Fabian shook his head, ‘No, he was a genuine lover of the breed. To sever the horn from a living unicorn is fatal. He is one of those rare living beings motivated by appreciation of beauty rather than financial reward.’
Mistral couldn’t help but notice his black glaze flicking over to Gleacher as he spoke, confirming her suspicion that he would be taking the opportunity the voyage presented to challenge him about his part in Malachi’s potion smuggling scheme.
They reached the small port at sunset. Dismounting on the stone quayside Mistral looked at the smaller of the Ri’s two ships. Gazing up at the uniformly black banner of the Ri fluttering at the top of the single mast she couldn’t help but compare it to Mage Grapple’s imposing warship. She hid a smile at the bittersweet memory of the journey; she had already fallen in love with Fabian by then but had been too stubborn to admit it to herself, never mind to him. How different this journey would be! The ship that would carry them was infinitely less grand, at least half the size and boasting only one mast; but this time she would be spending the night wrapped in the arms of her Mage instead of just his cloak.
Leaving Gleacher on the quayside issuing orders to the crew, Mistral led Cirrus up the ramp and into the dark belly of the ship’s hold, following Fabian and Spirit along the empty rows of stalls.
‘The motion will be less severe for them in the centre.’ Fabian turned to give her a long look over the partition between the stalls. ‘But I think you’ve heard me say that before.’
She met his black gaze and bit her lip. He was thinking the same as her ... she stared back, feeling a flame flare in her stomach.
‘We’ve placed extra buckets of water beside each stall in case of fire.’
Mistral spun around to meet the politely helpful gaze of one of the crew members, ‘What?’ she instantly blushed. Was he mocking the way she’d been looking at Fabian?
‘Unicorn hooves cause sparks,’ he explained with a nod towards the leather buckets of water lined along the narrow walkways between the stalls. ‘They aren’t shod with iron like horses because they don’t need to be, but their hooves are made of some weird stuff that can cause fires real easy.’
‘Brimstone.’ Fabian said quietly. ‘But they’re not made of it, merely have a high content. It’s a self defence mechanism.’
Mistral looked impressed, ‘A horn at the front and hooves that leave fire in their wake, that’s some creature!’
‘It’s a fire hazard, that’s what it is,’ the crew member muttered then then turned to Fabian, ‘If you’re ready Mage De Winter, Master Shacklock said to show you to your quarters then he’s invited you both to eat with him in the galley.’
‘We’re ready.’ Fabian gave Spirit a final pat before taking Mistral’s hand and following the sailor along the walkway to a ladder leading to the upper decks.
The steep-sides of the wooden ship narrowed considerably at the next deck. They walked in single file along a cramped corridor, passing several closed doors before the sailor halted in front a door set facing them.
‘These are your quarters. We’re to set sail immediately then Master Shacklock will meet you for dinner. He says you already know where the galley is Mage De Winter.’
Fabian gave a half-smile and nodded. Mistral guessed that he’d probably travelled on the ship more times than the sailor had. Opening the door, Fabian stepped back to allow Mistral to step past him into the strangest room she’d ever seen. They had been allocated the cabin set in the bow of the ship. The bed took up most of the space and had been designed to fit neatly into the prow, giving the bed a curiously triangular shape. Brass framed portholes set in the ship’s side shed a soft light over the varnished wooden interior, giving the cabin a deliciously cosy feel. The ship lurched abruptly, throwing Mistral off balance and into Fabian.
He caught her in his arms and held her tightly against him. Tilting his head to regard her with his fathomless black gaze, ‘I am filled with a sense of déjà vu.’
Mistral gazed back, filled with a sudden sadness. What if he’d never let go of her the first time she’d fallen into his arms, how much would be different now? Saul would still be alive for a start … but she wouldn’t have the Sight, or know her true identity. She tore her gaze away to look around the cabin, her eyes finally resting on the bed. It really was much larger than was strictly necessary. ‘How long is our voyage going to take?’
‘A couple of days, if the winds are fair.’
She looked at the bed again, ‘So we’re going to be sleeping on board for at least two nights then.’
