The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  Gleacher turned to Leo to mutter under his breath, ‘Even Aloysius could only read one person’s mind at a time, multiple auras yes! But –’

  Mistral didn’t bother to listen to the rest of what Gleacher was saying; she was too busy pondering the importance of Gleacher referring to the last Divinus by his given name of Aloysius. It was suddenly apparent to her that for Gleacher, Leo was already the Ri’s Divinus. She wondered wryly when Leo would start demanding to be called by his, as yet, unconfirmed new title.

  ‘Mistral?’

  She blinked and turned to see Fabian looking intently at her and smiled. How could she not? The black depths of his eyes held a lure for her that was irresistible.

  ‘Gleacher is asking you a question.’

  ‘Oh right!’ She turned her head and focussed on the parchment beneath Gleacher’s finger.

  ‘This part of their conversation is confusing; can you tell me who made this particular response?’

  Mistral nodded and waited for him to translate the particular section.

  ‘It is my time –’

  Mistral listened to the way he said the words rather than the meaning. She frowned and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry Master Shacklock, but I need to hear the way he spoke rather than what he spoke.’

  ‘Of course.’ Gleacher recited the words again in elven, placing emphasis on different words in the short sentence.

  Mistral listened carefully, ‘No. Sorry, but I can’t recall those words being said sung like that.’

  Gleacher tried again and Mistral’s face immediately cleared, ‘Ah! That was it! That’s Ares … and it’s not part of a conversation but a thought. He’s quite impatient about something.’

  Fabian looked at Gleacher, ‘Ares is Bryden’s first born son. He will become the tribe’s leader when Bryden steps down.’

  Gleacher nodded and returned to the parchment, ‘So this next part? Is it all Ares’ thoughts too? He hopes that the Ri make an offer that is acceptable to his father?’

  ‘I think so.’ Mistral replied, peering over at the parchment. ‘It got a bit jumbled at one point when they were all saying one thing but thinking another; but I did get the impression that Ares wasn’t thinking of money.’

  ‘Elves have little interest in money. They prefer to trade for any goods they wish to obtain, ’ Leo frowned and began to pace behind Gleacher’s chair, ‘which presents me with the problem of making an offer to Bryden that is not monetary but also acceptable to his pride.’

  ‘He wants to accept.’ Gleacher continued to decipher Mistral’s scribbles on the second piece of parchment. ‘His partner passed during the hard winter and he feels her loss. He desires to retire and allow his son to rule now, but you are right, he will not be drawn by the lure of gold, it is beneath him.’

  ‘We offer him status and power then.’ Leo responded.

  ‘He already has that.’ Fabian argued. ‘Bryden will want something significant in exchange for his presence on the Magnate.’

  A short silence fell. They sat listening to the crackle of the fire and the rustling of parchment while Gleacher shuffled the pile to read the next sheet.

  ‘De Winter is correct.’ Gleacher muttered, not looking up from the parchment he was scrutinising. ‘He wants the name of Bryden Wolfsnare to endure.’

  ‘Bryden has been the head of the most powerful tribe of elves on the Isle for the last hundred years, and he’s held a place on the Council for most of it!’ Leo snapped. ‘His name will be recorded in the Isle’s history and taught to future generations of children! What more does he want?’

  ‘Something visual.’ Mistral murmured, gazing vaguely at the fire while she recalled the strength of emotion in Bryden’s thoughts.

  ‘A statue?’ Leo demanded incredulously.

  Mistral laughed despite the fact that Leo was blatantly not making a joke, ‘No, he’s not that vain! As Fabian said, he wants something that has significance.’ Suddenly reaching across the table, Mistral stabbed a finger down onto the last piece of parchment. ‘There, that bit, translate that. Gideon was getting really excited about something, and I don’t think it was the food Floris was cooking for them!’

  Gleacher’s eyes moved swiftly over the parchment, ‘He’s excited by the prospect of having elven taught in the Council School ... it is a step towards equality of the Arcane and Mage races –’

  ‘Elven is already taught in the Ri’s School.’ Leo interrupted impatiently.

