Phantasm heaved a weary sigh, ‘My brother and I had to listen to his plans throughout our second year’s apprenticeship. He believes that warriors should become more learned in the arts and undergo less physical training. He plans to have a planetarium built, extend the library, and open a debating society.’
‘Can’t see many farmers paying for a Contract to debate their knucker problem to death can you?’ Samson laughed.
‘No, or many warriors needing to know what the movements of the planets mean. For most of them if the stars are out it simply means they should be in the tavern.’
Mistral smiled to herself and thought of the centaur tribe, spending nights on end lost in contemplation of the skies. With a jolt she realised that Imperato would be presiding over the tournament tomorrow. She hadn’t seen him since she’d abruptly left in the middle of the night without so much as a thank you.
‘So, apart from organising this tournament and stumping up a load of gold for the prize Contract, what else has Leo been doing to win the warriors over?’ Samson asked.
‘Nothing.’ Fabian replied.
‘Nothing? Not even smiling a bit more than usual?’
‘No.’ Fabian shook his head lightly. ‘And I can see the logic in his thinking. He believes the warriors should decide who they trust to be the next Divinus based on the past actions of the three candidates, not on some trumped up promises made on the run-up to an election.’
That’s one way of looking at it. Or you could say that he’s actually so arrogant he believes that the warriors will vote for him without even trying …
Mistral kept her expression neutral while she listened to Phantom’s wry musings. He caught her eye meaningfully, knowing she’d heard him. Mistral gave a disinterested shrug and looked down at Prospero, stretched out asleep beneath their table. During the last two weeks she had read Bellicose, Malachi and Mycroft each evening and then had to listen to Fabian and the twins analysing what she’d Seen for what felt like hours. In addition, she’d attended a further two meetings under Mage Grapple, who had now mercifully left the Valley for a brief spell, but would be returning in the morning to preside over the next round of fun-filled meetings. All in all, Mistral was getting pretty fed up with both meetings and campaigns and couldn’t wait for the vote to be over so that she could spend some time in her own head for a change.
Bored with the talk, Xerxes started a card game and instantly shifted the conversation on to distinctly less weighty matters, ‘Samson! Care to lose some money or maybe a few of those teeth?’ Xerxes raised an eyebrow challengingly while he shuffled his pack of cards. ‘I’ve not met many warriors who can honestly say they put their money where their mouth is.’
Samson laughed good-naturedly and finished his tankard of ale, ‘Not tonight Xerxes. I’ve been asked to dinner by the Lady De Winter.’
‘Have you?’ Mistral gave him a startled look.
‘Perhaps I should have mentioned it.’ Fabian murmured apologetically. ‘But since you were cooking for the twins too, I thought one more wouldn’t matter.’
‘I hope you like roast boar.’ Phantom muttered in a low aside to Samson. ‘It’s all she eats these days.’
‘Actually I’ve got a joint of beef roasting in the oven.’ Mistral responded indignantly. ‘But if that’s not good enough for you Phantom, then please feel free to go eat in the Refectory.’
Phantom was on his feet in a flash, hastily dragging his cloak on, ‘Roast beef? Why didn’t you say?’
They headed out into the rain-soaked night, pulling up their hoods against the heavy downpour and hurrying across the village square.
‘This weather’s going to make tomorrow’s tournament a bit challenging.’ Samson said then looked over at the smaller paddock where the unicorns were huddled together looking wet and miserable. ‘I must admit, I thought they’d be bigger.’
Fabian laughed, ‘Believe me, they make up in spirit for what they lack in height. Whoever ends up taking the Contract will earn that money.’
‘I intend to.’ Samson responded confidently.
They ate, elbow to elbow around the table in the kitchen of the small house Fabian had rented. Feeling pleasantly warm and sleepy after a sumptuous dinner of roast beef and all the trimmings, Mistral leaned back against her chair and listened happily to the talk and laughter flowing around her. Samson could tell a tale; mostly at another warrior’s expense, but he was also happy to recount some of his own amusingly disastrous Contracts as well, and even Fabian joined in to reminisce about some of their shared Contracts. Mistral watched her Mage with a lazy smile, marvelling at how completely at ease he appeared at the moment. She had become so used to seeing him tense and preoccupied that the new relaxed Fabian was something of a revelation to her; one she would miss terribly if, when, he left on the unicorn Contract.
