The Seer (109 page)

They
immediately kicked their horses into a canter and rode into the
aftermath.  Mistral pushed Cirrus through the mass of people. 
Ignorant to the shouted jubilation at the sudden capitulation of the Rochforte
army, she listened only to the one voice she could hear in her mind.  To
know that he was alive and unharmed was not enough.  She needed see him with
her eyes, feel his touch with her skin, hear his voice with her ears – arms
reached up to pull her from the saddle, holding her captive.  He was
there.

Leaving the
twins with Prospero and both their horses, Fabian led her from the spent gore
of the battlefield to the quieter seclusion of the path leading to the Main
Building.  They did not speak of the battle, or of the victory.  Like
so much that existed between them, it was already known.  The words Fabian
spoke were those he needed to, no more, no less.

‘Many have fallen. 
Serenity will need assistance in the Infirmary.’

‘I know
Fabian, I will help.’

His eyes moved
over her face, assessing her expression carefully before he nodded, ‘I will
stay with you.’

‘You never
leave me,’ she said simply and slipped her hand into his, the living warmth of
his skin the only sustenance she needed.

Sunset fell
across the Valley, red as the blood that drenched the cobbles of the village
square.  The wounded were brought to the Infirmary in a constant stream,
some already dead before they were carried into the crowded room. 
Mycroft, his body nearly cleaved in two by an axe blow, two of the first year
apprentices, Ezra, his swarthy goblin features pallid in death, and many more
villagers whose faces Mistral knew, but not their names.  She worked
tirelessly alongside Serenity, treating those they could and providing company
in the fading moments of those they couldn’t. 

Night
fell.  Noah moved around the Infirmary lighting candles before returning
to the task of responding to Serenity’s quietly spoken requests and helping to
move the bodies of the passed down to the village square where a huge funeral
pyre was already burning.  Fabian remained close to Mistral’s side, his
silent presence affording her the strength to continue until she and Serenity
had stitched, bandaged or closed the eyes of all those that had been carried
through the doors.  There was no conversation in the room, only the muted
groans of the injured and the rasping breathing of the dying.  Fighting
back a wave of exhaustion, Mistral looked up to seek strength from Fabian’s
dark gaze when the hand of the dying villager she was holding clasped hers with
a sudden vitality.

‘Hear my words
girl!’  His head lifted from the pillow, giving force to his hoarse
whisper.  ‘This life is short and bloody!  Don’t waste yours like I
did mine!  Don’t think me some fool old man.  I know you ... I
know
you ... I’ve watched you grow –’ he coughed and sank back onto his
pillow.  ‘Promise a dying old man one thing.  Forget the past ... it
only drags you down.  You are ... more –’ 

‘I promise.’
 Mistral whispered through the tears that suddenly fell.

‘Come away
Mistral, he is gone.  You have done all you can tonight.’

Letting Fabian
pull her away, Mistral looked back over her shoulder to meet the glassy stare
of the dead villager.  He had died because of her, yet she hadn’t even
known his name.

Fabian led her
from the Infirmary and down the path to the village square.  The evening
air was filled with the smoky heat of the inferno that blazed there.  So
many fallen, but the flames devoured them all; villager, warrior, father,
brother, wife, mother, son, daughter … all equal in the anonymity of
death.  The bereaved had gathered at the base of the pyre in dignified
silence.  There were no outpourings of grief.  Death was a part of
the life they had chosen.  They were Ri.

Holding her
hand tightly Fabian turned to kiss her, his lips briefly touching hers with a
tenderness equalled only by the words he murmured in her ear.  She leaned
against his side, letting the warmth of his love alleviate her
exhaustion. 

‘Sister –’

She smiled in
response to the murmured double greeting of the twins, appearing like ghosts
beside her to offer unspoken comfort through their presence.  Fabian nodded
to them both, acknowledging their part in the night’s proceedings, the silent
victory that had been won through the power of his son’s gift.

