The twins looked at her with scandalised expressions on their faces.
‘Mistral! How cruel do you think I am?’ Phantom exclaimed in shocked tones. ‘How could I deny you the opportunity to be welcomed back into the bosom of your family? I don’t think I could be that heartless.’
‘Oh for crying out loud!’ Mistral snapped. ‘I don’t know what you are expecting but Brothertoft and Elnora are just a pair of clapped-out sorcerers who nearly bored me to death for the first sixteen years of my life, and if it’s alright with you I don’t really fancy a yawn down memory lane.’
Phantasm favoured her with a reproachful look, ‘Really Mistral! That is no way to speak about the people that raised you. Show some gratitude! Anyway, Mage Grapple may not be here right now, but we need to check whether he has been.’
Mistral scowled at him but didn’t argue. She knew he was right about checking to see if Mage Grapple had been there and also about being ungrateful, but she was too stubborn to admit that, so instead she nodded sulkily towards the village.
‘After you then.’
The twins smiled beatifically at her and began the ride down into the valley, breaking into a light canter once they reached the grass covered floor of the valley.
Mistral watched them go and gazed broodingly at the inconsequential collection of stone houses that had been her prison for so many years. It looked somehow smaller than she remembered, and more shabby. Cirrus shook his head impatiently and began to fidget; the twins were nearly at the village. Mistral decided that she’d better catch them up before they started asking questions of the first person they met. Kicking Cirrus into a gallop she thundered wildly down the slope and charged across the pasture to arrive, windswept and exhilarated, beside the twins.
‘Better now?’ asked Phantasm with a smile.
Mistral nodded tersely, ‘The sooner we get there, the sooner we can be on our way again.’
‘That’s the spirit of gratitude I was looking for,’ murmured Phantasm with a smile.
They slowed the horses to a walk and entered the village along the rutted dirt road that served as a main street. The sound of their arrival immediately drew attention from the villagers. Curious faces appeared at grimy windows only to quickly vanish again. All three were instantly recognisable for what they were.
Phantasm and Phantom rode quietly, looking straight ahead, but Mistral could see their emerald green eyes sliding over their surroundings, taking in every detail. Mistral pulled the hood of her cloak up and kept her face down, she had no desire to see or speak to any of the villagers and the feeling appeared to be mutual. The villagers had apparently decided to remain safely behind closed doors until the three apprentices had left their village. Mistral caught another curtain twitch out of the corner of her eye and reflected sourly that the villagers would probably be talking about it for the next two weeks.
When they reached the end of the main street Mistral drew back the hood of her cloak to check her surroundings. After a short pause she pointed to a tiny stone cottage tucked back from the rest, surrounded by a low wooden fence.
‘It’s that one,’ she said quietly.
They dismounted and tethered their horses to the wooden fence at the front of the cottage, where they could be easily seen through the kitchen window. Mistral had ‘borrowed’ enough horses in her time to want hers to be in plain sight for the duration of her visit. She hung back under the pretence of checking Cirrus was securely tied and let the twins stroll unhurriedly ahead of her towards the front door. She was in no rush to go inside. Mistral stared pensively at the cottage she had believed she would never have to see again and noticed immediately that it was looking a bit rundown. Some of the tiles were missing from the roof, weeds were growing between the flagstones of the path leading to the front door and the flowers Elnora had lovingly tended in the tiny window boxes were brown and decayed. Glancing up at the smokeless chimney Mistral suddenly wondered if the old couple had died during the hard winter.
Phantasm had reached the front door. He lifted his clenched fist to knock then paused, looking at Mistral over his shoulder he winked mischievously. Galvanised into action, Mistral hurried up the path, reaching him just as he knocked loudly on the door. No sounds of activity greeted the knock and when the seconds lengthened into minutes hope rose in Mistral that the door would remain unanswered. She was about to suggest that they left when the rasp of a bolt being drawn indicated that someone was in. The door creaked opened a fraction and a wispy haired old man peered cautiously through the gap. His rheumy eyes widened when he took in the ethereal creature on his doorstep.
‘Are you an angel?’ he quavered, goggling at Phantasm.
