The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  Leo stepped back, bowing his head respectfully. The twins shared frankly astounded looks and even Mistral was impressed. Leo had been respectful and succinct; rare on both counts.

  Mage Grapple left the protection of his four menacing warlocks and stepped forward into the glare of the pyre, the flames shedding unflattering light across the multitude of scars gouged into his face. He gazed at the burning coffin for a long moment before turning to address the gathering of mourners.

  ‘Today I honour the passing of someone I greatly admired. A rare and pure soul possessed of an unfailing consistency to place the good of our Isle above his own needs or wants. His life should serve as inspiration to us all, for how many of us can lay claim to such selflessness or profess to such complete absence of guile? To know what it is to have pride, but be not proud? Aloysius Broadoak … the Divinus, shall ever remain the eternally divine.’

  Mage Grapple looked again at the burning funeral pyre before striding back to resume his position amongst his warlock guard. A hush fell while the crowd around the pyre jointly bowed their heads in a silent moment of respect.

  ‘Ah,’ Phantom let out a long sigh. ‘Now that’s how to make a speech.’

  ‘Brother! Are you crying?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes you are! I can see tears in those green things you call eyes!’

  A load roar erupted from the mass of Arcanes, Mage and Ri gathered around the pyre. Mistral felt the stirrings of pride in her heart at the noise, the simple celebration of a life worth living. She thought of the few short hours she had spent in the company of the Divinus, his calm direction and belief in her ability to master her gift, the time he had freely given to show her the mind of her Mage when he was away from her, to help her cope with his absence. He had found time for such small kindnesses whilst the burden of the Ri’s weightier issues must have still hovered over him like a sword dangling on a fine thread.

  ‘Now who’s crying?’ Phantom chided with a grin.

  ‘Oh, do one brother,’ she muttered, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her expensive velvet cloak.

  ‘Don’t do that!’ Phantasm immediately hissed. ‘You have no idea what I had to do to get that!’

  ‘I do actually.’ Mistral sniffed into her sleeve. ‘And you’re right, it was unpleasant.’

  The crowd around the pyre began to dissipate, moving instinctively towards the welcoming warmth of The Cloak and Dagger. Mistral gazed longingly after her brothers; laughing with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders in companionable closeness while they made their way towards the tavern.

  Phantasm followed her longing gaze, ‘That time has gone Mistral. You have other commitments now.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘But I wish it were different.’

  ‘Wishes are a waste of time. You must accept the hand that you have been dealt.’

  ‘Ah, but Xerxes has banned me from cards, or didn’t you know?’

  ‘Don’t be so flippant Mistral!’

  ‘Phantom, Phantasm. A word please.’

  Leo’s glacial tones cut across their whispered conversation.

  ‘Of course Master Sphinx.’ Phantasm’s tone was instantly cool and professional, his gaze betraying none of the petty bickering he and Mistral had been indulging in only seconds before.

  ‘Here!’ Phantom pressed something cold and hard into her hand. ‘We wanted to give you this with a bit more ceremony, but needs must when Master Sphinx calls! See you in a bit!’

  Mistral nodded automatically and watched the twins hurry after Leo before looking down to see a key with a scarlet bow tied around the handle laid in her open palm, ‘Oh!’

  ‘I’m not sure I like other men giving you a key to their house.’ Fabian muttered tensely in her ear.

  ‘Never mind that,’ she hissed back. ‘We’ve got the key to an empty house and they’ll be gone for ages!’

  Fabian stared at her for the briefest of moments before almost dragging her across the square, ignoring the polite greetings of the various delegates and officials that he swept past, towing Mistral in his wake.

  The twins returned to their house later to find a picture of cosy warmth. Mistral was curled against Fabian on the sofa, Prospero spread before the lit fire like a huge fur rug.

  ‘Good meeting?’ Mistral enquired, smiling at their grumpy expressions.

  ‘Riveting.’ Phantom responded irritably. ‘Mage Grapple gave Master Sphinx a schedule of Council meetings that he wants us to attend. It’s as long as my arm!’

  ‘I wouldn’t look so smug if I were you Mistral.’ Phantasm glanced meaningfully at her comfortable position on the sofa. ‘He wants to see you … now.’

