The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  Mistral had Seen enough. Breaking the connection she walked from the bathroom. Closing the door quietly behind her she turned to see her Mage. Her love. There was no way she would ever risk losing him. Phantasm was right, Golden had lost, but the knowledge gave her no satisfaction, it was a hollow victory.

  Seeing her bleak look Fabian was instantly before her, gazing anxiously into her eyes, ‘What is it? Are you feeling unwell?’

  ‘No,’ she sighed and cast a glance at the closed bathroom door. ‘Golden’s in there.’

  Fabian immediately stiffened and half-turned towards the bathroom, ‘I will deal with this!’

  ‘Wait, Fabian … please –’ Mistral whispered, catching hold of his hand and pulling him towards her.

  ‘Did she try to hurt you?’ he suddenly asked, his face hardening into the cold mask that Mistral hated to see.

  ‘No, nothing like that. We didn’t even speak – I just … heard her.’

  Fabian’s face instantly cleared. Moving quickly to her side he placed an arm around her again and began to walk back towards the banqueting hall. ‘Tell me.’

  Mistral didn’t reply but reached for his hand. Lifting it to her lips she kissed the palm then placed it over their unborn child, smiling when he kicked against the touch, making Fabian’s face blaze with the glorious look of triumph she adored.

  ‘Is this what she was thinking of?’ He murmured softly.

  Mistral nodded, ‘Christophe saw me tonight and mocked Golden in front of the other Rochfortes for being a barren half-breed.’

  Fabian’s face was expressionless, ‘Sometimes revenge occurs naturally.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Mistral glanced over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door, ‘but it would’ve been far more satisfying to have actually had a fight.’

  Laughing softly, Fabian escorted her back to their places at the table. Mistral was glad to see that the fish course had been removed and a large plate of roast beef was waiting in its place.

  ‘At last, something that actually looks like it’s meant to be eaten! I’m starving!’ she exclaimed, sitting down and reaching randomly for a knife and fork from the extensive selection laid out on either side of her plate.

  Phantasm sighed and reached over to pass her the correct cutlery.

  The level of noise in the room grew as the main course progressed; before long sufficient wine had been consumed to encourage a slight relaxation in the formal atmosphere. An orchestra began to play, adding background music to the general hubbub of talk and laughter. Once the meat course had been removed the guests started to move around the table, taking their chairs with them to sit next to who they wanted to talk with. The Ri were no longer drinking, despite Phantom’s longing glances at the wine being passed along the table he reluctantly accepted the glass of water a waiter placed before him.

  ‘We need to talk Fabian.’ Leo muttered across the table. Still ignoring the relentless stream of chatter coming from Countess Whitley, he turned to look at Phantom and Phantasm meaningfully. ‘Lose the ornaments!’ he instructed in a cold whisper.

  The twins nodded; their faces expressionless while they locked gazes across the table. Countess Whitley promptly stopped in the middle of a sentence and gazed dreamily at the long glass doors.

  ‘You are utterly charming, my young warrior,’ she quavered, patting Leo’s knee with a bony hand. ‘But I really must take a turn around the Council gardens … they are truly sublime by moonlight –’

  Leo didn’t even acknowledge her while she rose unsteadily to her feet and trotted off towards the glass doors.

  Next, the lady sat on the other side of Phantasm abruptly made her excuses and moved off in the direction of the bathrooms with a vague expression on her face.

  Taking advantage of the fact that the formal seating plan seemed to have gone out of the window, Leo and Phantom rose to their feet and strode quickly around the long table to join Fabian, Mistral and Phantasm.

  Mistral sat back from them slightly, letting them talk while she continued to read the delegates. Occasionally a negative thought caught her attention, requiring her to focus on one individual, but it was only the usual Council staple of greed, envy and ambition ... with the addition of a few surprisingly violent thoughts from some of the ladies present. Listening with only half an ear to Fabian and Leo conversing quietly with the twins, Mistral let her gaze wander down the long table to meet the malignant black glare of Malachi Nox.

