The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams)

by Kirsten Jones

  The twins stared at her in silence.

  ‘And you thought of this just now?’ Phantasm eventually asked.

  ‘No, it’s been on my mind for a while,’ she admitted quietly, thinking to herself that to be precise she had thought daily about leaving the Valley since getting back from The Desert Lands.

  ‘Well, it’s completely unacceptable, so just forget it,’ said Phantom bluntly. ‘And as for you not being able to read auras anymore, why don’t you speak to Mistress Lightwater? She’s fairly knowledgeable about how gifts work.’

  ‘Done that already,’ Mistral muttered dully.

  ‘And?’ Phantom prompted.

  Mistral shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about her dreams, or lack of them.

  ‘She just said to give it time.’

  Phantasm gave an exasperated sigh, ‘Look, as much as I know how you would love to be a martyr, I’m certain that Master Sphinx wouldn’t let you go even if you threw one of your full-on tantrums and spat in his face! I’ve told you before, he is very ambitious and I think we figure largely in whatever plans he has! And don’t feel guilty about us being on punishment detail. We all chose to go on the hunt and can take the punishment. Even my brother can cope with a week of scrubbing out the toilets in The Cloak and Dagger –’

  ‘No I damn well can’t!’ Phantom interrupted quickly. ‘Saul got that one!’

  ‘No, I swapped it for you,’ said Phantasm smoothly ignoring his twin’s spluttered protests. ‘You can thank me later. I know how much you hate the smell of troll skin –’

  ‘The toilets in The Cloak are worse!’

  ‘Look, my decision’s made, so you might as well save your breath.’ Mistral stood up and limped towards the door. ‘I’m going to see Leo now. I’ll come back and say goodbye before I leave.’

  The door closed with a soft snap behind her.

  Phantasm shook his head and looked at his brother, ‘That’s going to be a long painful climb up the stairs to the tower room for no reason at all.’

  ‘The toilets in The Cloak? Seriously? What were you thinking?’

  Mistral heard the twins arguing as she hobbled along the corridor towards the staircase that would lead her up to Leo Sphinx’s tower room and her freedom. In her mind Mistral felt that her strange depression and being in the Valley were inextricably linked. She was convinced that once she left she would regain her ability to see auras and, at the very least, wake up in the morning not wondering how she was going to drag herself through another pointless day.

  Each step up the spiralling stone staircase to Leo’s room was agony. Mistral paused several times to allow the vicious stabbing pains in her leg to subside before forcing herself on again. At the top she didn’t allow herself to rest but limped determinedly up to the door and banged three times in rapid succession.

  After a brief silence Mistral heard footsteps and the rasp of a bolt being drawn. Leo opened the door and stood squarely in the doorway, blocking her entrance to the room.

  ‘What do you want Mistral?’ he asked coldly, not inviting her into the room.

  Unperturbed, Mistral launched into her planned speech.

  ‘To confess to organising the wolverine hunt and take the full blame. I understand that you’ll want me to leave the Valley immediately.’

  Leo abruptly stepped out onto the top of the staircase and closed the door behind him. His hard blue gaze bored into hers for a second before he spoke.

  ‘Don’t waste my time Mistral,’ he hissed in a voice like ice. ‘We both know that Saul organised the whole thing. Everyone in The Cloak and Dagger heard his stupid plan. Now, what I want you to do is stop behaving so damned erratically and just get on with your training or you will be retaking your first year before your second!’

  ‘But I want to go,’ she muttered petulantly, feeling suddenly childish.

  ‘I don’t care what you want,’ he continued in a more threatening tone. ‘Get off my stairs and get better! You’re no good to me in this state!’

  Turning on his heel he opened his door and stepped inside, slamming it with a resounding bang in Mistral’s misery stricken face.

  She had been so sure that Leo would seize the opportunity to throw her out of the Valley that for a moment she couldn’t believe he hadn’t. The relief she had been promising herself was replaced by overwhelming disappointment. She was still stuck in the Valley. Endless, pointless days of training stretched before her like a prison sentence.