A respectful
hush fell when Leo appeared.  His face was blooded and one arm bound in a
sling, but he still strode with pride into the square, his presence instantly
stilling any murmured words.  He halted at the base of the pyre and looked
out at the gathered crowd, the hard set of his features illuminated by the
flickering light of the flames.  The penetrating blue stare that raked the
silent crowd was filled not with shock or sorrow, but the heat of
revenge.  Raising his uninjured arm into the air Leo released a crumpled
piece of cloth from his hand, letting it unfurl to reveal a white flag, heavily
stained with blood but not enough to obliterate the blazing golden lion in the
centre.  A low growl rumbled through the crowd at the sight of the
Rochforte banner.  Leo held it aloft, letting it flutter in the light
breeze while he gazed steadily at the crowd.  Turning suddenly, he tossed
the flag onto the pyre.

‘I swear
vengeance on the name of Rochforte!’

Shouts of
assent met his words, swiftly growing into a roar of acclamation, hailing the
new Divinus of the Ri in a ringing chorus that continued until Leo raised his
hand once more to call for silence.

‘Tonight we
honour the fallen and know that their sacrifice will not be in vain.  Let
the flames that burn before you ignite a fire in your souls, for we will have
our revenge!’

He strode from
the village square to a storm of shouted approval and promises of bloody
victory over the Rochfortes.  Entering The Cloak and Dagger through the
doorless opening he was greeted by Floris and presented with the only unbroken
goblet, brimming with red wine.

Mistral felt
like her feet were made of lead when she moved with the crowd towards the
tavern.  The adrenalin of the night had faded, leaving her utterly
drained.  It was only the reassuring strength of Fabian’s arm around her
that prevented her from stumbling with every weary step she took.

‘I know you
are exhausted Mistral.’  Fabian murmured in her ear and guided to one of
the few remaining tables.  ‘We need only stay for a short while.’

She nodded and
leaned against his side, letting her head droop onto his shoulder and her eyes
close while voices spoke around her; many recounting their personal victories,
but all wanting to know what had made the army of Rochfortes suddenly
surrender.  The twins fielded the endless questions with typical poise;
neither confirming nor denying that their gifts had brought about the end of
the battle.  Mistral knew the twins weren’t suffering from a sudden onset
of modesty, but a wish not to belittle the fierceness with which the villagers
had fought to defend their Valley.  They would surely have won …
eventually.  Mistral and the twins had simply speeded events up slightly
and prevented too many Ri dying in the process. 

A familiar
voice pierced through her fog of exhaustion.  Mistral smiled and opened
her eyes to watch Samson talking with Fabian, noting the bruises on his face
and dried blood matted in his hair she suddenly sat up.  ‘Samson! 
Why didn’t I see you in the Infirmary?  You’ve obviously been injured!’

Samson flashed
a gold-toothed grin and shrugged evasively, avoiding her piercing look he
returned to his conversation with Fabian. 

Puzzled by his
strange behaviour, Mistral pushed her tired mind into action and listened to
his thoughts before sinking back against Fabian’s shoulder with a muttered,
‘Pathetic.’

What is?

‘Oh, he wants
to show-off his war wounds to Gemma tomorrow… reckons she’s got a gentler touch
than me or something –’

The twins
laughed and Fabian joined in.  Mistral listened to the familiar low rumble
and smiled.  Tomorrow ... tomorrow was a new day.  Tomorrow she would
return to the Infirmary and help Serenity care for the wounded.  Tomorrow
the remains of the pyre would be removed and the cobbles scrubbed clean of ash
and dried blood.  Tomorrow the villagers would begin to repair their homes
and businesses … but that was all tomorrow.  Right now she was going to
submerse herself in the simple, glorious fact that everyone she loved had
survived.  

‘I will be
back in a moment.  Gleacher has just come in.’

She watched
Fabian move away through the tightly packed room and immediately felt warm
tears slide down her face.  Wordlessly Phantasm took hold of her hand, the
silent touch more comforting than any offered words could ever be. 
Tightening her grip on his hand Mistral was ashamed to realise that her tears
were not of grief for the fallen, but of overwhelming relief that her brothers
had not been in the Valley.  She secretly blessed the fake Contract
Malachi had bought.  The Rochfortes burning on a pyre in the meadows were
merely the down payment on a debt that would be satisfied in full.  Soon.

Taking her
other hand Phantom sighed and gave her a poignant smile, ‘Ah, Mistral, I know.’

Mistral looked
at him through her tears, ‘Is it right not to grieve, but be glad?’ 

Phantom
shrugged, ‘All I know is it isn’t wrong.’