Mistral rolled her eyes; it looked like Brothertoft had lost his mind.
‘Oh for pity’s sake Brothertoft, it’s me!’ she said loudly, pushing past Phantasm so that the old man could see her.
His mottled forehead creased into a deep frown, ‘Is it really you?’ he whispered shakily.
‘Yes it is. Can we come in?’ she asked with an impatient lift of her eyebrows. ‘Only we’re in a bit of a hurry.’
Brothertoft’s face wore an expression of utter bewilderment but he nodded submissively and opened the door wider, shuffling out of the way to let the three apprentices into his home.
‘Brothertoft I presume?’ asked Phantasm, politely grasping the old man’s gnarled hand in his before vanishing quickly into the dingy gloom of the kitchen.
‘So pleased to meet you,’ chimed Phantom, shaking Brothertoft’s trembling hand.
The old man’s watery eyes bulged in frank disbelief as the perfect mirror image of the twins sat down at his kitchen table, ‘Am I seeing things?’ he whispered looked terrified.
‘They’re twins,’ explained Mistral, folding her arms and leaning against the dirty stone sink with a heavy sigh. This was going to be more painful than she had imagined.
The twins beamed at the old man, dazzling him. He blinked back, looking awe-struck. There was an awkward silence broken by Phantasm.
‘But where are my manners? Forgive our sudden arrival, but we were travelling nearby and thought it would be rude not to call in,’ he paused and smiled charmingly. ‘Allow me to introduce myself; I am Phantasm and this is my twin brother Phantom.’
Brothertoft’s toothless mouth worked silently, trying unsuccessfully to shape the twins’ names. After a few tries he gave up and shuffled towards the dresser at the back of the kitchen.
‘Drink?’
‘Lovely,’ agreed Phantom, leaping gracefully to his feet and gliding across the room to take the jug of cider from Brothertoft’s shaking hands.
‘Allow me,’ murmured Phantasm, smoothly placing four dusty goblets on the wooden table.
Mistral narrowed her eyes at him but he carefully avoided her stare. Plying Brothertoft with drink to encourage him to be talkative was definitely below the belt. She took a sip of the rough cider Phantom passed her and gazed dispassionately around the familiar kitchen. The neglected air that she had noticed outside persisted in the dingy kitchen. Cobwebs hung from the low beamed ceiling, the floor looked as though it hadn’t been swept for weeks and the stove had last night’s cold ashes still sitting in the grate.
‘Where’s Elnora?’ she asked suddenly.
Brothertoft didn’t reply at once but lowered himself slowly onto one of the rickety chairs. He took a long drink of cider and set the half-full goblet down on the table before finally replying to Mistral’s question.
‘She died last winter,’ he stated matter-of-factly. He looked up to fix Mistral with his watery stare, adding with a touch of defiance. ‘I’ll be following her soon.’
Mistral nodded silently and gazed thoughtfully at the amber liquid in her cup. She had suspected that the old woman had passed away by the state of the cottage. After a moment she looked up again to see the twins staring icily at her. Taken aback by their expressions, Mistral frowned back at them.
‘What?’ she mouthed.
‘Oh,’ she said as realisation dawned. ‘Right, yes, I’m so sorry Brothertoft, it must have been a terrible shock for you,’ she said quickly.
Brothertoft regarded her suspiciously, ‘Not really,’ he said sharply. ‘She was old and ill; like me.’
Mistral suppressed a laugh; Brothertoft had always been the no-nonsense sort, ‘To Elnora,’ she said raising her goblet solemnly and draining it in one long draught.
The twins and Brothertoft echoed her toast and Phantasm slyly topped Brothertoft‘s goblet up the moment he placed it back down on the table. Mistral scowled threateningly at him but he ignored her with sublime indifference and turned his attention to Brothertoft. Smiling engagingly at the old man, Phantasm leaned across the table on his elbows and folded his hands under his chin, his angelic face expectant.
‘So, Brothertoft, tell me all about you and Elnora and how you came to raise such a confident young woman. You must have so many wonderful stories to tell!’
