The Seer (88 page)

‘Got money for
this pony you want then?  Or is it going to be put on my slate?’ 
Clovis demanded in his typically abrupt manner.

‘I’ve got money,
thanks anyway Clovis,’ she laughed and led Cirrus over to the mounting block,
her laughter swiftly dying away at another painful reminder of how ungainly her
body had become.  She could no longer haul herself into the saddle
unaided.   

‘Good, because
I’m going to need all my credit today.  I’m after some mares to breed with
that firebrand stallion of Grendel’s.’  Clovis continued while they rode
out of the stableyard. 

‘More
firebrands?’  Mistral asked eagerly.

‘I don’t think
so.’  Clovis frowned.  ‘Good blood, but too hard for most warriors to
handle – I thought maybe some mountain stock.’

‘Mountain
stock?  Too sturdy!’  Mistral exclaimed.  ‘You need some racing
blood in with that firebrand!’

‘They need to
go into battle too Mistral!  Not just run like the wind!’

‘I know
that!’  she snapped.  ‘Well, how about some Emerald Forest then?
 Bryden’s tribe swear by them.’

‘Huh! 
Elven breeds … too prone to tendon trouble –’

Mistral and
Clovis argued the various good and bad points of different breeds for most of
the ride, eventually coming to the agreement that a Southern Downs mare would
offer both speed and a placid nature to compliment the firebrand’s strength and
fiery temperament.

‘What pony you
want for this child of yours then?’  Clovis demanded once the issue of
what mares to buy had been settled.

‘Not mountain
… I don’t care if they are sturdy and reliable, they’re dull.’

‘Dawn Forest
then.’  Clovis said decisively.  ‘Nice clean lines, good temperament
… bit mischievous though.’

‘Come on
Clovis, that’s hardly going to be an issue!’  Mistral laughed. 

Clovis gave a
rare smile, transforming his craggy features into the face of a younger man;
making Mistral think of the real reason she was travelling to the horse
fair.  They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence, speaking
again only when they reached the small market town of Brintor and dismounted
from their horses.

‘Give me
Cirrus.’  Clovis muttered gruffly, taking the reins from her.  ‘I’ll
see him into the enclosure.’

‘Er, thanks –’
Mistral was too surprised to argue, it was unheard of for Clovis to be
helpful.  ‘I’ll see you back here in a bit,’ she added quickly, before he
could offer to escort her around the market; the last thing she wanted was
Clovis hanging round and ruining her plans.

‘Want any help
picking that pony?’

‘No thanks!’
 Mistral waved over her shoulder as she walked off.  ‘I can
manage!’ 

‘Don’t get
ripped off!’  He shouted after her. 

‘As if!’ 
Laughing to herself, Mistral walked quickly away, drinking in the sights and
sounds of the busy market town, enjoying the rare treat of being anonymous,
just another potential buyer perusing the various goods on sale.

Drawn in by a
stall specialising in leather goods, Mistral stopped to examine several of the
items before haggling with the vendor only to still part with a small fortune
for a belt and a pair of boots for Fabian.  Shoving her purchases into her
saddlebag, she wandered happily along the rows of stalls, loitering for a while
to stare longingly at a display of unusual elf-crafted weaponry, finally
forcing herself on again before she succumbed to the lure of a set of throwing
stars.  Hurrying past the plump woman who tried to sell her some honey
cakes, Mistral suddenly found herself in the area of the market where horses
were sold.  A series of makeshift pens had been erected in the centre of
the market square, each pen tightly packed with nervously milling horses of
every size and colour; from stocky, heavy coated mountain ponies to elegant
desert breeds, prancing excitedly up and down the fence.  Mistral walked
around the entire collection of pens twice before she spotted what she was
looking for.  Next to a pen full of shaggy piebalds being sold by a
swarthy-faced goblin, Mistral could see a much larger pen holding several
different breeds, all looking neatly turned out and healthy; but it was the
vendor she was really interested in.  An elven woman, tall and
strong-looking, with blue eyes and blonde hair tied back in a thick
plait.  Mistral studied her from across the square.  The lily-white
skin of Samson’s ballad was tanned by the sun, the free looks lined from a
lifetime of hard-work in the unforgiving mountain seasons; but the eyes were
unaltered by the passing of time and remained a startling sapphire blue.