‘Ah, but thank you for an excellent dinner.’ Samson raised his goblet of wine in a toast to Mistral, dragging her out of her private reflections. She gave him a rueful smile and raised her own glass of water in return. ‘No wine?’ He frowned, noticing for the first time that Mistral wasn’t drinking. ‘That’s not like you!’
‘Banned,’ she sighed discontentedly. ‘Thanks to your godson.’
‘Let me get this straight. Just because you’re having a baby, you’re banned from drinking, hunting, taking any vaguely interesting Contracts and tomorrow’s tournament?’ Samson exclaimed. ‘Am I glad not to be a woman!’
‘Which is probably a blessing, considering the face you’ve been blessed with.’ Mistral responded tartly.
Samson laughed and rose to his feet, ‘I agree wholeheartedly. But now, I must bid you all good night, Fabian –’ he grinned at his old friend. ‘I look forward to beating you in the tournament tomorrow and to Leo beating Malachi in the tournament that will follow.’
It was only when the door had closed behind him that Mistral realised that she’d forgotten to ask about his new horse.
‘Are we really going to compete tomorrow brother?’ Phantom asked, looking unhappily at the rain drumming against the window panes.
‘Not if it’s raining like this,’ replied Phantasm with a yawn. ‘I hate getting wet.’
‘The paddock’s like a ploughed field.’ Phantom continued with a note of self-justification in his voice. ‘It could be dangerous for the horses –’
‘Oh don’t be such a pair of wimps!’ Mistral exclaimed. ‘I’d give anything to be competing tomorrow!’
‘And what is the French for tomorrow Mistral?’ Phantasm enquired as he rose to his feet and swung his cloak on.
Mistral swore at him in French, then added “demain” on the end.
‘Mage De Winter!’ Phantasm turned to Fabian with a shocked expression on his face. ‘I recognise that one from your outburst at the Council! I do hope you haven’t taught Mistral all of the words I heard you use!’
Fabian smiled, ‘I have not taught Mistral any of those words. Unfortunately, Golden has learned a few.’
‘You’ve been reading Golden?’ Phantom gasped, leaning across the table to fix her with a reproachful look.
Mistral nodded and yawned, ‘Most lunchtimes actually.’
‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘Not a lot to tell.’ Mistral shrugged. ‘She gets her hair done every day, and the hairdresser swears quite a bit, which is about the most interesting thing that’s happened actually.’
‘Don’t suppose you’d read her now would you?’ Phantom tried hopefully and gave her his most charming smile.
‘No chance, when the sun goes down reading Golden is off limits. Put it like this, they go to bed early in the mountains.’
Phantom’s smile instantly faded, ‘Enough said.’
‘Talking of early nights brother.’ Phantasm said, stifling another yawn. ‘We ought to get going. If it’s not raining tomorrow I think we should compete, otherwise the other warriors may think we’re only there to fix the event.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Phant
om rose from his chair with a dismayed look on his face and followed his brother to the door. ‘I hope it’s raining –’
Unwanted Competition
The next day was overcast, although it was not actually raining the skies were heavy with the promise of yet more torrential downpours. Mistral was sat in bed with Prospero laid across her feet, both of them sulkily watching Fabian lacing on his boots. ‘Can’t I just do the first event? It’s not even hard!’
Fabian didn’t even look up as he spoke, ‘No.’
‘Please?’
He sighed and sat upright before turning to pull her onto his lap, ‘Absolutely not.’
‘I can’t believe I’m reduced to watching, it’s going to be so frustrating!’
‘Actually, I’ve arranged for you to be one of the judges. I thought it would keep you amused.’
‘Wow, thanks.’ Mistral muttered ungratefully. ‘So now I’m working on a Sunday, today just gets better and better.’
