The Seer (6 page)

‘I hate my
job,’ she muttered, her face contorting into a grimace of distaste. 

What??

‘Tell you
later,’ she murmured, taking some small satisfaction from the impatience she
instantly felt in response.

Malachi
stepped forward, his face cast into sharp relief by the unforgiving light of the
bright winter’s day and the burning pyre.  He began his speech, his
clipped tones magnified to address the crowd in something like a staccato
shout.

‘The Divinus
leaves a void that must be filled by a strong and determined leader.  We
need a new Divinus, one with a clear vision of the future and a desire to see
the continued existence of the Ri beyond restrictive rule!  We must seek
new ties and new beginnings!  The Isle is ripe for change … let this be
the herald of such brave times!’ 

He stepped
back again to a deafening silence broken only by the hungry roar of the funeral
pyre.  The twins shared a meaningful look and Mistral nodded in agreement
to their unspoken words.  Malachi was clearly stating his intention to
lead them away from the Council should he be elected as Divinus. 

Uh-oh, it’s
Master Sphinx’s turn …
Mistral looked over at her brother-in-law.  He
was the light to Fabian’s dark, yet so bleak and barren compared to the rich
love that lived within her Mage.

‘There are no
words that can express the depth of gratitude the Isle owe to the lifetime of
dedication given by this Divinus.  I ask you all to remember him as
Aloysius Broadoak, an exceptionally gifted individual.’

Leo stepped
back, bowing his head respectfully.  The twins shared frankly astounded
looks and even Mistral was impressed.  Leo had been respectful and
succinct; rare on both counts.

Mage Grapple
left the protection of his four menacing warlocks and stepped forward into the
glare of the pyre, the flames shedding unflattering light across the multitude
of scars gouged into his face.  He gazed at the burning coffin for a long
moment before turning to address the gathering of mourners.

‘Today I
honour the passing of someone I greatly admired.  A rare and pure soul
possessed of an unfailing consistency to place the good of our Isle above his
own needs or wants.  His life should serve as inspiration to us all, for
how many of us can lay claim to such selflessness or profess to such complete
absence of guile?  To know what it is to have pride, but be not
proud?  Aloysius Broadoak … the Divinus, shall ever remain the eternally
divine.’

Mage Grapple
looked again at the burning funeral pyre before striding back to resume his
position amongst his warlock guard.  A hush fell while the crowd around
the pyre jointly bowed their heads in a silent moment of respect. 

 ‘Ah,’
Phantom let out a long sigh.  ‘Now that’s how to make a speech.’

‘Brother! 
Are you crying?’

‘No!’

‘Yes you
are!  I can see tears in those green things you call eyes!’

A load roar
erupted from the mass of Arcanes, Mage and Ri gathered around the pyre. 
Mistral felt the stirrings of pride in her heart at the noise, the simple
celebration of a life worth living.  She thought of the few short hours
she had spent in the company of the Divinus, his calm direction and belief in
her ability to master her gift, the time he had freely given to show her the
mind of her Mage when he was away from her, to help her cope with his
absence.  He had found time for such small kindnesses whilst the burden of
the Ri’s weightier issues must have still hovered over him like a sword
dangling on a fine thread.

‘Now who’s
crying?’  Phantom chided with a grin.

‘Oh, do one
brother,’ she muttered, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her expensive velvet
cloak.

‘Don’t do
that!’  Phantasm immediately hissed.  ‘You have no idea what I had to
do to get that!’    

‘I do
actually.’  Mistral sniffed into her sleeve.  ‘And you’re right, it
was unpleasant.’

The crowd
around the pyre began to dissipate, moving instinctively towards the welcoming
warmth of The Cloak and Dagger.  Mistral gazed longingly after her
brothers; laughing with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders in
companionable closeness while they made their way towards the tavern.

Phantasm
followed her longing gaze, ‘That time has gone Mistral.  You have other
commitments now.’

