The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams)

by Jones, Kirsten

  ‘What’s it to us if Malachi is saving on coin by using the apprentices?’ Mistral riled, stung by his sharp reaction. ‘The whole damned Magnate make money out of us until the day we happily expire on some wretched Contract or other!’

  A heavy silence fell while Mistral glared at Fabian.

  ‘I apologise Mistral.’ Fabian rubbed a hand over his face, erasing the frown. He opened his eyes to gaze softly at her. ‘Please understand that I am not angry with you. I am angry with Malachi. I despise the thought of you being used so wrongly to assist that leech in growing his reserves of gold.’

  Mistral accepted his apology with a sulky look and returned her attention to Prospero.

  ‘Why does Malachi require a reserve of gold and who is he selling illegal potions to?’ Phantasm asked quickly, cutting across Mistral’s moody silence.

  Fabian gave him a long look, ‘Who indeed?’ he mused. ‘That is a difficult question to answer. However I do not think Malachi is able to actually brew the potions himself. Only a powerful Mage can brew the kind of potions that fetch the highest price on the black market.

  ‘The money is the simple one to answer.’ Fabian continued in a cold voice. ‘Malachi covets the role of Divinus. By having a large amount of gold at his disposal he will be able to buy the approval of many of the Council members when the time comes to elect a new Divinus.’

  ‘The Council get a say in who the Divinus is?’ Mistral demanded disgustedly. ‘Do they have a say in everything on the damned Isle?’

  ‘Yes, Mistral.’ Fabian replied drily. ‘That is their job as the ruling Council. And, of course, they need to ensure that whoever fulfils the role of Divinus will be an ally, not an enemy.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ she muttered and quickly dropped her gaze, feeling angry with herself for saying something so stupid. Of course the Council would approve whoever ran the Ri. The wrong person could effectively challenge the Council for control of the Isle.

  ‘And so, to the matter of who is buying the ingredients.’ Fabian mused, his voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. ‘I cannot say for certain, but I have my suspicions, and perhaps the unfortunate elf did too.’

  ‘And where exactly did he fit into this exciting drama?’ Mistral demanded grouchily.

  ‘It transpires that Malachi was paying the elf, Xavier, to transport raw ingredients to his customer.’ Fabian explained in a clearer voice. ‘Elves are the perfect carriers. They have no real interest in brewing potions and would fail to recognise the purpose for which the ingredients were intended. However, the fact that Xavier is now dead makes me assume he must have discovered the true nature of the goods he was being paid to carry and attempted to blackmail Malachi with the threat of exposure.’

  Mistral pulled a face, ‘Bad move.’

  ‘Evidently.’ Fabian placed a protective arm around her shoulders, his expression suddenly tightening. ‘Which is why this affair angers me so Mistral. What if you had questioned any of the additional requirements to the Training Contracts you were issued? Would it be your body found in the forests?’

  Fabian let the question hang in the air. Mistral looked up to meet his soulful black gaze, seeing his unspoken answer all too clearly. Malachi would have arranged an accident and wiped her away like an irksome splash of mud.

  ‘So, returning to the mysterious destination of these ingredients.’ Phantom prompted. ‘You say you have your suspicions, but surely any sorcerer on the Isle worth his salt can brew illegal potions?’

  Fabian’s eyes narrowed broodingly, ‘Not quite. There are several illegal potions, each of them are extremely difficult and hazardous to brew. It takes a very skilled Mage to brew them successfully without killing themselves in the process. To complicate matters, I don’t think that the potions being brewed were for use on the Isle, but being exported.’

  Phantasm exhaled sharply, ‘No-one would be that foolish!’

  ‘Really?’ Fabian asked quietly. ‘Tell me Phantasm, when did you last hear of the crime of brewing illegal potions being punished by the Council?’

  Phantasm’s ivory brow puckered while he considered the question, ‘Not for a long time,’ he finally admitted.

  ‘So, answer me this, if the goods being delivered are for the brewing of illegal potions then where are all the finished products?’

  Phantasm shook his head, ‘I see your reasoning, but I simply can’t believe someone would take the risk. The crime of exporting illegal potions is punishable by death!’

