you’re going to tell me tomorrow night, why you wanted to talk to me without the twins there. You’re going to France aren’t you?’

  Fabian looked genuinely surprised, ‘No, I am not going to France. Why would you think that?’

  ‘Because the Rochfortes will want to avenge Antoine and they’ll come for me of course!’

  Fabian suddenly smiled and Mistral felt her anger melt. Who could be angry with that smile?

  ‘Eximius will deal with that situation. Besides, Antoine is of little consequence. The Rochfortes are notoriously mercenary. There will be a queue of them eagerly waiting to step into Antoine’s place. Some of them might even want to make the journey over here to find you and thank you personally.’

  ‘So ... you’re not leaving me then?’ Mistral asked hesitantly.

  Fabian paused for the length of a heartbeat, his black stare burning into hers with searing intensity.

  ‘I swear to you that I will never leave you.’

  Mistral suddenly grinned, ‘Oh I’m sure my endless charm and sunny nature will fill you with the urge to leave me one day. ‘But rest assured that if you do go, I will come and find you. I’m quite good at tracking now.’

  Fabian laughed and pulled her close, drawing her wolverine skin over them both. They lay quietly together, listening to the sound of the twins’ murmured conversation, too low to hear the actual words it became a soothing background noise, like the rushing of a shallow stream. Mistral sighed in contentment and rested her head against Fabian’s chest. It was only when her mind had begun to drift irreversibly towards sleep that she realised Fabian hadn’t actually told her what was worrying him.

  Mistral awoke to find Prospero had crawled beneath her wolverine skin to avoid the night’s heavy dew fall. She pushed him out with her feet, laughing when he resisted and wriggled up on his belly to poke his head out between her and Fabian.