Her bad mood increased when they reached the stableyard. Everywhere she looked there were warriors preparing for the tournament. Horses were being fastidiously groomed and coaxed into having their manes and tails ornately plaited before being saddled with tack that had been polished until the leather gleamed; but Spirit surpassed them all. Mistral had spent most of the previous afternoon helping Fabian to bathe and groom the nervous mare until her golden coat shone with an unrivalled lustre. Her long mane was so silky that Mistral couldn’t make it hold the tight plaits she was attempting. Giving up, she brushed them out and left it hanging loose.
‘I think it suits her more that way anyway,’ she said, passing the bridle to Fabian.
‘What’s this?’ Fabian held the bridle up, examining the new noseband; a broad strap of leather decorated with triangles of shining brass that exactly matched Spirit’s burnished gold coat.
‘Oh, I bought you a couple of presents for luck, well, I know you don’t believe in luck but I just wanted Spirit to look good.’
Mistral held out a new saddlecloth, a bright white square of quilted cotton that would complement the white-blonde of Spirit’s mane and tail. Fabian didn’t respond, he was staring at her with the most curious expression on his face and it took Mistral a moment to realise that he was at a loss for words. She wondered sadly when the last time was that he had been given a present.
‘You can thank me by losing in the first event,’ she said briskly and threw the saddle cloth over Spirit’s back.
‘If I lost every tournament I ever entered I would still have won,’ he said softly and slid his arms around her.
Fabian rode out of the stableyard a short while later to join the other warriors gathering in the village square. Every single one was mounted on an immaculately turned-out horse, but still Spirit stood out like a star in the night sky. Mistral watched him riding away with a dreamy expression on her face, the memory of his embrace still lingering in her mind.
‘Going to wish us luck then?’
‘I’ll do more than that.’ Mistral said, dragging herself out of her Fabian-based reverie. ‘I’ll fix your times for you if the money’s right.’
‘You’re judging?’ Xerxes and Brutus instantly gathered around her, dragging their unusually well-groomed horses behind them.
‘Uh-huh.’ Mistral grinned slyly. ‘What’s it worth?’
‘Fifty.’ Xerxes said promptly, completely unabashed at what he was suggesting.
‘Gold or silver?’
‘Silver! I’m not that rich!’
‘Huh! You must be quite well off by now Xerxes; you live in Cain’s flat rent free, you don’t have a wife and child to support … well, not that you know of anyway –’
‘Marietta is costing me a fortune in dresses!’ Xerxes complained bitterly. ‘Only the best will do apparently, and boy, are they expensive!’
‘Shame they always end up covered in straw.’ Brutus muttered and Mistral laughed.
‘Seriously, can you sort this for us? Like you did the cull?’
Mistral smiled and shook her head, ‘Sorry brother, much as you know I’d love to give you this Contract, it’s the twins that have the power of persuasion, not me. I only get to see the dirty laundry in people’s minds.’
‘But you’re a judge! Just knock a few seconds off our times! We’ll make it worth your while!’ Xerxes wheedled.
‘Please don’t try to bribe any of my judges today Xerxes, or I will have your Contract eligibility status reduced.’
They all jumped guiltily at the sound of Leo’s voice and turned to watch him leading his pale grey stallion out of the stables.
‘Just a bit of a joke Master Sphinx.’ Xerxes muttered and immediately pulled himself into the saddle and rode off before Leo could see the frustrated look on his face.
‘Good luck Brutus.’ Mistral said, giving his horse a pat.
‘Thanks! See you later!’
‘You will be on time-keeping duties today Mistral. Gleacher will give you your instructions – and please, do not even consider what Xerxes was suggesting.’ Leo snapped, giving her a hard glare as he swung himself into the saddle.
Mistral watched him urge his powerful horse into a trot and exit the yard then childishly stuck her tongue out at his back.
‘That’s a professional look for the Ri’s Seer.’ Phantom said in an amused voice.
