The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  ‘I hope not, or the spine-tailed rats are in for a bit of a shock!’ Brutus laughed and whistled Prospero. The big dog looked up at Mistral expectantly, waiting for the order to hunt, then he bounded away with a happy bark.

  She watched Xerxes and Brutus strolling away to the stables with Prospero running excitedly around them in circles and gave a long drawn out sigh of discontentment. Their afternoon sounded much more interesting than hers was going to be. Heaving another deep sigh, she turned to watch a much chastened Grendel carefully demonstrating some basic techniques to the smirking apprentices.

  A weary intake of breath on her left told her that she was about to receive another lecture from Cain. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and forced herself not to get irritated with him.

  ‘I know that being angry is your default state Mistral, but could you please just try to be a bit calmer; just for the next couple of months.’

  ‘Yes Cain,’ she responded automatically and immediately turned away and began to walk up the path to the Main Building before he could get into one of his well-worn sermons on her behaviour.

  Cain gave the twins an exasperated look, ‘Try to make her take it down a notch won’t you?’

  ‘Not my remit brother, sorry, speak to the sensible twin –’

  But Phantasm was already striding after Mistral, catching her up easily to walk beside her in silence for a few minutes, ‘You know Cain’s right don’t you?’ He finally began. ‘You are going to have to start slowing down a bit now.’

  ‘Oh please! If I slow down much more I’ll start going backwards! All I do is sit in meetings, or stand around uselessly in the Arena!’

  ‘Don’t even try to lie to me Mistral! Don’t think I haven’t seen you teaching! You shot more damned arrows than the apprentices did yesterday!’

  ‘At least someone hit the targets then.’ Phantom remarked, appearing on her left.

  Mistral gave him a black look. Tugging her hood closer around her face to hide his smug features from view, she strode on a little quicker.

  ‘Did you hear Xerxes taking bets on what name you and Mage De Winter are going to choose?’ Phantasm asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject to something less inflammatory.

  ‘That reminds me!’ Mistral suddenly exclaimed, her irritation vanishing with the bizarre abruptness that all her moods came and went. ‘Why is Leo named after Fabian’s father? It’s a bit tasteless!’

  ‘I agree it’s hardly appropriate, but I don’t think it was meant to be an insult. The nurse named him you see, and she was deeply attached to Lord De Winter by all accounts.’ Phantom replied.

  Mistral nodded, Fabian had said much the same to her on the crossing to France, ‘It’s still a bit of a painful reminder for Fabian to have his half-brother named after his father though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’ Phantasm raised an eyebrow. ‘You would know better than any of us.’

  Mistral frowned; she had never noticed any bitterness in either his aura or his thoughts when he spoke of Leo, ‘You’re right,’ she admitted. ‘It doesn’t bother him at all, which is strange.’

  ‘Not so strange when you consider the fact that they don’t share the exact same name.’ Phantasm continued. ‘Lord De Winter used his full name of Leopold in private, whereas Master Sphinx is commonly known by the shortened version; in fact he even signs Contracts as “Leo Sphinx”.’

  ‘So where did the Sphinx part come from?’ Mistral asked.

  Phantom shrugged, ‘That was the nurse’s choice. I think even she realised that giving him the family name of Grapple would cause a few raised eyebrows.’

  Mistral gave an ironic laugh and reflected on her complicated family tree consisting of centaurs, De Winters and a brother-in-law fathered by Mage Grapple. She sighed and tilted her head back to contemplate the overcast sky; the rain was showing no signs of easing yet. They fell silent while they splashed through the puddles, their cloaks catching on the wet shrubbery that lined the path on either side.

  ‘July!’ Phantom muttered disgustedly and pulled his hood further up.

  They rounded the last bend in the path and the Main Building loomed out of the mist ahead of them, looking more than ever like a sinister castle from a child’s nightmare. Mistral studied the rain-darkened stone and endless rows of iron-grilled windows, trying to spot which had been her room for two years. ‘Who designed the Main Building?’ she suddenly asked, remembering the first time she’d ever laid eyes on the strange building. She had just arrived in the Valley to be greeted by the twins, their double perfection literally stealing her breath away. It had been they who had aptly described the Main Building as looking like a cross between a prison and a castle.

