The Seer (58 page)

Fabian smiled
and shifted his thoughts to another of the rooms, until he had shown her all of
the small house.

‘It’s not
home, but it’ll do, I suppose,’ she eventually sighed.

‘Good, now I
wasn’t sure how long to take the lease for, so I have agreed to a year –’

‘A year! 
I damned well hope I’m not going to be pregnant for a year!’

‘Centaurs carry
for eleven months Mistral.’

Mistral had
nothing to say in response to that horrifying piece of news and instantly cast
around for a new topic of conversation, ‘Tell me about the tournament.’ 

‘Yes, please
do!’  Phantom called eagerly, abandoning the pretence of not listening in
on their conversation.  He walked through from the kitchen with two
goblets of wine in his hand and passed one to Fabian.  Ignoring Mistral’s
efforts to take the other, he took a long sip and sank back down into the
armchair by the fire.

‘The full
details will be displayed on notices around the village, and of course, in The
Cloak and Dagger, by the end of the week.’ 

‘So it’s not
going out through the Agents then?’ 

Fabian shook
his head. 

‘Clever.’
 Phantasm lifted his eyebrows approvingly.  ‘No Agent cut to come off
the value, makes the Contract even more desirable.’

‘Does it
really.’  Mistral muttered grumpily.

‘Who will be
presiding over the event?’  Phantasm asked.  ‘Master Sphinx can’t be
seen to be awarding his own Contract to the successful warriors; it would just
look like favouritism.  Surely he can’t be considering asking Mage
Grapple?’

Fabian shook
his head lightly, ‘No to both.’

‘Who
then?’  Phantom mused.  ‘No-one would give credence to anything that
Master Casterton awarded, even if he is the acting Divinus.  Master
Shacklock maybe?  But he doesn’t really hold a prestigious enough position
in the Ri for the job … that only leaves Master Nox, but he’s not exactly
famous for his ability to ride horses; eat them maybe – ’

‘Brother!’

‘Sorry
Mistral, I forgot, if it’s not got tusks and hooves you won’t touch it these
days.’

Mistral pulled
a face at him then looked up at Fabian expectantly, ‘Did he say yes?’

Fabian nodded,
‘He said that he would be honoured.’

‘Not this again!’ 
Phantom complained.  ‘Who?  If you don’t mind sharing!’

‘Imperato of
course,’ said Mistral in a voice that suggested it was painfully obvious. 

‘Of course,
who else would command awe and respect from the warriors?  Their shooting
ability at The Festival of The Arcane was talked about in The Cloak for
months.  I have to say that Master Sphinx really has soared in my
estimations.’  Phantasm confessed.  ‘He has a profound understanding
of the way that warriors think.’

‘That’s
because he is one.’  Fabian said quietly. 

Mistral yawned
and settled herself more comfortably against Fabian’s shoulder.  He looked
down at her sleepy expression and sighed.  ‘We should leave, it’s getting
late and I may have found us a house but there’s no food in it yet –’   

‘Forgive me my
manners, please stay for dinner.’  Phantasm quickly offered. 

Mistral yawned
again, ‘Thanks but we’ll go to The Cloak.’

‘The
Cloak?  How could you choose the tavern over here?’  Phantom gave
Mistral a hurt look.  ‘I’ve even cooked boar pie for you!’

‘Cheap trick.’
 Mistral sighed and tilted her head back to look up at Fabian.  ‘They
want us to stay because they’re hoping you want me to read either Etienne or
Pierre this evening and they want to eavesdrop.’

Fabian’s
expression was instantly guilty, ‘Ah.  Well –’

‘Great.’
 Mistral heaved a sigh and sat up.  ‘Well if I am going to have to
suffer those two you can at least let me have a drink.’

‘Certainly. 
Water or water?’  Phantasm offered politely.

‘Neither
thanks!’  Mistral snapped back.  ‘If it’s not got a frothy head on it
then I’m not reading so much as the time!’

Fabian sighed
and stood up; pulling her upright he took her by the hand and led her over to
the table, already laid out with four places.  A half tankard of ale sat
beside one of the settings.

‘Call yourself
a Seer?’  Phantom teased, sliding onto one of the chairs while his brother
served portions of steaming pie onto their plates. 

Mistral’s
response was mercifully lost in a mouthful of pie.