‘Who said anything about sleeping?’ Fabian growled and bent his head to kiss her.
They met Gleacher in the galley a short while later. Sitting down to a meal comprising solely of fish Mistral felt her appetite instantly vanish. She tried a couple of forkfuls but quickly gave up. Filled with longing thoughts of roasted boar that the plate of fish before her could never satisfy, she pushed her plate away and listened instead to the conversation Fabian and Gleacher were having about this year’s batch of apprentices. The first years who had been unfortunate enough to miss their Qualification due to the Divinus’ funeral had finally Qualified, although none had been invited onto a second year. When Fabian politely enquired about their Qualification ceremony Gleacher struggled to conceal his disdain for the forty minute long speech Mycroft Casterton had delivered on the qualities of a warrior. Mistral had to smother a laugh, imagining him waffling away while he warmed himself in front of the fire in the Main Hall, revelling in his newly appointed status as the temporary Divinus. What Mycroft knew about being a warrior could be written on a spriggan’s fingernail. He held a position in the Magnate based purely on his extensive knowledge on Council politics, not experience in the field.
Mistral gave up on their conversation when they moved onto discussing a new policy for Contract regulation and gazed instead out of one of the portholes, watching the moonlit sea rising and falling in time with the smooth roll of the ship. Lulled by the soothing motion, her eyes began to droop and before she knew it Fabian was rousing her from a pleasant doze by speaking softly in her ear.
‘I’m so sorry Mistral. I forget how tired you become now.’
Taking her by the hand he led her away from the galley and back to their cabin where they quickly undressed and slid beneath the cool sheets of the huge bed. Curling up contentedly in the crook of Fabian’s arm Mistral watched the moonlight dancing over the cabin and smiled.
‘I know what you are thinking.’ Fabian murmured softly.
‘Do you?’ She lifted her head to look at him in the half-light.
‘You’re remembering the night we spent together on the deck of Eximius’ ship.’
‘And how could you possibly know that?’
‘Because I am too.’
Mistral laid her head back onto him with a sigh, ‘You’re right, of course. I was wondering how much suffering I would have saved us both if I hadn’t been so stubborn and just admitted how I felt, there and then.’
‘None.’ Fabian stroked her hair. ‘Even if we had admitted our feelings then, I would have been consumed by guilt for the rest of my life for knowing that I had selfishly robbed you of your future. You were destined to be more than just mine.’
‘I know which destiny I prefer.’
Fabian smiled, ‘As do I. I knew the moment you stood shouting at me in the meadows that I had found someone strong enough not to judge or revile me for the life I had led.’
Mistral pulled a face, ‘Me shouting. You always remember my finer moments don’t you?’
He laughed softly, a comforting rumbling deep within his chest, ‘But it was one of your finer moments Mistral. It was the day I realised that I had found the reason for my existence. I knew you were the only one capable of filling the void that existed inside me.’ Fabian rolled over to look at her with eyes blacker than the night sea. ‘You gave me back my soul on that day.’
With no words to express the emotions his words evoke
d, Mistral gazed at him silently, letting her eyes speak the love no whispered endearments ever could. They lay in tranquil silence for a while, listening to the gentle sound of waves and the distant creak of the sails. Mistral was beginning to drift into sleep when Fabian spoke again, his soft voice seeming to come to her from a long way off.
‘It was on Eximius’ ship that I knew the rest of my life was yours, and that I was prepared to do anything to make you feel the same way.’ Fabian paused and brushed a hand over her waist. ‘I was prepared for your resistance, your anger, but I was completely unprepared for was how strongly I would want to protect the infuriatingly independent and wilful creature that you are, and now the life that grows within you.’
‘Double the trouble?’
‘Oh no,’ he disagreed softly. ‘Double the joy.’
Mistral smiled and gazed out of a porthole at the star-filled sky, watching it vanish into the black sea and reappear again with the rhythmical rise and fall of the ship. They lay in peaceful silence. Her thoughts drifted to their destination, feeling excitement at the prospect of rounding up a herd of unicorns, and the lesser thrill of reading a Rochforte. She sat up suddenly. ‘The Rochfortes speak French, don’t they?’