  ‘Hello Malachi,’ she mouthed. His lips curled into a sneer and she smiled sweetly in response, her eyes already misting over. ‘Oh really?’ she murmured softly to herself while her eyes gazed dreamily at the ornate plasterwork of the ceiling.

  Sighing deeply several long minutes later, her eyes slid back into focus to see four pairs of eyes staring intently at her, ‘Malachi,’ she responded in answer to the unspoken question they jointly asked.

  And?

  ‘And I refuse to sit here talking to myself!’ Mistral snapped. ‘If you want to know something, do the decent thing and ask! And a “please” now and then wouldn’t go amiss either!’

  Ah, hormones again …

  ‘I’ll give you hormones brother!’ Mistral snarled at Phantom.

  ‘Please, Mistral, would you care to share with us what you heard in Malachi’s mind?’ Phantasm asked politely.

  ‘Since you asked so nicely,’ Mistral paused to give Phantom a glare, ‘yes, I shall, but I want you to do one thing for me first.’

  ‘Oh?’ Phantasm’s expression was reserved.

  ‘Make him think he’s at sea.’

  ‘Our pleasure!’ Phantom breathed and even Phantasm allowed himself a tiny smile.

  Malachi’s sneer suddenly became fixed and his face drained of what little colour it had, clapping a hand to his mouth he lurched to his feet and staggered from the room, already retching.

  ‘Enough pranks!’ Leo hissed. ‘It will not do for Malachi to realise the depth of the twins’ gift!’

  ‘He’s put it down to the food.’ Mistral said and pulled a face, quickly withdrawing her mind from his. ‘Anyway, that’s him out of the picture for a bit.’ She took a sip of water before repeating the thoughts she’d plucked from Malachi’s mind. ‘Malachi … he is angry that I am here tonight, he expected me to remain in the Valley and has even persuaded Christophe to send a party of Rochfortes there to kidnap me –’

  ‘Make Bryden and Samson aware of this now!’ Leo instructed the twins in a hard whisper.

  While the twins complied, Mistral continued to relay her findings, ‘Christophe has seen me. Malachi knows that he can no longer use his ignorance of my pregnancy as leverage, we have forced him to act –’

  ‘What does he intend to do Mistral?’ Fabian asked urgently.

  Mistral shook her head, her eyes vague once again, ‘I can’t See that yet … he is undecided …’ she blinked and focussed again on Fabian. ‘What I do know is that he intends to complain to Mage Grapple that you’ve brought a Seer and two mind controllers to the meeting. He’s going to demand that we’re excluded.’

  Leo’s face glowed with a suddenly victorious look, ‘He is unaware of the extent of the Gemini’s power!’

  Fabian’s face remained expressionless; he was still not in full favour of using the twins’ gift to influence the outcome of the vote.

  ‘Please continue Mistral,’ he murmured quietly.

  Mistral took another sip of water, placing the glass tumbler back onto the table she gazed at it meditatively, ‘Malachi believes he’s successfully evaded my gift and that we’re unaware of the plans to help return the Rochfortes to power.’ Mistral stopped and shrugged. ‘The rest is just his usual vitriolic hatred, oh, he’s got a bloodlust too, and I don’t mean the fighting kind ... he’s developed a taste for blood –’

  ‘How lovely.’ Phantom murmured. ‘I do hope he doesn’t intend to feed tonight.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ Phantasm asked with an anxious look around the room.

  Mistral’s ey
es slid from his for a moment then snapped back into focus with a low laugh, ‘I don’t believe it!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s practising his speech in the bathroom mirror!’

  ‘Good, I need to hear it.’ Leo leaned forward and stared at her in anticipation.

  Mistral’s face fell slightly, ‘Really? It’s not very interesting –’

  ‘Yes Mistral! Please focus on the reason you are here!’ Leo snapped icily.

  Sighing in resignation Mistral began to recite the words Malachi was saying to himself in the mirror, her initial amusement at what he was doing quickly replaced by the depressing realisation that she might end up having to sit through the whole thing again in the Council chambers.

