The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  Hmm, it’s probably the first time they’ve ever broken sweat in their lives … but come on Mistral! Let me know what’s happening outside this boring meeting. Has Golden had her hair done again? Where’s Malachi now? Oh, don’t suppose you can tell me what Floris has on the menu for lunch today, can you? I’m starving …

  Mistral sighed and glanced at Phantom. His face gave away none of the inane ramblings of his thoughts; he was gazing with apparent interest at the meeting taking place regarding possibly the most turgid matter Mistral had ever been forced to listen to. The riveting purpose of today’s meeting was to approve a proposed revision on the current methods for disposal of organic waste on the Isle. Mage Grapple had insisted she and the twins attend purely to ensure that his Councillors stayed awake long enough for a decision to be made, claiming their presence added a certain tension to meetings that greatly accelerated the process. Mistral suppressed a yawn; if this was Mage Grapple’s idea of a tense meeting then she would hate to be around in a boring one.

  Deciding to ignore her brother’s demand for information, Mistral allowed her mind to wander again, reaching out with her mind again, searching –

  ‘Yes!’

  Her victorious exclamation drew a few startled glances from the Councillors and an enquiring look from Mage Grapple.

  ‘Oh, er sorry, got carried away,’ she muttered and bowed her head quickly to hide her triumphant expression. She had found what she was looking for. Now all that remained was to work out what to do about it.

  The meeting crawled to a close and by midday Mistral and the twins were heading down to The Cloak for lunch.

  ‘That meeting redefined boring.’ Phantom complained with a yawn.

  ‘But not for you apparently, Mistral.’ Phantasm gave her an intrigued look. ‘What did you See?’

  ‘Oh, just the usual.’ Mistral shrugged evasively.

  ‘Does “the usual” make you jump out of your chair shouting “yes” at the top of your voice?’

  ‘I didn’t leap out of my chair!’

  ‘Don’t avoid the issue! What did you See that was so thrilling?’

  ‘None of your business.’ Mistral snapped and strode ahead of them to avoid any further questions.

  The twins shared a look and hurried after her, gliding soundlessly up on either side and slipping their arms through hers to trap her between them.

  ‘You’re a terrible liar Mistral.’ Phantasm began.

  ‘It’s so obvious that you’re up to something!’ Phantom continued.

  Mistral lifted her chin in a familiar stubborn expression that made the twins smile.

  ‘Ah, now that just confirms it.’

  ‘No brother, it confirms nothing! Only that you’re nosier than a sackful of fairies!’

  Despite their best efforts, Mistral refused to be drawn. Although she had seriously considered asking the twins for their help with her half-formed plan, she guessed it would only cause an argument between them. Whilst Phantom would be only too eager to use their gift for what Mistral was trying to achieve, the more principled Phantasm would be likely to view it as a misuse and refuse to help.

  Ignoring Phantom’s repeated demands to be told what she was up to, Mistral kept her plans to herself while she deliberated on exactly what to do next. The weeks passed quickly and before she knew it three weeks had gone by and she still hadn’t made a decision. Her brothers had returned to the Valley and left again on various Contracts but Samson still hadn’t returned from the mercenary work he’d taken on their return from the Northern Range, which was another sticking point in her plans.

  It was Friday lunchtime and Mistral had just escaped a meeting between Leo and the local farmers to discuss the growing knucker problem. The meeting had been cut mercifully short when she Saw that one of the farmers had actually been trapping knuckers and releasing them onto the neighbouring farmland in revenge for an ancient dispute no-one seemed to be able to remember the cause of. Mistral had left the meeting when it had disintegrated into a brawl, forcing Leo to leap between two red-faced farmers intent on rearranging each other’s features with their fists.

  Making her way down to The Cloak to meet the twins, Mistral paused at the Training Arena to watch Fabian finishing a sword session. Under his calm instruction the first years were steadily improving. Despite Mistral’s shambolic episode with the spriggans, they had finally progressed on to actually being able to hit a moving target that was not one of the other apprentices. She leaned her elbows against the fence, feeling the swell of her pregnancy press against the hard wood she sighed. The apprentices might be growing in confidence, but she was just growing.

