The Seer (112 page)

‘I know, boy,’
she murmured.  ‘Let’s take a walk.  You never know, we might find
something for you to take home.’

Wagging his
tail briefly, Prospero moved stealthily by her side as Mistral left the faint
gloom of the treeline and began to make her way deeper into the forests. 
The thick trunks of the trees loomed out of the shadows around her, drained of
their living colour to pale hues of lilac and grey.  At first all she
could hear was the crunch of dried leaves beneath her feet then gradually other
soft rustlings reached her ears, the barely heard pattering of nocturnal
creatures scurrying away on tiny feet and the occasional sharp bark of a
fox.  An owl hooted close by and Prospero immediately growled then looked
hopefully at Mistral, his nose twitching with the scent of a possible prey.

Mistral patted
him absently and carried on walking, ‘Sorry boy ... maybe if you had wings –’

Lost in the
beauty of the night forests Mistral wandered aimlessly, letting one hand trail
dreamily against the rough bark of the trees she passed, the other resting over
her unborn son.  Every now and then she would gaze up at the starry sky when
it appeared in patches through the branches above her and breathe in a deep
sigh of contentment.  The forests had always been her personal
haven.  When she was growing up they had afforded her an escape from life
in dull Nevelte; a chance to revel in the thrill of hunting armed with only a
dagger and the challenge of surviving for weeks on end completely alone …
independent … free.  Gazing at the trees that encircled her, Mistral
smiled at her memories of the irresponsible, reckless girl that had stayed in
the forests for weeks at time, neither thinking nor caring about the anxiety
she must have caused her adoptive parents.  The forests had always been
more of a home to her than the cramped stone cottage they had tried to force
her to live in, and now she knew of her centaur blood that all made perfect
sense. 

The tribe …
Mistral fell to reflecting on her relationship with the centaurs.  She
hoped that Imperato would accept a position on the Magnate but she knew he
would never leave his tribe, or Alyssa, to live in the Valley … not that one of
the tower rooms would be suitable for him anyway; his home was his tribe just
as her home was …

With a start
Mistral realised that she no longer thought of the forests as home.  Her
home lay beyond them, nestled at the base of the Western Range, and it was
calling to her now with an insistency that drew her from her daydreaming.

Another wave
of pain ripped through her, obliterating every thought or sense with its
savagery, holding her in its fiery grip for far longer than before, and she
knew with absolute certainty that her time had come.  Panic filled her,
born of the knowledge that she was about to give birth alone in the forests at
night, and suddenly Mistral was frightened. 

Reaching a
hand out to grab at Prospero, Mistral pulled her dog close and hissed out an
instruction, ‘Get Fabian boy! 
Go!
’

The heavy
thudding of his paws running away through the trees faded, leaving Mistral
listening to the sobbing of her own breath and the frantic pounding of her
heart.  She suddenly wished she hadn’t sent Prospero away but kept him
close, feeling vulnerable without his reassuring presence.  She curled
into a ball of misery on the cold ground, breathing in the dry scent of mouldy
leaves and earth, letting her mind drift into unconsciousness while she waited
for the next wave of pain. 

‘Get up
Mistral!’

Mistral sighed
and curled up tighter, ignoring the voice that pierced the comforting fog
surrounding her brain.

‘You must
get up!
’

Mistral
frowned, the quiet voice in her ear was so familiar, but it filled her with a
strange sadness.  It reminded her of a voice she never thought she would
hear again.  ‘Oh!  Have … have I died?’  She whispered, keeping
her eyes firmly closed.

‘No,’
the voice sighed. 
‘I did that.’

...
‘Saul?’ 

‘Yes?’
the voice responded simply.

‘But – but,
you’re –’

‘I know,’
the
voice sighed again. 
‘But did you really think that just because my
body died I would no longer love you?’

‘Oh!’ 
Mistral’s eyes flew open, but all she could see was the dark branches above her
and the cold stars beyond.  ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in
your head Mistral, that’s why only you can hear me.’

‘But I can’t
see you!’  She cried.  ‘I – I wanted to see you again!’

‘But you
can Mistral … just close your eyes, I’ll be there.’

Mistral obediently
closed her eyes, tears running down her cold cheeks … and he was there, smiling
at her, his gentle brown gaze exactly as she remembered it, the colour of
autumn leaves.

‘Oh, I miss
you brother,’ she sobbed then cried out suddenly with the blinding pain that
gripped her.  Arching her back and raking at the fallen leaves until the
contraction passed, leaving her panting, supine on the hard ground.