  ‘And for a very good reason, the continued existence of the Isle rests solely on us remaining hidden from the rest of the world. Whoever is doing it is jeopardising the location of the Isle and the safety of all who live here.’ Fabian’s mouth twisted into a bitter expression. ‘But, it certainly appears that for someone the risk is outweighed by the benefits. The export of illegal potions is worth an absolute fortune. I believe that someone in the Council is – or was – selling potions to buyers outside of the Isle.’

  The twins suddenly became completely still.

  ‘You think Count Darke was involved?’ Phantom breathed.

  ‘I don’t think it, I am sure of it. Putreo held the responsibility for all foreign travel until Eximius stripped him of his duties after the Desert Lands fiasco. Up to that point he was perfectly placed to orchestrate the export of illegal potions.’

  ‘I can’t see how it would work.’ Phantasm argued. ‘Count Darke may have been the Councillor for Foreign Travel but he couldn’t just keep leaving the Isle on invented ambassadorial duties could he? It would arouse too much suspicion. So how was he getting the finished product off the Isle? Nobody travels without Mage Grapple’s consent, and even then they usually have a Council escort.’

  Fabian threw him a questioning look, ‘Nobody?’

  Even Mistral caught the meaning in his words. She and the twins stared at him with disbelieving expressions.

  ‘You mean ... the Ri?’

  Fabian nodded, ‘The Ri frequently leave the Isle on Contracts. Although the Council have to be informed of their intention to travel they don’t get involved with the specific details of the Contract, just the destination and expected duration, and there is never a Council escort as it would be detrimental to the sensitive nature of the Ri’s work. In short, the Ri are the ideal cover.’

  ‘It’s so simple!’ Phantasm exclaimed quietly. ‘Audacious, but simple. Malachi uses apprentices to obtain raw ingredients for illegal potions. He then sells them to corrupt Council officials who have the potions brewed and then use the Ri again to export them off the Isle to their foreign buyer, no doubt sold for a tidy profit!’

  ‘And everyone gets a cut along the way.’ Phantom added.

  ‘Except the stupid apprentices ordered to get the items in the first place.’ Mistral corrected, thinking of how she had nearly died whilst retrieving the gargoyle eggs. She had never even wondered why she’d been asked to get them ... an unpleasant thought suddenly crossed her mind.

  ‘You don’t think Gleacher is aware of this do you?’

  The twins looked at her and frowned. She could tell they didn’t want to think their Contracts Officer was capable of such betrayal either.

  Fabian’s face grew thoughtful again, ‘Well, it’s a fair assumption that Gleacher is aware of Malachi’s side-line in selling the items since he issues the Contracts and makes the additional requests. I am certain that he must also be aware that the Ri are being used to carry the finished products off the Isle too since he travels with the apprentices on all foreign Contracts. In fact, he is the obvious choice as carrier. But, I agree with you that it doesn’t fit with his character. Gleacher feels a strong sense of obligation towards the safety of his apprentices. I can only assume that Malachi has some sort of hold over him.’

  Phantasm’s eyes sharpened, ‘Blackmail?’

  Fabian shrugged, ‘I wouldn’t put anything past Putreo or Malachi.’

  Phantom pulled a face, ‘Count Putreo Darke and Master Nox. What a charm
ing combination!’

  ‘Who else would have the influence and position to carry out such a high-risk operation for so long and remain undetected?’ Fabian picked a charred stick up from the edge of fire and turned it distractedly in his hands, gazing unseeingly into space. ‘I’ve spent years trying to uncover the truth, but they cover their tracks well. Finding any kind of proof has been like trying to catch smoke.’ he paused and looked at Mistral. ‘Apprentices are the weak link but also the genius behind the plan you see.’

  ‘Unqualified, unregistered, untraceable and expendable.’ Mistral recited dully, echoing the twins’ words of the night Leo had cornered them into taking the Desert Lands mission.

  Fabian held her gaze and nodded.

  ‘Do you think that the trade will have ceased now that Putreo is dead?’ Phantasm asked with a frown.

