The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (43 page)

Mistral sighed and gazed
dejectedly down at her wedding ring, ‘I’m never going to master it am I?’

‘Yes you are.’  Phantasm
paused in his packing to fix her with a stern look.  ‘However, I do think
that deep down you have some reason for not embracing your gift and it’s
holding you back.’

Mistral tried to hide the guilty
look that instantly flickered across her face.

‘I knew it!’  Phantom cried,
sitting up suddenly and making Prospero growl.  ‘What is it?  You
don’t really want to be with your Mage and holding back on gaining Sight is the
only way you know of letting him down gently!’

‘Are you insane?’  Mistral
snorted, giving him an incredulous look. 

‘No, that’s not it.’ 
Phantasm tilted his head to one side and regarded her carefully.  ‘I think
you’re actually afraid of gaining Sight.’

Mistral gave him an angry look
but didn’t argue.

‘Well?’  Phantom demanded
impatiently.  ‘Are you?’

Mistral dropped her gaze,
admitting in a small voice, ‘A bit.’

Phantom made an exasperated
noise, ‘And just which part of having a rare and powerful gift that will ensure
you money and status for the rest of your life are you frightened of
exactly?’ 

Mistral looked up miserably, ‘All
of it.’

‘I’m not sure I understand
Mistral, is it the responsibility?’  Phantasm frowned.

‘I admit I don’t like it when
Mage Grapple and Leo pull the whole “the Isle is depending on you” line. 
It does freak me out a bit.’

‘I can appreciate that.’
 Phantasm gave her a perceptive look.  ‘But there’s something else –’

Mistral sighed and looked away,
‘I don’t want to look like the Divinus.’  

The twins shared a look over her
head.

‘Why would you think that’s how
you’ll look?’ 

‘Well he’s a Seer – the only Seer
– on the Isle, so I assume that’s how I’ll look!’

‘And do we look like that since
we developed our Gemini gift?’ 

‘No,’ Mistral said slowly, but
still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

‘The Divinus looks the way he
does because he has lived for a long time, over two centuries in fact. 
Its age that’s withered his appearance, not his gift.’

‘Oh, right.’  Mistral
muttered, sounding unconvinced.

‘Would it help if you could see
what he looked like before time ravaged him?’ 

Mistral turned to give him a
doubtful look, ‘Maybe.’

‘Come with us then!’ 
Phantom leapt from the bed and hauled her upright.  With Phantasm and
Prospero following he pulled her from her room and along the corridor, heading
towards the stairs leading to the third floor.

‘We’re not going to visit him are
we?’  Mistral asked, dragging her feet and trying to resist Phantom’s
fierce grip on her arm.

‘Don’t be stupid!  We’re
going to a place you’ve probably never been to in your life.’

Mistral gave him a confused look
and allowed herself to be dragged up the stairs to the floor housing the huge
Training Room and the Magnate’s tower rooms.

‘Here we are!’  Phantom
announced, stopping outside a polished wooden door that Mistral had never
noticed.

‘And where exactly is
here?’  Mistral asked, panic edging her voice.

‘Aha!  Look and you shall
see!’  Phantom gave her an enigmatic smile and slowly pushed open the door
to the Ri’s library.

‘I can feel sleep coming on
already.’  Mistral groaned and stepped into the musty, silent room. 
She turned in a slow circle, staring around at rows and rows of shelves holding
thousands of tightly stacked books reaching right up to the distant ceiling. 

‘Marvellous isn’t it.’
 Phantom sighed happily and stroked the faded spine of a huge leatherbound
book on the nearest shelf.

‘Does anyone actually come up
here?  Apart from you two that is.’  Mistral pointedly ran a finger
through the thick layer of dust on the shelf.

‘Not many people.’  Phantasm
admitted and began to walk down the central aisle. 

‘We see Master Nox and Master
Casterton in here quite a lot.’  Phantom added, following his brother and
hauling Mistral after him.

‘What a fun time you must have.’
 Mistral stumbled along after Phantom, casting bored looks down the
endless narrow aisles that branched off on either side, each lined with
towering shelves filled with even more books.

‘I am underwhelmed by your wild
enthusiasm.’  Phantom sniffed.  ‘I suppose a philistine like you will
be relieved to know that we’re actually here to look at something, not read
it.’

‘Are you suggesting that I can’t
read?’ 

