The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  ‘He’s been stuck down there since we left?’

  Fabian regarded her expressionlessly, ‘Without a doubt. He failed Mistral, and Rochfortes do not tolerate failure.’

  Mistral closed her eyes and felt her shoulder drop, ‘You mean to say that I put you through hell on quayside and I nearly drowned just so that I can either read a dead Rochforte or one that’s gone mad?’

  ‘There is one other option.’ Phantasm reminded her quietly.

  Mistral shot him a black look, ‘No way.’

  ‘Please Mistral.’ Fabian said softly. ‘Try.’

  ‘He told about his idea didn’t he?’ Mistral snapped her gaze back to Fabian and was instantly trapped. Completely at the mercy of his black stare, the strength to refuse his request vanished along with her ability to think rationally, or think at all when Fabian gave her a half smile, his guilty smile.

  ‘No, but I did ask the twins if you had ever read Golden.’

  ‘Did you really.’ Mistral sighed and picked unhappily at the cuff of her shirtsleeve. ‘Well it was only once, right at the start of the first year of my apprenticeship. In fact,’ she looked suddenly hopeful. ‘It was so long ago I probably won’t be able to recall her aura at all!’

  ‘You said it was revolting.’ Phantom reminded her helpfully. ‘Something about it spinning in different directions –’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me brother.’

  ‘So you do remember it then!’ Phantom didn’t bother to disguise the note of triumph in his voice.

  ‘Unfortunately.’ Mistral sighed and for the third time that evening prepared to read someone she despised. Sinking quickly into a deep trance, Mistral’s face instantly became devoid of all expression, her eyes fixed and unseeing while she Saw into the mind of another.

  Golden’s thoughts reached her in a sibilant whisper, too insubstantial at first to make out separate words but the tone was clear. She was filled with relief. Mistral concentrated on feeling Golden’s emotions while she listened to the jumble of incoherent thoughts, strengthening the connection between them until her thoughts became words, one word to be precise, and Golden was repeating it continually in a soft crooning voice.

  ‘Christophe …’

  A repulsed look crossed Mistral’s face and her eyes flew wide open, abruptly breaking the vision, ‘Yuk!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think you can guess.’ Fabian murmured and passed Mistral a cup of water. ‘Someone as self-serving as Golden would do anything to maintain the status she has achieved in the Rochforte tribe. She was Etienne’s lover and he is dying a shameful death in the oubliette, leaving her with no choice but to align herself to the next most powerful person in line to be the head of the tribe.’

  ‘Oh!’ Phantom made a disgusted face. ‘Golden was working her charm on Christophe was she?’

  ‘Please, don’t make me think about that again.’ Mistral closed her eyes and rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to massage the memory out of her head. ‘Next time I read her can it be a nice, safe time of day, like lunchtime, please?’

  ‘Hmm, talking of time, we should go.’ Fabian glanced out of the rain splattered window at the darkness beyond.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Phantasm was on his feet in an instant and Mistral groaned wearily.

  ‘I’m not reading anyone else tonight brother.’

  ‘No, you are going upstairs to bed! I’m not sending my godson out in the rain to stay in a cold house!’

  ‘Your godson? What about me?’

  ‘Just the vessel.’ Phantasm said dismissively. ‘Now go on, we have business to discuss with Mage De Winter about the Council meeting this week.’

  ‘Great, if I can’t sleep, can I listen in?’

  ‘Of course!’ Phantasm looked pleased at her unusual display of interest. ‘It’s a fascinating policy, proposed by the Head of Internal Liaisons actually –’

  Mistral smiled happily, ‘That’ll do it. I’ll be asleep in seconds.’

  The Announcement of Two Tournaments

  The arrival of Mage Grapple and his Council delegation in the Valley coincided exactly with the appearance of notices announcing the forthcoming tournament, neatly drawing attention away from his unwelcome presence in the Valley.

  ‘Bit of cunning timing by Lord Leo I see.’ Xerxes casually ripped down one of the notices and carried it over to their table to read at his leisure. Taking a long drink from his tankard he looked over at the two Council officials stood waiting to be served at the bar. ‘I hope Floris refuses to serve them,’ he remarked without any real rancour.