‘I know,’ she
sighed.  ‘But I wish it were different.’

‘Wishes are a
waste of time.  You must accept the hand that you have been dealt.’

‘Ah, but
Xerxes has banned me from cards, or didn’t you know?’

‘Don’t be so
flippant Mistral!’

‘Phantom,
Phantasm.  A word please.’

Leo’s glacial
tones cut across their whispered conversation. 

‘Of course
Master Sphinx.’  Phantasm’s tone was instantly cool and professional, his
gaze betraying none of the petty bickering he and Mistral had been indulging in
only seconds before.

‘Here!’ 
Phantom pressed something cold and hard into her hand.  ‘We wanted to give
you this with a bit more ceremony, but needs must when Master Sphinx
calls!  See you in a bit!’

Mistral nodded
automatically and watched the twins hurry after Leo before looking down to see
a key with a scarlet bow tied around the handle laid in her open palm, ‘Oh!’

‘I’m not sure
I like other men giving you a key to their house.’  Fabian muttered
tensely in her ear.

‘Never mind
that,’ she hissed back.  ‘We’ve got the key to an empty house and they’ll
be gone for ages!’

Fabian stared
at her for the briefest of moments before almost dragging her across the
square, ignoring the polite greetings of the various delegates and officials
that he swept past, towing Mistral in his wake. 

The twins
returned to their house later to find a picture of cosy warmth.  Mistral
was curled against Fabian on the sofa, Prospero spread before the lit fire like
a huge fur rug. 

‘Good
meeting?’  Mistral enquired, smiling at their grumpy expressions.

‘Riveting.’
 Phantom responded irritably.  ‘Mage Grapple gave Master Sphinx a
schedule of Council meetings that he wants us to attend.  It’s as long as
my arm!’

‘I wouldn’t
look so smug if I were you Mistral.’  Phantasm glanced meaningfully at her
comfortable position on the sofa.  ‘He wants to see you … now.’

‘He can
whistle.’  Mistral snuggled more deeply into Fabian’s arms.

‘I’m sure he
can, but he still wants to see you.  So come on, we had better get you
into your dress for the Tribute Banquet.’

‘Another
one?’  Mistral looked dismayed.

‘Yes, it’s
terribly passé to be seen in the same dress for a daytime and evening event.’

‘Is it
really.’  Mistral muttered, still not moving.  ‘Consider me passé
then.’

‘Absolutely
not.  What you wear is a direct reflection on Mage De Winter, never mind
my brother and I.  So, if you have no objections Mage De Winter, I would
like to ensure that your wife is suitably attired for the banquet.’

Fabian smiled
and released Mistral from his arms.  She shot him a reproachful look as
she was yanked upright by Phantasm and dragged up the stairs, back to the
daunting array of dresses.

‘Black or dark
red?’  he mused, running a practised eye along the selection.

‘Neither.’
 Mistral muttered sullenly.  ‘I’m fine as I am, or would be, if I
were in trousers.’

‘Don’t be
ridiculous!’  Phantasm snapped and pulled out a blood red dress. 
‘Right, I’ll unfasten the buttons then you can put this one on.’

Mistral let
out a deep sigh and sat heavily on the stool while Phantasm walked around
behind her to begin unfastening the long row of pearl buttons.

Phantasm let
out an angry noise,
‘Mistral!’

She started,
‘What?’

‘Why are there
two buttons missing from your dress?’

At Phantasm’s
repeated insistence Mistral finally threw the mirror a cautious glance. 
She knew whatever she saw there would only catapult her into a whole new
stratosphere of anxiety.  As it turned out, she was completely unprepared for
the dramatic image that met her eyes.  She stared, transfixed by the sight
of some woman dressed in a silk gown of deepest blood red.  The high
collar gave way to a plunging neck line that held her horrified gaze for what
felt like several hours before she finally managed to force herself to examine
the rest; a fitted sheaf of sheer silk that swept down to the
floor.   

