The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  Fabian gazed down at her, his dark eyes amused, ‘And I thought you would be furious with me for making you miss those two events.’

  Mistral shrugged happily, ‘I’m in a beer tent at The Festival of the Arcane with you and my brothers. What’s there to be unhappy about?’

  ‘Only one thing I can think of,’ he murmured, bending his head to kiss her again.

  ‘Please put your wife down Fabian, and have a drink!’

  Fabian tuned to greet the warrior standing beside him with three large tankards of ale held in his hands, ‘Ah, Samson, how fortuitous. I’ve been meaning to have a word with you.’

  Samson passed tankards to Mistral and Fabian, his scarred face creasing into a wide grin, ‘I can only assume this is going to be about my failure to restrain that impetuous creature you married from drinking too much and brawling with a goblin at the welcoming feast.’

  Fabian laughed while Mistral pulled a face and took a long drink.

  ‘What can I say?’ Samson shrugged his shoulders and looked at Mistral pointedly. ‘I don’t think she heard the “obey” part of her marriage vows –’

  ‘What?’ Mistral choked on a mouthful of ale. ‘I never agreed to do that!’

  ‘You did say “yes”, didn’t you?’ Samson asked with a frown.

  ‘Of course! But not to that bit!’

  ‘Sorry Mistral, but it’s part of the ceremony. You legally agreed to obey your husband, before witnesses.’ Samson added, laughing openly at the horrified expression on her face.

  ‘Don’t mention that I agreed the same.’ Fabian muttered, turning away slightly so that Mistral couldn’t hear.

  Samson threw back his head and laughed uproariously, revealing several gold teeth that instantly caught the attention of the goblins sat near them.

  ‘I hope sleep with your mouth closed Samson.’ Mistral remarked archly and tilted her head in the direction of the sharp-eyed goblins. ‘Those thieving little gits will pull those gold teeth from your mouth given half the chance!’

  ‘Sleep? I’ll do that when I’m dead!’ Samson grinned, dropping a wink at one of the nymphs that sashayed past, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

  Mistral rolled her eyes and looked across the crowded tent to see the twins carefully weaving though the jostling Arcanes towards her, trying not to spill the full tankards held in their hands.

  ‘Here you go Mistral … oh, you’ve already got one!’ Phantom exclaimed, elbowing past the goblins to reach her.

  ‘Two is just fine.’ Mistral took one of the tankards from him, ignoring Fabian’s raised eyebrows. ‘We’ve got a lot to celebrate. Two Ri warriors in the final and still one more event to go yet!’

  ‘I think you’ll find that’s one Ri warrior and one apprentice in the final actually.’ Cain corrected, pushing through the crowd to appear beside them with a grin on his face.

  ‘You’re just a bad loser.’ Mistral retorted.

  ‘Not as bad as Xerxes. I don’t think he’s spoken to Grendel today.’

  ‘Where is Grendel anyway? Oh, forget I said that.’ Mistral grimaced. ‘I think I already know –’

  Brutus, Xerxes and Saul arrived and several conversations began at once. Mistral smiled and listened to her brothers talking and laughing, their good moods reflected all around in the carnival atmosphere of the beer tent. She leaned contentedly against Fabian’s side while he talked with Samson, feeling at peace with the world. The warmth of the sun combined with the strong ale soon dissolved all thoughts of her uncomfortable conversation with Saul and even managed to lessen some of the gnawing guilt she felt about not having mastered her gift yet. She smiled in amusement at her brothers, growing more boisterous after Cain topped their tankards up with manticore potion. Saul caught her eye and grinned, raising his tankard in a toast. Mistral grinned back then quickly looked away before he could see the guilt she abruptly felt. She kept her gaze locked on the half-empty tankard in her hand, wishing fervently that Saul could find the happiness he deserved with someone capable of loving him back. Feeling suddenly miserable, Mistral returned her attention to the sound of Fabian’s voice and listened to the soft tones that never failed to sooth her. She allowed her mind to drift, letting his murmured words fill her mind like music until it gradually dawned on her that they were talking about a Contract Samson was considering. Mistral frowned and forced herself to concentrate. With a stab of unease she realised he was asking Fabian to take a mercenary Contract with him. She closed her eyes and listened more closely, every word of Samson’s low, rasping voice filling her with a growing sense of dread. It was exactly the type of work Fabian would relish. Mistral’s heart plummeted. Her Mage would be leaving again soon. Like a cloud moving over the face of the sun, her good mood was instantly erased, leaving her feeling desolate. Fabian’s voice drifted across her bleak horizon, the softly spoken words taking time to sink in.