  ‘The architect was French, which is apparent in the style I think, however his name was never recorded, probably so that he couldn’t be tracked down and shot by the Isle’s guild of architects or something.’ Phantom paused and looked up at the building, his eyes raking critically over the crenelated ramparts and four towers adorning a long middle section. ‘It’s meant to be functional, which it is, I suppose, despite the fact that there’s never any hot water … and it was also designed to be easily defended, hence the towers and the small, grilled windows. The longer, mullioned windows in the Refectory, Infirmary, Main Hall and Meeting Room were added later, by the last Divinus actually, when it was finally recognised that no idiot in their right mind would mount an attack on the Ri’s headquarters.’

  They had reached the Entrance Hall and stopped to pull off their damp cloaks, hanging them up on one of the rows of hooks to dry out for their return walk.

  ‘Oh, not the third floor Meeting Room again.’ Mistral groaned, gazing up at the spiralling flights of stone stairs.

  ‘Ah, stairs. The bane of every pregnant woman’s life,’ smiled Phantasm.

  ‘There was a time when I ran up these three at a time,’ she muttered glumly and began to labour up the first set.

  ‘And you will again, not long to go now,’ he continued in a soothing tone.

  ‘Give or take an unspecified amount of time,’ added Phantom quietly.

  By the second turn in the stairs Mistral was struggling, ‘I think I need a break.’ She halted and blew her cheeks out in frustration, gazing up at the stone flight of stairs sweeping endlessly away from her.

  ‘May I be of assistance?’

  ‘Fabian!’ Mistral cried joyously in response to the sound of her husband’s voice.

  He ran lightly down the stairs towards her, his pale face breaking into an amused smile at the sight of her stranded halfway up a flight of stairs. She gave an almost girlish laugh when he lifted her easily into his arms, earning a disdainful look from Phantom before she was carried away.

  ‘Don’t suppose you’d consider carrying me would you?’ Phantom asked his brother hopefully.

  ‘No.’

  Mistral laid her head against Fabian’s shoulder while he carried her, breathing in the familiar intoxicating scent of his warm skin, ‘You know this doesn’t mean that I’ve forgiven you for leaving me to be bullied by the twins this morning don’t you?’ She murmured, idly curling a lock of his hair through her fingers.

  He looked down at her and smiled; the smile she adored, a velvet softness in his eyes echoed in a faint lifting of the corners of his mouth.

  ‘I see he bullied you into a dress.’

  Mistral sighed, ‘Hideous isn’t it?’

  His eyes travelled slowly over her in a way that instantly made her breath quicken. She was abruptly aware of the heat of his hands through the thin cotton dress, holding her close to his body.

  ‘Far from it, however, I prefer you in what I left you wearing this morning.’

  She gave him a long look through her lashes, ‘But I wasn’t wearing anything.’

  ‘I know –’

  ‘Have they no shame?’ Phantom muttered to his brother when they rounded the bend in the stairs to be met by the sight of Mistral, still held in Fabian’s arms, kissing pa
ssionately.

  ‘Apparently not.’ Phantasm replied and coughed politely into his hand.

  Setting Mistral down with a sigh, Fabian unwound her hands from around his neck while she whispered something in his ear. Giving a low laugh, Fabian took her hand to continue their walk towards the Meeting Room in a more respectable fashion. They entered the long room to see Leo standing before the huge fireplace, his head bowed in thought.

  ‘Please, be seated,’ he looked up and waved a hand towards the chairs around the table where Gleacher Shacklock was already sat.

  ‘De Winter.’ Gleacher nodded a curt greeting to Fabian, but offered no greeting to the twins.

  Mistral felt his eyes alight on her briefly but kept her own gaze averted while she took the chair Fabian drew out for her. She knew from the dark cloud of his aura that her condition was a painful reminder of the loss he had suffered.

  Fabian did not take a seat but moved quietly over to the window to look down into the Valley.

  Leo began to pace in front of the fire with his hands clasped behind his back. After a few moments of silent pacing he abruptly turned to face the twins. ‘I do not want you or Mistral to be in attendance for this meeting.’