‘Oho! Yes, Mistral has been a one in her time! Stories you say? Well, I suppose there are worse ways to pass a day than drinking cider and sharing a yarn.’ Brothertoft rubbed his unshaven chin thoughtfully. ‘Now, let’s see what I can remember –’
Mistral gritted her teeth and fervently hoped that the old man’s memory had failed him. She pushed herself off the sink she’d been leaning against and strode over to the table, dragging out a chair next to Phantasm.
‘Really Phantasm, Brothertoft doesn’t want to be bothered with all of that and anyway, we should be leaving now, time is getting on,’ she said firmly, giving Phantasm a meaningful look.
‘Oh there’s plenty of time yet,’ smiled Phantasm cheerfully taking another large swig of cider. Some of it trickled down the side of the goblet and onto his hand but he didn’t seem to notice.
Mistral watched him with sudden interest. Brothertoft made the cider himself and it was deceptively strong. She didn’t think that Phantasm had realised that yet and Mistral smiled to herself; the twins’ plan could yet backfire on them.
‘Fine, allow me to top us all up then,’ she said brightly and drained the last of the cider into the four goblets before slipping quietly from the table to refill the jug from the large barrel by the dresser.
‘You must be so proud of what Mistral has achieved since leaving the village,’ began Phantasm, leaning back on his chair and smiling encouragingly at Brothertoft while Mistral placed the jug of cider down in front of him and slid noiselessly into her seat again.
‘Should I be?’ the old man enquired, raising a craggy eyebrow sharply. ‘Is being an assassin something to be proud of?’
Phantasm looked slightly taken aback but quickly recovered, ‘Well, no, but that’s not the only kind of work available to us. Mistral is a very gifted apprentice with quite a career ahead of her –’
The old man leaned his head back and gave a loud mirthless laugh, cutting Phantasm off mid-flow.
‘Career? Do you think she’ll live long enough to have a career doing the kind of work you do?’ Brothertoft pointed a brittle finger at Phantasm. ‘Elnora persuaded me to send her to the Ri. Told me she was too different to stay here, that the villagers would make her an outcast once we were gone. Well what did she know? The Ri will make her more of an outcast than we ever could!’ he finished bitterly.
‘Elnora was right, Brothertoft,’ said Mistral quietly and reached across the table to place a reassuring hand on the old man’s arm. ‘It was the right choice. I belong there.’
Brothertoft’s eyes flashed with surprise at her touch. He regarded her appraisingly for a long moment before heaving a sigh, ‘You always were a bit of a handful,’ he admitted, shaking his head fondly. ‘Do you remember when you were only thirteen you stole a horse and rode into The Velvet Forests? You didn’t come back for days.’
Mistral shrugged, ‘Went hunting.’
‘Hunting!’ Brothertoft exclaimed. ‘You came back with a bear!’
‘Hmmm, it was a good trip,’ agreed Mistral gazing out of the window with a distant look on her face.
She took her hand from Brothertoft’s arm and fiddled distractedly with the stem of her goblet, staring unseeingly at the untouched amber liquid, ‘You were good to me Brothertoft, you and Elnora. I never thanked you for taking me in.’
Brothertoft frowned, ‘Didn’t want your thanks,’ he said shortly. ‘We couldn’t have children, taking you in was as much for us as it was for you. You gave Elnora the chance to be a mother.’
Mistral looked up and met his watery gaze then let her eyes travel over his face, noting how much he had aged in the last few months. His papery skin was so pale it was almost translucent and he seemed to shake continually, as though he was cold all of the time.
‘Are you ill?’ she asked quietly.
‘I’ll be gone before the summer is out,’ he stated calmly.
There was a brief pause.
‘Anything I can do?’
He thought for a moment and then shook his head, ‘It’s been good to see you.’
Phantasm and Phantom sighed happily, breaking the short silence that followed Brothertoft’s words. Mistral looked up; she had almost forgotten that the twins were there.
‘More cider?’ she asked quietly, holding the jug over Phantom’s empty goblet.
‘Hmm please, it’s quite a nice drink,’ said Phantom smiling a little lopsidedly at her.
Brothertoft took another long drink and burped appreciatively, ‘Ah, yes, last year was a good year for apples.’