‘I thought the
sleeves would be ideal for tonight.’  Phantasm informed her while he
brushed a non-existent speck of dust from her dress. 

‘The
sleeves?’  she echoed disbelievingly, eyeing the dramatic ensemble again
with fresh horror.  He had dressed her in from head to toe a sock of blood
red silk, apart from a damned great chunk missing from the front … and he was
talking about
sleeves
? 

‘Yes, bell
sleeves,’ he shifted his attention to her hair, coiling the long plait up in a
tight bun.  ‘They’re perfect for concealing any gestures you make in
code.’

Mistral
glanced down at the long fitted sleeves of her dress.  They flared out at
the end to drape over her wrists and cover the tops of her hands.  ‘Oh,
right –’

‘There.’ 
Phantasm stepped back with a note of satisfaction in his voice.  ‘I would
ask your opinion but you’re not suitably qualified to be allowed one … so come
on, we need to get you downstairs.’

‘Don’t even
think about it!’  Mistral snarled when he approached her with his arms
held out.  ‘I can walk!’

‘Fine, but if
you fall you’re paying for that dress.’

Muttering
something rude about not being suitably qualified to make that kind of payment,
Mistral made her way towards the top of the stairs, hampered by the close
fitting dress.

‘Small
steps!’  Phantasm instructed in a brisk tone, watching her teetering
precariously at the top of the stairs. 

Mistral
glowered at him over her shoulder and bent to gather up the hem of her dress to
free her legs. 

‘I don’t think
so!’  Phantasm snapped, jerking her hands away.  ‘You’ll mark the
silk!’

‘Fabian!’ 
Mistral immediately shouted from the top of the stairs.  ‘Please come and
get me or kill Phantasm!  Actually, can you please do both!’

Fabian’s
expression when he appeared at the bottom of the stairs was worth suffering a
thousand tedious hours being force-dressed by Phantasm.  His dark eyes
widened and he actually froze with one foot raised to mount first step.

‘You look –’
he began and paused, at a loss for words.

‘Red?’ 
she suggested acidly.

‘Stunning.’

He ran lightly
up the stairs and gathered her carefully into his arms before carrying her down
again, gazing at her with eyes of liquid night, starless and sublime.

‘Not bad, red
riding hood.’  Phantom commented, standing up and stretching. 
‘Right, we’ll get changed then we need to hear what you Saw.’ 

‘Please don’t
expect me to dress like this all the time.’  Mistral whispered, meeting
Fabian’s appreciative look with reservation.  ‘I am much happier in
trousers and I really don’t think I could ride in this ridiculous outfit.’

‘I am much
happier when you are not dressed at all.’  Fabian growled, catching her
around the waist.

‘Please don’t
crush the silk!’  Phantasm shouted irritably from upstairs.

Fabian threw a
dark glance towards the stairs and reluctantly let her go, ‘Tomorrow.  We
are definitely going home,’ he muttered to her.

‘Tomorrow.’ 
Mistral smiled and turned to walk over to the fire, tripping slightly on the
long hem of the dress.  ‘Damn thing!’  She scowled down at the gown
then nudged Prospero out of the way with the toe of her boot to take his place
in front of the fire.  The sun was beginning to set on the shortest day of
the year and it was already bitterly cold. 

‘Tell me what
you Saw today.’  Fabian asked softly, walking over to take hold of her
hands.

‘Well,’ she
began in a low voice then paused to throw a wary glance at the stairs to make
sure the twins weren’t about to reappear.  ‘There was something odd with
Leo –’

‘Oh
yes?’  Fabian’s expression was suddenly sharp.

‘I could hear
his thoughts straight away, almost like yours and the twins.  Normally I
have to read an aura first, but his were just there for me to read.’

‘Do you think
it’s just your gift growing in strength?’