  ‘Business is business brother.’ Cain said mildly and glanced over at the two Councillors. ‘I might tap them up for my patented baldness cure too; the one on the right is looking distinctly shiny on top –’

  ‘How is business going?’ Mistral asked while she adjusted the neckline of the dress Phantasm had insisted she wore for the Council meeting. It was one Eudora had made to fit during her pregnancy, but she was sure it was far too low for her new curves. Catching Xerxes eyeing her she raised an eyebrow and kicked Brutus under the table for some assistance.

  ‘That’s the mother of our nephew you’re ogling.’ Brutus reproached his younger brother sharply.

  Xerxes’ face instantly fell, ‘Sorry, won’t happen again,’ he muttered and hid his face in his tankard.

  ‘Business is slow Mistral.’ Cain said in answer to her question. ‘Mainly because Boaz hasn’t fully completed the renovations on the shop yet and my storeroom still leaks.’

  ‘The lazy cheating toad of a goblin!’ Mistral exclaimed. ‘I’ll go sort him out for you right now, the meeting isn’t for ages –’ she was halfway out of her chair before Cain’s hand was on her arm, pulling her down again.

  ‘No loss of temper Mistral, remember?’

  ‘I won’t lose my temper! But Boaz might lose a few fingers!’

  ‘Sit down and listen to me.’ Cain pulled her back onto her chair. ‘You ripped him off when you forced him into that deal Mistral. He sold you the shop and the flat for half what it’s worth, and agreed to do all the renovations. He’s done up the flat and most of the shop already, I think I’ve done quite well out of that lazy cheating toad of a goblin already, don’t you? If I have to find the money to finish the repairs to the store room then it’s only fair, I was given the whole lot after all.’

  Mistral scowled unrepentantly, ‘A deal’s a deal.’

  ‘You can never trust a goblin to stand by their word Mistral, even if it is written down in their own blood, believe me I know.’ Xerxes said while his eyes skimmed over the tournament details in his hand.

  ‘Read them out brother!’ Brutus demanded impatiently.

  Xerxes tipped his chair back and swung his feet up onto the table, narrowly avoiding kicking his half-empty tankard over in the process, ‘Usual guff at the start, Master Sphinx is offering a Contract for the safe delivery of herd of unicorns, comprising eight mares and one stallion, to their reserve in the Dawn Forests … blah, blah … aha! The Contract is for three warriors ... Contract value three hundred gold coins apiece –’

  ‘Come on brother, we knew all this already thanks to Mistral! What about the tournament?’ Brutus persisted in an agitated voice.

  ‘I’m getting there! Hold your horses!’ Xerxes chuckled at his own joke and resumed his recitation of the tournament details. ‘A tournament will be held on the first Sunday in April –’

  ‘Two weeks yesterday.’ Brutus interjected helpfully.

  ‘Yes, thank you, now where was I? Oh yes … consisting of three horseback events. The first is … no way! A Bending Race? We used to muck about at that as kids on ponies!’

  ‘Bit different when you’re firing a crossbow at the same time though.’ Brutus leaned over his shoulder to read the details. ‘Time and Target Trial I think you’ll find it’s actually called brother. Contestants must weave in and out through the poles, shoot the bulls-eye, and ride back again. The twelve fastest times with an acc
urate shot at the bulls-eye go through to the next event –’

  ‘Herding.’ Xerxes continued, quickly moving the poster out of his brother’s line of sight. ‘Contestants must drive four horses from the paddock into an enclosure –’

  ‘Easy.’ Cain snorted dismissively.

  ‘Not when the enclosure is guarded by a knucker that has to be dispatched, then the enclosure opened by shooting the target to release the gate … all without dismounting –’

  ‘Less easy.’ Cain admitted.

  ‘How many go through?’ Brutus asked.

  ‘The six fastest who achieve all the aims of the trial …which brings us to the final event. Lasso and separate one horse, to be identified on the day, from the herd and control it successfully alongside the contestant for two laps of the paddock.’

  Cain frowned, ‘Again, that sounds too easy.’