Phantasm cut across them in a
sharp voice, ‘No, Mistral, my brother is not.  He is trying to tell you there
is something here we want you to see.’

‘I can’t wait.’  Mistral
said heavily and resigned herself to being towed deeper into the dimly lit
depths of the library.

‘Who actually writes all this
stuff?’  she muttered when they passed what felt like the hundredth row of
shelves.

‘This library houses works from
authors all over the world.  It is the second most well-stocked on the
Isle, obviously the one at the Council is the first.  It’s nearly twice
the size –’

‘What a waste of space! 
It’d make a great training room!’

‘Really Mistral, show some
respect for the lifetime accomplishments of some of history’s most learned
beings!  There are original works here from some of the world’s most
influential thinkers: Plato, Socrates – ’

‘Who?’ 

Phantasm rolled his eyes wearily,
‘Well I suppose it would have been too much to expect you to have heard of
them, they were after all, humans.  But, perhaps the fact that a copy of
every Contract ever taken by a Ri warrior is stored here will impress you.’

‘Every Contract?’  Mistral
echoed, showing interest for the first time since stepping into the
library. 

‘Yes, and if you think that I am
going to help you search through them just so that you can sigh and trace a
finger over Mage De Winter’s name you can forget it!’  Phantom snapped.

‘Don’t be stupid!  I
wouldn’t do that!’  Mistral bridled, privately thinking that was exactly
what she’d do.

Phantom gave her an “oh really?”
type of look which she ignored while her cheeks went red.  

‘Ah, here we are.  This is
what we wanted to show you.’  Phantasm announced, saving Mistral from the
teasing Phantom was about to inflict on her. 

They had reached the far side of
the library.  Mistral looked up at the heavy oil canvas hanging on the
wall in front of her.  She noticed the solid gilt frame first before
focussing her attention on the subject of the portrait.  A fresh-faced
warrior with startling blue eyes and obvious elven-blood gazed back at
her.  His long hair was tied back away from his handsome face in the same
traditional style that both Brutus and Xerxes wore.  There was something
engraved on a small brass plaque at the base of the frame and Mistral leaned
closer to read the inscription.

‘Chieftain Aloysius
Broadoak.  Well, you don’t get more elven sounding than that!  But
why am I looking at him?’

‘Did you think that the Divinus
was born with that as his name?  “Divinus” is a title bestowed on the
incumbent.  Now have a good look please!’

‘Oh, right.’  Mistral
dutifully studied the portrait, searching the youthful face and clear eyes for
some hint of the ancient, fragile figure she had been staring at for an hour
every day.  She eventually shrugged.  ‘I don’t get it.  How is
this supposed to make me feel better?  He’s young and handsome here as
Aloysius and then ancient and blind as the Divinus!  Surely that only
proves my point?’

‘Details Mistral, it’s all in the
details.’  Phantasm sighed and tapped his finger gently against the brass
plaque.  ‘Read the plaque again.’

Mistral leaned closer to the
frame and rubbed her finger across the surface, wiping away years of
accumulated grime.

‘Aloysius Broadoak celebrating
his centenary as the Divinus of the Ri.’  Mistral read and then
gasped.  ‘He was already a hundred years old when this was painted?’ 

Phantasm nodded smugly.

‘What the hell happened during
the next hundred years to make him look the way he does now then?’ 
Mistral demanded with a wild-eyed expression.

‘Oh Mistral, don’t you ever
listen?’  Phantasm demanded exasperatedly.  ‘You remember Master Nox
talking about how strangely we all age?’

Mistral frowned, she vaguely
remembered thinking that she wanted her and Fabian to grow older together and
Master Nox talking about how some Arcane races age slowly … and Mages … they
also tended to age very slowly until the Craft began to wane in them and their
lifespan was nearly complete and then the aging process accelerated rapidly …
was it the same for the Arcane races?

Mistral suddenly looked dismayed,
‘He’s going to die soon isn’t he?’  

Phantasm drew in a deep breath
and nodded, ‘I actually think he’s holding on for you.’

‘Oh great, no pressure then!’
 Mistral exclaimed.  ‘Please hurry up and master your gift so I can
keel over and you can sit on my wooden throne and stare at the barren walls of
a tower room all day long!’

