The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams)

by Kirsten Jones

‘Is there any chance of us adding three horses on to the end of the line?’ she asked, smiling hopefully into his grizzly face.

  ‘No,’ he said shortly and immediately bent to pick up a white-hot shoe out of the forge with a pair of tongues.

  ‘Please Clovis! I’ll do all the mucking out for a week!’

  ‘No,’ he repeated more forcefully.

  ‘Two weeks then!’ she pleaded desperately.

  ‘No, no and no again!’ The Equus shouted, punctuated each ‘no’ with a ringing blow with his hammer on the metal shoe.

  Mistral stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then, typically, her temper flared.

  ‘I’ll just shoe them myself then!’ she snapped. ‘It can’t be that damned hard if you can do it!’

  There was a resounding clang as the Equus flung his hammer down onto the stone floor. He stood up and loomed menacingly over Mistral. The twins shrank back against the wall of the forge but Mistral glared aggressively back into the Equus’ scowling face.

  ‘Touch those horses and I will beat you with a branding iron!’ he roared.

  ‘I’m missing out on a Contract because you can’t be bothered to shoe three more horses!’ Mistral screamed back at him.

  ‘Can’t be bothered!’ the Equus spluttered, too outraged to finish his sentence.

  ‘Three won’t take long! Please Clovis,’ Mistral begged in a more reasonable voice.

  The Equus glowered at her for a long moment, ‘Mistral, I’ve got six horses to do in less than an hour. Even if I wanted to do your three, which I don’t, I really couldn’t. There just isn’t enough time. They’ll be done in the morning,’ he said firmly and turned back to the horse he was shoeing.

  Mistral stared furiously at him for a long moment, watching his strong hands cradling the horse’s hoof while he carefully fitted the shoe and began to tap the nails in.

  ‘I’m sure I could do that,’ she muttered to the twins.

  ‘I heard that!’ the Equus growled through a mouthful of nails. ‘Now get out of my forge before I lose my temper!’

  The three apprentices left quickly and traipsed dejectedly back across the hectic yard, oblivious to the atmosphere of tense energy all around them.

  ‘Aren’t you ready yet Mistral?’ called a cheerful voice from the tackroom doorway.

  Mistral looked up to see Saul happily clutching the long leather straps of his horse’s breastplate.

  ‘No, not yet –’ she muttered evasively and walked on more quickly.

  They left the busy stableyard and walked back in the village square. If anything, it was more chaotic there. Fully armoured horses were milling about in an agitated fashion, being held by apprentices talking in loud excited voices, eager to have the opportunity to use their newly learned battle skills. The more experienced warriors stood a little apart from the apprentices, quietly checking their weapons.

  Mistral and the twins watched from the edge of the square, their expressions downcast. While the twins exchanged bitter comments about the Equus, Mistral focussed her efforts on desperately trying to think of a way they could still take the Contract. She couldn’t bear the idea of being the only ones to be missing out because the Equus wouldn’t shoe their horses. It was unthinkable.

  ‘I can’t believe Grendel is going. He hasn’t even got a horse!’ Phantom muttered furiously.

  Mistral suddenly clapped her hands together and laughed, ‘And neither have we!’

  ‘And that’s amusing in what way?’ Phantom asked moodily.

  ‘If Grendel can go on foot so can we!’

  The twins didn’t reply and gazed at her sceptically.

  ‘I mean, it’s not like we are going to ride across to The Desert Lands are we?’ Mistral reasoned, warming to her idea. ‘We’ll be on a ship! So it doesn’t matter if we don’t have our horses!’

  ‘And just how do we get down to the port? Ask one of the warriors to let us jump on behind them?’ Phantasm asked scornfully. ‘Grendel is half-troll, he could run from one end of the Isle to the other without even getting a blister, but I don’t fancy trying to keep up with this lot galloping down to the port!’

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that bit,’ said Mistral, deflating again.

  ‘And I don’t know about you, but I quite like the idea of being on horseback when everyone rides into battle. I think we might look rather stupid jogging along behind the rest don’t you?’ Phantom added scathingly.