  ‘Thank you Samson, but I’m not available for work at the moment. Other commitments require my attention for the foreseeable future.’

  Mistral let out the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding and opened her eyes to meet Samson’s coolly assessing look. He raised a scarred eyebrow but didn’t comment and Mistral quickly dropped her gaze to hide the grin that spread across her face and found herself looking at Prospero. He was laid quietly at her feet with his head resting on his paws, but his hungry gaze was fixed on the tribe of fairies hovering over a nearby table, chattering loudly in high-pitched voices. Mistral watched his pale eyes obsessively following their jerky movements. A long thread of saliva dangled down from his mouth, stretching almost to the ground before it snapped. Laughing quietly, Mistral resolved to take him with her next time she had to visit Eudora’s shop. He might encourage the irritating shop-owner into providing a better level of service.

  Twilight fell over the Vale, shrouding the outrageous antics of the Arcanes in soft, forgiving light. Snatches of crude song and drunken shouts filled the warm evening air. Horses were being ridden by blindfold riders in reckless races around the Arena; card games and mammoth tournaments of knuckle bones were being held on every available surface not taken by tankards of ale. Grendel had reappeared and was sat with Saul and Cain, all three ignoring the two nymphs that were fawning over him while they played cards. Xerxes was in his element with one arm around one of the sylvads from the registration tent and the other waving his tatty piece of parchment while he took bets on everything from the winner of the final event to how many flaming torches Hermes could juggle before he set fire to himself.

  ‘Is it always like this?’ Mistral asked Phantom when he appeared suddenly by her side, looking slightly dishevelled.

  ‘Apparently so. There’s a lot of steam to be let off when the Arcanes are allowed to congregate outside of the confines of Mage rule –’ he paused and hiccoughed elegantly into his hand. ‘Of course, drunken debauchery is not really my sort of thing, but when in Rome –’

  ‘So I see. Phantom? What happened to your hair?’ Mistral looked at her drunken brother in amusement.

  ‘Oh you know.’ Phantom waved vaguely in the direction of the nymph tent then took a long drink from his tankard.

  ‘Oh Phantom you didn’t!’ Mistral scowled reprovingly. ‘Your mother will be so disappointed!’

  He promptly choked on his mouthful of ale, ‘You won’t tell her will you?’

  Hiding the laugh that threatened, Mistral forced her expression into something Melsina would have been proud of, ‘Not if you promise never to do that again. You’ve no idea where they’ve been!’

  ‘I won’t, I promise,’ he said quickly, looking for all the world like a contrite child caught stealing.

  ‘Good.’ Mistral nodded briskly then looked around. ‘Now, where’s your brother?’

  ‘Still in there.’

  ‘Oh for pity’s sake! Well, if either of you catch anything, don’t expect me to treat you!’

  Phantom stared at her in mute horror before muttering something about needing a wash.
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  ‘A touch over dramatic, I think.’ Fabian murmured in Mistral’s ear when he had fled.

  ‘Maybe. But, the nymphs? Really? The twins could do so much better than that bunch of tarts!’

  ‘I agree, but please try not to be so hard on the twins.’ Fabian responded mildly. ‘Their behaviour is only to be expected.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They have endured the influence of strong women in their lives. It can have a detrimental effect.’

  Mistral frowned at him, ‘Strong women? There’s only Melsina and they haven’t lived with her for years!’

  Fabian smiled, ‘I’m talking about you too Mistral.’

  She glared at him, stung by the accusation that her effect on the twins was detrimental, ‘Well I hope you don’t think I have that effect on you!’ she finally snapped.

  ‘Quite the opposite.’

  Mistral smiled as he leaned down to kiss her, the familiar ache of longing made all the more poignant by the knowledge that it would, as ever, remain unfulfilled. And it was entirely her fault.

