The Seer (104 page)

‘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 voice.  ‘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.’

Again, Mistral
could have said so much, instead she merely gazed at him sadly and said, ‘Yes.’

Mage Grapple
fell silent, his cold eyes narrowed in thought, ‘Tell me Lady De Winter, are my
warlocks susceptible to the gift of the Gemini?’

Mistral’s eyes
slid from Mage Grapple’s while she recalled the  impromptu warlock ballet,
‘Er, yes,’ she confirmed reluctantly.  ‘Your army could potentially be
turned against you with the help of their skills.’

‘And do their
skills work on you?’  He asked softly.

‘I hear them,
but I can choose to ignore them.’

‘Good.’

They danced in
silence again for a few moments.  Mistral was aware of the curious glances
they were drawing from the other couples on the floor and smiled, hearing their
thoughts when they whirled past her.

‘Do my guests
amuse you?’  Mage Grapple asked quietly.

‘Oh, sorry –’

‘An apology is
unnecessary; however, I would like to know what entertaining thoughts are going
through the minds of the people watching us.’

‘Of course.’
 Mistral murmured and focussed obediently on the couple nearest to
them.  ‘The Mage in dark green robes –’

‘The Head of
the Swiss delegation.’

‘Oh right,
well he wonders if I am your wife and why you haven’t introduced us – ’

‘De Winter
will be thrilled by that particular misunderstanding.’

‘Best not to
tell him.’  Mistral said quickly.  ‘Er, his partner wants to know
where you have your robes made because she thinks they would suit her husband.’

Mage Grapple
sighed and closed his eyes briefly, ‘Such benign drivel!  I suppose that I
should be relieved; however I am filled with sympathy for you having to listen
to it all evening.’

‘I think this
evening is hardly going to be benign.’  Mistral replied.

‘No,’ agreed
Mage Grapple quietly, stepping away from her as the orchestra finished
playing.  ‘Now, to business.  Irrespective of the bitter complaint
Malachi Nox has made at your presence here tonight, I wish you to attend the
meeting on the understanding that you cannot be present for the vote, despite
the fact that we both know you will hear every word whether you are in the room
or not.  But I expect to be informed of what you have Seen before the vote
is cast, and I also wish to assure you, Lady De Winter, that I do not support
Malachi Nox in his efforts to be the next Divinus.  Finally, but only with
your consent, I shall cast a protective spell over you and the Gemini for the
course of the meeting, to cover all eventualities.’

Mistral hesitated,
then nodded. 

He lifted her
hand and kissed it briefly, ‘Thank you, Lady De Winter.  I hope that you
enjoy the rest of your evening.’

‘Tell me
everything sister!’ 

Mistral turned
sharply to meet the vivid green eyes of Phantasm, taking hold of her for the
next dance, ‘Oh no!  I can’t dance any more brother!  My back is
killing me!’  She complained.

Phantasm
tilted his head to listen to the orchestra, ‘Oh, back to Dante’s Elementary
Steps Stage One again!’  He smiled and whirled her around in a circle.

‘Oh, don’t do
that,’ she groaned, closing her eyes.  ‘I think I’m going to be sick –’

‘Show some
mettle!  One dance is all I ask!  That’s not too much considering
everything I’ve put up with from you over the last three years is it?’  Phantasm
demanded, his beautiful face crumpling into a hurt expression.

‘Don’t do that
either!’  She exclaimed.  ‘I can hear people around me thinking I’m
being horrible to you!’

‘You are!’

Mistral heaved
a weary sigh, ‘What do you want to know.’

‘What were you
saying to Mage Grapple and what was he saying to you?’  He breathed in her
ear, whirling her across the floor a little too quickly for her liking.

‘I told him
about Malachi’s sudden generosity with his money, and how both he and the
Rochfortes plan to use us and the Ri to gain control of the Council, oh – maybe
I should’ve asked you first before I agreed, but I felt a bit under pressure –
he’s going to cast a protective spell on us … and he also told me that he won’t
back Malachi in his bid to become the next Divinus.’

Phantasm
exhaled softly, ‘Good, but not enough.  He can still be outvoted.  It
all rests on us now.’

‘Oh, and he
also said that he wanted us in the meeting, but not the vote.’

‘Perfect!’
 Phantasm smiled so dazzlingly that a woman dancing nearby tripped over.

Mistral bent
her head closer to hide her laughter, letting him guide her through the final
steps of the dance without speaking until he suddenly murmured in her
ear. 