She had found
Gemma. 

Mistral walked
over to look at the ponies she was selling.

‘See something
you like?’  Gemma strode over to give her a cool look, obviously used to
time wasters. 

‘Um yes, I’m
looking for a pony for my … baby.’  Mistral said and instantly felt
ridiculous.  She didn’t want to say “son” as that would only either make
Gemma think she was mad, or make her realise that Mistral had some sort of gift
and instantly treat her with suspicion.

Gemma eyed her
pregnant body and laughed, ‘Well, forward planning pays off, or so I’m told,
although I think it’ll be a while before yours is ready to ride!’

‘I wouldn’t
count on it.’  Mistral sighed.  ‘I think this one’s going to be born
in the saddle.’

Gemma smiled
in a way that suggested she was used to humouring over-indulgent parents,
 ‘I have some good steady northern breeds,’  she said and gestured
towards a couple of stocky mountain ponies.

Mistral
wrinkled her nose, ‘I was after a Dawn Forest actually.’

Gemma nodded
approvingly, quickly revising her opinion of Mistral, ‘In that case, there’s a
rather fine gelding you might like to have a look at.’

She let
herself into the enclosure and shoved the ponies aside to find the one she
wanted and lead him out for Mistral to inspect.

Mistral ran a practised
eye over the pony Gemma presented.  It was neat and compact rather than
sturdy and had clear eyes that glinted with more than a hint of spirit. 
His glossy coat was jet-black apart from a single white star on his forehead.

‘What’s his
name?’  Mistral asked while she ran a hand down each of his legs, feeling
for any tell-tale signs of old injuries.

‘Star
Eclipse.’

Mistral hid a
smile. 
Perfect. 
‘What’s his temperament like?’ 

Gemma
shrugged, her blue eyes suddenly veiled, ‘He’s got character.’

Mistral
instantly grinned, ‘I’ll take him.’

They haggled
briefly over the price to settle on a sum that would leave Mistral’s purse
sadly depleted. 

‘Good choice.’
 Gemma smiled and held out her hand to shake Mistral’s.

‘I think so
too.’  Mistral murmured, returning the strong grip of Gemma’s
work-calloused hand. 

Mistral
counted out the silver coins from her purse and dropped them into Gemma’s open
palm, pulling one extra out she held it up and gave Gemma a questioning look.

‘Could you
deliver him?  Only I’ve got a bit of a handful of a horse to ride back and
I don’t think he’ll take too well to me leading a pony too.’

‘Of
course.’  Gemma quickly took the extra coin.  ‘Which village do you
live in?’

‘Well, it’s
not a village actually.  It’s the Ri Valley.’

Gemma’s face
instantly fell.  Her blue eyes ran over Mistral, taking in the hilts of
her daggers protruding from the tops of her boots and the tell-tale black
clothing.  ‘You’re a Ri warrior?’

Mistral
smiled.  Of all the unwanted labels that had ever been applied to her;
apprentice, wife, Seer,
Lady
… that was one she was more than proud to
have.  ‘Yes I am.’

Gemma’s blue
eyes clouded, ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t deliver him to the Valley ... you’ll have
to take him today.’

‘Oh that’s a
shame.’  Mistral sighed regretfully.  ‘I’ll have to leave him then,
only my firebrand really will kick him to pieces on the way back … and he’s
such a nice pony –’

‘Firebrand?’ 
Gemma’s fingers closed over the silver coins in her palm, her other hand
resting protectively against the pony’s neck.  ‘Oh no, that would never do
– ’

Mistral kept a
poker face while she held her hand out pointedly for the money, ‘Like I said,
it’s a shame.’ 

Gemma’s brow
creased, the weight of the coins in her hand battling against her desire to
never set foot back in the Valley, ‘Oh, alright then,’ she sighed in defeat as
the need for the silver coins in her hand won.  ‘Tomorrow?’ 

Mistral’s face
suddenly went vague then she smiled, ‘Can you make it late afternoon?’

Gemma eyed her
strangely and nodded.

‘See you
tomorrow then!’  Mistral said brightly and gave her son’s new pony a pat
before turning and walking back to find Clovis.

Clovis was
waiting for her at the enclosure wearing a scowl and hanging on to the
leadropes of six fidgeting mares.