  ‘Fine … fine … I get the picture, we’re not going,’ muttered Mistral dismally, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

  They stood in forlorn silence while the warriors gathered; the tension in the square gradually intensifying until it was at fever-pitch. A shouted command from Gleacher Shacklock signalled their departure and suddenly they were gone, the thunder of galloping hooves rapidly fading away to a distant rumble.

  ‘Well that’s it then,’ sighed Mistral.

  ‘I think an early night is in order,’ said Phantasm, stalking off towards the dorms.

  ‘Hang on a minute! Look! Someone’s has forgotten something,’ called Mistral when the sound of galloping hoof beats suddenly began to grow louder again. ‘It might be us!’

  ‘Yeah, right –’ Phantom scowled but turned, hope glinting in his emerald eyes.

  A horse, its bright coat bleached to a pale gold by the moonlight, was being ridden at a breakneck gallop down the path from the North Gate.

  ‘No, that’s someone else,’ said Phantom with a frown. ‘Everyone else left through the South Gate.’

  They watched curiously as the horse drew closer and pounded past them, snorting and foaming from being ridden hard. Mistral knew immediately who the rider was. He did not turn and look at her this time, but the figure of Fabian De Winter was instantly recognisable to her.

  ‘Mage De Winter, well I never,’ mused Phantasm softly.

  ‘Do you know him?’ asked Mistral, keeping her voice deliberately light.

  ‘Not personally,’ replied Phantasm, giving her a strange look. ‘But I know of his reputation. Why?’

  Mistral shrugged disinterestedly and avoided his gaze, ‘I’ve seen him in the Valley before.’

  ‘Have you really?’ Phantasm murmured softly. ‘Well I wonder what he’s doing here tonight.’

  ‘Certainly seemed in a bit of a hurry didn’t he?’ Phantom commented.

  Mistral opened her mouth to ask more about the compelling Mage but before she could speak a gruff voice called out loudly from the other side of the square.

  ‘Oi! You three! Master Sphinx wants to see you in his room now so look sharp!’

  They turned immediately to see the surly face of Barak glaring at them.

  Sharing a wide-eyed look, the three apprentices immediately hurried up the path to the dorms.

  To Hear Is To Sign

  Fabian De Winter and Leo Sphinx were seated around a small wooden table. Fabian De Winter’s head was bowed, his fingers digging like claws into his tangled dark hair. Leo was watching him dispassionately. He lifted his gaze to where Mistral, Phantasm and Phantom were stood silently in the open doorway.

  ‘Come in and close the door behind you,’ he said quietly and indicated to a number of low stools and chairs scattered around the table.

  Lifted out of his reverie by the sound of stools scraping across the stone floor, Fabian De Winter raised his head out of his hands and stared bleakly at the three apprentices. Leo did not speak as Fabian continued to gaze at them silently, his wintry look slowly changing to one of incredulity, then anger. Finally he turned to Leo and spoke in a scathing voice.

  ‘I break every law and statute to come here tonight ... and you respond by bringing me apprentices?’

  Leo looked at Fabian for a brief moment, his expression inscrutable, before turning his attention to Mistral, Phantasm and Phantom. As he looked intently at each of them in turn, Mistral suddenly remembered Phantasm’s comment about how young he was to hold such an important position – a member of the Magnate in the Ri at what
age? She couldn’t tell. Leo was blessed with the kind of pale complexion that would make most women jealous. To Mistral he was simply her Training Captain; she admired his weaponry skills but that was all, unlike Golden, who seemed to hang around him like a bad smell.

  ‘This meeting is strictly confidential, am I understood?’ he asked them in a brisk tone, snapping Mistral out of her musings.

  They nodded silently and Mistral was relieved to see that the twins, normally not short of a word or two, felt the same way as her about keeping silent.

  ‘Good,’ he said with a satisfied nod.

  Rising to his feet he began to stride rapidly back and forth across the stone flagged floor, his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed in thought. Fabian De Winter watched his pacing silently, a blank look on his waxen face. Mistral took advantage of his distracted attention to concentrate on his aura. She was intrigued by the brooding Mage and wanted to know why a member of the Council would risk being inside the headquarters of the Ri. Whilst it was not exactly forbidden by law, it was definitely frowned upon. Mistral focused on the air around Fabian De Winter’s head and allowed her mind to go blank. Breathing calmly she forced her body to relax and her mind to empty of all thoughts ...