They ate and
talked about the Council meeting due to take place in the Valley later that
week.  Mistral listened with half an ear while she concentrated on
clearing her plate then going on to take seconds, and then thirds, earning
amazed glances from the twins.  When she eventually pushed her plate away
with a satisfied sigh, Fabian politely enquired if she would like any
more. 

Mistral eyed
the nearly empty pie dish before finally shaking her head, ‘No, I think I’m
full, well for the moment anyway.’

‘Good!’ 
Phantom leapt to his feet and rushed around to pointedly pull her chair back
for her.  ‘I suppose you would be more comfortable reading the Rochfortes
from the sofa?’

With a
martyred air Mistral allowed herself to be hauled over to the sofa while
Phantom scurried around, and plumping the cushions and fussing over her.

‘Comfy
enough?  Like some water?  Do you want to lie down?  Actually,
best not to, you might fall asleep –’

Mistral gave
Fabian a weary glance but he merely smiled and walked over to stand in front of
the fire.  The twins quickly resumed their places in the armchairs and
Mistral was suddenly faced with an audience watching her from the across the
room.

‘Oh, there’s
nothing like the pressure to perform,’ she muttered under her breath, adding
more clearly.  ‘Who first?’

‘Pierre.’
 Fabian replied before either of the twins could respond. 

Mistral nodded
and closed her eyes.  Drawing in a deep breath she pushed the pleasant
feelings of being full and warm out of her mind and called up the weather-beaten
features of the old Mage, concentrating on his toothless smile rather than the
bitter hatred behind his eyes.  The memory was so recent that with almost
no effort at all his laughing face appeared in her mind.  She studied the
watery blue eyes and red-veined face carefully, looking for any resemblance to
the cold haughtiness of Etienne ... the shape of his brow, the curve of his
nose ... any slight similarity she and Fabian may have overlooked that would
have indicated the relationship between the two.  But apart from the blue
eyes, any features they may once have shared had been eradicated by time. 
Channelling her attention to focus purely on his eyes, Mistral looked into
them, to look through them, to
See
–

The atmosphere
in the room tightened.  Three sets of eyes watched intently as a blank
look stole across her face.  She frowned vaguely then continued to gaze
mistily at nothing.

The seconds
lengthened into minutes but still Mistral did not speak.  The room filled
with a growing feeling of suspense that gradually became unbearable. 
Phantom was tapping his foot anxiously and chewing his fingernails, by contrast
Phantasm was completely motionless, staring at Mistral with almost painful
intensity.  Fabian was regarding her with a look of concern on his face.

‘What do you
See Mistral?’  He finally asked in a worried voice.

She smiled
dreamily in response to his question, ‘I See … nothing … but I feel ... peace
–’

‘Damn
it!’ 

Fabian
immediately strode across the room and knelt beside her.  Taking both of her
hands in his he began to speak to her in a low voice, calling her back, telling
her about the life they led together, the child they were expecting.

The twins
shared a perplexed look but did not intervene.

Fabian
continued to talk to Mistral but he could have been speaking to a block of
stone.  She gazed unseeingly into the middle distance with a look of bliss
on her face.  Fabian abruptly took her face in his hands and kissed her
fiercely.  She gave a loud gasp and blinked, gazing into his eyes in confusion.

‘How do you
feel?’  he asked quickly.

Her eyes slid
out of focus again and Fabian immediately called her name sharply.  She
frowned irritably.  ‘What?’

‘Stay with me
Mistral, look at me, see me –’

His words
pricked a memory in Mistral’s mind.  She had said those very same words to
her dying brother.

Dying ...

         
... Dead.

‘Pierre’s dead
isn’t he?’  she said quietly.

Fabian nodded
then frowned, ‘I knew that one day you would read someone that had already
passed, the Divinus told me what to do when that happened.  He said it was
a dangerously beguiling experience, I think it was what led to his obsession
with necromancy.’

‘It’s –’
Mistral shook her head wonderingly and searched for a word to describe what she
had experienced.  ‘Glorious.’

She fell
silent for a moment, the crackling of the fire and Prospero’s gentle snoring
the only sounds to break the stillness in the room.  The twins were
contemplating her with odd looks on their faces, somewhere between fascination
and fear.  The lure of the unknown.

‘Is that why
you were telling me all about our life?’  Mistral asked suddenly.