  Mistral turned and began to make her way awkwardly down the stairs. Phantasm had been right; Leo wasn’t going to let her go. Mistral realised that even if she ran away he would track her down and bring her back. She was starting to appreciate that Phantasm might be right about the bigger picture too; that Leo had ambitions beyond their comprehension that included using their gifts.

  Mirror, Mirror On The Wall

  By October the first year apprentices had become eligible for more varied types of Contracts and their names appeared alongside the two second years’ on the large slate board outside Gleacher Shacklock’s small office. Beside each of their names was a large A signifying that they were available, or a C to show that they were currently under Contract. Contracts were carefully metered out to the apprentices Gleacher felt needed the experience. Most work was fairly low grade, with the more hazardous work being given to the second years.

  Mistral filled any spare time she had by hanging around outside Gleacher’s office on the off-chance of taking a Contract, regardless of what it entailed. The twins became used to her coming back covered in knucker slime that they no longer commented on the smell. Sometimes she was issued Contracts that involved more dangerous work, which Mistral knew she should have relished, but in her strangely deadened state she now undertook each assignment with a listless detachment. Her torpid mind and dulled reflexes resulted in her sustaining even more injuries and trips to the Infirmary when the twins refused to treat her.

  Mistral made her way to Gleacher’s office after the Saturday morning training session had finished. The twins had headed off to the showers and the other apprentices to The Cloak and Dagger where Xerxes was organising a game of cards that looked set to run long into the night. When Mistral reached Gleacher’s office she was disappointed to find the door locked. He was obviously out of the Valley on other business which meant that she had no Contract to fill the gaping void of the weekend. She hovered aimlessly outside around Gleacher’s office door. Half-formed thoughts entered her mind of wandering down to The Cloak and Dagger to see if any of the apprentices fancied joining her on an overnight hunting trip. She was about to turn and walk towards the Entrance Hall when Leo Sphinx appeared at the end of the corridor.

  ‘Mistral, I have a Contract for you,’ he called, striding towards her holding a rolled up piece of parchment in his hand.

  Mistral turned to face him, mutely holding her hand out for the parchment. She didn’t bother to ask him about it. She would take any work going.

  Leo studied her face for a moment while her eyes flicked over the parchment, ‘You will need to prepare for this one.’

  Noting the tone in his voice, Mistral unrolled the Contract and began to read it. Her eyes lingered on the requirements section. She sighed and rolled it back up.

  ‘It’s not for me,’ she muttered dully.

  Leo folded his arms across his chest and arched his eyebrows, ‘Mistral, are you refusing a Contract?’ he enquired silkily.

  Mistral’s eyes dropped from his gaze, ’I haven’t got the skills for this assignment.’

  Leo snorted impatiently, ‘You need to expand your portfolio of Contracts beyond tracking and slaying! Female warriors are expected to undertake Contracts like this. I suggest that you take it.’

  ‘Ask Golden,’ Mistral replied in a dead voice.

  ‘Golden is otherwise occupied,’ Leo replied smoothly.

  Mistral looked at the board over his shoulder where a large A could clearly be seen next to Golden’s name. Available.


  ‘Ask Columbine then.’

  Leo fixed her with a hard look, ‘Mistral. This is a very simple Council Contract. You are well aware that it is standard practise for all newly released prisoners to be assessed. This man murdered his wife on the grounds that she was having an affair and now that he’s been released the Council wish to have him assessed before they allow him to return to his village. Naturally, the other residents of the village want to be sure he acted in a fit of jealous rage and is not about to do it again.’

  ‘I can’t do it. Ask Columbine,’ Mistral persisted in a low voice, her eyes still not meeting Leo’s iron stare.

  Leo sucked in a breath and was suddenly professional again, ‘Of course any female warrior could, in theory, undertake this mission. However, Columbine cannot read auras and would therefore have to provoke some sort of response from the man to be able to make an assessment – and that could be dangerous for her.’