‘Here, you and
my godson have earned this today.’  Releasing her hand, Phantasm pushed a
half-tankard of ale towards her. 

Mistral smiled
gratefully and took a long swallow, not lowering the tankard until she’d
drained every last drop.  Placing the empty tankard down regretfully, she
leaned back against the stone wall of the tavern and closed her eyes.  She
was spent.  The day that had begun in a sunlit bedroom three days ride
away had ended in a dark tavern filled with talk of bloody revenge.  When
Fabian’s hands reached for hers she took them gratefully, letting him take her
away from angry plans for retaliation into the peace of his arms.

The bell above
the door tinkled cheerfully to announce the arrival of a customer. 

‘I’ll be with
you in a moment!’  Mistral called from the storeroom.

‘Take your
time.  I’ve just wasted a load of mine already –’

‘Cain!’ 
Mistral flew out of the storeroom.  ‘You’re back!’

Cain looked
uncharacteristically glum, ‘Obviously.’ 

Mistral
grinned, ‘Oh brother!  I’ve missed your wit and sparkling humour!’ 

Cain glowered
at her, ‘What’s there to smile about Mistral?  We fell for a sucker
Contract and let a load of Rochfortes invade the Valley!  No end of
villagers died because we weren’t here to fight!’

‘Yes, but you
didn’t!’

‘Yes, I’m well
aware that we didn’t fight – and thanks for reminding me!’  Cain snapped.

‘No Cain, I
meant that you didn’t die.’

Cain eyed her
sharply, ‘The sooner you have your baby the better.  I think the hormones
are starting to addle what little brains you’ve got.’  His gaze slid from
hers to take in the surrounding shelves.  ‘And just what have you been
doing to my shop?’

‘I rearranged
a few things.’  Mistral shrugged and wandered over to tweak the banner
above a display of health tonics.  ‘Like it?’

‘Rearranged? 
More like completely changed everything!  I’ll never find a thing
now!  Just what else have you rearranged?’  He demanded grumpily.

‘I might have
tidied your flat up a bit too –’

‘Please tell
me you didn’t let the twins in there.’  Cain groaned.  ‘Everything
will be folded into piles, and I’ll never get the creases out!’

Mistral
laughed, ‘No brother, it was all my own work.’

‘Huh! 
You must really be bored,’ Cain frowned, ‘or due –’ he suddenly moved towards
her with a purposeful gleam in his eyes that immediately made Mistral retreat
to the safety of the counter.

‘Er, can we do
this later?  I mean … you’ve just walked through the door!  Surely
you must want a drink in The Cloak or something!’

‘It can
wait.  All this sudden interest in cleaning and tidying is a definite
indicator that you’re due Mistral, it’s classic nest building.’

‘Nest
building?  I’m not a damned seagull Cain!’

The bell above
the door gave another musical tinkle and Mistral rushed to greet the customer
with relief, drawing out the conversation about an effective wart remover for
far longer than the subject warranted until Cain thrust a jar of ointment into
the woman’s hands and forcibly ejected her from the shop.

‘Now –’ Cain
turned to fix her with a hard look. 

‘Now I really
have to meet Mage Grapple!’  Mistral said brightly. 

‘No you don’t
Mistral!  Stop trying to avoid this!’

‘I do
actually, he’s arriving in the village square in about five minutes, and I’m
not
trying
to avoid it,’ she hurried from the shop before Cain could
stop her.  ‘I
am
avoiding it!’

Walking along
the cobbled street that led down to the village square, Mistral felt a burst of
pleasure.  Her brothers had returned!  With that knowledge the
restlessness that had plagued her over the last few weeks was suddenly gone,
leaving her feeling unusually calm, serene even.  She sighed happily and
turned her face up to feel the gentle warmth of the late autumn sun. 
Drawing in a deep breath of the still air she savoured the edge of crispness,
the faint scent of ripe apples and fallen leaves.  Autumn … her favourite
time.  Smiling at the thought of long card games and listening to even
longer stories from Xerxes, Mistral walked into the village square to see the
twins, Fabian and Leo waiting by the newly painted door of The Cloak and
Dagger.

‘Mistral!’ 
Fabian strode over to her with a frown.  ‘I was about to come and collect
you from the shop.’

