The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I said it is imperative that you let Mage De Winter or the twins know where you are at all times. No-one can say for certain when you are due, it could be dangerous for you to be on your own right now.’

  Mistral nodded distractedly and turned to gaze out of the window again and was immediately lost in the beguiling shadows cast over the Valley by the Western Range. She was so absorbed in the scene that the sound of the door closing quietly barely registered. Left alone in the small bedroom, Mistral gazed at the glass panes of the window to see her own reflection staring back at her, wide-eyed and strangely blank. She studied her own face with detached interest for a moment before letting her eyes slide out of focus, Seeing with her mind and not her eyes.

  She could instantly hear the twins downstairs, whispering about her, and she almost laughed. Why were they whispering? She could hear their thoughts! They might as well be shouting! Sighing, she watched the long fingers of shadow stretching across the valley and let the tendrils of her mind chase after them, bounding away from her like Prospero after a rabbit. She smiled as she caught the random thought of one of the apprentices being taught by the centaurs in the Arena.

  A centaur! I’m being taught to shoot by a centaur! I can’t believe it!

  The centaurs … Imperato’s wild voice rustled in her ear like dry autumn leaves; he was enjoying teaching, imparting knowledge of a skill he had honed to perfection over nearly three centuries. Mistral let her mind rove further, touching on Dravite and Faras, both so serious and sombre, intent on the task of instruction. Passing over them quickly she read the apprentices collectively, letting the nervous, excited babble of their thoughts pour into her mind like a rushing mountain stream.

  If only my mother could see this! She’d be so proud …

  I shot the target! I actually shot the damned target!

  Are they half-man or half-horse? There’s more man than horse there, I think … No, more horse …

  Mistral laughed at the confused musing of one apprentice then felt Sight pull wilfully at her mind, like Cirrus straining against her hold on a fresh spring morning, filled with the promise of boundless energy and a desire to expend it. With a bell-like peal of laughter she unleashed more invisible tentacles from her mind, letting them spring forth and unravel across the Valley to fasten briefly onto the mind of every warrior they flew past, providing Mistral with a fleeting glimpse of their thoughts before she willed the tentacle on, reaching out for fresh minds. Like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower, Mistral sampled the thoughts laid on display to her by the Sight. Occasionally she would linger over a particular thought that captivated her attention, but it was never for long; there was too much to See.

  The babble of noise in her head intensified as more tentacles fed thoughts back to her; the deluge of information was not at all confusing, merely distracting. Xerxes … she dipped in and out of his mind in the blink of an eye, the content of his thoughts was too unpredictable to encourage much exploration. Brutus … she loitered in his mind, listening to him with a fond smile while he deliberated between which of his two favourite bows to take on the mercenary Contract. Finally unable to decide he placed them both by his packed saddlebag; an action so similar to one she would have made that she laughed out aloud. How many times had she left the house wearing more weaponry than the window display of Toothe and Nayle?

  A splinter of ice slid into her mind when a tentacle fastened onto Leo. With a shiver she pulled the tentacle away and redirected it to be rewarded with the deep, rich voice of Bryden Wolfsnare, singing in elven to himself while he luxuriated in a hot bath; something he had only experienced since leaving tribal life and had developed a passion for.

  Laughing to herself, Mistral snapped that tentacle out of Bryden’s mind before the bubbles of soap could disperse, drawing it back and releasing it like an arrow from a bow. Concentrating on that one tentacle, she left the others to wind sinuously through the Valley and report thoughts back to her. She heard them all, but concentrated on that one single thread, watching it travel faster and faster, out of the Valley and across the meadow, soaring up into the azure sky, up and over The Velvet Forests, arcing high above the Moors to plummet down with dizzying speed into the glittering white marble edifice of the Council headquarters and catapult the thoughts of Mage Grapple into her mind with a force that made her physically recoil.

  This debate will define the future of the Ri and the future of the Isle …

  Enough of that! Mistral yanked the tendril out from Mage Grapple’s tightly ordered thoughts and urged it on again, out over the Black Cliffs where the sea flowed beneath her in a rush of sparkling blue, flying towards a ship hung with white sails emblazoned with a vast golden lion: the emblem of the Rochforte tribe.