  ‘Far too easy brother, I suspect that his Leoship has a nasty trick up his sleeve when it comes to the horse that is yet to be identified.’

  ‘He’s not asked if he can borrow Cirrus has he?’ Cain asked Mistral.

  ‘No, and if he does the answer will be no too! There’s no way a bunch of over-enthusiastic warriors are using my horse for lasso practise!’

  ‘I don’t see why not, it’ll be good exercise for him since he’s not going to be doing a lot else for the next few months.’

  ‘I can still ride!’

  ‘Slowly, and maybe you should consider taking up the side-saddle –’

  ‘Cain!’

  ‘Don’t wind her up please Cain, we’ve got a long meeting ahead of us and having her fuming away in the corner with a dagger in either boot may not be good for the survival of all the attendees.’

  Mistral spun around to see the twins looking immaculately presented in dark blue shirts and black trouser. Phantasm was pointedly holding her velvet cloak out to her. ‘It’s time to go Lady De Winter.’

  ‘Joy,oh joy.’ Mistral muttered sarcastically and shoved her chair back with a satisfying squeal of wood on stone. ‘Watch Prospero for me can you Brutus?’ She asked as she swung her cloak on.

  ‘No problem. I need to go into the village anyway, he can come for a walk with me.’

  ‘Fine, but please keep an eye on him this time. I’ve already had some woman complaining to me that he was mauling her ridiculous excuse for a dog last time you had him!’

  ‘He wasn’t mauling her Mistral –’

  ‘I know! And if I get a litter of puppies dumped on my doorstep you’re having them!’ Mistral spun around and stomped out of the tavern, leaving a burst of laughter in her wake.

  ‘So tranquil and serene.’ Cain sighed, watching her slam the door with a heartfelt bang.

  ‘Pregnancy really suits her.’ Brutus agreed.

  ‘In more ways than one.’ Xerxes smirked and began to shuffle his worn pack of cards.

  The twins hurried from the tavern to catch up with Mistral but they didn’t have far to go; she was leaning against the paddock fence gazing over at the unicorn herd. The unicorns were unrecognisable from the bedraggled, muddy ponies that arrived in the Valley a week ago. Clovis had worked tirelessly to restore them back into the gleaming white creatures of legend. After much effort and a lot of assistance from Fabian and the slightly nervous first year apprentices, the unicorns had been coaxed into being bathed and groomed. Now their once tangled manes and tails flowed silkily and their coats shone. Mistral had watched enviously while they had worked with the herd, forbidden from doing anything more exciting than passing Clovis his cutters and file when he trimmed their brimstone hooves.

  Resting his elbows on the fence, Phantom regarded them silently, ‘Look quite cute from over here don’t they?’ He commented after a while. ‘Maybe that Contract wouldn’t be too bad after all.’

  ‘Don’t be fooled brother, watch the stallion.’ Phantasm nodded to where the stallion was eyeing the Ri herd in the paddock next door, snorting and pawing grandly at the ground.

  They weren’t the only ones admiring the herd. News of their arrival had quickly spread through the Ri and drawn warriors back to the Valley to witness the momentous occasion. The Cloak had been packed every night that week, and now the details had been released about the tournament and more specifically, the prize, the Valley was only going to get busier. Laughter rippled through the group of warriors also watching the antics of the stallion. He was now prancing alongside the fence that separated the unicorns from the Ri herd, arching his neck and occasionally tossing his horned head into the air. The display should have been impressive, and it was, to a degree, but it lost some of its grandness when it became apparent the unicorn stallion was fully two hands shorter than the mares he was trying to flirt with.

  Mistral smiled at the comic reaction of the mares. They glanced curiously at the diminutive would-be suitor before returning to the more pressing matter of the rich spring grass, turning their backs with an indifferent swish of their tails.

  ‘He reminds me a bit of Hermes,’ she remarked.

  The twins laughed.

  ‘I can see a certain resemblance.’ Phantom agreed. ‘He’s definitely punching above his weight with that lot though, just look at Cirrus getting all protective over Spirit! He’ll miss her if Mage De Winter ends up on the Contract.’

