The Seer (92 page)

Phantom nodded
then lifted an eyebrow meaningfully, ‘And Master Shacklock, apparently.’

‘Yes, I
noticed.  Why is that d’you reckon?  Because he’s got elven blood?’

‘Maybe, but
more likely because he’s a warrior, through and through, and that’s something
Bryden will respect –’

Mistral cut
him off with a sharp mutter, ‘Ouch!  Damn it!  Sorry ... Need to walk
around a bit.’

Rising to her
feet with one hand pressed over where her son was energetically kicking her,
she walked over to one of the long windows and gazed out across the
Valley.  The rain had finally stopped and the mist was lifting, leaving
her with a clear view right down to the village square.  She could see the
apprentices drilling in the Arena.  Grendel was standing in the centre
while they worked in pairs around him.  Recognising the technique that
they were drilling, she watched them carefully for a few moments.  She was
gratified to see that Grendel had apparently taken her pep talk to heart and
was being instructive rather than demonstrative.  A flash of movement
beyond the Arena drew her eye and she looked over to see four horses cantering
into the village square.  Mistral immediately recognised the magnificent
pale grey stallion wheeling impatiently beneath its rider.  Bryden
Wolfsnare and his delegates had arrived.

‘They’re
here,’ she called over her shoulder.

Fabian and Leo
were immediately by her side, staring down into the Valley to watch Bryden
dismount and pass the reins to one of his delegates before striding towards The
Cloak and Dagger, closely followed by the other two members of his tribe.

‘Who has he
bought with him?’  Leo asked Fabian.

‘The one
walking on his right is Ares, his son.  The one on his left is Gideon, and
Oren has the horses.’

‘Have you had
any dealings with them?’

Fabian nodded,
‘Ares is similar in nature to his father.  Gideon is responsible for the
education of the tribe’s young and is very interested in politics.  He often
travels with Bryden when he attends meetings at the Council.  Oren is less
well known to me, he is their tracker.’

Leo stared
silently down at the scene below them.  Clovis had appeared from the
stable block to relieve Oren of the four horses.  Once his hands were
free, the elf hurried across the square to join Bryden and his two kinsmen in
the tavern.

‘Good, we have
some time.’  Leo said in a satisfied voice.  ‘Mistral?’

Mistral sighed
and turned away from the window.  It was time to work. 

Taking Fabian’s
hand she walked with him back to the table and sat down.  Fabian took the
chair next to hers, sitting on it sideways so that he was facing her, still
holding onto her hand.  Smiling at the silent reassurance he was offering
her, Mistral closed her eyes and drew up the image of Bryden Wolfsnare’s face;
older than his rich musical voice suggested and framed by long hair streaked
with grey, tied back in the traditional elven style.

A lilting
sound filled her ears, high and musical.  She frowned and shook her head,
unable to hear Bryden’s thoughts over the irritating noise.  She cleared
her mind and refocused; pushing her mind out to reach for Bryden’s only to hear
the same sound again.

‘What is
it?’  Fabian asked.

‘I can’t See,’
she muttered distractedly.  ‘There’s something like music in his mind,
it’s hiding his thoughts from me –’

‘No, those are
his thoughts Mistral.’  Gleacher said quietly.  ‘They are conversing
in Elven Song.’

‘To evade her
gift?’  Leo asked sharply.

‘Possibly.’
 Gleacher replied.  ‘But more likely to avoid being overheard in The
Cloak.  It’s hardly a safe place to hold a private conversation.’  He
reached out for a quill and piece of parchment, sliding them across the table
to Mistral.  ‘Write down what you hear, I can translate.’

Mistral nodded
vaguely, her eyes staring blankly at the far wall of the Meeting Room while
Fabian wrapped her fingers around the quill and pressed the tip to the
parchment.  A short silence fell then suddenly Mistral began to write, the
quill scratching out unintelligible words across the parchment, faster and
faster until she had filled one sheet completely.  Fabian quickly slid
another piece under her hand and re-inked her quill; she continued to write
without seeming to notice the interruption, the quill scraping into the finely
polished surface of the table when she reached the end of the sheet. 

The minutes
passed by; the twins moved to stand by the window, watching the door to The
Cloak and Dagger in case Bryden left before Mistral could warn them.