  ‘Ah, but which version?’ Fabian asked with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘The Velvet Forest tribe’s version of course!’ Leo retorted. ‘It is our closest tribe!’

  ‘Then I suggest that you change it to the Emerald Forest tribe’s version in honour of Bryden’s acceptance!’

  The atmosphere in the Meeting Room took on an icy edge while the brothers locked glares.

  ‘Not enough.’ Gleacher shook his head, still bent over the final piece of parchment. ‘Bryden isn’t interested in gestures designed to satisfy his ego ... it says here, “I am ensnared by my pride, it will not let me leave but tells me that I can no longer stay”’. Gleacher raised his head to look at Mistral. ‘Was that spoken or thought?’

  ‘Thought … I think,’ she muttered. ‘I was getting a bit tired by then –’

  ‘What was Gideon feeling at this point Mistral?’ Gleacher continued, dropping his gaze back to study the last piece of parchment. ‘He is either saying, or thinking, something about the Halls of Learning at the Council –’

  ‘Gideon? Definitely envy.’ Mistral said firmly. ‘Although I had no idea at what.’

  ‘The Halls of Learning? Gideon is jealous of the Council’s library?’ Leo asked sharply.

  ‘Then you have your answer.’ Fabian said softly.

  ‘A library in Bryden’s name? The Ri library was named in honour of Aloysius Broadoak over a hundred years ago! To change the name now would be too obvious!’

  ‘Obvious? Or respectful?’ Fabian countered sharply.

  Mistral leaned back in her chair while Leo and Fabian argued, musing on the Bryden Wolfsnare she had met at The Festival of the Arcane; proud, sincere, generous and yes, a little vain but not overly so. She thought of the bag of money she’d won and quickly corrected herself ... the bag of money Saul had won with his life … it had been painstakingly embroidered with the emblem of Bryden’s tribe; the head of a snarling wolf. The answer lay in the simple act of taking the time to embroider a linen money bag with the tribe’s emblem; the money inside was of little or no consequence.

  ‘You must do three things,’ she said firmly.

  Leo and Fabian broke off from their argument to look at her.

  ‘Firstly, offer him no wage but make the offer of permanent accommodation. Present him with the Divinus’ old tower room, refurbished of course. The fact that it was once inhabited by the last Divinus of the Ri will mean more to him than any other quarters ever could.

  ‘Secondly,’ Mistral continued, narrowing her eyes in concentration, ‘you must build a new library at the school and name it after him. Changing the elven language taught to that of his tribe’s goes without saying.

  ‘Lastly, the emblem of his tribe must be added to the Ri’s banner.’

  Gleacher gazed at her with newfound respect but Leo dismissed the idea with an impatient wave of his hand, ‘There is no other emblem on the banner! It is plain black! If I placed the tribe of Wolfsnare’s emblem on that it would look like the Ri were his! I cannot accept that!’

  ‘Then perhaps you should adjust the banner to embrace all of the Ri.’ Mistral suggested.

  ‘All? There would not be room!’

  ‘Look.’ Mistral grabbed a blank piece of parchment and dipped her quill into the inkpot to sketch out a rough design. ‘A wolf in honour of Bryden’s tribe, a crescent moon to signify the potential of becoming complete, a dragon for the symbol of the Isle and a tree to symbolise the forests, where most of the Arcanes come from anyway … and make it circular to show that we’re all eq
ual.’

  They all looked down at Mistral’s drawing, the four symbols revolving in a circle; the wolf chasing the crescent moon shining onto the dragon that was captured in flight before a spreading oak tree.

  ‘It would be striking embroidered in white against a black background.’ Gleacher said, nodding approvingly.

  ‘Wait.’ Fabian murmured softly and leaned over to take the quill from Mistral’s hand. ‘Add a mountain beneath the dragon; many elven tribes inhabit the mountainous regions too.’

  ‘Perfect.’ Mistral breathed, gazing in admiration at the addition to her design. ‘All of the elements of the Isle unified on one banner.’