  Like heat haze over hot ground in summer, Fabian De Winter’s emotions began to shimmer as visible colours in a halo around his head. At first all Mistral could see was a swathe of black, broiling angrily like the contents of a cooking pot. Slowly, other colours began to appear in the swirl of black despair, violent spurts of purple and red, frustration and anger, then, deeper in towards the middle of the halo a tinge of palest green edged with soft pink began to emerge. Mistral blinked in surprise and the vision was gone. Had she seen right? Sadness definitely, and … no it couldn’t be ... but there was no mistaking that pale pink colour; love.

  ‘A situation has arisen –’

  Leo’s business-like voice snapped Mistral’s attention back to her Training Captain.

  ‘And I have suggested to Mage De Winter that you three would be most suited to bringing about a rapid solution.’

  Phantasm and Phantom glanced briefly at each other. Mistral did not need to look at them to know that they were sharing an openly dubious look.

  Leo did not give any sign of noticing their expressions but paused in his pacing to stand and look out of the long mullioned window cut into the south facing wall of the room. He paused for a moment then continued to speak with his back still turned to them.

  ‘I understand you were not able to take the mercenary Contract tonight, however, all may not be lost yet. Now, just to make sure you are fully versed of the situation, King Rufus has engaged in battle his neighbouring monarch, Marcus of St Martine over the rights to rule the Calescent Desert –’

  Mistral suppressed the desire to roll her eyes; did she really have to hear about the damned mercenary Contract again? It was a bit of a sore point to say the least.

  ‘But what you probably don’t know is why.

  ‘Rufus is labouring under the misapprehension that there are vast stocks of a very valuable mineral sat under that accursed sandpit, just waiting to be mined. I say misapprehension because the information came to him from the ever devious Count Putreo Darke –’

  Fabian De Winter made a noise in the back of his throat like a growl.

  ‘Not directly of course,’ Leo continued in a cold voice. ‘Putreo would never dirty his own hands – he has a very able spy on his payroll. But, what should we care if some megalomaniac king wants to wage a half-baked war on his neighbouring monarch? If the fool pays well for our services then let them fight! However –’

  He wheeled around to face them, startling them with the angry gleam in his eyes.

  ‘Putreo is not interested in this war; there is no mineral under those sands! Marcus of St Martine is sure to respond in kind but his army is much smaller, and Rufus has taken the precautionary step of hiring all of our available warriors, leaving Marcus only one course of action –’

  He paused and looked over at Fabian De Winter, who was staring fixedly at the darkened window, a look of utter despair on his face.

  ‘His wife,’ finished Leo quietly.

  Phantasm and Phantom exchanged knowing looks while Mistral stared blankly at Leo. She had no idea who Marcus of St Martine was married to or how the woman was going to be any good in this rather pointless and doomed sounding war, unless she was an exceptional warrior.

  Fabian De Winter spoke for the first time since his earlier outburst, his voice low and strained.

  ‘Emiror ... his wife, is also the sister of the Head of the Mage Council. Mage Eximius Hieronymus Grapple.’

  Phantasm and Phantom nodded knowledgably and Mistral looked at them both in frustration. She couldn’t see how being the sister of Mage Grapple would help at all. Would it be too much to ask, she thought angrily, for someone to explain what the hell this is all about?

  Seeing her expression, Leo continued in a hard voice.

  ‘Marcus will ask Emiror to contact her brother for assistance. Her brother is certain to comply willingly,’ a note of bitterness crept into his normally professional voice. ‘After all, she is his only living relative. ‘Mage Grapple will send in the Council’s elite warlocks, and they will fight on the side of Marcus of St Martine –’

  ‘Against the Ri,’ finished Fabian quietly.

  ‘Exactly. So as you can see, this has to be stopped –’

  ‘Why?’ Mistral interrupted, frustrated by the feeling that everyone was talking about something she knew nothing about.

  Leo frowned and fixed her with a cold look, ‘I apologise, I forget that the twins’ fascination with Council politics is not universal to all apprentices,’ he murmured in a slightly patronizing tone.