  A voice spoke in French; demanding her total focus. The multitude of thoughts in her head instantly muted, allowing Christophe’s voice to assume centre stage in her mind. He was talking to Malachi in a voice full of scorn.

  C'est seulement mer maladie! Manger quelque chose, il va vous guérir – Mistral saw Malachi through Christophe’s eyes, prostrate with his head over a bucket and being violently ill; seasick again. His degradation was small recompense for what he was planning to do, but the knowledge that he would spend every moment of the voyage on his hands and knees with his head over a bucket of his own vomit afforded her some satisfaction.

  She had Seen enough, with a mental jerk she pulled back the tentacles of her mind, one by one. With every tendril that coiled obediently back a voice vanished from her mind, until there was only the ever present murmur of a voice so velvet soft that she could never bear to be without its soothing presence; the sound that had come to define her existence.

  Fabian.

  She tilted her head, smiling indulgently while she listened to the thoughts of her Mage, letting his thoughts flood her mind, filling every recess with their brooding seriousness and a love so profound it never failed to astound her. Minutes passed like seconds until she heaved a reluctant sigh and withdrew slightly from his mind to let it become background noise again. It would be too easy to spend an entire day there, an entire lifetime even.

  Almost lazily, Mistral uncoiled a tendril of her mind and sent it inwards, to reach down to the life that grew within her. She listened to the simplistic thought processes of her unborn child, a tender smile lighting her face. Absently caressing her belly, she both heard and felt him respond to her touch and instantly forgave him every moment of sickness, every kick and every second of the long months of restriction she had endured.

  Damn it Mistral!

  She frowned at the unwelcome intrusion and snapped her mind to listen in to the one that had taken her name in vain.

  ‘Ah, sorry brother – ’

  Cain, struggling alone to brew the Theriac and fulfil Gleacher’s order before nightfall then pack ready for the mercenary Contract he’d taken.

  Sighing deeply, Mistral drew her gaze back to stare at herself reflected in the glass of the window once again and was slightly shocked to see the sky stained with the vibrant colours of sunset. Muttering an oath under her breath, Mistral turned away from the window and hurried to help her abandoned brother.

  They gathered that night around their usual table in The Cloak and Dagger. Floris had propped the door of the tavern open to let in the warm night air, heavy with the scent of jasmine that reminded Mistral of the first time she had ever seen Fabian. Seen Fabian? Who was she kidding? She had fallen in love with him at first sight; the brooding Mage who had looked at her with eyes of darkest night. She smiled at the memory and stole a glance at him from beneath her eyelashes; seeing his face, his aura and his thoughts all at once. Catching her look, he reached for her hand. The simple touch of his fingers entwined through hers held more meaning than a thousand murmured endearments ever could. Overcome with a rare sense of wellbeing, Mistral turned to gaze fondly at the familiar faces gathered around the table.

  ‘Ah, brothers, I’m going to mi
ss you all. Please try not to die on this Contract won’t you?’

  Brutus and Xerxes laughed, but Cain gave her a sharp look, ‘Have you been drinking?’

  ‘I wish.’

  Cain continued to regard her with a slightly suspicious look, ‘So, where were you this afternoon then? You never did really explain why it took you three hours to get back to my shop.’

  Mistral lowered her eyes, embarrassed by the fact that she’d let Cain down, but also slightly unnerved by how much time had passed while she had let the Sight rule her, ‘I got a bit side-tracked.’

  ‘By?’ Cain asked in the lull than ensued.

  ‘Sight.’ Mistral confessed, keeping her eyes glued on the tumbler of water on the table in front of her.

  A longer lull fell.

  ‘Who were you reading for three hours Mistral?’ Fabian asked with a frown.

  Mistral lifted her gaze to let her eyes drift over his face, the perfect symmetry of his features, the striking contrast of light and dark, all so beautiful, so utterly, completely, heart-stoppingly perfect, ‘Everyone,’ she finally whispered.

  A lull fell that quickly developed into an ear-shattering silence.

  ‘By everyone, you mean … us?’ Phantom finally asked.

  Mistral shook her head; her eyes still fixed on Fabian’s, ‘No … I mean, everyone –’

  ‘You read the Valley?’