Five sheets of
parchment later, Mistral sat back with a deep sigh and closed her eyes briefly,
‘They’re sitting down to eat,’ she murmured, rubbing a hand wearily across her
forehead.  ‘Even I don’t need a translation for a rumbling stomach.’ 
Taking the glass of water Fabian silently passed her Mistral took a sip and
looked over at Gleacher, frowning over the scrawled words on the
parchment.  ‘What’s wrong?  Can’t you read my
handwriting?’   

‘No, it’s not
that Mistral.’  Gleacher looked up with a puzzled expression on his
face.  ‘It just doesn’t make sense –’

‘Well it
certainly doesn’t to me.’  Mistral tilted her head, looking at the upside
down scribbles she’d made.  ‘And it didn’t make a lot of sense to listen
to either.’

‘Explain what
you do not understand Gleacher.’  Leo walked around to look over his
shoulder.

Gleacher bent
his head over the first sheet of parchment and traced the top line with his
finger, ‘This is a question Bryden is asking.  Word for word it says “Do
we trust a Mage as a Divinus?”, but underneath are three different
replies.’  Gleacher looked questioningly at Mistral.  ‘Was Bryden
talking to himself?’

Mistral took
another sip of water and carefully set the glass down on the table, ‘No, Bryden
asked the question and the three replies are from Ares, Gideon and Oren – in
that order.’

A brief
silence fell.  The twins shared a brief look before turning back to the
window.

‘You heard
their individual replies?’  Gleacher gave her a baffled look. 
‘How?  There wasn’t enough time to read each of them in turn!’

‘I know, so I
just read them all at the same time.’  Mistral responded with a
shrug.  ‘It was a bit confusing, but it gives us a more complete picture.’

Gleacher’s
eyebrows shot up while he stared at her in frank amazement. 

‘You’ve done this
before?’  Leo demanded sharply.

‘Once or
twice.’  Mistral kept her face wooden.  She’d actually spent numerous
evenings in The Cloak collectively reading other players in card games just to
win a few extra coins, but she was sure Leo wouldn’t  appreciate hearing
how she used her gift in her spare time.

Gleacher
turned to Leo to mutter under his breath, ‘Even Aloysius could only read one
person’s mind at a time, multiple auras yes!  But –’

Mistral didn’t
bother to listen to the rest of what Gleacher was saying; she was too busy
pondering the importance of Gleacher referring to the last Divinus by his given
name of Aloysius.  It was suddenly apparent to her that for Gleacher, Leo
was already the Ri’s Divinus.  She wondered wryly when Leo would start
demanding to be called by his, as yet, unconfirmed new title. 

‘Mistral?’ 

She blinked
and turned to see Fabian looking intently at her and smiled.  How could
she not?  The black depths of his eyes held a lure for her that was
irresistible.  

‘Gleacher is asking
you a question.’

‘Oh
right!’  She turned her head and focussed on the parchment beneath
Gleacher’s finger.

‘This part of
their conversation is confusing; can you tell me who made this particular
response?’

Mistral nodded
and waited for him to translate the particular section.

‘It is my time
–’

Mistral
listened to the way he said the words rather than the meaning.  She
frowned and shook her head.  ‘I’m sorry Master Shacklock, but I need to
hear the way he spoke rather than what he spoke.’

‘Of course.’
 Gleacher recited the words again in elven, placing emphasis on different
words in the short sentence.

Mistral
listened carefully, ‘No.  Sorry, but I can’t recall those words being said
sung like that.’

Gleacher tried
again and Mistral’s face immediately cleared, ‘Ah!  That was it! 
That’s Ares … and it’s not part of a conversation but a thought.  He’s
quite impatient about something.’

Fabian looked
at Gleacher, ‘Ares is Bryden’s first born son.  He will become the tribe’s
leader when Bryden steps down.’

Gleacher
nodded and returned to the parchment, ‘So this next part?  Is it all Ares’
thoughts too?  He hopes that the Ri make an offer that is acceptable to
his father?’

‘I think so.’
 Mistral replied, peering over at the parchment.  ‘It got a bit
jumbled at one point when they were all saying one thing but thinking another;
but I did get the impression that Ares wasn’t thinking of money.’

‘Elves have
little interest in money.  They prefer to trade for any goods they wish to
obtain, ’ Leo frowned and began to pace behind Gleacher’s chair, ‘which
presents me with the problem of making an offer to Bryden that is not monetary
but also acceptable to his pride.’  

