The Seer

by Kirsten Jones

  ‘I think that’s why she hates it … sorry brother, but I’ve seen more content in an empty barrel and I really have to go now, look after Prosp for me will you?’ Mistral left Xerxes standing in the snow holding onto her dog and ran towards the Main Building, slipping on the icy path in her haste. She reached the Entrance Hall and flew up the stairs, barely pausing at the next floor where her old room was to continue up to the third floor and run along the corridor to the stairs leading to Leo Sphinx’s tower room.

  Leo opened the door on her second knock, taking in her breathless state with a raised eyebrow, ‘There is something you wish to tell me?’

  ‘They’re nearly h-here –’ Mistral panted, resting a hand against the door jamb while she recovered from her marathon sprint up three flights of stairs.

  Leo eyed her coldly for a moment then turned to speak to the room’s other occupant, ‘It is time Gleacher.’

  Mistral looked up to the see the Ri’s Contracts Officer, Gleacher Shacklock, sitting quietly at the table. He shuffled together a sheaf of parchments and rose to his feet, ‘We need to arrange a welcoming party; I will summon the Magnate.’ Tucking the parchments under his arm he strode past Mistral without even glancing at her.

  Mistral watched his departure curiously. Why was the Contracts Officer in Leo’s room? Training had finished for the year and there were no Contracts being issued until the funeral was over …

  ‘You need not be present.’ Leo’s cold voice drew her attention back to meet his icy blue stare. ‘And,’ he continued, his eyes travelling critically over her tattered clothes, ‘please be more appropriately attired for the funeral tomorrow. You look like a stablehand.’

  Mistral stared in disbelief at the door closing in her face, ‘And thank you too, brother-in-law,’ she muttered and began to make the long trek down the stairs and back down to the village square.

  By the time she reached the village square Mistral was breathless again, but this time from anticipation. Fabian’s thoughts were so clear to her now it was as though he were stood next to her, speaking directly into her ear. ‘Come on … come on!’ She muttered, staring through the snow and fading light at the path leading to the North Gate.

  The sound of hoof beats reached her ears at exactly the same time that Leo’s strident voice rang out behind her, issuing orders to his Training Lieutenant.

  ‘Damn!’ Mistral quickly ran into the stable block to hide from him. Hovering anxiously inside the entrance, she peered out, desperate to catch a glimpse of her Mage, her husband … Fabian. The sound of hoof beats grew louder, pounding in time to her frantic heartbeats. Horses appeared through the snow-filled night, dark greys and browns, their riders heavily cloaked against the winter night, then, like a sunbeam through a raincloud, a bright gold palomino galloped into view, her rider almost entirely obscured from view by the heavy snow blowing across the Square.

  Mistral hung on to the edge of the doorway to stop herself from running out; he was finally here …

  Leo stepped forward to greet an imposing figure, dimly visible through the thickening snow; Mage Grapple, the formidable Head of the Mage Council. But Mistral had eyes only for the lean figure dismounting from the restlessly fidgeting palomino.

  ‘Fabian –’ Mistral breathed his name, knowing there was no way he would be able to hear her, but just to say his name and see him at the same time … her heart raced as though she had just run the stairs again. She watched him take the reins of the Councillors’ horses and lead them towards the stableblock, his head bowed against the driving snow; every step he took seemed to take an age until finally, he was there, in front of her. ‘Fabian!’

  His head snapped up to stare into the darkness of the stable. Seeing her, he smiled. She was instantly lost in the velvet depths of his gaze, rendered incapable of movement, thought or even breath. As he murmured her name his face glowed with an intensity of emotion that was divine, utterly divine. At once his arms were around her, the horses forgotten as his lips met hers.

  He released her with a deep sigh and pulled her more closely into his arms. She leaned into his body, inhaling deeply the familiar scent that made her head spin.

  ‘But how I’ve missed you!’ He exclaimed softly.

  She smiled and looked up at him, ‘It wasn’t so bad for me … I heard you –’

  His eyes widened briefly, ‘How far?’

  ‘Only to the far side of The Velvet Forests. Then you faded away.’

  He gazed down at her thoughtfully, ‘It’s still an impressive start to mastering your gift Mistral.’

  She sighed and laid her head against his shoulder, ‘Not really. It’s only you I can hear that far; anyone else has to be a lot closer.’