  ‘What do you mean if? You know he’ll win.’ Mistral muttered broodingly. ‘And I’ll have two long weeks to fill.’

  ‘They’re already full Mistral, or you know Mage De Winter wouldn’t even be considering entering the tournament, money or no money.’

  ‘Full? How are they full?’ Mistral demanded grumpily. ‘I can’t hunt, take Contracts or train! What’s left to do?’

  Phantasm gave a long, exasperated sigh and turned to look at her, ‘Tell me Mistral, did you actually read that schedule of Contracts Master Sphinx gave to you?’

  ‘I tried. But I lost the will to live after reading the brief on the first meeting … which is today’s one isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is. And if you had managed to stay awake long enough to read the second, third and fourth briefs you would know that the next two weeks of your life are going to be extremely full –’

  ‘And boring.’ Phantom added flatly.

  Mistral sighed, ‘So my days will be taken up, but I can’t drink and Xerxes still won’t let me play cards ... so what am I going to do every evening?’

  ‘Well, aside from enjoy our stimulating company, you, Lady De Winter, are going back to school.’

  Mistral gave him a blank look, ‘What?’

  ‘It’s high time you learned how to speak French, and my brother and I have taken it upon ourselves to begin your education. Mage De Winter’s absence will provide the perfect opportunity for you to focus on your studies.’

  ‘No need. Fabian’s already started teaching me French,’ she replied quickly.

  ‘I’m sure he has. But don’t forget that I’ve heard your Mage speak French, and I’m not sure that any of the words I heard him use were entirely appropriate.’

  Mistral rolled her eyes. He was referring to when Fabian lost his temper and swore at Guillane in the Council chambers, shortly before killing him. ‘No, not those sorts of words, other ones.’

  Phantasm eyed her dubiously, ‘These words, would they be something you would care to repeat?’

  ‘Er –’Mistral hastily backtracked. ‘No, not really.’

  ‘Well then, that settles it. Your lessons begin once this meeting is over.’ Taking her firmly by either arm, the twins marched her up the path towards the Main Building to begin her first official role as the Seer to the Ri.

  Mistral had never been inside the Meeting Room on the third floor. It was with a sinking feeling of impending gloom that she entered into the rectangular, high ceiling room. They were the first ones to enter, allowing Mistral time to take in her surroundings. Gazing around with mild interest, Mistral noted that the ceiling was plastered in the same ornate style as the Main Hall and the walls were similarly panelled in
a dark oak, matching the floorboards. One of the room’s narrow ends was completely taken up by a huge fireplace, now lit and blazing brightly. The long wall facing west had four tall mullioned windows set into the panelling, affording a magnificent view of the Western Range. Mistral hoped she would have a seat facing the windows; at least she could occupy herself by looking out of them for the next few hours.

  Most of the room was taken up by a long table, its surface was so highly polished that at first Mistral mistakenly thought it was covered with glass. A quill, pot of ink and sheaf of important looking documents had been placed in front of each high-backed chair. Having suffered several meetings there already the twins knew where they would be expected to sit and instantly walked over to assume seats set back against the wall at the opposite end to the fireplace. Mistral trailed after them, noting that the chairs they had been given were far less grand than the throne-like ones set at the table.

  ‘Mage Grapple is having a preliminary meeting with Master Sphinx and Mage De Winter.’ Phantasm informed her in a low voice while he settled himself onto his chair. ‘Mage Grapple will inform us of our remit for the meeting before it begins.’

  ‘Can’t wait.’ Mistral responded in a bored voice. ‘What’s this one about again?’

  ‘Since you couldn’t be bothered to read the brief, I suppose I shall have to tell you.’ Phantasm sighed wearily. ‘The Head of Internal Liaisons –’

  ‘Mage Castledine.’ Phantom interrupted pedantically.

  ‘– has proposed a policy to extend the curriculum taught in the Council School to include learning the five elven languages –’

  ‘Elves speak five different languages?’

  ‘No, there are five main tribes, and each has their own language.’

  ‘Doesn’t that make communicating a bit awkward?’

  ‘Well, they are very similar, so they can understand each other quite easily. In fact, they are so similar that it’s more a case of it being one language with five slight variations on few words.’