  ‘He can whistle.’ Mistral snuggled more deeply into Fabian’s arms.

  ‘I’m sure he can, but he still wants to see you. So come on, we had better get you into your dress for the Tribute Banquet.’

  ‘Another one?’ Mistral looked dismayed.

  ‘Yes, it’s terribly passé to be seen in the same dress for a daytime and evening event.’

  ‘Is it really.’ Mistral muttered, still not moving. ‘Consider me passé then.’

  ‘Absolutely not. What you wear is a direct reflection on Mage De Winter, never mind my brother and I. So, if you have no objections Mage De Winter, I would like to ensure that your wife is suitably attired for the banquet.’

  Fabian smiled and released Mistral from his arms. She shot him a reproachful look as she was yanked upright by Phantasm and dragged up the stairs, back to the daunting array of dresses.

  ‘Black or dark red?’ he mused, running a practised eye along the selection.

  ‘Neither.’ Mistral muttered sullenly. ‘I’m fine as I am, or would be, if I were in trousers.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Phantasm snapped and pulled out a blood red dress. ‘Right, I’ll unfasten the buttons then you can put this one on.’

  Mistral let out a deep sigh and sat heavily on the stool while Phantasm walked around behind her to begin unfastening the long row of pearl buttons.

  Phantasm let out an angry noise, ‘Mistral!’

  She started, ‘What?’

  ‘Why are there two buttons missing from your dress?’

  The Tribute Banquet

  At Phantasm’s repeated insistence Mistral finally threw the mirror a cautious glance. She knew whatever she saw there would only catapult her into a whole new stratosphere of anxiety. As it turned out, she was completely unprepared for the dramatic image that met her eyes. She stared, transfixed by the sight of some woman dressed in a silk gown of deepest blood red. The high collar gave way to a plunging neck line that held her horrified gaze for what felt like several hours before she finally managed to force herself to examine the rest; a fitted sheaf of sheer silk that swept down to the floor.

  ‘I thought the sleeves would be ideal for tonight.’ Phantasm informed her while he brushed a non-existent speck of dust from her dress.

  ‘The sleeves?’ she echoed disbelievingly, eyeing the dramatic ensemble again with fresh horror. He had dressed her in from head to toe a sock of blood red silk, apart from a damned great chunk missing from the front … and he was talking about sleeves?

  ‘Yes, bell sleeves,’ he shifted his attention to her hair, coiling the long plait up in a tight bun. ‘They’re perfect for concealing any gestures you make in code.’

  Mistral glanced down at the long fitted sleeves of her dress. They flared out at the end to drape over her wrists and cover the tops of her hands. ‘Oh, right –’

  ‘There.’ Phantasm stepped back with a note of satisfaction in his voice. ‘I would ask your opinion but you’re not suitably qualified to be allowed one … so come on, we need to get you downstairs.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it!’ Mistral snarled when he approached her with his arms held out. ‘I can walk!’

  ‘Fine, but if you fall you’re paying for that dress.’

  Muttering something rude about not being suitably qualified to make
that kind of payment, Mistral made her way towards the top of the stairs, hampered by the close fitting dress.

  ‘Small steps!’ Phantasm instructed in a brisk tone, watching her teetering precariously at the top of the stairs.

  Mistral glowered at him over her shoulder and bent to gather up the hem of her dress to free her legs.

  ‘I don’t think so!’ Phantasm snapped, jerking her hands away. ‘You’ll mark the silk!’

  ‘Fabian!’ Mistral immediately shouted from the top of the stairs. ‘Please come and get me or kill Phantasm! Actually, can you please do both!’

  Fabian’s expression when he appeared at the bottom of the stairs was worth suffering a thousand tedious hours being force-dressed by Phantasm. His dark eyes widened and he actually froze with one foot raised to mount first step.

  ‘You look –’ he began and paused, at a loss for words.

  ‘Red?’ she suggested acidly.

  ‘Stunning.’

  He ran lightly up the stairs and gathered her carefully into his arms before carrying her down again, gazing at her with eyes of liquid night, starless and sublime.

  ‘Not bad, red riding hood.’ Phantom commented, standing up and stretching. ‘Right, we’ll get changed then we need to hear what you Saw.’