  While Fabian spoke quietly with each apprentice before he dismissed them, Mistral fell to musing on her problem … how to go about the next part of her plan without alerting either of the twins or Fabian to what she was up to. Fabian would definitely fall into the Phantasm camp of disapproval on this one...

  When the last apprentice had left the Arena, Fabian walked over to her with an easy smile lighting his face. He was so much more relaxed now she’d settled into their new life in the Valley. Most of their days were spent together with the apprentices, apart from when Mistral was required to battle sleep during one of Leo or Mage Grapple’s meetings. Their evenings were spent either in the blissful privacy of their house or enjoying talk-filled dinners with the twins. Once training had finished on a Saturday, Mistral and Fabian would leave the Valley for their small mountain house and spend the rest of the weekend there, wanting nothing more than each other for company.

  Mistral smiled, watching Fabian’s eyes travel down over her body to rest on the bump she had given up trying to conceal. The summer was proving to be hot, forcing her to finally admit defeat and wear some of the less frightening looking dresses Eudora had made for her.

  ‘I could get used to seeing you in a dress,’ Fabian murmured, sliding his arms around her and pulling her into a kiss over the fence.

  ‘Well don’t.’ Mistral said, breaking away from him. ‘Because it’s back to trousers tomorrow, unless you think this is appropriate attire for training the apprentices in?’

  Fabian smiled but said nothing. Vaulting lightly over the fence he took her hand and led her towards The Cloak. ‘Allow me to buy you lunch, Lady De Winter.’

  ‘Less of the Lady bit, but yes please, I’m starving!’ Mistral fell in step beside him; turning to talk to him she noticed a slight tension in his jaw and listened instead to his thoughts. ‘I was going to ask how training went, but instead I’m to ask you why you’re worrying about me, and,’ she paused, trying to catch the thought that flew across his mind too fast for her to hear clearly. ‘Ah! Got it! Why you’re wondering whether you’ve got time to go home and fetch your kukri knife? What’s going on?’

  Fabian sighed, ‘I was hoping to have presented you with a plate of food and a drink before we had this conversation.’

  ‘Butter me up you mean!’

  He smiled disarmingly and her annoyance instantly melted along with her ability to thinks straight, as it always did whenever he looked at her that way.

  ‘Gleacher has a Contract on offer that I have requested for the apprentices.’

  Mistral immediately snapped back to attention, ‘Great! What is it? It must be good if you want your kukri knife, that thing could cut through metal!’

  ‘A gargillian has made a nest on some farmland near the southern swamps. It’s a perfect opportunity for the first years to tackle something a bit more adventurous than a knucker or a sack of spriggans.’

  Mistral pulled a face, ‘Let’s not mention that incident shall we? But a gargillian! Fantastic! I’ll go see Cain for some poison, then I can provide back-up with a crossbow!’

  Fabian opened the door of The Cloak and turned to look at her with eyes of softest black velvet.

  ‘Oh no,’ she groaned, stepping inside. ‘I know that look. I’m not allowed to go am I?’

  He shook his head fractionally, ‘Would you mind stayin
g? I would be happier knowing that you and our son were not wading through a swamp hunting a gargillian.’

  ‘I wouldn’t! I’d be stood at the side, armed with a crossbow!’

  ‘But no doubt secretly hoping to take it down with one of the three daggers you keep concealed about your person!’

  ‘Only two actually.’ Mistral replied tartly. ‘No belt to tuck it in now,’ she indicated towards the cotton dress she was wearing.

  ‘I noticed,’ he murmured, catching her with a look that could have set the Valley on fire.

  ‘Come and join us!’ Phantom called, dousing her in the cold water of reality. ‘I’ve ordered two plates of meat for you Mistral, since you seem to be able to eat a horse these days!’

  Mistral blinked, instantly forgiving Phantom for ruining yet another private moment with Fabian. Eat a horse? An idea began to take shape in her mind, she looked blankly at the chair Phantom was holding out for her, seeing not the pitted wood beneath his hands but the bleached wooden planks of a ship’s deck … the timing was a bit tight, but it might just work –

  ‘Thanks brother.’ Mistral said and dropped gratefully down onto the chair he was holding out for her.