Fabian regarded her from beneath half-closed eyes, ‘It is usual, considering that they are French.’
Mistral gave him a sharp look, ‘Don’t be obtuse Fabian! How can I tell you their thoughts if I don’t understand the language they’re thinking in?’
Fabian raised his eyebrows lazily, ‘I can translate, however Lady De Winter, it’s probably time you began to learn some French,’ smiling, he pulled her back into his arms, murmuring softly to her in a voice of brushed silk words of love in a language she had no knowledge of, but she didn’t interrupt him to ask their meaning. He could have been describing how to build the ship they were sailing in for all she cared; to lie cradled in his arms and listen to his voice filled her with more happiness than she ever dreamed possible.
‘Mon amour pour toi est eternal, mon destin. Mon coeur s’ouve a tu voix –’
As the lure of sleep began to pull at her once more, Mistral reflected dreamily that her training had definitely taken a more cultural turn. Not only had she been to the ballet, but now she was learning French.
‘Mistral, wake up. I need to talk to you.’
Mistral didn’t open her eyes. ‘What about,’ she mumbled sleepily.
‘Look at me please. I need to know you are awake.’
Mistral opened her eyes to glare reproachfully at Fabian only to be blinded by sunlight. The portholes in the cabin were set at just the right height to capture the sunrise, filling the cabin with brilliant light. Mistral was instantly wide-awake. How could anyone sleep in such a bright room?
‘I’m awake,’ she sat up and yawned, stretching her arms above her head before running a hand through her hair to shake out the tangles.
Fabian waited patiently until she was finished, ‘I’m going to find Gleacher and confront him about his dealings with Malachi. And I don’t want you to listen to either of our thoughts until the conversation is over.’
Mistral frowned, ‘No Sight?’
Fabian nodded; his expression completely serious.
‘But, why? Surely you want me to know if he’s telling the truth?’
‘I will know if he’s lying. This is about truth, not Sight. If he asks, I need to be able to respond truthfully that no, you’re not reading either of us. This conversation must be honest and open.’
Mistral shrugged, ‘Fine by me. I wouldn’t want to read Gleacher anyway. He doesn’t look like he’d be much fun.’
Fabian gave her a hard look, ‘Then I have your word that you will not listen in on our thoughts?’
Mistral nodded. Left with nothing else to do, she dropped back down onto the pillow with a yawn. ‘Just come back and wake me up when you’re done.’
Fabian smiled and kissed her before leaving the cabin quietly. Mistral closed her eyes and tried to recapture the dream she’d been having. After several minutes of trying and failing she sat up with a sigh. It was no good; the sunlight was just too bright. It glowed through her closed eyelids with an irritating persistency that burned away the last of her sleepiness. She gazed longingly out of the portholes at the light sparkling on the sea. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. A strong breeze was already rippling across the water, coaxing the waves into foaming white crests. She looked around the cabin, feeling suddenly restless. Without the lure of Fabian’s presence the small room felt stifling.
Deciding to go and visit her horse, Mistral leapt from the bed and reached for her clothes. The corridor outside the cabin was empty. She hurried along it and climbed the ladder down into the hold. It was dark and warm, the steady creaking motion of the ship gentle rather than nauseating. Cirrus and Spirit were both calmly tugging at nets of hay in their stalls. One of the crew had obviously already tended to them that morning as they both had clean stalls and fresh water. With no mucking out or feeding to do Mistral spent a few minutes petting her horse, but he wasn’t particularly interested in her so she decided to take a walk on deck and enjoy some fresh air.
Climbing back up to the living quarters Mistral stepped off the ladder and walked along to the next one, attached to the mast running up through the centre of the ship. There were several heavy coils of rope piled neatly in the open space around the base of the ladder; it was obviously used as some sort of storage space by the crew. Stepping carefully past them Mistral climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch above to inhale a deep breath of the fresh salty air. She was just about to clamber out onto the deck when two voices carried to her on the breeze. Mistral instantly froze. They were unmistakably those of Fabian and Gleacher. Her curiosity was instantly aroused. Fabian had told her not to See, but he hadn’t said anything about good old-fashioned eavesdropping.