  Mistral sunk a little lower in her seat and nodded, ‘And Mage Grapple and Christophe, oh Malachi is being seasick again –‘

  ‘You read them all? At the same time?’

  It was Phantasm’s voice this time; cool as ever, but edged with almost clinical curiosity.

  She nodded mutely in the longest of all the silences.

  ‘Did I tell you that you were banned from cards?’ Xerxes finally said. ‘Because you are. Banned. For life.’

  ‘Did you hear Master Wolfsnare?’ Phantom leaned forward, his green eyes shining salaciously.

  Mistral pulled a face, ‘In the bath.’

  Phantom laughed, ‘How about –’

  ‘How about we don’t interfere in the private lives of others?’ Phantasm interrupted with a meaningful lift of his eyebrows. ‘Don’t forget Mistral also Saw all your thoughts too.’

  In the burst of conversation that erupted around the table to cover their panic, Mistral turned to Fabian and curled her fingers through his more tightly, ‘I heard our son too.’

  His eyes held hers. Molten pools of onyx that drew her in, forcing her to bite her lip and stop herself from climbing onto his lap and embarrassing them both.

  ‘And what were his first words to his mother?’

  ‘No words, just … feelings.’

  He raised an eyebrow, the mocking action belying the depth of emotion revealed in his eyes.

  ‘Love. Oh Fabian. So much love.’

  He smiled and gazed at her with starless eyes, mesmerising her with their inexplicable power while she listened to the seductive murmur of his thoughts. Words fell from her lips in a breathed whisper only he could hear. Immediately rising to his feet, he led her from the tavern.

  Parting of Ways

  Brutus gave her a worried look, ‘You’re not going to cry are you? I’m not sure I can cope with that! Damn it! Where are the twins when you need them?’

  ‘With Leo and I can’t help it! It’s the damned hormones!’

  Seeing Xerxes lurching towards her with his arms open, Mistral recoiled and quickly wiped her eyes on her sleeve, ‘Come any closer and you die brother!’

  ‘Harsh words.’ Xerxes’ face crumpled with comic tragedy. ‘This may be the Contract that all warriors ultimately take.’

  ‘D-don’t say that!’ She choked and instantly began crying again.

  Grinning shamelessly, Xerxes enfolded her in his arms only to be winded by a hard punch into his ribs.

  ‘Get off me you lecherous elf!’

  Xerxes staggered back, wincing and clutching at his ribs, ‘I think that’s more than enough of the misty-eyed farewells for me! I’m going to get our horses ready.’

  Mistral turned away to dry her tears and looked over at the Arena where Fabian and Samson were holding a serious-looking conversation whilst watching the apprentices practising a sword drill. The bright morning sunlight caught the blades, turning the steel to blinding flashes of white. Occasionally one of the apprentices would pause to rub the sweat from their brow, already feeling the heat of the August sun.

  Leaning casually back against the wall of The Cloak and Dagger, Brutus dropped a hand to rub Prospero’s head while he followed Mistral’s gaze and looked over at the Arena, ‘That reminds me, you missed a bit of a scene in The Cloak last night when you decided to sneak out without even saying goodbye.’

  ‘I was tired.’ Mistral murmured, still gazing at Fabian.

  ‘Yes, well. As I was saying. Samson got really drunk –’

  ‘And he made a scene? What’s so unusual about that?’

  ‘Let me finish! He went down on one knee and asked Gemma to marry him!’

  Mistral groaned, ‘Not another wedding!’

  ‘I shouldn’t worry, she turned him down.’

  Mistral spun around to look at him in horror, ‘No! In front of the whole Cloak? How’d he take it?’

  ‘In typical Samson style.’ Brutus shrugged. ‘He just laughed and said he’d keep on asking her until he either caught her off guard or she gave in.’

  ‘So, they’re still together then?’

  Brutus nodded, ‘Gemma gave him the whole “I’m happy with the way things are, let’s not ruin it by changing it” speech, she even got a round of applause at the end of it. Xerxes was looking at her like she was a creature from another planet!’

  Mistral laughed, ‘I bet he wishes Marietta would say that!’