‘Why d’you
look so happy?’  he demanded grumpily.

‘Just bought a
pony,’ she replied nonchalantly.

Clovis looked
behind her expectantly, ‘Well either it’s damned small, or you’ve been ripped
off, because I don’t see any pony!’

‘Don’t worry
Clovis!’  Mistral laughed.  ‘He’s being delivered tomorrow.’

Clovis raised
both eyebrows at her, ‘Delivered now is it,
Lady
De Winter?’

Mistral shot
him a black look, ‘Want a hand with those horses, or what?’

Monday morning
was never a favourite time for the apprentices.  They were usually
suffering after a long Sunday spent in The Cloak and Dagger, but that
particular Monday was even worse than usual for them.  The gargillian hunt
had been, in Fabian’s words “challenging” which meant nearly impossible to
anyone with less skill and experience than him.  He hadn’t said a lot more
about it to Mistral, and his thoughts had revealed nothing, which was usual
when Fabian wanted to avoid a matter, but the first years were looking
considerably worse for wear, which made Mistral think it must have been a
tougher hunt than he was letting on.

‘What is up
with them today?’  Mistral demanded when one of the apprentices missed the
target for the third time in a row, his arrow going wide and neatly striking
one of the fence posts. 

‘I think their
confidence has been knocked by their performance yesterday.’  Fabian
admitted with a sigh.

‘Was it that
bad?’ 

‘Four are in
the Infirmary.’

‘Sounds like
it was a pretty good hunt then!’

Fabian gave
her a dark look then strode over to correct the aim of the apprentice intent on
decorating the Arena fence with more of his arrows. 

By lunchtime
even Fabian was growing exasperated by their continued failure to hit anything
other than the fence and, in a fluke shot that secretly impressed Mistral, a
sparrow that had made the mistake of flying over one of the targets.

‘Couldn’t hit
a barn door at five paces!’  Mistral exclaimed to the twins over lunch in
The Cloak.  ‘We’re going to send them to the stables this afternoon to
work for Clovis, I think even Fabian’s run out of patience today.’

‘Afternoon off
then?’  Phantom asked.

Mistral shook
her head, ‘There’s about twenty arrows scattered around the paddock that need
retrieving, it’s a wonder they didn’t hit some of the damned horses!’

‘Too small.’
 Phantom said.  ‘And too challenging, horses tend to move.’

Mistral gave
him a scathing look, ‘There was a time when you weren’t so hot with the bow,
brother.’

‘Ah, but I am
now.’  Phantom replied smugly.  ‘And that gives me the right to be
condescending.’

‘You were born
with that right.’  Phantasm muttered under his breath, adding in a louder
voice.  ‘Are you and Mage De Winter still coming to eat at ours tonight?’

Mistral
sighed, ‘By which you mean am I going to allow you to bribe me with food so
that I’ll read Malachi again?’

Phantasm gave
her his angel’s smile, ‘It’s roast beef.’

‘You know that
I won’t always be so easily won over by food don’t you?’  Mistral
scowled.  ‘He will be born one day, and I won’t be ruled by my cravings
anymore!’

‘Ah but then I
can offer to babysit –’

Mistral swore
under her breath, realising that for the foreseeable future the twins’ were
going to be able to bend her to their will far too easily.

‘Please don’t
swear Mistral, I’m sure my godson doesn’t want to hear that kind of language
from his mother.’

Mistral gave
Phantasm a disbelieving look and offered him a few choice words, finishing with
a snapped, ‘And you can forget dinner!  If you’re just going to nag me the
whole time then I’m not coming!’

‘Of course we
will be there, Phantasm, thank you for the offer.’  Fabian said smoothly
and sat down to join them.

‘Where’ve you
been?’  Mistral looked at him irritably.  ‘Oh, don’t tell me I
already know.’

‘I don’t.’
 Phantom said quickly and looked at Fabian.  ‘So please feel free to
continue.’

‘Leo wants to
replace Malachi in the Magnate.  He’s drawn up a list of suitable names,
and we were just going through them.’

‘Are you going
to take it or not?’  Mistral demanded, still grumpy at being bossed by the
twins. 

Fabian smiled
and held her gaze for a moment, his face thoughtful.

‘Good,’ she
said.