  The sound of raised voices outside made them both look up. Leo was ordering a cask of wine to be sent to the Main Hall.

  ‘I must go.’ Fabian murmured, gazing at her regretfully. ‘Leo wishes me to join him for a meeting with Eximius and the rest of the Councillors.’

  ‘How long will you be?’ Mistral asked, trying to hide the desperation she suddenly felt.

  He smiled softly at her, ‘I assure you that I will not linger. I would much rather be in your company than theirs, however, there is much at stake right now.’

  Mistral rolled her eyes, ‘Details.’

  ‘Yes, details.’ Fabian laughed softly and kissed her.

  ‘I’ll be at the twins’ house,’ she whispered breathlessly when he finally released her.

  He smiled and nodded, touching a hand briefly to her cheek, ‘Then I know where to find you.’

  She stared after his retreating figure, quickly vanishing from her sight into the snow-filled night before heaving a deep sigh and walking dreamily back towards the village, oblivious to Clovis’ angry curses at finding several untended horses wandering aimlessly around his yard.

  She reached the twins’ house and let herself in to have her blissful haze cruelly shattered.

  ‘About time too! I would say that I have a surprise for you but I’m sure you already know!’

  Mistral was immediately seized and propelled up the stairs by Phantasm, his angelic face radiating a force of intent that was both mesmerising and terrifying to behold.

  ‘Oh no! Please stop trying to dress me like some toy Phantasm! I really don’t appreciate it.’

  ‘Mistral.’ Phantasm spun her round to fix her with a flinty look. ‘You are going to have to dress appropriately now that you are the Ri’s Seer.’

  ‘I am dressed appropriately!’

  Phantasm’s eyes travelled over her ripped trousers and shirt in icy silence, ‘Those trousers are so torn that they are hardly even decent anymore and – Mistral! Are you really wearing one of Mage De Winter’s shirts?’

  Mistral shrugged and dropped her gaze, ‘Ran out of clean ones.’ She wasn’t about to admit that she liked to wear Fabian’s shirts because they carried his scent.

  ‘Not anymore.’ Phantasm said shortly and flung open the doors to his wardrobe with a flourish. ‘For the funeral tomorrow you have a choice,’ he ran a hand lightly along the line of dresses hanging in front of him.

  ‘Just a clean black shirt and some new trousers will be fine.’ Mistral said quickly, eyeing the colourful array of dresses in trepidation. ‘It’s just another funeral.’

  Phantasm turned on her, his green eyes blazing with anger, ‘No, it is not just another funeral Mistral! This is the Divinus’ funeral!’

  ‘Calm down brother!’ Mistral said quickly, taken aback by his sudden anger. ‘I know it’s not going to be like one of the usual bonfires in the village square, but I can’t really see the need to dress up just to hear Leo make his usual boring speech before we have a few drinks in The Cloak!’

  ‘A few drinks in The Cloak?’ Phantasm repeated incredulously. ‘Mistral, this is a state occasion! The Divinus was two hundred and thirty five years old! He was influential in several major international treaties and was held in high regard by all of the famous Mage families as well
as the Arcane tribes – and not just those who live on the Isle! This funeral will be attended by Mage delegates from the Isle and abroad, and probably all of the Arcane chieftains as well!’

  Mistral pouted moodily, ‘So? It’s going to be busy! But I don’t really think that they’re going to be looking at what I’m wearing.’

  ‘Yes they are!’ Phantasm hissed through clenched teeth. ‘You are the Seer now! Of course they’re all going to be looking at you … and us! Until a new Divinus is elected, we are the Ri!’

  Mistral threw him a disdainful look, ‘No we’re not! You’ve got serious delusions of grandeur Phantasm! Mycroft has taken control of the Ri until a new Divinus is elected.’

  ‘Master Casterton couldn’t organise a drinking competition in The Cloak!’ Phantasm snapped scornfully. ‘He’s only been awarded the position on a temporary basis to take the attention away from the real contenders. Until either Master Nox or Master Sphinx have their appointment confirmed by the Council we are going to have to use our gifts to ensure that Master Casterton doesn’t make too much of a mess!’

  ‘Again, I fail to see how their pathetic power struggle will be helped by me appearing in a selection of frilly gowns!’