‘Mistral –’

         
‘Mistral –’

                         
‘Mistral –’

‘Yes –’ she
finally groaned.

‘You must
move.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Yes, you
can.  Get up.’

‘Can’t –’

‘Yes, you
can and you will.  I told you once that I would never leave you and I
haven’t.  I will always be here when you need me, and you need me now,
which is why I am telling you to move!’

Mistral drew
in a deep breath and forced herself to respond to his words.  Rolling onto
her side she pulled her knees up so that she could crawl, inching her way
through the debris littering the forest floor, gasping for breath and crying
out each time the iron bands of pain constricted her … but listening, always
listening to the quiet voice in her mind, telling her she could do it … urging
her to keep moving… telling her that he loved her …

‘Mistral!’

Panicked
shouts pierced the haze in her pain-filled mind and she cried out with relief,
‘Here!’

‘Mistral!’ 
Fabian’s distraught cry sounded almost harsh after Saul’s soft whisper.

‘Thank you,’
she breathed while Fabian’s hands wrapped around her, lifting her up into his
arms.

The faintest
whisper echoed through her mind as Fabian began to run, holding her tightly
against his body.

‘I’ve
always got your back Mistral.
’

The first rays
of sunlight pierced through the windows of the small mountain house, lighting
the pale faces of the twins asleep in the armchairs by the stove and throwing
into sharp relief the hard lines of tension on Fabian’s face.  He paused
in his pacing at the base of the wooden stairs and glanced up briefly, as
though undecided as to whether he should go up or not, then turned and strode across
the room once more, listening with clenched fists to the sound of Cain’s quiet
voice and Mistral’s laboured breathing.

A hearty bawl
shattered the quietness, sending the twins leaping to their feet, wild-eyed and
tousle-haired.  Fabian ran to the bottom of the stairs where he froze with
one foot on the lower step, staring up at the sunlit bedroom where he could
just see the edge of their bed, not daring to go any further.

‘Cain!’ 

‘Yes?’ 

‘Well?’ 
Fabian demanded frantically.

‘Congratulations
Mage De Winter, you have a healthy son.’  Cain called down, appearing at
the top of the stairs with a grin on his face.

Fabian closed
his eyes and gripped the banister, then his eyes flew open again, ‘And …
Mistral?’

‘Absolutely
fine, too fine actually.  Demanding to know where the father of her child
is –’

Fabian took
the stairs three at a time and ran past Cain, almost skidding to halt when his
gaze fell upon Mistral, sitting up in their bed cradling a dark-haired baby in
her arms.  Prospero’s tail thumped the floor in greeting as Fabian sank
slowly onto the edge of the bed.

‘Look at you!’
 Mistral exclaimed softly.  ‘Anyone would think that you’d just given
birth!’

‘I feel like I have –’

‘I sincerely hope not.’  Mistral said then smiled.  ‘Here,
say hello to your son.’

Holding her arms out, Mistral offered him the swaddle of white cloth
and dark hair that was the heir to the De Winter name and the most gifted being
on the Isle.  Fabian hesitated for the briefest of moments then reached
out to take hold of his son.  Gazing down in wonderment at the bundle of
life in his hands, Fabian De Winter, the merciless assassin, was instantly
lost.

‘Oh dear.’  Mistral sighed, seeing his expression, his aura and
his thoughts all at once.  ‘I dread to think what you’re going to be like
when our daughter arrives.’

‘Can we come up yet?’  Phantom called impatiently.  ‘Only it
has been a rather long ten months and an even longer night!’

‘Only if it’s convenient, of course.’  Phantasm added, making a
more concerted effort to conceal his own impatience.

‘Fine by me.’  Mistral called back, then, more quietly to
Fabian.  ‘Are you ready for the twins?’

Fabian nodded vaguely, still gazing in awestruck silence at his son.

The sound of feet running lightly up the stairs preceded  the
arrival of the twins, both looking unusually dishevelled in the clothes they’d
slept in and sporting uncombed hair.  But the anticipation that blazed in
their faces could have outshone the midday sun.  Phantasm sank down onto
the bed next to Fabian who wordlessly passed his son over to be held. 
Releasing a deep sigh of satisfaction, Phantasm finally looked down at his
godson.  

Seeing the same look of hopeless indulgence steal over his face that
Fabian’s had worn only seconds before, Mistral closed her eyes and
sighed.  Her son was going to be hopelessly spoiled. 

‘Hello.’  Phantasm murmured and rose from the bed to walk to the
window and show his godson the rising sun. 