‘I don’t want
to worry you, but I think from the way he’s been undressing you with his eyes
for the last few minutes that Christophe Rochforte is going to ask for the next
dance.’

‘What?’ 
Mistral’s head snapped up to stare furiously into his green eyes.  ‘Oh
no!  He is!’  she let out a swear word that drew a few shocked looks
from the couples around her.  ‘Well he knows where he can stick that!’

‘You cannot
refuse him Mistral!  It would terribly impolite, and only give him an
excuse to cause a scene ... which is what I suspect he intends to do.’

Mistral’s gaze
drifted then snapped sharply back into focus, ‘You’re right brother!  He’s
going to try and antagonise Fabian!  Mage Grapple has refused Malachi’s
request to have us excluded from the meeting, so Christophe’s going to try by –
oh, it’s so revolting I can’t even bring myself to say it!  Damn it
Phantasm, you have to stop Fabian from reacting!’

‘What about
you?’ 

Mistral’s face
hardened, ‘I can deal with a lecherous slug like him.  Just promise me you
won’t let Fabian react to what’s he going to try and do!’

‘Wait a
minute!  I don’t like the sound of this –’

‘Lady De
Winter.  May I formally request the pleasure of the next dance?’  The
heavily accented voice of Christophe Rochforte cut across their whispered
conversation. 

Mistral turned
to smile politely at him, ‘Ah, Christophe,’ she sighed.  ‘Whilst I would
rather poke my own eyes out with a wooden spoon, I will reluctantly agree to
let you stand on my feet while you attempt to replicate what you assume to be a
dance, because I have to you see.  It is, unfortunately, my
destiny.’  Leaving Christophe frowning while he tried to translate what
she’d said, Mistral whispered quickly to Phantasm.  ‘Remember to stop
Fabian!’

‘Then ... that
is a yes?’  Christophe finally asked.

‘Mais
oui.’  Mistral smiled sweetly to hide the flicker of disgust that crossed
her face when he placed a hand against the small of her back.

‘May I say how
very beautiful you look tonight.’  Christophe whispered in her ear.

‘You can say
it, just don’t think it or I really will be worried.’  Mistral growled
back in French.

Christophe
laughed huskily and reverted to his native tongue, ‘You have so much
spirit!  I wonder, just what would it take to tame you?’

‘More than you
could ever imagine.’

‘Oh, I think
not.’  Christophe smiled unpleasantly and slipped his hand from her back
to pass briefly over her swollen belly.

Keeping her
face wooden, Mistral fought to control her temper and hoped that Phantasm was
managing to do the same with Fabian, ‘I swear that you will never come anywhere
near my son!’  She hissed through clenched teeth.  ‘And you can make
as many corrupt deals as you like with that snake Malachi, but the Ri will
never be his to command – and neither will I!’

‘I think you
will.’  Christophe smiled with infuriating arrogance.  ‘We Rochfortes
have waited a long time for our chance to arise.  We have patience. 
Yes, Malachi may fail tonight,’ he shrugged, ‘but we will endure and bide our
time.  You will have more children, more opportunities for us–’

‘My children
will never be your pawns, and neither will I!’  Mistral flared, finally
losing her temper. 

She saw it in
his mind a split-second before he moved, but was prevented from having the
satisfaction of driving her fist into his face by a familiar icy voice.

‘I believe
this next dance is mine.’

Mistral found
herself plucked out of Christophe’s grasp and whirled away with graceful
expertise.  At first she was too surprised by the identity of her
unexpected saviour to do anything other than allow him to move her across the
floor in time to the music.

‘I could’ve
handled that!’  Mistral whispered furiously once she’d recovered.

‘Really?’ 
Leo asked in a cold murmur.  ‘Or would you simply have hit him?’

‘Of course
not!’  Mistral lied.

Leo raised an
eyebrow but said nothing and continued to move to the waltz in Dante’s
Elementary Steps Stage One.

‘Where’s
Fabian?’  Mistral asked, feeling distinctly uncomfortable at being in such
close proximity with Leo.  ‘I can hear his thoughts, but they don’t make
sense.’

‘Being held at
bay by the Gemini.’

Mistral cast a
glance over to where the twins and Fabian were sitting while she and Leo
revolved slowly around the floor.  Fabian was motionless in his seat, his
face a frozen mask.  Mistral immediately understood why his thoughts
weren’t making sense; the twins were using their gift to prevent him from
creating the scene Christophe had tried to orchestrate.