Glancing around, Mistral knew it was too risky to stay where she was. She could be caught too easily, either by them, or another crew member walking along the corridor below her. Lifting herself up she peeked cautiously out of the hatch and immediately spotted Fabian walking with Gleacher along the deck, both with their backs to her. Seizing her opportunity, Mistral looked quickly around for a hiding place but couldn’t see anywhere suitable on the open expanse of deck. Cursing quietly she glanced up and saw that the ladder she was holding onto continued up the mast to the crow’s nest, a dizzying long way above her. It would be the perfect place to hide ... if she could just get up there unnoticed. Using the ladder’s rungs to lever her boots off, Mistral let them drop silently onto the coiled rope below then began to climb the ladder, not daring to look down until she’d hauled herself into the crow’s nest.
Safe at the top, Mistral huddled in the bottom of the barrel-shaped lookout, expecting at any moment to hear Fabian’s voice demanding for her to come down. But no angry shouts came and after a few minutes she relaxed; it seemed as though her climb had gone unnoticed, now all she needed to do was listen in on what they were saying. Feeling a slither of excitement at the prospect of discovering exactly what Malachi had been blackmailing Gleacher with for so long, Mistral moved into a crouch and slowly raised herself up to peer over the edge.
The scrubbed wooden planks of the deck stretched out before her, met at their edge by a limitless expanse of grey-blue sea, broken here and there by the brilliant white crest of a wave. She could clearly see Fabian and Gleacher stood at the prow of the ship with their backs to her. They abruptly turned and began to walk along the deck towards the centre of the ship. Mistral ducked down swiftly and sat with her back pressed against the curved sides of the lookout, straining her ears to catch their conversation. Fabian’s voice carried brokenly to her on the breeze, his disjointed words growing clearer as they drew closer to the mast.
‘No need … everything we require. However … request for you to remain with the ship and keep it prepared for a swift departure.’
Gleacher’s response was stiff, ‘I was
not aware that this Contract held any particular urgency.’
‘No.’ Fabian agreed. ‘However we shall also be taking care of a second matter which may entail us having to leave with some haste.’
‘A second Contract?’ Gleacher’s tone became sharp. ‘Why was I not made aware of this? Or does my position as Contracts Officer to the Ri mean nothing to you De Winter?’
‘It is business of a confidential nature, not a Contract.’
‘Is Leo aware that you are endangering the Ri’s Seer on a personal whim?’
‘Leo is aware of my actions, as is my wife.’ Fabian replied icily.
Mistral could hear in Gleacher’s voice that he was taken aback. ‘Leo is aware? He didn’t mention it to me!’
‘Perhaps he feels that it would no longer be wise to inform you of all his decisions.’ Fabian’s voice was like silk on steel, his implication clear; Leo no longer trusted Gleacher.
A silence fell, Mistral dared to peep over the top of the lookout again to see the two figures facing each other, both completely motionless. She quickly crouched down again, listening intently.
‘You dare to question my loyalty?’ Gleacher asked in a dangerously quiet voice.
Mistral couldn’t see Fabian’s face, but she guessed from Gleacher’s angry reaction that his expression had suggested exactly that.
‘You forget yourself Mage! What gives you the right?’
‘I have the same right as every other apprentice who’s risked their lives on Training Contracts issued by you to line Malachi’s pockets! Did you think Leo wasn’t aware that you were using the apprentices to obtain ingredients for illegal potions? Or that you were then smuggling the finished potions off the Isle under the cover of foreign mercenary work? I hope you’ve been well recompensed for such betrayal Gleacher! Apprentices trust you! Warriors revere you! And this is how you repay them? Trading their respect for money?’
‘I took no coin from Malachi!’ Gleacher snarled contemptuously.
‘Then perhaps you should explain your actions! The trade in illegal potions may have halted but I am certain the hold Malachi has on you still exists. Just where do your loyalties lie Gleacher? The contest for the right to Rule as Divinus is between Leo and Malachi; how will you stand?’
The Seer Page 37