‘Do you make this yourself?’ Phantasm asked looking surprised.
Brothertoft nodded and grinned slyly at the twins, ‘Want to know how?’ he said tapping the side of his nose secretively.
The twins nodded eagerly and sat riveted while Brothertoft described in detail, with lots of breaks for sampling the end product, how to make the lethal brew.
Mistral leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up onto the table, smiling in amusement at their increasingly rambling conversation. She didn’t even mind when Brothertoft began to relate the story of her punching the only boy in the village brave enough to ask her out. There was no way the twins would remember anything Brothertoft was saying, she could tell by the hectic spots of colour on their ivory pale cheeks that they were totally drunk. Mistral let her mind drift while they laughed uproariously at her various exploits; she could remember some of them clearly, but others were a vague and distant memory, like something seen through water. Suddenly, Brothertoft said something that made her sit up bolt upright in her chair with alarm.
‘Of course, it wasn’t always Mistral you know!’ he chortled taking a slurp of cider and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
The twins exchanged bemused glances and looked over to where Mistral was sitting, ramrod straight with a look of panic on her face. Carefully avoiding their curious gaze, Mistral fixed Brothertoft with a sharp look.
‘Yes it has! You named me for the terrible storm you found me in, didn’t you Brothertoft?’ Mistral said quickly.
Brothertoft nodded wordlessly and looked off into space, obviously reminiscing about the night in question.
‘Aye, it was a foul night; full of thunder and lightning. I remember it like yesterday,’ he sighed deeply and took another noisy slurp of cider. ‘But what I remember most of all was that you were right next to a mighty big puddle. The biggest puddle I’ve ever seen in my life. Couldn’t think of anything else to call you for a while, so the name stuck till Elnora said we couldn’t call you that and changed it to Mistral. But for a while she was my Puddle,’ he finished, smiling hazily at Mistral’s horrified face.
There was a long silence in which Mistral seemed to sag and deflate in her chair, finally resting her forehead down onto the table top with a quiet moan.
‘Puddle?’ queried Phantom in disbelief.
‘Ah, such an appropriate name for an assassin,’ said
Phantasm grinning gleefully.
Mistral sighed quietly but didn’t lift her head from the table top.
It was a mark of their true friendship that the twins struggled hard, and nearly succeeded, in containing their laughter. After a few stifled snorts of laughter Phantasm stood up a little unsteadily and raised his goblet, slopping cider over the side and onto the table.
‘Puddle,’ he began in a sincere voice, ignoring the murderous look Mistral shot him from the table top. ‘In the interests of loyalty and friendship,’ he continued with a hiccup. ‘I feel it is only fair that I should tell you that I have not always been called Phantasm.’
‘No!’ exclaimed Phantom loudly staring in wide-eyed horror at his brother. ‘You can’t do this!’
Phantasm held up a hand, his face serious, ‘I feel I must.’
He turned to Mistral who raised her head slightly from the table to meet his solemn gaze.
‘Mistral … sister. Allow me to introduce myself. My given name is Sheldon.’
‘Don’t you dare tell her mine!’ Phantom warned in a low hiss.
‘And this,’ carried on Phantasm with an erratic wave of his hand in Phantom’s direction, ‘is my brother, Wesley.’
Mistral’s laughter drowned out the sound of Phantom’s loud sob of despair and the old man repeating ‘damned big puddle, like a lake!’ to himself.
‘Really? Sheldon and Wesley? You’re not winding me up?’ she choked incredulously.
‘What can I say? Mother was trying to fit into Council society so she chose more traditional and normal sounding names,’ sighed Phantasm, his eyes drooping slightly as he took another drink of cider.
It was another hour before Mistral could prise the twins away from Brothertoft and his barrel of cider. They were finally persuaded to leave when Brothertoft slumped into a drunken stupor at the table, snoring heavily.
Mistral carried the old man through to the bedroom he had shared with Elnora for nearly all of his life and laid him gently on the bed. His feather-light body barely made an impression against the patchwork quilt Mistral could remember Elnora making during the long winter evenings.
The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) Page 27