Phantom grinned at Mistral, ‘Congratulations sister, he’s almost as
handsome as his favourite godfather, which is me obviously.’

‘Obviously.’  Mistral laughed and leaned back against the pillows
propped up behind her, reaching out to take Fabian’s hand she smiled at his
still dazed expression.

‘But, and I have to ask this because it defies even your innate sense
of stupidity, just
what
were you thinking?’  Phantom continued in
harder voice.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think Phantom is referring to the fact that you crept from our house
in the middle of the night to give birth alone in the forests.’  Fabian
said quietly, his voice betraying none of the anguish that suddenly flared in
his aura.

‘Oh Fabian, I didn’t do it on purpose!  I woke up in pain, I
thought the baby was just kicking really hard, but well, I know it was a bit
more than that now –’

‘Yes, just a bit.  You were actually in labour.’  Fabian
remarked drily. 

‘I realise that now, but I didn’t at the time … and I couldn’t bear the
thought of waking you just to listen to me moaning about how hard our son could
kick … you looked so peaceful,’ she paused and smiled softly at him.
 ‘Anyway, I decided to go for a walk, and got a bit carried away.’

‘But where were you going?’  Fabian asked with a puzzled frown.

‘Home.’

‘Oh, the tribe.  Of course –’

‘No Fabian.’  Mistral stopped him.  ‘I was coming home.’

Leaving Mistral and Fabian holding hands and gazing at each other,
Phantom wandered over to the window to greet his godson.

‘Good morning,’ he said, taking the now sleeping baby from his
twin.  ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.  Now, I hope you’re
listening because I’ve prepared a selection of stories about your mother and I
thought we could start with my personal favourite.’  Settling himself onto
the only chair in the room, Phantom rocked his godson in his arms and began to
tell him a story in a musical voice.  ‘Once upon a time there was a young
warrior called Mistral who went on a hunt with all of her brothers for a big
bad manticore, but the manticore had a special poison in the spines of its tail
that made –’

‘Not the manticore story!’  Mistral muttered quickly.

Fabian laughed and bent his head to kiss her, murmuring softly, ‘You
never have told me the full story of the manticore hunt.’

‘No, well, a girl’s got to have some secrets hasn’t she?’   

‘Actually, you have another secret we would all like to know.’
 Phantasm said from the window.

‘Really?  Considering my inability to lie I doubt it!  What
is it that you think I’ve been hiding from you brother?’

‘Our godson’s name.’

‘Oh, yes.’  Mistral looked down at the bed sheet and picked at the
hem in a familiar distracted action.  ‘Well, Fabian and I haven’t really
discussed that yet, although I have had an idea.’

Fabian smiled and caught her hand, raising it to his lips he kissed
each finger then turned it over to kiss the palm, ‘We will name him as you
wish, my love.  All I ask is that we reveal it at the appropriate time.’

‘When’s that then?’  Mistral asked, gazing at Fabian with a look
that the twins had come to recognise and privately term as “Mistral with Brain
Disengaged”. 

‘At his Naming Ceremony.’

‘Oh, right … and when’s that?’

‘Next week, Mistral, we booked it ages ago, or loosely booked it, since
we had to guess at the duration of your pregnancy.’  Phantasm sighed.

‘Guess?’  Cain queried sharply, entering the room with a platter
of food and a pitcher of water in his hands.  ‘I rather think I gave quite
an accurate predicated date, don’t you?’

‘You weren’t bad brother.’  Phantasm agreed and walked over to
regard Mistral with a slightly critical look.  ‘Now, I think that once you
have eaten we ought to get you tidied up a bit before the others arrive.’

‘I’m sorry?’  Mistral looked at him in alarm.  ‘Have I missed
something?’

‘Yes, as usual.’  Phantasm said briskly.  ‘Xerxes, Brutus,
Samson, Grendel and, sorry about this one but he is the Divinus, the Divinus
will be arriving in about two hours’ time.  So, with Cain’s approval, I
think a bath and a change of clothes are in order.’

‘Oh come on brother, I’ve just given birth!’

‘With enviable ease Mistral.’  Cain chided.  ‘Most women
labour for days, not a mere two hours!’

‘Ease?’  Mistral glared at Cain with something close to murder in
her eyes.

‘Well, I appreciate that there was some effort involved –’

‘Effort?’  Mistral seethed, leaning forward threateningly. 
‘I’ll give you effort you jumped-up hob!  Oh damn!  Where are my
knives when I need them?’