‘I was trying
to give you reasons to come back.’

‘I could
barely hear you.’  Mistral’s voice dropped to an awed whisper.  ‘You
were like a voice in a dream, and what I was feeling was the reality, not
you.’  She shivered and looked at him, her expression suddenly fearful.
 ‘Would I have come back if you hadn’t made me?’

‘Eventually.’
 Fabian’s expression was guarded.

‘Eventually?’

‘The Divinus
described spending days at a time in death trances, but he said that he always
returned.’

‘How come he
didn’t die of thirst?’  Mistral asked with a burst of morbid curiosity.

‘The body
shuts down, like hibernation.  It’s just the mind that holds the
connection.’

Mistral stared
at him silently for a moment then shook her head, ‘I can’t believe that
anything would have the power to take me away from you.  But I would have
stayed there!  It was –’

‘Heaven,’ said
Phantasm quietly.

Mistral gave
him a startled look, ‘Not my idea of heaven brother, I assure you!’

‘No roast boar
I take it?’  Phantom quipped and Mistral laughed.

The tension in
the room suddenly lifted.  Mistral drew in a deep breath and became
business-like again.  ‘One down, one to go –’

Closing her
eyes she called up the less pleasant memory of Etienne’s face, forcing her mind
to recall every detail with absolute clarity; the fair hair swept back from a
wide forehead, the narrow, aristocratic nose, the disdainful set of his
mouth.  Mistral could see him so clearly that it made her lip curl with
hatred.  Focussing solely on the piercing blue eyes, she felt the
unsettling sensation of tumbling helplessly head over heels, down into the icy
cold pools of his eyes.

This time
Fabian remained by her side, holding her hands and watching her face intently,
ready to pull her from her trance at the slightest indication that Etienne was
also dead.

‘I See … 
Etienne … he is cold ... oh!  So
cold
… it is dark –’

Mistral
frowned and repeated some disjointed words in French.  Fabian didn’t react
but the twins shared a horrified look.  Mistral fell silent and gazed into
nothingness with a slightly puzzled look on her face.

‘Come back
Mistral.’  Fabian urged her gently.  ‘Come away –’

The sound of
his voice drew her from her trance.  She blinked and looked at him in
confusion.  ‘I don’t understand where he was.  I’m not sure he did
either.’

Fabian’s
expression was impenetrable, ‘Tell me what you Saw.’

Mistral stared
off into space while she recalled her vision, ‘It was dark, so dark! 
Etienne … he was confused … he wasn’t thinking in sentences, just really odd
disconnected words, but there was no emotion in them.  It was almost like
he was empty.  Oh!’  Her face cleared and she looked almost pleased
with herself.  ‘There was one word he kept thinking! 
Oubliette
I think it was.’

The twins
stirred uncomfortably and Mistral glanced at them, ‘What does it mean?’ 
she asked, turning back to Fabian with a frown.

‘To forget.’

‘And it’s a
place, a dungeon to be precise.’  Phantasm continued in a flat
voice.  ‘The only way in or out is through a hatch set in the
ceiling.  The prisoner is thrown down and left to go insane and eventually
die.’

Mistral stared
at him in horror, ‘Why not just kill him?’ 

‘It’s a form
of torture.’  Fabian explained quietly.  ‘And this time it was
intended to be inflicted on you too.  I am glad that you didn’t read him
any earlier or you may have entered his mind when he was still raving.  At
least he is calm now; close to the end.’

‘He’s been
stuck down there since we left?’

Fabian
regarded her expressionlessly, ‘Without a doubt.  He failed Mistral, and
Rochfortes do not tolerate failure.’ 

Mistral closed
her eyes and felt her shoulder drop, ‘You mean to say that I put you through
hell on quayside and I nearly drowned just so that I can either read a dead
Rochforte or one that’s gone mad?’

‘There is one
other option.’  Phantasm reminded her quietly.

Mistral shot
him a black look, ‘No way.’

‘Please
Mistral.’  Fabian said softly.  ‘Try.’

‘He told about
his idea didn’t he?’  Mistral snapped her gaze back to Fabian and was
instantly trapped.  Completely at the mercy of his black stare, the
strength to refuse his request vanished along with her ability to think
rationally, or think at all when Fabian gave her a half smile, his guilty
smile.