  Mistral absorbed the insult and kept her face composed. She instinctively felt that this was not the time to lose her temper.

  ‘Allow me to explain,’ Leo continued icily. ‘When the Isle was united under Mage Grapple the Council ruled that the Ri could exist separate to their control on the strict understanding that under no circumstances would the two engage in combat. The Council knew that the Ri were equally as powerful, both physically and politically, and that any warfare between the two would effectively divide, and perhaps destroy, the delicate balance of the Isle. By forcing Mage Grapple to send in warlocks, however unwittingly, to fight with Ri mercenaries, Count Putreo is very subtly suggesting that Mage Grapple is not fully aware of all that is happening on the Isle; or more specifically, what the Ri are involved in.’

  Fabian dragged his gaze away from the window and looked at Leo, anger resonating from every inch of his body.

  ‘Putreo will send the Ri to their deaths just to scheme his way into power! He believes that by showing the Council how incompetent Mage Grapple is they will turn to him for guidance and make him the new Head.’

  ‘I suspect that he also seeks to bring the Ri under the control of the Council,’ interjected Leo quietly.

  Phantasm and Phantom exchanged more significant glances.

  ‘Why would that be so bad?’ asked Mistral, catching their reaction.

  Leo regarded her speculatively before he answered, ‘The Ri has always striven to train their apprentices to the best of their individual abilities, and through the use of Agents, ensure the Contracts they undertake are monitored and legitimate.

  ‘Under the rule of the Council, we would have no freedom. We would be paid by the Council, trained by the Council, overseen by the Council ... the Magnate would be disbanded … in short, we would become puppets of the Council, doing the dirty jobs that they do not want to be seen doing and risking our lives for their gain.’

  A heavy silence fell as they the all took on the seriousness of the situation.

  ‘And how exactly can we help to resolve this?’

  Phantasm and Phantom looked at Mistral. She could tell by their expressions that they were thinking exactly the same thing. Just how on earth could three unqualified
apprentices prevent the calamity that was looming?

  Leo studied them appraisingly for a long moment.

  ‘To hear is to sign,’ he murmured enigmatically. ‘I invite you back in one hour.’ he walked to the door and held it open.

  The three apprentices stood up and filed silently past him. Although she knew she shouldn’t, and couldn’t say why she did it. Mistral glanced over her shoulder to look at Fabian De Winter. He was staring out of the darkened window again, lost in his own thoughts – thoughts she suddenly wanted to know.

  Once they were outside in the cold and dark corridor again the three apprentices hurried in silence down the narrow winding staircase leading them away from the tower room. The dull thud of Leo closing his door echoed along the stairwell, matching the pounding of their hearts. Without turning to look at either of the others or pausing, Phantasm murmured,

  ‘Our room?’

  Mistral and Phantom nodded in agreement and sped up slightly, running lightly down the spiralling stone stairs and along the passageway to the twins’ room. Once inside, Phantom double checked that the corridor outside was clear before closing and carefully locking the door. He leant against the firmly bolted door and raised his eyebrows meaningfully at his brother, sitting cross-legged on one of the narrow beds.

  Mistral slowly lowered herself onto the other bed. Her thoughts were buzzing like angry bees, making it hard for her to focus on what had just happened.

  ‘Well!’ Phantasm exclaimed quietly, holding his brother’s questioning gaze.

  ‘Indeed.’ Phantom responded with a knowing nod of his sleek blonde head.

  ‘Well indeed what exactly?’ Mistral demanded, irked by their superior attitudes. ‘In fact, don’t bother, as I’m pretty sure your explanation will just leave me even more in the dark than I already am. So, just do me a favour and answer three questions: what does “to hear is to sign” mean? What is with Fabian De Winter and Mage Grapple’s sister and just what the hell do they think we can do about the whole damn mess?’

  Phantasm and Phantom exchanged another infuriatingly superior look before they began to speak together, as they so often did; their sentences flowing smoothly with one carrying on where the other finished with no visible indicator given of when to begin speaking. It was slightly eerie and usually Mistral complained when they did their whole ‘Gemini’ act, but tonight she was too frustrated by the lack of answers to even notice.