‘Shh!’ Phantom hissed from the chair.  ‘Don’t wake my
godson!  And we’ll have less of the bad language if you please!’

‘Oh, for crying out loud!’  Mistral muttered under her breath and
sank back into the pillows with a resigned look on her face.  ‘I suppose I
should just be grateful there are no dresses here for you to force me to wear.’

‘That’s what you think.’  Phantasm said to himself then smiled beatifically
at her.  ‘I’ll go prepare your bath while you eat.’

‘Oh, I’m allowed to do that am I?’  Mistral retorted and tore off
a chunk of bread while Fabian started laughing.  ‘What’s so funny?’ 
She demanded through a mouthful of bread.

Fabian shook his head, smiling at her with a mixture of love,
exasperation and amusement, ‘The first time I ever witnessed you three
bickering I assumed it was a phase that would run its course.  I never
realised it would actually form the basis of your friendship.’

Mistral chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bread then swallowed, ‘I
admit, the prospect of killing them both one day is the only thing that keeps
them alive … if they were dead I would be robbed of that one, heart-warming
thought you see.’

‘I know you don’t mean that!’  Phantasm called from the kitchen
where he was heating water for her bath.

‘Do!’  Mistral called back.  ‘And I’m not wearing that dress
you’ve packed!’ 

‘Are!  Your brothers are going to be introduced to your first born
Mistral, it’s an important occasion!’

‘First born?’  Mistral spluttered.  ‘What?  Are you
counting now?  And do you plan on bullying me like this for the second
born?’

‘Of course!  It’s my destiny!’

‘Tell him Fabian!’  she whispered angrily.  ‘Or I’ll refuse
to have a second born!’

‘Oh?’  Fabian murmured, his velvet gaze following his finger while
it traced a slow line from her wrist to her elbow, up her arm to travel across
her exposed collarbones.  ‘Really?’

‘Oh, curses.’  Mistral sighed, falling helplessly into the liquid
depths of his gaze.  ‘Second born … third born … I think we’re probably
going to have a whole tribe –’

By midday their house was bursting at the seams with the twins, Cain,
Xerxes, Marietta, Brutus, Grendel, Liliana, Samson, Gemma and Leo all crammed
into the living room and spilling out onto the balcony.  Floris had sent a
hamper of food and wine as a gift and the twins were unloading it onto the
kitchen table, watched closely by Prospero. 

‘Clovis sent this for my godson.’  Samson announced, carrying a
wooden crib into the room and placing it by the stairs.  ‘He said
something about you probably not having one yet, despite having had ten months
to get prepared.’

Mistral laughed and walked over to look at the crib; it was solidly
made of dark wood and sat on curved struts.  Nudging it with her foot she
was impressed when it rocked soundlessly with a gentle motion.  Moving her
sleeping baby over into the crook of one arm, she ran a finger down each
spindle, checking for splinters, but each was smoother than glass beneath her
touch.  Mistral smiled fondly, imagining Clovis spending hours making it
and sanding away every last hint of roughness, knowing she wouldn’t have even
thought about needing something like this. 

‘What have you named him?’  Gemma asked, tentatively taking
Mistral’s soundly sleeping son from her proffered arms.

‘Mistral has become uncharacteristically reticent over that one.’
 Phantasm sighed before Mistral could reply.  ‘Apparently my godson’s
name will only be revealed at his Naming Ceremony next week.’

‘He’s going to be named after me.’  Samson whispered to her
confidently.  ‘Mistral just doesn’t know how to break it to the twins.’

Gemma nodded seriously and looked down at the peaceful baby in her
arms, ‘Samson is a good name.  If we have a son I think we should call him
that.’

For possibly the first time in his life Samson was completely at a loss
for words.

‘A toast!’  Leo called loudly from the balcony and raised his
goblet.  ‘To the son and heir of the De Winter name!  And,’ he paused
to smile, displaying a rare flash of humanity, ‘to the proud parents of a
healthy son.  I know not of two more deserving of such a blessing. 
In the life we have chosen death is a part of the very air we breathe, but
today we celebrate a new life and I am deeply honoured to share in their
happiness.’

‘Are you crying?’  Brutus muttered disbelieving.  ‘Oh no, you
are!  Why do I always end up next to you when this happens?  Where’s
Mage De Winter or the twins … or anyone–’

‘Shut-up!’  Mistral sniffed while he placed an arm awkwardly
around her shoulders.

‘Nice dress.’  Xerxes murmured, sidling up beside her.  ‘Is
it my turn for a cuddle now?’