  No knucker though …

  She grinned and looked over at the twins, still on lookout duty at the long window. Neither turned to meet her look, but she heard their thoughts more clearly than the murmured debate going on between Leo and Gleacher over the proposed design for the Ri’s new banner.

  Not bad Mistral …

  Ah, if only I’d know you had a talent for art, you could have decorated our house…

  ‘Chieftain Wolfsnare has just left The Cloak and Dagger.’ Phantasm announced and turned away from the window. ‘I assume you wish us to take our leave now?’

  Leo looked up and nodded curtly, ‘Yes, I think that we have achieved a solution that will not need your gift. Send in Serenity and Mycroft on your way out.’

  The twins nodded in unison and glided silently towards the door. Mistral began to rise from her chair to join them to find Fabian suddenly taking her hand; gazing proudly at her while he escorted her to the door.

  ‘That was an inspired suggestion,’ he murmured softly as they walked down the length of room.

  She hid a look of surprise. Inspired? It was common sense! ‘Oh, it was nothing.’

  He paused by the door and turned to look at her. The twins had left the room already. Leo and Gleacher were engrossed in discussing the forthcoming meeting at the far side of the room. For a moment, they were alone.

  ‘I will come and find you as soon as this meeting is over.’

  She gazed wistfully at him, ‘I don’t suppose you would consider shirking your duties for once would you? Just for me?’

  Fabian shook his head, his dark eyes amused, ‘I cannot, however I assure you that I will do nothing to prolong it.’ Frowning suddenly, he lifted a hand to caress her cheek. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Fine … oh, maybe a little tired … but then, when aren’t I these days?’

  He continued to gaze at her, his dark eyes drawing her in until she was drowning in their inky depths, ‘Tired? I am not surprised. You read multiple minds today Mistral, a feat Aloysius never accomplished.’

  ‘Didn’t he?’ Mistral responded vaguely. She couldn’t care less if the last Divinus had juggled burning branches whilst reading the whole of the Council; all she cared about right now was the way Fabian was looking at her.

  Fabian’s hand dropped from her cheek to rest over the swell of her waist, ‘How tired?’ he murmured, the darkness of his eyes glowing with a fire that immediately burned away any thoughts of an afternoon nap.

  ‘Not at all now.’

  ‘Then once this meeting is over I shall hold you to those wild promises you were whispering in my ear on the stairs.’

  Redemption

  Violent thunder storms continued throughout the rest of July forcing Mistral and Fabian to spend more time teaching the apprentices in the third floor Training Room. Even with the door left open to draw in any cool air from the corridor, the atmosphere in the windowless room became unbearably close during the heavy downpours. Mistral was relieved to finally reach the end of another long Saturday morning spent watching the apprentices shoot arrows anywhere but into the row of targets lined up at the end of the room. Although they were continuing to make good progress in all aspects of their training, for some reason they were still completely diabolical with a longbow.

  ‘I just don’t get it!’ Mistral muttered to Fabian while they walked around the room pulling arrows out of the padded flooring. ‘Some of them are elven born! You’d expect them to have been using a longbow before they could walk!’

  ‘I agree, however I fear that the disastrous start to their year’s training has caused them to lose confidence in their ability to handle the weapon. We need to approach the problem from a new angle; teach them in such a way that they learn without realising it.’

  ‘Distraction technique? Like me stamping on Cain’s foot just before I pulled his tooth?’

  Fabian chuckled softly, ‘Perhaps something more subtle is required in this case, but yes, that is the theory.’

  Placing the arrows back into their container, they left the humid confines of the Training Room and stepped gratefully out into the cooler air of the corridor to see the last of the dispirited first years vanishing down the stairs ahead of them.

  ‘We could get the twins to make them all think they’re really good.’ Mistral whispered.

  ‘Otherwise known as cheating.’ Fabian smiled, taking her hand while they walked.

  ‘Well something’s got to happen, or they’ll all fail to Qualify!’ Mistral retorted. ‘Our first year in charge and all the apprentices couldn’t shoot a troll at five paces! What does that say about us?’

  ‘That we are facing a challenge and will find the right solution to overcome it.’ Fabian replied firmly.