  ‘Good meeting?’ Phantasm asked.

  ‘Wonderful.’ Mistral sighed heavily. ‘The highlight was when two of the farmers decided to have a fight.’

  ‘Oh? Who won?’

  ‘Leo.’

  ‘Of course he did.’ Phantasm smiled and poured her a glass of water from the jug on the table.

  ‘Any plans for the weekend?’ Phantom asked without any real interest; it was a foregone conclusion that Mistral and Fabian would leave as soon as training had finished on Saturday.

  ‘Hmm, actually yes.’ Mistral said, lifting her knife and fork and concentrating on cutting up some of the meat on her plate. ‘Clovis has been banging on about going to the horse fair in Brintor, I thought I might go with him tomorrow since Fabian’s banned me from joining the gargillian hunt he’s taking the first years on.’

  ‘Do we need another horse?’ Fabian enquired, sitting down beside her and passing her a half-tankard of ale.

  ‘No, not for us!’ Mistral smiled. ‘For our son.’

  Fabian’s expression immediately softened, ‘Do you need some money?’

  She shook her head, ‘I’ve got some left from the dragon cull –’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit soon to be buying him a pony?’ Phantasm asked, looking worried. ‘He won’t be able to ride for quite a while!’

  ‘Centaurs are full-sized by the end of their first year Phantasm.’ Mistral reminded him. ‘And anyway, if it needs any work, I’ll be able to school it before he arrives.’

  ‘Or I will.’ Fabian said quietly.

  ‘We both will then.’ Mistral said firmly. ‘But going to the horse fair will give me something to do while you’re off having fun.’

  ‘Fun? It’s a gargillian hunt Mistral!’ Phantom exclaimed.

  ‘I know.’ Mistral sighed wistfully. ‘It’ll be great –’

  Sunday morning dawned with the promise of being another scorching day, the blue sky broken only by a few faint wisps of clouds that would soon evaporate. Mistral could already feel the sun’s heat while she stood in the village square watching Fabian giving the first years their final instructions. She smiled at the expressions on their faces, ranging from almost uncontainable excitement to trepidation. Fabian finished speaking and swung himself up onto Spirit to begin the ride, gathering his reins he steadied his excitable horse and turned to give Mistral a look that held more meaning than any gesture or words of farewell possibly could. She smiled in response and he immediately turned Spirit in a sharp circle then gave the impatient mare her head, leaving the village square in a clatter of hooves, swiftly followed by the apprentices. Mistral watched them all cantering down the path to the Valley’s South Gate until the last one had vanished from her sight. Turning away with a sigh, she walked over to meet Clovis in the stableyard.

  ‘Got money for this pony you want then? Or is it going to be put on my slate?’ Clovis demanded in his typically abrupt manner.

  ‘I’ve got money, thanks anyway Clovis,’ she laughed and led Cirrus over to the mounting block, her laughter swiftly dying away at another painful reminder of how ungainly her body had become. She could no longer haul herself into the saddle unaided.

  ‘Good, because I’m going to need all my credit today. I’m after some mares to breed with that firebrand stallion of Grendel’s.’ Clovis continued while they rode out of the stableyard.

  ‘More firebrands?’ Mistral asked eagerly.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Clovis frowned. ‘Good blood, but too hard for most warriors to handle – I thought maybe some mountain stock.’

  ‘Mountain stock? Too sturdy!’ Mistral exclaimed. ‘You need some racing blood in with that firebrand!’

  ‘They need to go into battle too Mistral! Not just run like the wind!’

  ‘I know that!’ she snapped. ‘Well, how about some Emerald Forest then? Bryden’s tribe swear by them.’

  ‘Huh! Elven breeds … too prone to tendon trouble –’

  Mistral and Clovis argued the various good and bad points of different breeds for most of the ride, eventually coming to the agreement that a Southern Downs mare would offer both speed and a placid nature to compliment the firebrand’s strength and fiery temperament.

  ‘What pony you want for this child of yours then?’ Clovis demanded once the issue of what mares to buy had been settled.

  ‘Not mountain … I don’t care if they are sturdy and reliable, they’re dull.’