Mistral shook
her head, ‘I was reading people throughout the ceremony and I had to call up
their auras first before I could See their thoughts.’

Fabian’s brow creased
as he stared thoughtfully into the fire.  Suddenly he let out a low
exclamation.  ‘Of course!  Blood.’

Mistral looked
at him blankly.

‘Leo and I
share the same blood.’  Fabian explained quickly.  ‘We are
brothers.  You and I have a connection so strong that it extends to him
also as my blood runs in his veins too.’

Mistral
suppressed a shudder, ‘You are nothing like him!’

‘Oh, I know we
look different, but in essence we are the same.’

Mistral shook
her head vehemently, ‘No you’re not!  He’s
so
cold!  His
thoughts are like ice Fabian!  There’s no love in that man, just cold
purpose and bitterness!’

‘Do not be so
quick to judge him Mistral.  He’s just like I was before I found you.’

‘No!  You
were never that cold!  Even before me you knew love.  You – you loved
Emiror –’

Fabian smiled
softly and reached out to stroke her cheek, but she turned her head, avoiding
his eyes,

‘Mistral,’ he
forced her to look at him.  ‘I never loved Emiror.  I was consumed
with the notion of love.’

Mistral forced
herself to hold his eyes, needing to see them to erase the fear and jealousy
that always sprang up whenever she even thought of Fabian loving another.

‘I know,’ he
murmured, his smile suddenly turning sad.  ‘Golden.’

Mistral
dropped her gaze guiltily, ‘I can’t help it.  She forced me to feel every
worst fear about you, and it comes back so easily.  I’m sorry –’

Fabian’s eyes
followed his fingertip, slowly tracing the line of her jaw.  He trailed it
lightly down her neck to caress the skin laid bare by the deep neckline of her
dress, ‘You have nothing to apologise for.  And, even if you did, I think
I could probably forgive you almost anything in that dress.’

‘It is rather
a show-stopper isn’t it?’  Phantom agreed, walking smugly into the room
followed by his twin. 

Mistral looked
at them, they were wearing black silk shirts the same as Fabian’s.  The
combination of the glossy black material next to their ivory pale skin,
startling green eyes and blonde hair went far beyond being eye-catching or even
striking; it was completely jaw-dropping.

‘Yes, I think
we are going to turn a few heads tonight,’ agreed Phantom, catching her look.

Mistral
laughed, ‘So modest!’ 

‘Oh, I think
he meant the three of us actually,’ said Phantasm, adjusting the cuff on one of
his shirts.

‘Er, four!’
 Mistral corrected, quickly stepping closer to Fabian.

‘Sorry
Mistral.’  Fabian shook his head softly.  ‘I shall be seated with
Mage Grapple as their consort.  You will be sat with the Magnate to
officially assume your role as Seer to the Ri.’

‘I won’t have
you with me?’  Mistral asked, looking suddenly terrified.

‘You always
have me with you.’  Fabian frowned slightly.  ‘But just on the other
side of the room tonight.’

‘Enough of the
nervous act Mistral.’  Phantasm said sternly and strode over to collect a
pitcher of wine and four goblets from the kitchen.  ‘We will toast the
passing of the Divinus together then spend a few minutes planning our
strategy.’

‘Give me two
then.’  Mistral muttered, reaching out both hands to take two full goblets
from him.

‘Don’t you
dare get drunk and pick a fight tonight!’  Phantasm threatened, passing
her a half-f goblet.  ‘Now, do you want us to use our gift and ease
those ridiculous butterflies you insist on suffering whenever you enter a room
with more than two people in it?’

‘No I do
not!  I’ve told you before I don’t ever want you meddling in my
head!’  Mistral snapped.  ‘Oh!  And thank you for having such
faith in my sense of occasion!’

‘You have
absolutely no sense of occasion!  And I guess we should just be grateful
that there are no goblins in attendance!’