  ‘I wish I had your strength of conviction.’ Mistral muttered. ‘Do you think I should resign before they all fail? I’m not sure I can face the shame!’

  Fabian laughed and turned to pull her into his arms, kissing her in a way that immediately reminded her that she had no shame anyway. Releasing her with a wry smile, they carried on walking together along the corridor, quietly discussing the problem of the first years’ inability to shoot straight until they drew near to the Meeting Room. The door was open, they glanced as they walked by to see Bryden, Leo and the stonemason from the village poring over a large piece of parchment spread out on the table.

  ‘The plans for the new school library.’ Fabian murmured. ‘Building work will begin when the school breaks for the harvest.’

  ‘Bryden was really taken with the whole library in his honour idea.’ Mistral whispered. ‘I even heard him asking Gideon to come and teach “his” schoolchildren elven!’

  ‘Bryden is grateful to Leo for the opportunity of a continued influence on the Isle’s development, and for affording him the chance to make a dignified exit from the tribe. He knew the time was right for him to step aside and allow Ares to rule, but he also knew he could not remain in the tribe when that happened. It would have been impossible for him not to interfere in Ares’ decisions.’

  ‘I suppose having ruled for a hundred years would be a hard habit to break.’ Mistral agreed, thinking privately that Leo had only ruled the Ri for a couple of months and was already insufferable – she dreaded to think what he would become like in the coming years.

  They continued to walk down the corridor to reach the first flight of stairs leading down to the dorms.

  ‘Power is addictive to some.’ Fabian murmured thoughtfully. ‘However Bryden had enough sense to know when his time was over, many do not. Despite that fact, I am certain what finally convinced him to accept Leo’s invitation was the redesigning the Ri’s banner. He was deeply honoured by the inclusion of his tribe’s emblem.’

  ‘Gleacher told me the new flag’s being flown from both the Ri’s ships now.’ Mistral said as they began to descend the stone stairs.

  Fabian nodded, ‘And has been very well received by all accounts. Samson has just returned from a short Contract overseas and apparently all the warriors on board were quite taken with the design. Most of them felt it was high time the Ri had more of a sense of identity than a faceless black flag.’

  ‘Samson’s back in the Valley? I haven’t seen him!’

  ‘I only saw him myself this morning. He’s been staying in Brintor for the last couple of nights.’ Fabi
an explained then gave her an apologetic look. ‘But he’s eating at ours tonight; I forgot to tell you –’

  ‘Oh don’t worry.’ Mistral responded airily. ‘I heard you wondering what I was going to cook tonight and guessed you’d invited someone round, I just didn’t know who. Anyway, I sent Phantom to the butchers for me – on the downside that means they’re also coming to dinner now –’

  Fabian laughed, ‘How will I be able to surprise you ever again?’

  Mistral looked at him, ‘But you do. Every day in fact – just by putting up with me.’

  By the time Samson arrived at their house another rainstorm had broken over the Valley. He strode into their small living room, laughing and shaking drops of water from his hair before dropping a parcel tied up with ribbon onto the sofa.

  ‘A present from my last trip for your good lady wife, well it’s for my godson actually but I suppose Mistral will want to open it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Fabian smiled at his old friend. ‘Mistral is just putting the finishing touches to dinner.’

  ‘Dinner smells good!’ Samson inhaled the rich aroma of roasting beef appreciatively and threw himself down into one of the battered armchairs. Stretching his long legs out with a grateful sigh he accepted the goblet of wine Fabian offered him and took a long drink. ‘Is that her I can hear?’ he suddenly asked and looked at the open door into the kitchen.

  Three voices could clearly be heard speaking in French, two were arguing vociferously whilst the third was more placating.

  Fabian glanced through the open door to see Mistral threatening Phantom with a wooden spoon, warning him in no uncertain terms that if he stole another roast potato she would beat him to death with it; all in fluent French. Wincing at some of her more colourful words, Fabian turned back to Samson with a sigh. ‘Yes, that’s Mistral. She’s been learning a lot of French in her sleep whilst reading Christophe.’