  ‘Dawn Forest then.’ Clovis said decisively. ‘Nice clean lines, good temperament … bit mischievous though.’

  ‘Come on Clovis, that’s hardly going to be an issue!’ Mistral laughed.

  Clovis gave a rare smile, transforming his craggy features into the face of a younger man; making Mistral think of the real reason she was travelling to the horse fair. They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence, speaking again only when they reached the small market town of Brintor and dismounted from their horses.

  ‘Give me Cirrus.’ Clovis muttered gruffly, taking the reins from her. ‘I’ll see him into the enclosure.’

  ‘Er, thanks –’ Mistral was too surprised to argue, it was unheard of for Clovis to be helpful. ‘I’ll see you back here in a bit,’ she added quickly, before he could offer to escort her around the market; the last thing she wanted was Clovis hanging round and ruining her plans.

  ‘Want any help picking that pony?’

  ‘No thanks!’ Mistral waved over her shoulder as she walked off. ‘I can manage!’

  ‘Don’t get ripped off!’ He shouted after her.

  ‘As if!’ Laughing to herself, Mistral walked quickly away, drinking in the sights and sounds of the busy market town, enjoying the rare treat of being anonymous, just another potential buyer perusing the various goods on sale.

  Drawn in by a stall specialising in leather goods, Mistral stopped to examine several of the items before haggling with the vendor only to still part with a small fortune for a belt and a pair of boots for Fabian. Shoving her purchases into her saddlebag, she wandered happily along the rows of stalls, loitering for a while to stare longingly at a display of unusual elf-crafted weaponry, finally forcing herself on again before she succumbed to the lure of a set of throwing stars. Hurrying past the plump woman who tried to sell her some honey cakes, Mistral suddenly found herself in the area of the market where horses were sold. A series of makeshift pens had been erected in the centre of the market square, each pen tightly packed with nervously milling horses of every size and colour; from stocky, heavy coated mountain ponies to elegant desert breeds, prancing excitedly up and down the fence. Mistral walked around the entire collection of pens twice before she spotted what she was looking for. Next to a pen full of shaggy piebalds being sold by a swarthy-faced goblin, Mistral could see a much larger pen holding several different breeds, all looking ne
atly turned out and healthy; but it was the vendor she was really interested in. An elven woman, tall and strong-looking, with blue eyes and blonde hair tied back in a thick plait. Mistral studied her from across the square. The lily-white skin of Samson’s ballad was tanned by the sun, the free looks lined from a lifetime of hard-work in the unforgiving mountain seasons; but the eyes were unaltered by the passing of time and remained a startling sapphire blue.

  She had found Gemma.

  Mistral walked over to look at the ponies she was selling.

  ‘See something you like?’ Gemma strode over to give her a cool look, obviously used to time wasters.

  ‘Um yes, I’m looking for a pony for my … baby.’ Mistral said and instantly felt ridiculous. She didn’t want to say “son” as that would only either make Gemma think she was mad, or make her realise that Mistral had some sort of gift and instantly treat her with suspicion.

  Gemma eyed her pregnant body and laughed, ‘Well, forward planning pays off, or so I’m told, although I think it’ll be a while before yours is ready to ride!’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ Mistral sighed. ‘I think this one’s going to be born in the saddle.’

  Gemma smiled in a way that suggested she was used to humouring over-indulgent parents, ‘I have some good steady northern breeds,’ she said and gestured towards a couple of stocky mountain ponies.

  Mistral wrinkled her nose, ‘I was after a Dawn Forest actually.’

  Gemma nodded approvingly, quickly revising her opinion of Mistral, ‘In that case, there’s a rather fine gelding you might like to have a look at.’

  She let herself into the enclosure and shoved the ponies aside to find the one she wanted and lead him out for Mistral to inspect.

  Mistral ran a practised eye over the pony Gemma presented. It was neat and compact rather than sturdy and had clear eyes that glinted with more than a hint of spirit. His glossy coat was jet-black apart from a single white star on his forehead.

  ‘What’s his name?’ Mistral asked while she ran a hand down each of his legs, feeling for any tell-tale signs of old injuries.