  ‘Oh?’ Phantasm’s polite enquiry contrasted with his brother’s explosion of gleeful thoughts.

  Oh yes! Thank you Master Sphinx! There is a heart in that empty cavern you call a chest after all … The Cloak here I come!

  Mistral glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but his face was so utterly devoid of any expression that it could have been carved from marble.

  Oblivious to the rapture he had incited in Phantom, Leo continued to address them in clipped, icy tones, ‘Your presence will suggest that I do not trust Bryden and his tribal delegates. Such an impression would be detrimental to the purpose of the meeting, which, as you are aware from the brief, is to extend to Bryden Wolfsnare the invitation join the Magnate.’ Leo paused and fixed the twins with a hard look. ‘I cannot emphasise enough that this must be an invitation he accepts of his own free will. I require his full and continuing support, not merely his acceptance today at your intervention.’

  The twins nodded in unison.

  ‘Mistral?’

  She looked up expectantly to meet Leo’s cold blue gaze, managing to say ‘Yes?’ instead of her instinctive response of ‘What?’

  ‘I want you to read the elven delegates the moment they enter the Valley. We need to know in advance who is opposed to the offer. It is they that I wish to be influenced if necessary. Bryden will seek their counsel before he makes his decision, and I want it to be positive.’

  Mistral nodded silently, keeping her face neutral while her thoughts joined in Phantom’s silent celebrations … if only Fabian were to be somehow excused from the meeting too her impromptu afternoon off would suddenly become perfect.

  ‘I would prefer that this meeting arrived at the desired outcome without the need of your talents, however I feel it is vital that we have a strong and respected Arcane in the Magnate, for reasons I am sure you are aware of.’ Leo paused and turned to Fabian. ‘Which brings me to another matter I would appreciate your attention on while we have a few moments –’

  Fabian left his place at the window and walked over to begin a murmured conversation with Leo.

  Taking advantage of Leo being temporarily preoccupied, Mistral turned to whisper to Phantom, ‘Who else is in on this meeting from the Ri?’

  ‘Don’t you ever read your meeting briefs?’

  ‘No. I find the element of surprise is usually the most interesting bit.’

  Phantom hid a snort of laughter, ‘The rest of the Magnate; or what’s left of it.’

  ‘So, just Serenity and Mycroft then?’

  Phantom nodded then lifted an eyebrow meaningfully, ‘And Master Shacklock, apparently.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed. Why is that d’you reckon? Because he’s got elven blood?’

  ‘Maybe, but more likely because he’s a warrior, through and through, and that’s something Bryden will respect –’

  Mistral cut him off with a sharp mutter, ‘Ouch! Damn it! Sorry ... Need to walk around a bit.’

  Rising to her feet with one hand pressed over where her son was energetically kicking her, she walked over to one of the long windows and gazed out across the Valley. The rain had finally stopped and the mist was lifting, leaving her with a clear view right down to the village square. She could see the apprentices drilling in the Arena. Grendel was standing in the centre while they worked in pairs around him. Recognising the technique that they were drilling, she watched them carefully for a few moments. She was gratified to see that Grendel had apparently taken her pep talk to heart and was being instructive rather than demonstrative. A flash of movement beyond the Arena drew her eye and she looked over to see four horses cantering into the village square. Mistral immediately recognised the magnificent pale grey stallion wheeling impatiently beneath its rider. Bryden Wolfsnare and his delegates had arrived.

  ‘They’re here,’ she called over her shoulder.

  Fabian and Leo were immediately by her side, staring down into the Valley to watch Bryden dismount and pass the reins to one of his delegates before striding towards The Cloak and Dagger, closely followed by the other two members of his tribe.

  ‘Who has he bought with him?’ Leo asked Fabian.

  ‘The one walking on his right is Ares, his son. The one on his left is Gideon, and Oren has the horses.’

  ‘Have you had any dealings with them?’

  Fabian nodded, ‘Ares is similar in nature to his father. Gideon is responsible for the education of the tribe’s young and is very interested in politics. He often travels with Bryden when he attends meetings at the Council. Oren is less well known to me, he is their tracker.’