  Fabian looked over at him and shook his head, ‘I doubt that Putreo was working alone. He will have had at least one or two accomplices, not least of all for the brewing process. Besides, for those involved it’s far too much of a lucrative business to let fall by the wayside. I’m sure Malachi will be busy negotiating with whoever has stepped into Putreo’s place at the Council end.’

  ‘What kind of potions are we talking about here anyway?’ Mistral asked Fabian curiously. ‘Surely not something as pathetic as Love Potions?’

  Fabian laughed softly and pulled her closer to him, ‘You’d be surprised what people will pay to buy love, and yes, there is a huge market for potions that enslave the drinker. However, there are a few illegal potions that would have great appeal to the outside world.’ Fabian paused and looked first at the twins then down at Mistral, curled against his side.

  ‘Have you heard of the Avenir Potion, first created by Alexandre Rochforte back in the twelfth century?’

  The twins nodded but Mistral shook her head.

  ‘It’s a potion that induces a deep trance-like state, sometimes lasting days. It stimulates a part of the brain not normally used, allowing the drinker to experience visions of the future. I am sure you can see the appeal that would have to the war-hungry leaders of powerful countries.’

  ‘Allowing them to see the outcome of any action they take before committing themselves to a long and costly war.’ Phantasm murmured. ‘Yes, that would be very useful.’

  ‘I think also the potion that mimics the twins’ gift would be extremely sought after too –’

  ‘How does that one work? Make the drinker really annoying?’ Mistral couldn’t resist interrupting, smiling lazily at the twins.

  ‘No Mistral.’ Fabian sighed. ‘It gives control over another’s mind. It is virtually impossible to tell when someone has been given the Master Potion since there are no outward signs of being under its influence. It simply makes the drinker very receptive to suggestion. They literally become the puppet of whoever is telling them what to do.’

  Mistral looked faintly disappointed, ‘Is that all? I thought the potions would be more about pain and torture, like that agony inducing potion Malachi has a bottle of in his room.’

  ‘The effects are too obvious. The illegal potions produce more subtle results and are far harder to detect. The more surreptitious the potion, the higher its value –’

  The sounds of drunken laughter and raised voices abruptly ended their conversation. The others were staggering back, hauling a dazed looking Grendel between them.

  ‘What happened to him?’ Mistral asked, looking at Grendel’s battered face in concern.

  ‘Those damned goblins sneaked up on him and chucked that weighted net over him again. They gave him a good battering with their clubs before we got the little gits off. I don’t think they were too pleased about being thrown around like juggling balls earlier!’ Xerxes grunted and shrugged Grendel’s heavy arm off his shoulder.

  ‘Will he be all right?’ Mistral tilted her head to study Grendel’s unconscious body slumped on the floor. ‘Only, we’ve got the harpy hunt in the morning –’

  ‘He’ll be fine.’ Brutus responded airily, nudging the comatose Grendel with his foot. ‘But talking of the hunt, we need to work out a plan.’

  ‘Oh, not more talk!’ Mistral complained and yawned widely. ‘I’m fed up with talk.’

  ‘Lightweight.’ Cain teased, throwing himself down beside the fire and yawning himself.

  ‘Takes one to know one.’

  Mistral closed her eyes and shifted into a more comfortable position against Fabian’s side whilst her brothers settled themselves beside the fire and began to recount the events of the night. She smiled sleepily while she listened to them, their murmured conversations and muted laughs blending into pleasant background noise. Sighing happily she opened her eyes to look up at the star-filled sky, trying to recall the names of the various constellations that Imperato had described to her earlier. The Plough. She could easily see that one. Pegasus. She smiled at that one, thinking of the centaurs. Orion … she yawned, suddenly unable to remember the names of the others. The bright stars blurred before her tired eyes so she closed them again let her mind drift. Lulled by the reassuring weight of Prospero by her side and the closeness of Fabian, she slipped into a deep sleep.

  Harpy Hunt

  The persistent sound of several voices all speaking at once woke Mistral the next morning. She frowned in annoyance and pulled Fabian’s cloak tighter, clinging to the last vestiges of sleep until the repeated mention of her name forced her mind to surface. She opened her eyes a fraction, instantly meeting the bright green gaze of Phantom staring impatiently at her.