‘That’s his choice Mistral, not a
symptom of Sight.  He hasn’t always been like that.  I think that he
is so close to death now that he feels more comfortable in the company of
shades and wraiths than he does the living.  He is very, very old Mistral
and he has earned the right to a peaceful passing.’

Mistral felt the familiar
petulant anger building up inside her.  What about her rights?  Her
life with Fabian? 

Fabian. 

She suddenly missed him so much
it was like a knife twisting in her side.

‘Not sure this has helped.’
 Phantom muttered, catching Mistral’s desolate expression.  

‘No.’  Phantasm
agreed.  ‘Time for Plan B?’

Phantom nodded, ‘Fancy a drink
Mistral?’ he asked brightly, dragging her away from the faded portrait.

‘In a bit.’  Mistral
murmured, allowing herself to be pulled back down the aisle.  ‘I’ve got my
daily session with the Divinus first.’

 An hour later Mistral was
walking slowly down towards The Cloak and Dagger.  It was early evening
and the air was balmy, heavy with the scents of jasmine and honeysuckle but the
soft beauty of twilight went completely unnoticed by Mistral.  She walked
with her head down, her mind preoccupied by Fabian’s thoughts.  Not that
there had been many today.  The Divinus had sat for long periods gazing
silently into space and Mistral had even begun to wonder if he was editing
Fabian’s thoughts.

Fabian was closing in on Putreo
and his focus was fixed solely on the completion of the Contract.  What
occasional thoughts the Divinus did express had taken a darker turn and were
filled with a cold sense of purpose, his mind no longer wandered to her or any
other distractions. 

Mistral sighed and pushed open
the door to the tavern.  Perhaps it was a good thing she would be away
from the Valley for a few days.  It was unsettling seeing into the mind of
an assassin, even if it was the one she had married.

Mistral and her brothers left the
Valley early the next morning.  To everyone’s relief Leo was unable to
accompany them.  His new Training Lieutenant had sustained a serious
injury during a sword session with the apprentices, forcing Leo to take over
instructional duties. 

Mistral kept quiet while Xerxes
regaled the rest with the story of how Nereus had managed to cut his leg open
with his own sword whilst demonstrating a flamboyant figure of eight
twirl.  She was sure the real reason Leo had decided not to attend was
because his secret would be revealed.  He was a full-blooded Mage. 
There was no way he would be allowed to enter the festival.  His true
identity was safe in the Valley where blood-lines and pasts were a forbidden
subject, but in a celebration of Arcanes he would stand out like a sore
thumb.  

‘Nereus is a moron.’  Brutus
shook his head scornfully.  ‘If you’ve got time to twirl your sword around
like a flag during a fight you deserve to be killed!’

‘Noah reckons he can’t
walk.’  Xerxes continued.  ‘He said Serenity’s recommended a week of
bed rest then wants to put him in some sort of chair on wheels until his leg
heals.’

‘He’ll love that.  Nereus is
a lazy git.  He just likes to stand in the Arena with the sun on his face
nodding and saying “very good” to everything the apprentices do.’ 

‘You almost sound like you miss
our old Lieutenants!’  Saul laughed. 

‘No.  Not really.  But
we had some fun moments with them, didn’t we?  Like our first Contract
when Cain drugged them senseless for three days so we could gamble and drink
every night.’ 

‘Ah, happy times … happy times.’
 Cain smiled.

They fell to reminiscing,
laughing at each half-forgotten mishap.  Mistral rode quietly beside
Phantom.  He wasn’t joining in with the storytelling but was talking to
her about something to do with her gift.  She wasn’t listening to him or
her brothers.  Her mind dwelled anxiously on Fabian.  She worried
continually for his safety.  Putreo was no threat, but the Rochforte tribe
were.  The irony of being concerned for an assassin with a fearsome
reputation was not lost on her.  She smiled to herself.  Cold-blooded
assassin he may be, but he was hers and she wanted him back in one piece.

‘Now if you’re smiling at my
advice on mind enhancement techniques I know you haven’t been listening to a
word I’ve said.’ 

‘Sorry brother.  I was
thinking.’

‘Mage De Winter I assume?’ 

Mistral sighed, ‘I worry about
him.’

There was a brief silence and
Mistral could feel Phantom’s incredulous gaze boring into the side of head.

‘I know, I know,’ she muttered,
looking down at the leather reins gathered in her hand.  ‘He can look
after himself.  But I can’t help worrying.’