‘I know, but
Cain came back so I thought I’d leave him to it.’  Mistral accepted the
arm he placed around her with a smile, but at the back of it was a flash of
irritation.  The nearer she drew to the end of her pregnancy the more
overprotective he had become, insisting on accompanying her everywhere or
arranging for the twins to be her escorts, even on such mundane outings as
grocery shopping in the village.  Even Serenity had been appearing
frequently in the shop, wishing to purchase a suspicious amount of supplies for
someone that ran a very well-stocked Infirmary.

‘How long
before they arrive?’  Leo demanded curtly when Fabian drew her to a
standstill beside him and the twins.

She gazed up
at the path leading from the North Gate, her eyes briefly drifting out of
focus, ‘They’re in the meadows … the power of the Expediency spell Mage Grapple
has cast is dwindling.’

‘They are
nearly here.’  Leo glanced up at the path then turned back to look at
her.  ‘And you have still not Seen why he has called this meeting?’

Mistral
frowned, her expression becoming vague once more, ‘No … he will not think of it
–’

‘We could make
him think of it.’  Phantom suggested quietly.

A calculating
look crossed Leo’s face but Fabian spoke before he could respond.

‘That would be
foolish!  Mage Grapple has one of the most astute minds on the Isle! 
He would instantly know that his will had been manipulated and become aware of
your ability to influence minds remotely!’

Phantom looked
like he was about to argue but Phantasm cut him off, ‘Mage De Winter is right
brother.  The true depth of our ability is something we need to avoid
revealing at all costs.  It is our only insurance against situations like
the rigged vote with Malachi.  I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait and find
out in Mage Grapple’s good time.’

Leo scowled
briefly but couldn’t argue with their reasoning.  He gazed up at the path
leading to the North Gate in icy silence until the drumming of hooves on hard
ground announced the arrival of Mage Grapple.  The sight of three
horseback figures cantering down the path drew Clovis hurrying from the stables
to tend their horses.  Mage Grapple rode into the square on the same heavy
warhorse he’d been riding the first time Mistral had seen him, on a summer’s
day by the Amber River three years ago.  He was flanked, as ever, by two
hooded warlocks that reined to a halt behind him and remained stiffly in their
saddles until Mage Grapple had dismounted and passed his reins to Clovis. 

Leo
immediately strode forward to greet Mage Grapple.  While they exchanged
greetings, Mistral turned her head slightly to whisper in Fabian’s ear. 
‘Any idea what this is about?’

Fabian shook
his head lightly, his face expressionless, but his thoughts filled with several
possibilities, mostly involving current policies being debated at the Council
that might affect the Ri and none very exciting.

‘Lady De
Winter.’

Mistral pulled
herself out of Fabian’s musings to smile pleasantly at the grizzled face
looking at her, ‘Mage Grapple.’

‘You and the
Gemini may take your leave from this meeting.’

Mistral was
momentarily thrown.  Mage Grapple knew that she could hear every word
whether she was in the meeting room or not.  Why would he ask her not to
attend?  She felt Phantasm’s mental shrug and heard Phantom’s more cheery
Cloak
then!
and nodded in response to Mage Grapple’s terse dismissal. 

‘Good. 
Leo?’  Mage Grapple abruptly turned away and began to stride up the path
towards the Main Building with Leo.

Fabian kissed
her with a murmured promise to return quickly and strode away after the two
figures, the moment he left her side she instantly missed him and sighed at her
own contrariness.

‘Why so gloomy
Mistral?  We’ve got the afternoon off and everyone’s back!’  Phantom
strolled over and placed a brotherly arm around her shoulders.  ‘Come and
take the weight off your feet, because they are having to carry quite a lot
around now, mind you it really can’t be for much longer now –’

‘Oh don’t you
start!’  Mistral snapped bad-temperedly.  ‘I’ve just had Cain nagging
at me!  He’s only been back two minutes and first thing he wanted to do
was stick his damned cold stethoscope on me!’

Phantom
laughed and removed his arm from around her shoulders to push open the Cloak’s
new door; it stuck slightly as the new paint caught on the door jamb and
Phantom gave it a hefty kick to force it open.

‘Don’t do
that!’  Floris shouted when the door slammed open and smashed into the
wall behind.