  ‘Finally! We’ve been up for hours! Samson and the other warriors have just turned up to work out a plan for the hunt and I don’t want to miss out, so please get up!’

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ she muttered, struggling to throw off Fabian’s heavy cloak and release her feet from beneath Prospero’s prone body.

  ‘Er – I tried! But you sleep like the dead!’

  ‘I feel like the dead this morning.’ Mistral yawned and stretched, running her fingers through her tangled hair. ‘I think I need a cold swim to wake up –’

  ‘No time for that.’ Phantom said briskly. ‘We bought you a bucket of water instead. It’s in the tent.’

  ‘Thanks. I think.’ Mistral yawned again and stumbled sleepily towards the tent entrance.

  Mistral emerged a short while later with clean wet hair and a change of clothes. She smiled at Phantom’s frown of annoyance and flicked a speck of dirt from her old, looser trousers, just to irritate him further.

  ‘Oh, really! Did you have to put those tatty old rags on again?’

  Mistral stuck her tongue out at him and looked over to see all of the Ri warriors gathered around the campfire, talking in excited voices. Fabian and Samson were sat together holding a quietly spoken conversation of their own and didn’t notice her approach but Xerxes looked up and grinned.

  ‘Ah, at last! Sleeping Beauty awakes.’

  Mistral pulled a face at him and sat down quickly beside to Fabian.

  ‘Perhaps now we can get on with planning this morning’s hunt?’ Xerxes reached into his saddlebag for the event details.

  ‘Good morning.’ Fabian passed her some bread and cold meat. ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘Er, yes … thanks.’ Mistral quickly took the food he offered and bowed her head to eat, embarrassed by the fact that everyone had obviously noticed her deeply comatose state. She hoped that she hadn’t started talking in her sleep again too. Just recently her dreams had taken a turn that definitely wasn’t for public airing.

  ‘Right, harpy hunt! Here we go.’ Xerxes announced in a brisk voice. ‘It’s a chase through The Emerald Forests! Ah, that brings back memories –’

  ‘Let’s chuck a couple of those goblins into the quota just for old times’ sake.’ Cain suggested with a grin.

  ‘Might be difficult, there’s not many of them left after Grendel had a go at them last night.’

  ‘Filthy maggots.’ Grendel rubbed his bruised face while the
other warriors laughed.

  ‘I know you are not going to be happy about this Mistral.’ Fabian began under the cover of the laughter about Grendel’s fight with the goblins.

  Mistral sighed and threw the rest of her bread to Prospero. She had been wondering how long it would take Fabian to try and ban her from the hunting event too.

  ‘But I am concerned that today’s hunt will provide Columbine with the perfect opportunity to attack again. I am sure that she will have been hiding out in The Emerald Forests and biding her time for this event. I think it would be better if you were to remain behind.’

  Before she could reply Samson leaned over, pitching his voice so that only Fabian and Mistral could hear.

  ‘I apologise for interrupting brother, and I appreciate your concerns, but perhaps allowing Mistral to go on the hunt would actually serve your purpose better.’

  Fabian regarded him coldly, ‘Are you suggesting using my wife as bait for Columbine?’

  Samson nodded, meeting Fabian’s black stare evenly, ‘It’s a perfect opportunity to be rid of Columbine. We’re well prepared and Mistral will be safe in a hunting party of warriors.’

  Fabian’s eyes flicked over to Saul, ‘I am not sure that her being with Ri will be enough to satisfy me today.’

  Samson followed Fabian’s glance, ‘You mistrust the yarthkin?’

  ‘He covets what he has no right to.’

  Mistral clenched her fists, mashing the remains of bread between her fingers. When Fabian talked about like a possession it always infuriated her. She fought the urge to get up and walk away, determined not to cause a scene.

  Samson frowned, ‘Well, in that case perhaps we should speak with Bryden. If he knew the full story he might be persuaded to allow you to join the hunt.’

  ‘Bryden is not interested in what he perceives to be essentially a Mage quarrel.’ Fabian shook his head angrily. ‘He has made it perfectly clear that my continued presence at the festival can only be tolerated as an observer.’