‘I hate it
when you two do this!’  Phantom muttered.

‘No, I am
not.’  Fabian said, looking at Phantom calmly.  ‘Although I was
undecided until just now.’

‘Why ever
not?’  Phantasm exclaimed.  ‘You could completely reform the
Ri!  Bringing the Agents into line and tightening up on Council Contracts
would make an excellent start, plus Magnate members extremely well-paid!’

‘I am not
driven by ambition or money Phantasm.’  Fabian said quietly.  ‘I feel
my skills are more effectively employed helping those who seek the sanctuary of
the Ri into becoming competent warriors.’

‘You are
without question an excellent Training Captain, Mage De Winter, but surely you
can see that with your connections at the Council – ’

‘My
connections are not who I am.’  Fabian’s voice had dropped so low that it
was barely above a whisper.  In direct contrast to the softness of his
voice, his face was granite hard.

‘Leave it
brother.’  Mistral said quickly, noticing the warning signs Phantasm had
apparently missed.  ‘Fabian’s not the type to sit in endless meetings
discussing budgets and other such riveting matters.’

‘No, I know
Mage De Winter is no Master Casterton, which is just why he should seriously
consider taking the role!  Think of how much would be achieved with a real
warrior sat at the table, and not some windbag with big ideas and a belly to
match!’

‘Leo’s a
real
warrior too brother.’  Mistral pointed out sharply.

‘Oh no! 
Master Sphinx!’  Phantom abruptly leapt to his feet.  ‘We’re meant to
be with him this afternoon, five minutes ago to be precise!  See you later
–’

Mistral
watched the twins run from the tavern then turned to Fabian, ‘I’m glad you
didn’t take the role, I’m quite enjoying working with you.  I don’t think
I would take so easily to another Training Captain.’

‘Oh you would
have become the Training Captain.’  Fabian replied evenly, then
frowned.  ‘But finding a Lieutenant to cope with you would be another
matter entirely.’

‘I’d ask
Grendel.’  Mistral said promptly.  ‘He never says a lot and he’s
scary as hell to look at.  Perfect.’

Fabian smiled
and rose to his feet, ‘Let’s give the first years the good news that they’re on
mucking out detail this afternoon.’

‘You go.’
 Mistral said, looking distractedly out of the window at the empty village
square.  ‘I’ll make a start on finding the arrows they scattered halfway
across the Valley.  In fact, I think I’ll fetch Prospero, he might be
quicker at finding them than me.’

By the time
Mistral had collected Prospero to begin hunting for the arrows Fabian had
issued his instructions to the first years and joined her.  They strolled
hand-in-hand thought the long grass of the paddock, making no real effort to
look for the arrows since Prospero was only too happy to play fetch, dropping a
continual stream of half-chewed arrows at Mistral’s feet with a pleased
expression on his face.

‘Good boy.’
 Mistral patted him affectionately.  ‘How many’s that now?’  she
asked, handing Fabian another arrow.

‘Fourteen.’

Mistral shook
her head, ‘Unbelievable,’ she muttered and glanced down the slope of the
paddock towards the village square; it was nearly time.

‘Where are
you?’  he murmured, tilting his head to regard her quizzically.

‘Oh, sorry, just
thinking –’

Fabian
frowned, ‘No Mistral, you were elsewhere.’

She turned to
him, her expression guarded, ‘I would never lie to you Fabian, but can I ask
you not to question me on this?  It is just something and nothing, and it
may well be exactly that, nothing, but I had to try –’

Fabian cut
across her rambling in a hard voice, ‘What have you done Mistral?’ 

‘Bought our
son a pony, and here he is!’  Mistral cried excitedly as a blonde haired
figure rode into the village square leading a small black pony.  ‘I’ll
just go stable him, then I’ll be back, shouldn’t take long!’  She called
over her shoulder, already walking quickly down towards the square, leaving
Fabian watching her through narrowed eyes.

Mistral
reached the village square to find Gemma stood holding her horse and the pony,
looking around with a strange expression on her face.  Studying the
conflicting emotions in her aura while she strode towards her, Mistral could
see sadness, regret, loss, and a surprising amount of yellow; happiness. 
Gemma had good memories of the Valley despite the way her relationship with
Samson had ended.

‘Thank you for
bringing him.’  Mistral said, slightly breathless from her hurried
walk. 