  ‘Please don’t expect me to dress like this all the time.’ Mistral whispered, meeting Fabian’s appreciative look with reservation. ‘I am much happier in trousers and I really don’t think I could ride in this ridiculous outfit.’

  ‘I am much happier when you are not dressed at all.’ Fabian growled, catching her around the waist.

  ‘Please don’t crush the silk!’ Phantasm shouted irritably from upstairs.

  Fabian threw a dark glance towards the stairs and reluctantly let her go, ‘Tomorrow. We are definitely going home,’ he muttered to her.

  ‘Tomorrow.’ Mistral smiled and turned to walk over to the fire, tripping slightly on the long hem of the dress. ‘Damn thing!’ She scowled down at the gown then nudged Prospero out of the way with the toe of her boot to take his place in front of the fire. The sun was beginning to set on the shortest day of the year and it was already bitterly cold.

  ‘Tell me what you Saw today.’ Fabian asked softly, walking over to take hold of her hands.

  ‘Well,’ she began in a low voice then paused to throw a wary glance at the stairs to make sure the twins weren’t about to reappear. ‘There was something odd with Leo –’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Fabian’s expression was suddenly sharp.

  ‘I could hear his thoughts straight away, almost like yours and the twins. Normally I have to read an aura first, but his were just there for me to read.’

  ‘Do you think it’s just your gift growing in strength?’

  Mistral shook her head, ‘I was reading people throughout the ceremony and I had to call up their auras first before I could See their thoughts.’

  Fabian’s brow creased as he stared thoughtfully into the fire. Suddenly he let out a low exclamation. ‘Of course! Blood.’

  Mistral looked at him blankly.

  ‘Leo and I share the same blood.’ Fabian explained quickly. ‘We are brothers. You and I have a connection so strong that it extends to him also as my blood runs in his veins too.’

  Mistral suppressed a shudder, ‘You are nothing like him!’

  ‘Oh, I know we look different, but in essence we are the same.’

  Mistral shook her head vehemently, ‘No you’re not! He’s so cold! His thoughts are like ice Fabian! There’s no love in that man, just cold purpose and bitterness!’

  ‘Do not be so quick to judge him Mistral. He’s just like I was before I found you.’

  ‘No! You were never that cold! Even before me you knew love. You – you loved Emiror –’

  Fabian smiled softly and reached out to stroke her cheek, but she turned her head, avoiding his eyes,

  ‘Mistral,’ he forced her to look at him. ‘I never loved Emiror. I was consumed with the notion of love.’

  Mistral forced herself to hold his eyes, needing to see them to erase the fear and jealousy that always sprang up whenever she even thought of Fabian loving another.

  ‘I know,’ he murmured, his smile suddenly turning sad. ‘Golden.’

  Mistral dropped her gaze guiltily, ‘I can’t help it. She forced me to feel every worst fear about you, and it comes back so easily. I’m sorry –’

  Fabian’s eyes followed his fingertip, slowly tracing the line of her jaw. He trailed it lightly down her neck to caress the skin laid bare by the deep neckline of her dress, ‘You have nothing to apologise for. And, even if you did, I think I could probably forgive you almost anything in that dress.’

  ‘It is rather a show-stopper isn’t it?’ Phantom agreed, walking smugly into the room followed by his twin.

  Mistral looked at them, they were wearing black silk shirts the same as Fabian’s. The combination of the glossy black material next to their ivory pale skin, startling green eyes and blonde hair went far beyond being eye-catching or even striking; it was completely jaw-dropping.

  ‘Yes, I think we are going to turn a few heads tonight,’ agreed Phantom, catching her look.

  Mistral laughed, ‘So modest!’

  ‘Oh, I think he meant the three of us actually,’ said Phantasm, adjusting the cuff on one of his shirts.

  ‘Er, four!’ Mistral corrected, quickly stepping closer to Fabian.

  ‘Sorry Mistral.’ Fabian shook his head softly. ‘I shall be seated with Mage Grapple as their consort. You will be sat with the Magnate to officially assume your role as Seer to the Ri.’

  ‘I won’t have you with me?’ Mistral asked, looking suddenly terrified.