  Leo stared silently down at the scene below them. Clovis had appeared from the stable block to relieve Oren of the four horses. Once his hands were free, the elf hurried across the square to join Bryden and his two kinsmen in the tavern.

  ‘Good, we have some time.’ Leo said in a satisfied voice. ‘Mistral?’

  Mistral sighed and turned away from the window. It was time to work.

  Taking Fabian’s hand she walked with him back to the table and sat down. Fabian took the chair next to hers, sitting on it sideways so that he was facing her, still holding onto her hand. Smiling at the silent reassurance he was offering her, Mistral closed her eyes and drew up the image of Bryden Wolfsnare’s face; older than his rich musical voice suggested and framed by long hair streaked with grey, tied back in the traditional elven style.

  A lilting sound filled her ears, high and musical. She frowned and shook her head, unable to hear Bryden’s thoughts over the irritating noise. She cleared her mind and refocused; pushing her mind out to reach for Bryden’s only to hear the same sound again.

  ‘What is it?’ Fabian asked.

  ‘I can’t See,’ she muttered distractedly. ‘There’s something like music in his mind, it’s hiding his thoughts from me –’

  ‘No, those are his thoughts Mistral.’ Gleacher said quietly. ‘They are conversing in Elven Song.’

  ‘To evade her gift?’ Leo asked sharply.

  ‘Possibly.’ Gleacher replied. ‘But more likely to avoid being overheard in The Cloak. It’s hardly a safe place to hold a private conversation.’ He reached out for a quill and piece of parchment, sliding them across the table to Mistral. ‘Write down what you hear, I can translate.’

  Mistral nodded vaguely, her eyes staring blankly at the far wall of the Meeting Room while Fabian wrapped her fingers around the quill and pressed the tip to the parchment. A short silence fell then suddenly Mistral began to write, the quill scratching out unintelligible words across the parchment, faster and faster until she had filled one sheet completely. Fabian quickly slid another piece under her hand and re-inked her quill; she continued to write without seeming to notice the interruption, the quill scraping into the finely polished surface of the table
when she reached the end of the sheet.

  The minutes passed by; the twins moved to stand by the window, watching the door to The Cloak and Dagger in case Bryden left before Mistral could warn them.

  Five sheets of parchment later, Mistral sat back with a deep sigh and closed her eyes briefly, ‘They’re sitting down to eat,’ she murmured, rubbing a hand wearily across her forehead. ‘Even I don’t need a translation for a rumbling stomach.’ Taking the glass of water Fabian silently passed her Mistral took a sip and looked over at Gleacher, frowning over the scrawled words on the parchment. ‘What’s wrong? Can’t you read my handwriting?’

  ‘No, it’s not that Mistral.’ Gleacher looked up with a puzzled expression on his face. ‘It just doesn’t make sense –’

  ‘Well it certainly doesn’t to me.’ Mistral tilted her head, looking at the upside down scribbles she’d made. ‘And it didn’t make a lot of sense to listen to either.’

  ‘Explain what you do not understand Gleacher.’ Leo walked around to look over his shoulder.

  Gleacher bent his head over the first sheet of parchment and traced the top line with his finger, ‘This is a question Bryden is asking. Word for word it says “Do we trust a Mage as a Divinus?”, but underneath are three different replies.’ Gleacher looked questioningly at Mistral. ‘Was Bryden talking to himself?’

  Mistral took another sip of water and carefully set the glass down on the table, ‘No, Bryden asked the question and the three replies are from Ares, Gideon and Oren – in that order.’

  A brief silence fell. The twins shared a brief look before turning back to the window.

  ‘You heard their individual replies?’ Gleacher gave her a baffled look. ‘How? There wasn’t enough time to read each of them in turn!’

  ‘I know, so I just read them all at the same time.’ Mistral responded with a shrug. ‘It was a bit confusing, but it gives us a more complete picture.’

  Gleacher’s eyebrows shot up while he stared at her in frank amazement.

  ‘You’ve done this before?’ Leo demanded sharply.

  ‘Once or twice.’ Mistral kept her face wooden. She’d actually spent numerous evenings in The Cloak collectively reading other players in card games just to win a few extra coins, but she was sure Leo wouldn’t appreciate hearing how she used her gift in her spare time.