  ‘Fat chance of that ever happening! Ever since Grendel got married Marietta’s been trying to pin him down to making some sort of commitment to her. She even turned up at ours late last night and tried to get him to have some kind of serious talk. You won’t believe this, but she actually asked him where he saw their relationship going!’

  ‘Don’t tell me.’ Mistral groaned. ‘He said “upstairs” didn’t he?’

  Brutus laughed, ‘Of course he did! He’s nothing if not predictable!’

  ‘He’s such an outrageous chauvinist!’ Mistral shook her head in disgust but couldn’t conceal a smile. ‘I bet he got away with it as well didn’t he?’

  Brutus rolled his eyes, ‘Oh, what do you think? All he had to do was tell her that her dress looked pretty and she was giggling at him like a fairy!’

  They both burst out laughing.

  ‘I’m glad to see you’re laughing, I was worried you would be a bit over-emotional this morning.’ Phantom called breezily.

  Mistral looked up to see the twins strolling across the village square leading their horses behind them.

  ‘No, we’ve done that bit already.’ Brutus replied and smirked at the scowl Mistral immediately gave him.

  ‘And just why would I be over-emotional over leaving the Valley?’ Mistral demanded in an argumentative tone. ‘Even if it’s for a destination as dull as the Council, it’s still the best bit of news I’ve had in ages!’

  ‘Pregnant women are always over-emotional.’ Phantom said wisely. ‘But apart from that rather obvious reason, there is also the small matter of you reading a few hundred minds all at once yesterday.’

  ‘It must have been exhausting.’ Phantasm frowned, his sharp eyes taking in the shadows under her eyes. ‘Are you up to this journey?’

  ‘Of course I am!’ Mistral bridled. ‘I just don’t sleep so well at the moment because your godson keeps me awake all night! That’s why I’m tired, not because of yesterday! That wasn’t exhausting, it was actually quite relaxing!’

  ‘Really?’ Brutus asked. ‘Because I was thinking it must have been damned noisy!’

  Mistral gave a short laugh, ‘It did make me appreciate why the Divinus liked to hide a
way in that bleak tower room of his all the time. There was already too much noise and clutter in his head to cope with any in his room too!’

  Not looking entirely convinced, Phantasm nodded and led both horses over to the water trough to tether them next to Cirrus and Spirit.

  Phantom waited until his brother was out of earshot then leaned forward to whisper furtively in her ear, ‘Have you heard that you narrowly avoided being made a bridesmaid last night?’

  ‘Yes I have! And it’s a wise move on her part I think.’ Mistral whispered back, adding in a sharper tone. ‘And you can forget about me ever being a bridesmaid!’

  ‘No, it’d mean you’d actually have to stay awake during the ceremony.’

  ‘Not this again! I did not fall asleep during Grendel’s wedding! Although I damned well could have done! That harp music was –’

  ‘Shh! Here he comes!’

  Mistral clammed up as Grendel lumbered towards them with Liliana hanging off one massive arm in floods of tears, loudly beseeching ‘Grendie-Wendie’ to be careful.

  Brutus snorted, ‘Careful? It’s a mercenary Contract, not a walk on an icy path!’

  ‘Can we go now please?’ Mistral hissed under her breath to the twins.

  ‘Just waiting for Master Sphinx, or should we be calling him the Divinus now? I’m never too sure – ’

  ‘I know what he’d prefer.’ Mistral muttered back.

  ‘I’m sure you do, plus many other interesting little bits of information that you can share with me during the long ride.’ Phantom smiled happily. ‘You never did tell me what you Saw during Grendel’s wedding –’

  ‘Right, time to go. We’ve got a briefing with Gleacher in the Main Hall.’ Brutus pushed himself off the sun-warmed wall of The Cloak with a sigh. ‘Come on Grendel, you can put her down now.’

  Dropping Liliana unceremoniously onto the cobbles with an impatient shake of his arm, Grendel abruptly stomped off after Brutus, leaving Liliana to make her way weepily back towards the village.

  ‘Wait up!’ Cain’s voice made Brutus and Grendel stop. They turned to see him hurrying across the square with two saddlebags in his hands. ‘I’ll walk up with you, just need to give this to the twins –’ Thrusting one of the saddlebags into Phantom’s hands he turned to give Mistral a hard look. ‘Remember what I said to you yesterday!’