Gemma looked
around curiously, ‘Doesn’t change, does it?’

‘What? 
The Valley?’  Mistral asked, looking around as though seeing the
surrounding honey-coloured stone houses for the first time.  ‘No I suppose
it doesn’t, but then, that’s part of the appeal isn’t it?  Everything
changes, warriors come and go; lives pass, and pyres burn but this place is
constant.  It’s home to most of the warriors, a lot of them don’t have
anywhere else to go, or anyone to go to.’

Gemma nodded,
her blue eyes raking the houses again before finally coming to rest on
Mistral.  Taking in the swell of her body, a shadow crossed her face,
reflecting an emotion too fleeting to register to the casual observer but
Mistral saw clearly the flare of pale green in her aura. 

‘Here’s your
pony.’  Gemma said bluntly and held out the leadrope attached to Star
Eclipse’s headcollar.

‘Er, no
tack?’  Mistral asked quickly when Gemma turned to leave.

‘We didn’t
agree tack in the price.’  Gemma turned back with a sharp look on her
face.

‘Didn’t
we?’  Mistral looked taken aback.  ‘I could have sworn we did!’

‘No.’ Gemma said
shortly.  ‘However if you wish to return to market next weekend, I’m sure
I can sell you something.’

‘Sell me
something?  I think you should give me something considering the
exorbitant price I paid for this pony!’

‘The price was
fair!’ 

‘No, it was over
the odds and you know it!’  Mistral argued, but her eyes kept darting to
look over Gemma’s shoulder.

‘I’m sorry you
feel hard done to!’  Gemma replied stiffly.  ‘Perhaps I should refund
your money and take Star Eclipse back with me?’

‘Not
necessary.’  Mistral smiled as several riders cantered into the square in
a rattle of iron-shod hooves on cobbles.  ‘Come and meet your godson’s new
pony!’  she shouted to one of the dusty riders dismounting outside The
Cloak and Dagger. 

Mistral
watched the dishevelled warrior striding towards her, looking as ever in need
of a bath and a good meal but wearing a familiar roguish grin.

‘A pony? 
Damn it Mistral!  I was going to buy him one!  Why are you always so
impatient –’ he broke off suddenly to stare with disbelieving eyes at the woman
next to Mistral.  ‘Gemma?’

Gemma smiled
blandly at the warrior in front of her, believing him to have been a customer
at some time, then her eyes widened, finally recognising the man behind the
scarred, unshaven face, ‘Samson?’  Her smile faltered as her eyes
travelled over the deep scars.  ‘Is that really you?’

Samson looked
into her shocked eyes and nodded, ‘I’m afraid so.’

‘What happened
to you?’  She gasped, gazing in horror at his ravaged face.

He shrugged
and offered her a lopsided smile, ‘A lifetime spent being a feckless wastrel.’

She stared at
him for a moment longer then jerked round, quickly reaching up to pull herself
into the saddle. 

‘Wait!’ 
Samson sprang forward and rested a hand over hers, ‘Stay and have a drink with
me!’

She turned to
look at him with one foot in the stirrup, her expression doubtful, ‘I – I don’t
think that’s a good idea.’

‘Just one
drink.’  Samson offered her his gold-toothed grin.  ‘I’ve just been
paid –’

A smile touched
the corners of her mouth; it was obviously an old joke between them.

‘Please?’ 
he added softly. 

Gemma frowned
at him for a long moment before she shook her head, ‘Oh, I must be insane,’ she
muttered, taking her foot out of the stirrup.

‘No.  I was
insane, not you.’  Samson took the reins from her hands, passing them to
Mistral without taking his eyes from Gemma’s.

Mistral
watched them walking side by side across the square to The Cloak, their hands
not quite touching.

‘Well, well,
well.’  Phantom murmured, gliding softly to her side.  ‘All your own
work I take it?’

‘Oh, don’t
start.  I know that you all believe in letting destiny run its course –’

‘But you felt
that in this case fate needed a helping hand did you?’  Phantasm asked,
appearing on her other side to give her a reproving look.

‘Or a damned
great kick up the backside in this case,’ said Phantom, watching Samson hold
the tavern door open for Gemma.  ‘Well, if she gets him to take a bath
more often she’s got my vote.’