‘He wants to
accept.’  Gleacher continued to decipher Mistral’s scribbles on the second
piece of parchment.  ‘His partner passed during the hard winter and he
feels her loss.  He desires to retire and allow his son to rule now, but
you are right, he will not be drawn by the lure of gold, it is beneath him.’

‘We offer him
status and power then.’  Leo responded. 

‘He already
has that.’  Fabian argued.  ‘Bryden will want something significant
in exchange for his presence on the Magnate.’

A short
silence fell.  They sat listening to the crackle of the fire and the
rustling of parchment while Gleacher shuffled the pile to read the next sheet.

‘De Winter is
correct.’  Gleacher muttered, not looking up from the parchment he was
scrutinising.  ‘He wants the name of Bryden Wolfsnare to endure.’

‘Bryden has
been the head of the most powerful tribe of elves on the Isle for the last
hundred years, and he’s held a place on the Council for most of it!’  Leo
snapped.  ‘His name will be recorded in the Isle’s history and taught to
future generations of children!  What more does he want?’

‘Something
visual.’  Mistral murmured, gazing vaguely at the fire while she recalled
the strength of emotion in Bryden’s thoughts.

‘A
statue?’  Leo demanded incredulously.

Mistral
laughed despite the fact that Leo was blatantly not making a joke, ‘No, he’s
not that vain!  As Fabian said, he wants something that has significance.’
 Suddenly reaching across the table, Mistral stabbed a finger down onto
the last piece of parchment.  ‘There, that bit, translate that. 
Gideon was getting really excited about something, and I don’t think it was the
food Floris was cooking for them!’

Gleacher’s
eyes moved swiftly over the parchment, ‘He’s excited by the prospect of having
elven taught in the Council School ... it is a step towards equality of the
Arcane and Mage races –’

‘Elven is
already taught in the Ri’s School.’  Leo interrupted impatiently.

‘Ah, but which
version?’  Fabian asked with a raised eyebrow.  

‘The Velvet
Forest tribe’s version of course!’  Leo retorted.  ‘It is our closest
tribe!’

‘Then I
suggest that you change it to the Emerald Forest tribe’s version in honour of
Bryden’s acceptance!’

The atmosphere
in the Meeting Room took on an icy edge while the brothers locked glares.

‘Not enough.’
 Gleacher shook his head, still bent over the final piece of
parchment.  ‘Bryden isn’t interested in gestures designed to satisfy his
ego ... it says here, “
I am ensnared by my pride, it will not let me leave
but tells me that I can no longer stay
”’.  Gleacher raised his head to
look at Mistral.  ‘Was that spoken or thought?’

‘Thought … I
think,’ she muttered.  ‘I was getting a bit tired by then –’

‘What was
Gideon feeling at this point Mistral?’  Gleacher continued, dropping his
gaze back to study the last piece of parchment.  ‘He is either saying, or
thinking, something about the Halls of Learning at the Council –’

‘Gideon? 
Definitely envy.’  Mistral said firmly.  ‘Although I had no idea at
what.’

‘The Halls of
Learning?  Gideon is jealous of the Council’s library?’  Leo asked
sharply.

‘Then you have
your answer.’  Fabian said softly.

‘A library in
Bryden’s name?  The Ri library was named in honour of Aloysius Broadoak
over a hundred years ago!  To change the name now would be too obvious!’

‘Obvious? 
Or respectful?’  Fabian countered sharply.

Mistral leaned
back in her chair while Leo and Fabian argued, musing on the Bryden Wolfsnare
she had met at The Festival of the Arcane; proud, sincere, generous and yes, a
little vain but not overly so.  She thought of the bag of money she’d won
and quickly corrected herself ... the bag of money Saul had won with his life …
it had been painstakingly embroidered with the emblem of Bryden’s tribe; the
head of a snarling wolf.  The answer lay in the simple act of taking the
time to embroider a linen money bag with the tribe’s emblem; the money inside
was of little or no consequence.

‘You must do
three things,’ she said firmly. 

Leo and Fabian
broke off from their argument to look at her.

‘Firstly,
offer him no wage but make the offer of permanent accommodation.  Present
him with the Divinus’ old tower room, refurbished of course.  The fact
that it was once inhabited by the last Divinus of the Ri will mean more to him
than any other quarters ever could.