  Phantasm looked at Leo once Mistral had finished, ‘We need to change a few key elements in your speech to answer the points he’s raised. But on the plus side, I think his unsubtle hints about having the backing of the Rochforte name won’t go in his favour.’

  Leo narrowed his eyes thoughtfully before he gave the briefest of nods. Turning to give Phantasm his full attention, he began to revise his speech. ‘I want to change the section on the influential name of De Winter ... it feels as though I am pitting one name against another.’

  ‘I agree.’ Phantasm nodded and drew a line through the sentence. ‘It sounds too much like a repeat of the Rochforte and Noble feud –’

  ‘Now, unless you are interested in the towering delight that has been laid on the table, I suggest we continue with the formalities of the gala.’ Fabian suddenly announced, smiling disarmingly at Mistral.

  Mistral glanced at the huge trifle that had been placed unnoticed by them in the centre of the table and pulled a face, ‘Ugh! I think I’ll pass!’

  ‘Eats nearly a whole side of roast beef, but can’t take a serving of desert!’ Phantom muttered under his breath to his twin.

  Phantasm glanced over at Mistral with an amused expression, ‘I think she’s going to wish she’d agreed to eat the whole trifle in a minute,’ he muttered back while Leo read through his revised speech.

  ‘Good,’ said Fabian, rising to his feet and reaching out to take her hands. ‘Because, Lady De Winter, you and I are going to dance.’

  Mistral was already on her feet before his words had fully sunk in. She froze with a horrified look on her face, her eyes fixed on the open space beyond the table where couples were already whirling elegantly under the soft light of the candelabras.

  ‘No! Fabian! I mean it!’ she hissed, resisting his gently pulling hands.

  ‘Oh, but I insist,’ he murmured, placing an arm around her and propelling her forwards.

  ‘But … I’ve never danced in my entire life! I don’t know how to!’ She whispered frantically. ‘I’ll only embarrass you!’

  Fabian paused at the edge of the floor and turned to face her, his face lit with an amused smile, ‘You studied Dante’s Offensive and Defensive Fencing Footwork did you not?’

  ‘Yes of course!’ She replied with a confused look. ‘He’s a master of sword work!’

  ‘Well, simply assume the role of Defence to my Attack.’

  She stared at him in amazement, ‘You’re joking with me, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, I am quite serious … look.’ Fabian turned her gently to watch the other dancers.

  At first all she could see was the daunting ease with which each couple moved, but as she studied them more closely she recognised the familiar steps that formed some of the many footwork drills she’d trained over the last two years.

  ‘Oh! I know that one! It’s Dante’s Elementary Steps Stage One!’

  ‘Otherwise known as a waltz.’ Fabian murmured, sweeping her onto the dance floor.

  Her initial panic was quickly replaced by admiration for her husband’s seemingly endless gifts. She relaxed into his arms, gazing into his velvet eyes while he guided her skilfully around the dance floor. Candlelight glowed softly over the smooth planes of his beautiful face, catching the dark lights in his eyes and turning them to night skies full of stars. Other couples moved around them, some staring at them with frank curiosity, but Mistral saw nothing but the eyes of her Mage, eloquent with love. Suddenly realising that she rarely spoke the words she felt every second of her existence, Mistral pressed her lips close and breathed them into his ear. Fabian did not speak them in response, there was no need. He gazed at her with a profound intensity that spoke louder than any words ever could, his thoughts filling hers while they continued to turn gracefully in time to the music. Her world shrank to consist of nothing but the unspoken words he was whispering in her mind and the dark eyes holding her captive. It was only when the other couples began to clap politely that Mistral realised the orchestra had finished playing and the dance was over.

  ‘May I have the pleasure of this next dance Lady De Winter?’ a rasping voice startled Mistral out of her daze. She looked up to meet the cold grey gaze of Mage Grapple.

  ‘Be my guest.’ Fabian murmured softly, his face expressionless as he stepped away to allow Mage Grapple to take hold of her for the next dance.