  For once, it was she that heaved a sigh and pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him firmly away. Biting her lip, she looked into his eyes and sighed.

  ‘I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.’

  He smiled at her, his velvet gaze so invitingly soft and dark that she wanted to kick herself for pushing him away.

  ‘I understand, but I will be patient. We will be together Mistral. I do not think it is possible for two to feel the way we do and not.’

  ‘We’re doing a fairly good job so far.’ Mistral responded grumpily.

  ‘Everyone has their limits.’

  Mistral snapped her gaze up to meet his. Was he suggesting that he had reached his? He read the hope in her expression and smiled a little too knowingly for her liking and she immediately scowled, making his smile widen.

  ‘Patience,’ he breathed softly, making her instantly think the opposite.

  ‘Have you seen my brother?’

  Mistral turned to respond to Phantasm’s casual enquiry, almost grateful at being interrupted. She eyed him coolly for a moment, taking in the fact that his shirt was buttoned up wrong and his usually immaculate hair was tousled.

  ‘Something you want to tell me Phantasm?’

  Phantasm shot her a guilty look, ‘No.’

  ‘I see.’

  A silence fell between them and Phantasm fidgeted uncomfortably while Mistral bit her tongue to hide the laugh threatening to ruin her act.

  ‘Your brother has gone to wash.’ she snapped, giving him a look that suggested being very disappointed in him. ‘And I strongly advise that you do the same, unless you want to get something nasty.’

  Phantasm’s eyes widened then he nodded rapidly, melting swiftly away into the throng to follow his brother.

  Fabian chuckled softly and watched Phantasm almost running along the avenue towards the washing pool south end of the Vale.

  ‘Harsh Mistral. Too harsh.’

  Mistral gave an exasperated sigh, ‘All I need is for Prospero to get lucky and everyone, and I mean everyone,’ she said with a meaningful look in Grendel’s direction, ‘but you and I are falling out of beds left, right and centre! And we’re the only married ones!’

  ‘Talking of Prospero, you do know he’s stalking one of the fairies don’t you?’

  ‘Oh no!’ Mistral cried and spun around to see her dog crawling on his belly towards the table of frantically squeaking fairies, a ravenous look on his face.

  ‘I think you need to feed him more Mistral.’ Samson advised, looking over at the commotion Prospero was causing.

  ‘Thanks Samson, I’ll bear that in mind.’ Mistral snapped sarcastically and hurried over to grab her dog by the scruff of the neck, hauling him away to roars of laughter from the table of goblins.

  It had reached the time of night and level of drunkenness where good humour gave way to flared tempers. Fights began to break out, making Mistral glance around quickly to check none of her brothers were involved. She was relieved to see most were gambling. Only Cain and Brutus were absent, which meant they were in the nymph tent.

  ‘I think it’s time we made our exit.’

  Fabian pulled her away from the table nearby seconds before it was abruptly overturned and flung through the air by a furious Grendel, shortly followed by the two goblins he had been gambling with, both screaming abuse while they hurtled through the air.

  Submitting unwillingly to Fabian’s insistent grip on her arm, Mistral allowed herself to be led away from the escalating mayhem into the relative calm of the avenue.

  ‘Just when things were getting interesting.’ Mistral complained, throwing a glance over her shoulder to see Grendel launching several more of the goblins into the air with roars of anger.

  ‘Perhaps, but I would prefer to have my sword when faced with a crowd of drunken Arcanes after being loudly called “Mage De Winter” by your brothers.’

  ‘Oh they didn’t!’ Mistral gasped, looking appalled. ‘I’m sorry –’

  ‘No need to apologise. Just be prepared for some drunken insults.’

  ‘Just let them dare!’ Mistral snarled, looking around for any candidates brave enough to try.

  ‘Mistral, we’re not looking for a fight.’ Fabian warned softly, his eyes darting cautiously left and right while they made their way along the dark avenue.

  ‘If anyone so much as dares look in your direction with anything but a smile then they’ll have me and Prospero to answer to!’ Mistral hissed back in a vehement whisper.