  Mistral remained silent, privately thinking that the convicted murderer would be the one in danger.

  Leo frowned angrily at her lack of response and took a step closer to her, ‘All you have to do is put on a dress, smile prettily at him across his local tavern then read his aura to gauge his response. It’s very basic! Even for you!’

  Mistral flinched but said nothing.

  ‘That’s if you can remember how to smile,’ Leo added coldly.

  Mistral kept her eyes averted and tried to conceal the truth from Leo’s piercing gaze.

  Leo regarded her for a long moment then his eyes narrowed suspiciously, ‘Don’t tell me you have lost the ability to read auras,’ he finally hissed.

  Mistral didn’t respond; her mind had suddenly gone blank.

  Leo heaved a sigh and Mistral thought she heard disappointment in the sound, ‘Oh well, Golden it is then,’ he muttered and abruptly turned on his heel and stalked off.

  Mistral remained standing outside the locked office door, feeling a wave of dejection flood through her. With no Contract to occupy her, the rest of the weekend stretched out like an eternity before her. She no longer felt like going hunting or even drinking and playing cards. Feeling miserable, she began to walk without paying any attention to where she was going. The door to the Main Hall was open and Mistral wandered through with the vague thought that the twins might be in there.

  The only occupants were Golden and Columbine, sat around a small table near the fire. Golden was enthusiastically describing the benefits of some new skin lotion she was using and Columbine was gazing up at her with a rapt expression, drinking in every word.

  Golden glanced up when Mistral walked in and a spiteful smile lit her face.

  ‘Want to borrow one of my old dresses Mistral?’ she called.

  Mistral stared blankly at her. So Golden had been told about the Contract before her … Mistral knew that should mean something but her mind felt too slow to grasp the meaning. As Mistral continued to stare expressionlessly into Golden’s sneering face, Leo appeared in the doorway behind her.

  ‘Golden. The Contract is yours. Go prepare,’ he ordered briskly and vanished before Golden could argue.

  Golden looked briefly taken aback by Leo’s curt tone but quickly recovered. She leapt off her stool and rounded on Mistral with a furious expression on her face.

  ‘Oh great,’ she spat. ‘So now I’ve got to traipse off to some godforsaken hovel and make eyes at an ex-murderer just because you couldn’t be bothered to brush your hair! Which, by the way, would be a start! Have you even seen yourself lately? You know what Mistral, I used to think that you had some potential, but you’ve really let yourself go. You need to take a good long look in the mirror!’ giving Mistral a malicious glare she swept from the room with a glowering Columbine stamping along in her wake.

  Mistral remained rooted to the spot, her face still frozen into the same expressionless mask. She realised dully that she should have reacted to the insults, that the Mistral of a couple of months ago would have been in Golden’s face in an instant … or at very least have come up with a suitably scathing response. But then the Mistral of a couple of months ago would still have been able to read auras and would have taken the Contract.

  She turned from the empty room and began to walk slowly towards her room, her mind empty. As she walked Golden’s words came back to her, circling in her head like an irritating fly.

  ‘You need to take a good long look in the mirror…’

  Well, she didn’t own a mirror, so that one was out.

  Reaching the quiet sanctuary of her room, Mistral slumped onto her bed and curled up into a ball and lay like that for a long while, staring blankly at the wall until sleep claimed her.

  When Mistral awoke it was dark. She rolled onto her back and stared out of the window. The moon glimmered out from behind a bank of cloud, spearing her room with silver beams. She lay in the silence until she heard the distant chimes of the village clock strike three and realised that she had been asleep for over twelve hours. Her sleep had been deep and dreamless yet she had awoken with none of the pleasantly refreshed feeling she would have expected to. Instead, her mind felt heavy and sluggish, as though she were fighting against a drug of some kind.