  Mistral stared in mortification at Fabian over Mage Grapple’s shoulder. He was going to allow her to disgrace both herself and the Head of the Mage Council in front of countless officials and foreign delegates?

  ‘Er, Mage Grapple?’ She began in an urgent whisper.

  ‘Yes?’ he enquired politely, his scarred face disconcertingly close to hers.

  ‘I can’t dance!’

  ‘Really?’ He replied with a lift of one disfigured eyebrow. ‘It looked remarkably as though you were doing just so with admirable accomplishment only a few short moments ago.’

  ‘Er, no, I wasn’t dancing – that was Dante’s Elementary Steps Stage One,’ she muttered and blushed.

  ‘Ah, so it was,’ he paused and listened to the strains of music from the orchestra. ‘And this one is Satre’s Advanced Attacking and Counter Strategy … I take it you are familiar with the work of Satre?’

  ‘Of course!’ She replied, looking a touch offended.

  ‘Then, if you have no objections, I shall assume Attack.’

  ‘Oh, yes, right.’ Mistral responded and instantly moved her feet in the counter steps while Mage Grapple held her lightly around the waist with one hand, the other taking hers as they moved across the floor.

  ‘Tell me Lady De Winter, what have you Seen in my Council tonight?’ He asked quietly.

  ‘I’ve Seen – ’Mistral glanced over his shoulder at the other couples. Christophe was dancing nearby with Golden; her face fixed in a tightly controlled mask while Christophe’s eyes roved obviously over the other women dancing near them, ‘– trouble.’

  ‘Well, you are here, so that was almost a given,’ he said evenly. ‘But please elaborate.’

  ‘It’s a bit of a mess actually.’ Mistral paused while he turned her in a neat circle. ‘Malachi has sought the name of Rochforte to add weight to his attempt to secure the title of Divinus, but he’s bribed enough Council officials to rig the vote anyway.’

  ‘And what has Malachi offered Christophe in exchange for using the name of Rochforte?’

  ‘Me.’ Mistral replied shortly. ‘But it doesn’t end there … Christophe’s only going along with it because he plans to use the twins to control Malachi when he assumes the role of Divinus and command the Ri to move on the Council, clearing a path for the Rochfortes rightful return to power … but, and here’s the double-cross … Malachi also sees himself in your position and has the same plans to use the Ri as his personal army. The only difference is that he won’t need the twins’ gift to persuade the warriors, he’ll just fill them with lies and talk of revolution until he’s incited enough hatred to convince the warriors to rise up against the Council and help Malachi seize control of the Isle.’

  Mage Grapple didn’t react to her quietly spoken words, and for a brief moment Mistral wondered if he’d actually heard her.

  ‘A piece of fantasy,’ he finally snapped in a cold vo
ice. ‘Unless, of course, you and the strangely gifted Gemini intend to form a pivotal part of these plans for rebellion?’ He tilted his head to fix her with his grey stare, the milky white eye beneath the jagged scar running down his face only making his cold stare all the more unnerving.

  A hundred proclamations and denials rose to Mistral’s lips. But, as she gazed into his mismatched stare, she suddenly saw the man Delphine De winter had loved. She smiled and gave her answer. ‘No.’

  ‘Forgive me for asking,’ he muttered and looked away over her shoulder again. ‘It is too usual for me to expect disappointment. I should know by now that you are not usual.’

  They danced in silence for a short while. Mistral felt her back beginning to ache and looked longingly over Mage Grapple’s shoulder for Fabian, willing him to come and rescue her from this interrogation by dancing.

  Mage Grapple’s granite tones abruptly dragged her back to their conversation, ‘Could you please enlighten me as to why Malachi is under the impression that you and the Gemini would be so easily convinced to betray the Isle.’

  ‘Not easily,’ she corrected. ‘Under force. Malachi plans to abduct my son.’

  ‘Ah, a boy. Congratulations.’ Mage Grapple looked at her briefly, his scarred face contorting into the vaguest semblance of a smile before he resumed his customarily stern expression. ‘And by the unique bond that you share with the Gemini, your suffering would be theirs too, forcing them to comply.’