Mistral turned to see the twins leading their quiet geldings towards her, ‘That’s where you’re mistaken brother, because today I’m a judge. Now let me have a look at Jupiter’s bridle, the flash is too tight again –’ Mistral immediately began to check the twins’ horses over, adjusting the straps on their bridles and tightening their girths, offering last minute advice while she worked. ‘Remember to use your body weight to guide them through the poles – and hold the reins in one hand, you’ll need your crossbow ready –’
The twins listened to her with resigned expressions on their faces. Finally pulling themselves into the saddle and gathering up their reins they began to ride out of the stableyard with Mistral falling in step between them, still talking enthusiastically until they entered the teeming village square. Giving her a muttered ‘See you later,’ they both rode away, keen to be free of her bossing.
Mistral was left standing alone in a sea of over-excited horses and was immediately buffeted by a horse shying nervously on her right. Stumbling and nearly falling to her knees she realised she was the only one in the Square not on horseback and suddenly felt extremely vulnerable.
‘I’ve always wanted to do this –’
Mistral heard a familiar voice rasp in her ear as a pair of hands grabbed her and swung her up onto the saddle.
‘The whole knight in shining armour thing really appeals to me.’
‘Samson!’
Mistral’s gratitude was instantly replaced by embarrassment at being perched on the front of his saddle like a child. She automatically wound her hands through his horse’s mane to steady herself then gasped aloud at the familiar coarse strands between her fingers.
‘No way!’ She was riding Cirrus. Only it was Cirrus with a few vital differences; the head was finer and the neck less solid. Running her gaze over the rest of the horse Mistral could instantly see from the slighter build that Samson’s new horse was a mare, a firebrand mare. ‘She’s beautiful Samson!’
‘I know.’ Samson said proudly. ‘Now where should I be taking you before Fabian challenges me to a duel?’
‘Oh, I’m on time-keeping duties. Leo told me to get my instructions from Gleacher.’
Samson nodded and kicked his mare into a trot. The long powerful strides were so familiar to Mistral that if she closed her eyes she could almost have been riding Cirrus, now one of the only horses still left in the stableblock.
‘What’s her name?’ Mistral asked, gazing down at the horse with undisguised admiration.
‘Alto, well that’s what I call her anyway.’ Samson grinned ruefully. ‘Her full name is Altostratus, which is more than I can be bothered to say.’<
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‘So she’s related to Cirrus then? One of the cloud-named generation Clovis used that firebrand mare for?’
Samson nodded, ‘His sister actually. The warrior Clovis sold her to died, and she came up for sale to settle his gambling debts; surprisingly no one wanted her.’
‘I can’t think why.’ Mistral murmured, running a hand down the glossy black neck.
‘Oh I think a few tried, but she’s sometimes a little bit temperamental –’
Mistral laughed at the familiar note of defensiveness in Samson’s voice. How many times had she passed Cirrus’ downright cussedness off as “wilfulness”?’
‘I only left you alone for five minutes and already you are in another man’s arms!’
Samson grinned roguishly at Fabian, who was looking at Mistral with a half-exasperated, half-amused expression on his face. She blushed furiously and began to stutter an explanation, only to be cut short by the curt tones of Gleacher Shacklock.
‘Mistral, if you are ready to follow me now, then I will show you to your station for the first event.’
Fabian had dismounted to swing her down from the pommel of Samson’s saddle, making her feel like some kind of parcel being passed around in a child’s party game. For a brief moment she found herself held tightly against his body. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin in a dizzying rush she closed her eyes and impulsively whispered words into his ear she would never have imagined saying to anyone, ever; even in a thousand lifetimes.
‘Win for me.’
His dark eyes burned into hers for one perfect moment and then he was gone, leaving her standing dazed, dimly aware of the clipped tones of Gleacher’s voice issuing instructions to her.
‘You will be required to record the time of each competitor. I will record the accuracy of their shooting ability and any errors that are committed.’
With a herculean effort Mistral dragged her gaze away from the dark-haired rider cantering away on a shining gold horse and looked into Gleacher’s stern features, ‘What am I using to time with?’ She managed to ask.
‘If you can summon up the enthusiasm to hold it, this –’
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