  With nothing to do except think, Mistral let her mind roam. She found herself returning again to Golden’s words to her. The phrase kept repeating itself relentlessly in her mind, like a mantra.

  ‘You need to take a good long look in the mirror... You need to take a good long look in the mirror…’

  Mistral sat up and rubbed her forehead, trying to dispel the thought, but it refused to go. What’s wrong with me? Mistral thought desperately. Serenity had plied her with every tonic the apothecary stores had to offer and swore that whatever had ailed her on her return from The Desert Lands was cured. So why did she feel so ... wrong? No, not wrong because that would be something. She just felt numb ... dead inside …

  And now her Training Captain knew that she could no longer see auras. Her second year’s apprenticeship was gone for certain. She sighed and wished that she even cared about that. Puzzling over her complete lack of emotion for anything, Mistral could only conclude that there must be something wrong with her mind. Perhaps that’s why there was such interest in her parentage ... maybe she the child of some creature known for its insanity. If only Serenity could look into her mind and see what was wrong with her –

  Mistral lifted her head up suddenly.

  That was it.

  She needed to take a good long look in the mirror.

  Mistral felt a spark of hope ignite inside her, burning away the suffocating lethargy. She would read her own aura in a mirror and see exactly what was going on in her mind.

  If she could read her own aura that was …

  Mistral quickly shook that thought and clung instead to the stubborn grain of determination that formed such a significant part of her character, a part that was now giving her just enough strength to at least want to attempt to read her own aura.

  Mistral looked around her room, biting her lip thoughtfully. She didn’t own a mirror – there was one in the bathroom but she didn’t want anyone to walk in and disturb her. She racked her brains, her eyes scouring her darkened room for something to use as a reflective surface. Her eye fell on her double-swords; honed and polished to perfection as always. She leapt off the bed and picked them up but her room was too dark to see if they would provide enough of a reflection. Mistral groped around for a candle, eventually finding a waxy stub she lit it with a shaking hand and set it down carefully on the floor, looking hopefully at the blade of one of the swords. The dim glow of the candle cast barely enough light for her to make out the pattern on the hilt let alone cast a reflection.

  Disappointed, she laid the sword down beside her and began to list in her mind all of the places she knew there were mirrors.

  Golden’s room, of course. It was practically a shrine of mirrors. But that was a definite no go. Did the twins have a mirror? She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen one in their room a
nd didn’t fancy knocking on their door in the middle of the night to find out. Besides, she wanted to do this alone.

  She sighed, looking dejectedly at her swords. Her mind began to work, slotting into place the pieces of the puzzle.

  Swords.

  Training.

  The vast Training Room on the third floor that they used when the weather was too bad to train outside! It had one wall entirely mirrored for the apprentices to practise their sword technique and was windowless, ensuring that she would have complete privacy.

  Perfect!

  Mistral grabbed the candle stub and crept barefoot from her room. Closing the door quietly behind her she padded noiselessly along the wooden corridor. There were no rules in the Ri about being in or out of bed at certain times, apprentices were always coming and going at strange hours due to the nature of the work they took, but Mistral didn’t want to bump into anyone and have to explain what she was doing. She climbed the flight of stone steps to the third floor, straining to catch the faintest sound. The silence was absolute, pressing against her eardrums, making her flinch at the noise of her own breathing. Mistral knew she would have to pass the base of the staircase leading to Leo Sphinx’s tower room and hoped he was deeply asleep. She paused every few steps, listening to the banging of her heart. It was strange to feel it pounding so hard, sending the blood hammering through her veins. She realised that she actually felt alive again and smiled a little to herself in the darkness. Why did only danger seem to ignite her?

  With only the guttering light of the candle to dispel the heavy shadows around her Mistral couldn’t work out how far down the long corridor she had to go. She crept along in the near darkness, one hand lightly touching the wall on her left to feel for the iron bound door to the training room.

  She passed three doors, none of which had the distinctive heavy iron work she was looking for. At the fourth door she stopped, carefully running her hand over its face. It was the right one.