‘Before we get
into that argument, can you please tell us what you Saw today?’  Phantom
interrupted, throwing himself onto the sofa and fixing her with an impatient
look. 

‘I suppose
so.’  Mistral sighed and took a sip of wine and grimaced.  ‘This
tastes horrible!’

Phantom took a
sip of his own and gave her a strange look, ‘It’s fine!  I think your
nerves are getting the better of you!’

Mistral
ignored him and set the goblet down on the mantelpiece before continuing,
‘Let’s start with the charmingly sanguine vampire then.  I could get a
read on him, but not totally clear.  His thoughts were fuzzy, like he was
talking underwater,’ she frowned and gazed unseeingly into space, recalling the
vision of his aura and the thoughts she had heard.  ‘Pure hatred, the
likes of which I’ve never seen … not even in Columbine’s aura or Putreo’s ...
he really is
evil
.  His thoughts … such as I could hear … were
filled with desire for revenge on the Council for what he sees as an enforced
exile in the mountains of the north.  He thinks that his tribe should be
allowed to hunt freely across the Isle with no restrictions on prey.’

‘How lovely.’
 Phantom murmured.

‘He sees
Malachi as their chance to gain a position at the Council … which I don’t fully
understand,’ she paused and looked questioningly at Fabian. 

‘The Divinus
of the Ri is automatically allocated a seat at the Council.’  Fabian
explained.  ‘Together with the reserves of gold Malachi has been building
up over the years, I fear he would have enough influence to force through a
change of policy with regards to the vampire tribe.’

‘What’s in it
for Malachi?’  Phantom asked, gazing expectantly at Mistral.

‘Family
loyalty.’  Mistral said with a shrug.  ‘Malachi is his son, I Saw
that quite clearly.  He was raised by the tribe when his mother gave him
up after he was born.  Malachi has a deep underlying hatred of Mages
stemming from her rejection.’

‘And what else
did you See in Malachi’s thoughts?’

Mistral
frowned, ‘He was being very clever not to think about his plans.  I could
see in his aura that he was excited by the prospect of something, but I
couldn’t hear
what
.  He was bored by the proceedings and angry,
just generally angry that is, not about anything in particular.  But as to
his actual thoughts … very little to report I’m sorry to say.  He hates
Leo, and despises Mycroft … in fact he pretty much hates everyone … he thinks
he can become the next Divinus, I Saw that much … but I couldn’t See how he
hopes to achieve his ambitions.’

‘What a
winning personality that man has!’  Phantom exclaimed.

‘Did you hear
any thoughts about the trade in ingredients for illegal potions?’ 
Phantasm asked quickly.

‘No.’ Mistral
looked up with a frown.  ‘I thought that had all gone to ground now
Putreo’s dead.’

‘Mage De’ath
has been given the position of Councillor for Foreign Travel – Putreo’s old
position,’ Fabian said quietly.

‘Oh, and
you’re worried he’s going to embrace all aspects of the job description,
including the juicy side-line in endangering our existence by flogging dodgy
potions overseas?’ 

Phantasm gave
her a cold look, ‘Please, don’t be so flippant Mistral.  We need to
know.  Can you find out tonight?’

‘Sorry
brother, I forget that he’s your step-father.’

‘Actually, he
isn’t.  He refused to have anything to do with us.  That’s why we
ended up back at the tribe when our mother married him.’

Mistral
nodded.  She recalled the twins’ story of their mother’s remarriage. 
It had left them both deeply embittered.  ‘Of course I’ll read him, but
please point him out clearly to me or I could waste time in a lot of different
minds for absolutely no reason at all tonight.’

‘And that
would be so unlike you wouldn’t it?  To be in several different minds at
once!’  Phantom muttered, taking a long drink from his wine.

Mistral pulled
a face at him and quickly composed herself again when she caught the reproving
look on Phantasm’s face. 

‘So we’re
agreed on the code?  Just reverse the Ri’s one?’  Phantasm asked
briskly.