‘You should’ve
left it off Floris.’  Phantom responded mildly.  ‘It made life a lot
easier.’

‘I’m beginning
to think that too!’ 

Leaving
Phantom to listen to Floris bemoaning the treatment of his new door while he
collected their drinks, Phantasm and Mistral made their way slowly towards the
table at the back where Xerxes, Brutus and Grendel were sat.  The tavern
was packed with warriors freshly returned from the fake Contract but far from
being lively, the atmosphere was subdued.  The twins had used their gift
to inform Xerxes of the attack on the Valley and he had spread the news to the
other warriors.  Even though they had been forewarned, the actual sight of
the desecration of the Valley had still come as a shock to all of them.

‘Why the
irritation with your Mage, Mistral?’  Phantasm murmured softly while he
steered her through the crowded room.

Mistral
sighed, of course Phantasm had noticed her moment of annoyance.  He
noticed everything.  ‘He’s just driving me a bit insane with the
overprotective act.  I swear he’d actually follow me into the toilet if
I’d let him!’

Phantasm
stopped and turned to look at her, a frown creasing the perfect ivory skin of
his brow, ‘His mother did die in childbirth Mistral.  It’s quite
understandable that he will become more anxious the closer you draw to the end
of your pregnancy.’

Mistral
groaned and closed her eyes, inwardly cursing her own selfish stupidity. 
How could she have forgotten that Delphine De Winter had died giving birth to
Leo?  ‘Oh, you know what brother?  Sometimes I really hate
myself.’ 

Phantasm
smiled and looked down, resting a hand lightly on her bump, ‘I think you may
have cause to be a touch preoccupied at the moment.’

‘Ouch! 
Don’t do that!’  Mistral winced as her son kicked hard against Phantasm’s
hand.

‘Sorry.’
 Phantasm grinned, looking anything but.

‘Hasn’t my
nephew been born yet?’  Xerxes called with an obvious effort at
light-heartedness.

‘No Xerxes,
that’s why I’m still as big as a house.’  Mistral grumbled and sank
wearily onto the chair Brutus offered her. 

‘You’re not as
big as a house.’  Brutus smiled and patted her bump.  ‘Just a bit
rounder than before.’

‘Will you all
please stop doing that!’ 

‘Sorry.’ 
Brutus sat back on his seat and immediately lapsed into silence. 

Mistral looked
around at her grim-faced brothers and heaved a sigh, ‘Come on brothers! 
Lighten up!  So you got duped on a Contract and missed out on a bit of
action in the Valley, no harm done!  You all got paid didn’t you?’

Xerxes reached
inside his jerkin and pulled out a small leather purse.  Untying the neck
he poured the gold coins out onto the table.  ‘I want nothing to do with
that money,’ he stated flatly.  ‘It’s Malachi’s gold!  I can’t
believe that scheming, double-crossing, low-life –’

‘Yes, a
low-life.’  Mistral cut across him in a firm voice.  ‘But one that is
now dead ... and you are not.’

‘No, but loads
of villagers are because we weren’t here!’

‘By villagers,
you mean the retired bunch of warriors that haven’t stopped talking about their
heroics since the battle?’  Phantom asked, carefully placing two full
tankards and Mistral’s half-tankard of ale down onto the table.

‘They had a
great time.’  Phantasm agreed.  ‘Most of them hated being retired
anyway … you know how warriors are –’

‘– always
dreaming of going down in a blaze of glory and not fading quietly into their
dotage,’ finished Phantom.

Brutus looked
up thoughtfully, ‘I hadn’t really looked at it that way.’

‘No brother,
that’s because you were thinking of yourself as usual, just like your father!’
 Xerxes admonished, mimicking their mother’s favourite chastisement.

While the
brothers laughed Phantom eyed the pile of gold on the table with an envious
look, ‘So what’re you going to do with that then?’

Xerxes stopped
laughing and looked down at the coins, ‘Don’t know.  I don’t want it
that’s for sure.  It feels wrong to have been paid for doing nothing but
spending a round trip to Spain playing cards while half the Valley got
destroyed.’

‘I know what
I’m going to do with mine.’  Brutus leapt to his feet and strode over to
the bar.  Pulling out his own purse he dropped it down onto the wooden
top.