  ‘You always have me with you.’ Fabian frowned slightly. ‘But just on the other side of the room tonight.’

  ‘Enough of the nervous act Mistral.’ Phantasm said sternly and strode over to collect a pitcher of wine and four goblets from the kitchen. ‘We will toast the passing of the Divinus together then spend a few minutes planning our strategy.’

  ‘Give me two then.’ Mistral muttered, reaching out both hands to take two full goblets from him.

  ‘Don’t you dare get drunk and pick a fight tonight!’ Phantasm threatened, passing her a half-full goblet. ‘Now, do you want us to use our gift and ease those ridiculous butterflies you insist on suffering whenever you enter a room with more than two people in it?’

  ‘No I do not! I’ve told you before I don’t ever want you meddling in my head!’ Mistral snapped. ‘Oh! And thank you for having such faith in my sense of occasion!’

  ‘You have absolutely no sense of occasion! And I guess we should just be grateful that there are no goblins in attendance!’

  ‘Before we get into that argument, can you please tell us what you Saw today?’ Phantom interrupted, throwing himself onto the sofa and fixing her with an impatient look.

  ‘I suppose so.’ Mistral sighed and took a sip of wine and grimaced. ‘This tastes horrible!’

  Phantom took a sip of his own and gave her a strange look, ‘It’s fine! I think your nerves are getting the better of you!’

  Mistral ignored him and set the goblet down on the mantelpiece before continuing, ‘Let’s start with the charmingly sanguine vampire then. I could get a read on him, but not totally clear. His thoughts were fuzzy, like he was talking underwater,’ she frowned and gazed unseeingly into space, recalling the vision of his aura and the thoughts she had heard. ‘Pure hatred, the likes of which I’ve never seen … not even in Columbine’s aura or Putreo’s ... he really is evil. His thoughts … such as I could hear … were filled with desire for revenge on the Council for what he sees as an enforced exile in the mountains of the north. He thinks that his tribe should be allowed to hunt freely across the Isle with no restrictions on prey.’

  ‘How lovely.’ Phantom murmured.

  ‘He sees Malachi as their chance to gain a position at the Council … which I don’t fully understand,’ she paused and looked que
stioningly at Fabian.

  ‘The Divinus of the Ri is automatically allocated a seat at the Council.’ Fabian explained. ‘Together with the reserves of gold Malachi has been building up over the years, I fear he would have enough influence to force through a change of policy with regards to the vampire tribe.’

  ‘What’s in it for Malachi?’ Phantom asked, gazing expectantly at Mistral.

  ‘Family loyalty.’ Mistral said with a shrug. ‘Malachi is his son, I Saw that quite clearly. He was raised by the tribe when his mother gave him up after he was born. Malachi has a deep underlying hatred of Mages stemming from her rejection.’

  ‘And what else did you See in Malachi’s thoughts?’

  Mistral frowned, ‘He was being very clever not to think about his plans. I could see in his aura that he was excited by the prospect of something, but I couldn’t hear what. He was bored by the proceedings and angry, just generally angry that is, not about anything in particular. But as to his actual thoughts … very little to report I’m sorry to say. He hates Leo, and despises Mycroft … in fact he pretty much hates everyone … he thinks he can become the next Divinus, I Saw that much … but I couldn’t See how he hopes to achieve his ambitions.’

  ‘What a winning personality that man has!’ Phantom exclaimed.

  ‘Did you hear any thoughts about the trade in ingredients for illegal potions?’ Phantasm asked quickly.

  ‘No.’ Mistral looked up with a frown. ‘I thought that had all gone to ground now Putreo’s dead.’

  ‘Mage De’ath has been given the position of Councillor for Foreign Travel – Putreo’s old position,’ Fabian said quietly.

  ‘Oh, and you’re worried he’s going to embrace all aspects of the job description, including the juicy side-line in endangering our existence by flogging dodgy potions overseas?’

  Phantasm gave her a cold look, ‘Please, don’t be so flippant Mistral. We need to know. Can you find out tonight?’

  ‘Sorry brother, I forget that he’s your step-father.’

  ‘Actually, he isn’t. He refused to have anything to do with us. That’s why we ended up back at the tribe when our mother married him.’