  Phantasm gave her a pained look, ‘Please credit me with some taste.’

  ‘Alright, maybe not frilly.’ Mistral conceded grudgingly. ‘But can’t I just wear some new trousers? Please?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But … you will be!’

  ‘Poor argument Mistral, try again.’

  ‘But –’

  A loud knocking on the door followed by the sound of Prospero barking joyously put an end to their bickering. Before the visitor even spoke Mistral’s face had broken into a huge grin, she ran from the bedroom and flew down the stairs. ‘Fabian!’ hurtling across the lounge she threw herself into his arms, inhaling the scent of snow, cold air and his warm body in a heady rush.

  ‘I wish I was greeted like that every time I came home.’ Phantom muttered to his brother when he appeared beside him to greet their visitor.

  ‘Not by me you won’t be.’ Phantasm murmured, smiling politely to Fabian. ‘Mage De Winter, please, come in.’

  ‘Are you staying for dinner? I’m cooking!’ Mistral led Fabian by the hand into the house, gazing at him with shining eyes.

  ‘If I am not intruding –’

  ‘Please join us Mage De Winter, there is much we need to discuss.’ Phantasm gestured to the chairs by the fire.

  ‘Details, details.’ Mistral rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen to check on their dinner. Lifting the lid of a large pot and stirring the contents with a wooden spoon she turned to speak to Fabian over her shoulder. ‘Oh, and while you’re here, can you please tell Phantasm that it will be perfectly acceptable for me to attend the Divinus’ funeral in trousers.’

  Fabian raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at her frayed trousers, ‘Those trousers?’ he enquired lightly.

  Mistral laughed, ‘No. He’s got me some new ones. They’re upstairs in the wardrobe, hidden somewhere amongst a load of dresses! Can you believe it?’

  ‘Believe it Mistral because you are going to be wearing one of those tomorrow!’ Phantasm called sharply.

  ‘Am not!’ Mistral shouted back then turned to look at Fabian beseechingly. ‘Please tell him Fabian, he just won’t listen to me!’

  Fabian gazed back at her expressionlessly.

  ‘Oh no!’ she cried. ‘Not you too!’

  ‘It would be appropriate for you to be more formally attired tomorrow, especially for the evening.’

  ‘I think I will be a bit overdressed for a wake in The Cloak don’t you?’

  ‘Actually,’ Fabian murmured, walking over to wrap his arms around her, ‘it’s a banquet in the Main Hall.’

  Mistral froze, ‘A banquet?’

  ‘Yes,’ he murmured, kissing her neck softly.

  ‘Don’t try to distract me!’ She snapped, and instantly felt a shiver run down her spine as he gently lifted her hair away to kiss the nape of her neck. ‘Oh fine, distract me then,’ she breathed, turning in his arms to kiss him. ‘But I’m still not wearing a dress.’

  ‘Yes, you are.’ Phantasm said firmly, walking into the kitchen and waiting politely while Fabian released Mistral.

  ‘Do I have to?’ Mistral asked, gazing pleadingly at Fabian.

  He smiled and touched her cheek gently.

  ‘You don’t have to say it, I can hear you loud and clear,’ she sighed.

  ‘I’m so pleased that you’re finally accepting the full responsibilities of your new position.’ Phantom smirked, wandering in to the kitchen and leaning casually against the sink. ‘Seer … cook –’

  ‘Don’t think I’m going to be making a habit of this.’ Mistral warned waving the wooden spoon at him.

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ Phantom grinned and strolled over to stand beside her at the stove. He leaned over and sniffed the contents appreciatively. ‘That smells delicious!’

  ‘I can cook you know! Now if you insist on being in my way you can make yourself useful –’

  Leaving Mistral bossing Phantom around in the kitchen, Fabian and Phantasm walked back over to the fire where Prospero was stretched out like a huge fur rug.

  ‘Who is in the delegation from the Council?’ Phantasm enquired, trying to hide his interest behind a bland expression.

  ‘Eximius, obviously, his Captain of the Guard, plus four warlocks … Basil Rosenberg, Edwin Castledine and Vilius –’

  Phantasm looked up sharply at the mention of his mother’s husband, ‘Why is Mage De’ath here? He’s just a Foreign Ambassador.’