  ‘Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.’ Fabian murmured, hurrying her along before she could eyeball a group of surly looking drows.

  Despite Fabian’s concerns they reached their tent without being challenged to find the twins sat talking around the fire. Mistral dropped down beside them, noting their wet hair with a supressed smile.

  Fabian settled himself next to her and gazed questioningly at the twins, ‘Are you two sober enough to discuss a rather intricate matter?’ he asked in a quiet undertone.

  ‘Feeling quite refreshed actually.’ Phantasm responded lightly, poking the fire with a stick to stir it into life again.

  ‘Yes, it’s surprising what cold swim can do for your levels of sobriety.’ Phantom muttered, ignoring Mistral’s smirk.

  ‘Good, because I had an interesting conversation with the elves you had the misfortune to cross last winter.’

  ‘Ah, that.’ A shadow crossed Phantasm’s face. He immediately he dropped his gaze to stare into the campfire. ‘I thought we might have this discussion.’

  Mistral yawned and rubbed Prospero’s ears, instantly bored by the turn in the conversation.

  ‘You are aware of the implications of their findings?’ Fabian continued softly.

  Phantasm nodded slowly, ‘Yes, we have been doing some investigations of our own since we discovered it was Konrad who took the Contract.’

  ‘And what did you discover?’

  ‘Well, we went through all the filed copies of Contracts in the Ri’s library. Unsurprisingly, there was no record of that particular one, so we still don’t know who issued it. However, we did discover something disturbing about some of the Training Contracts issued to apprentices.’ Phantasm frowned and poked the fire again, his expression pensive.

  ‘Yes?’ Fabian prompted.

  Phantasm drew in a breath and frowned unhappily, ‘We noticed some discrepancies when we read through copies of Contracts we’d taken. The requirements didn’t match. For example, the Contract on a bestra we hunted last year was there, but with no record of being instructed to retrieve the horn. It was then that we realised we’d been requested verbally to bring back the horn, not contractually.’

  ‘What’s the difference?’ Mistral yawned and ran a hand distractedly through Prospero’s fur.

  Phantasm gave her a terse look, ‘It means, Mistral, that some Training Contracts issued to apprentices are not all they seem. They have additiona
l requirements for items that would certainly raise a few eyebrows if requested of a more experienced warrior. But, our suspicions are so far unfounded –’

  ‘Which are what exactly?’ Mistral interrupted, stifling another yawn and looking at Phantasm with undisguised boredom.

  ‘I think Mage De Winter knows more about this matter than we do.’

  Fabian regarded Phantasm quietly before replying, the flickering firelight hiding his face in shadow.

  ‘The specifics may have changed a little since I served my apprenticeship with the Ri,’ he began in a brittle voice. ‘However, I am sure you will get the gist.

  ‘Apprentices are issued seemingly routine Training Contracts with a last minute spoken request to procure some apparently innocuous item at the same time. Of course, they do not question their Contracts Officer and effectively risk life and limb to complete the request, all the while ignorant to the fact that they are actually procuring raw ingredients for highly dangerous and illegal potions.’

  He paused and the atmosphere around the fire grew suddenly tense. Mistral frowned, remembering her Contract to clear the gargoyle nest the previous year. It hadn’t been on the Contract itself to retrieve the eggs. Gleacher had asked her casually, almost as an afterthought and she’d thought nothing of it at the time.

  ‘I’ve done a couple like that. For Malachi actually.’ she said thoughtfully and continued to rub Prospero’s ears. ‘In fact, I reckon we probably all have. That bestra one was strange, so was the cyclops one, come to think of it –’

  Fabian made an angry noise and she looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Am I missing something here? Only, I really don’t see what the issue is. So what if Malachi is brewing up dodgy potions? We already know he’s a bit odd to say the least! So long as he doesn’t apply for Bernadette’s job when she finally kills herself with one of those vile concoctions she calls food then I don’t really see a problem!’

  Fabian switched his icy glare to her, ‘You think using unqualified apprentices to unwittingly risk their lives to line the pockets of a corrupt Magnate member is fair? You were being used Mistral! Do you know how much a Qualified warrior would be paid to do this type of work by an outside agent? I’ll tell you shall I? Hundreds!’