  ‘He has been given a promotion.’ Fabian gazed pensively into the fire. ‘He’s now the Councillor for Foreign Travel.’

  ‘He’s taken Count Darke’s old position?’

  Fabian nodded and frowned, ‘I’m not sure whether he has assumed all of the perks that come with that role.’

  ‘Mistral will find out.’ Phantasm said confidently.

  Fabian didn’t respond immediately but continued to gaze into the fire, ‘I have to ask this Phantasm. If Vilius has carried on Putreo’s trade in illegal potions then where will your loyalties lie? The crime is punishable by death and he is, after all, your mother’s husband.’ He turned his black gaze to look directly at Phantasm. ‘Would you make her a widow?’

  Phantasm held his gaze steadily, ‘She would find another husband. We will not find another Isle.’

  Fabian nodded briefly, ‘And, as you say, Mistral will find out the truth.’

  ‘Whatever it may be.’ Phantasm said softly. He turned away from Fabian and walked across the room to sit on the sofa. ‘Are any of the Arcane chieftains here?’ he enquired, looking at Fabian intently.

  ‘Bryden Wolfsnare is here already with two of his tribe; there’s a group of mountain elves from the north, a couple of sylvads from The Dawn Forests, and, interestingly, Bellicose La Monte.’

  ‘Really?’ Phantasm raised his eyebrows sharply. ‘I wonder if he’s come to support his son in his bid to become the next Divinus.’

  ‘I am sure that all Malachi’s schemes will come to light very soon.’ Fabian said quietly.

  ‘What about the centaur tribe?’

  ‘Leo has received word that Imperato and a small number of his tribe will be arriving tomorrow for the funeral. They will be attending the Tribute Banquet, but not staying overnight in the Valley.’

  ‘Hmm, it would be difficult to know whether to offer them a stable or a bed! But, where are all the delegates staying? Surely there aren’t enough rooms at The Cloak?’ Phantasm frowned. ‘And I can hardly imagine Mage Grapple being comfortable in the dorms.’

  ‘Some have rooms in The Cloak and Dagger, but Leo has guest accommodation on the third floor that has already been allocated to Eximius and the rest of the Council officials. There are also four houses in the village set aside for the guests.’

  ‘Of course, you and Mistral are welcome here Mage
De Winter, I hope that goes without saying –’

  ‘Especially as she bought us the house.’ Phantom strolled through from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel. ‘Dinner is served!’

  They ate around the small kitchen table; venison casserole with baked potatoes and a large pitcher of red wine. Every mouthful hungrily watched by Prospero, laid at Mistral’s feet.

  ‘This is good!’ Phantom declared after his third helping.

  ‘I’m glad you like it.’ Mistral yawned and pushed her own plate away half-finished.

  ‘Not hungry?’ Fabian asked with a frown.

  Mistral shook her head, ‘Don’t fancy it – which is strange because I could’ve eaten it all when I was cooking.’

  ‘Would you like me to go out and get you something from The Cloak and Dagger? I’m sure Floris would make you up something.’

  ‘No, but t-thanks –’ Mistral yawned again.

  ‘You can’t be tired!’ Phantom exclaimed. ‘You must have slept for twelve hours last night.’

  ‘I think I must be catching up after the stress of the last month,’ she shrugged and glanced over at the full sink to hide a smile as Fabian’s thoughts filled her mind. ‘I think I’ll wash up.’

  While Mistral gathered up the plates, the twins and Fabian began discussing the arrangements for the Divinus’ funeral.

  ‘Who’s conducting the ceremony?’ Phantom asked, stretching his legs out under the table and massaging his full stomach. ‘It’ll look a bit like Master Sphinx thinks he’s already the Divinus if he does the honours.’

  ‘Leo knows he has to tread carefully until he submits his official application to the Council, so there will be a short eulogy from each of the Magnate and one from Eximius.’

  ‘I do hope that Master Sphinx will deviate from the same funeral speech he’s been giving for the last two years.’ Phantom said with feeling.

  ‘We do seem to have heard it quite a bit,’ agreed Phantasm, idly turning his goblet of wine in his hands.

  ‘Wait until you’ve heard it as many times as I have.’ Fabian muttered. ‘Leo inherited that speech from Gleacher.’

  ‘Why would Master Shacklock have made that speech?’ Phantasm asked, looking up curiously.