The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (38 page)

‘Master
Shacklock, I am under Contract to Master Sphinx.  He received news that
Rufus the Red has been fed misinformation about the valuable minerals under the
sands … well, apparently there aren’t any, so this battle is all for
nothing.  Anyway, Master Sphinx suspects a high ranking Council Official
of passing the false information on to Rufus in an attempt to discredit Mage
Grapple.  Er, Marcus of St Martine is married to Mage Grapple’s sister you
see ... and she has petitioned Mage Grapple for help in this battle and he’s
travelled from the Isle with an army of warlocks,’ Mistral paused for
breath.  She knew it was all coming out as a garbled jumble of words but
Gleacher merely continued to look intently at her with his unfathomable iron
grey eyes.  ‘Well,’ she went on, ‘my Contract was a two-fold one; firstly
to travel down to Blackneath and meet up with Mage Grapple and try to persuade
him to turn back – which I obviously failed to do … and the second part was to
get here by any means necessary and tell you about the warlocks.’

‘And just how
did you get here?’  Gleacher interrupted in a colourless voice.

‘Er, on Mage
Grapple’s warship.’

Gleacher gave
her and appraising look, ‘And just how did you convince Mage Grapple to allow
you to travel on his warship?’

Mistral’s eyes
slid from his to stare down at the wooden table.  For some inexplicable
reason she was unwilling to mention Fabian De Winter’s involvement.

‘I explained
to Mage Grapple why I had to travel and asked him for safe passage,’ she said
truthfully, looking him in the eye once more. 

To her relief
he seemed to accept her explanation and nodded briefly.

‘So, the
Mage’s army will engage in combat with the Ri.  This is something that is
strictly forbidden, and the unnamed Council Official,’ he paused and Mistral
could see by the disdainful curl of his lip that he already suspected who that
might be, ‘highlights Mage Grapple’s apparent lack of knowledge of where the Ri
are working.  Very clever,’ he mused.  ‘What do you know of Mage
Grapple’s plans?’ he asked in a sharper tone.

‘He and Marcus
of St Martine and ... and Mage De Winter are going to ride out to try and
negotiate with Rufus this afternoon,’ Mistral said, hoping he wouldn’t notice
her hesitation. 

‘Mage De
Winter is here?’  Gleacher’s eyes sharpened.

Mistral nodded
and quickly spoke again to avoid any further questions on that subject, ‘Mage
Grapple also told me that he will instruct his warlocks not to deliberately
engage with any Ri warriors should we end up facing one another in battle.’

‘How
considerate of him,’ Gleacher murmured and fell silent. 

He leaned
forward onto the low table on his elbows, bowing his head in thought. 
Mistral sat quietly while the Contract’s Officer thought and gratefully
accepted a flagon of water that Brutus quietly set down on the table in front
of her.  Mistral stole a glance at Brutus’ face as he turned to leave and
saw a fresh bruise staining the pale skin of his cheekbone.  She
grimaced.  No doubt Cirrus had been hard to handle as usual.  She
would have to apologise to Brutus on behalf of her horse – but then, they might
have rather larger things to worry about very soon. 

Mistral had
drunk two cups of water before Gleacher raised his head and spoke again, ‘So
far there has been no breach of Contract.  We will await the outcome of
the negotiations this afternoon.  Now, what do you want to do?’

Mistral looked
blankly back at him, ‘What do I want to do?’ she repeated uncertainly.

Gleacher
looked at her intently, ‘You are not Contracted to fight in this battle
Mistral, what you decide to do while you are here is your choice.’

Momentarily
taken aback, Mistral frowned and rubbed a hand across her forehead while she
thought.  With a sudden jolt she realised that she had completed the
requirements of Leo’s Contract.  Admittedly she had failed in the first
part by not managing to convince Mage Grapple to turn back, but she had
achieved the aims of the second part.  She had travelled to The Desert
Lands by any means necessary and informed Gleacher of the dangers his warriors
would be facing.  The knowledge that she had succeeded gave her no
satisfaction at all.  Nothing had changed.  If the negotiations
failed the Ri would still end up facing the warlock army in battle.  In
reality, there was no choice to make.  Her decision had already been made
four days ago when she signed her name on the bottom of the Contract in Leo
Sphinx’s tower room. 

Mistral sat up
straight and looked directly into Gleacher cold eyes, ‘With your permission,
Master Shacklock, I wish to fight with the Ri.’

Gleacher did
not respond immediately but favoured her with a long, calculating look, ‘You
have skills that would be useful,’ he said finally.  ‘I agree to you
joining our ranks.’

Mistral nodded
her thanks and stood up to leave then hesitated when she looked across the tent
and saw the gathered warriors and apprentices.  She was sure they’d have
plenty of questions to ask that she didn’t feel up to answering yet. 

‘Does Grendel
need a relief for guard duty,’ she asked on the spur of the moment.

Gleacher
looked up at her and nodded.  Mistral thought she saw a glimmer of
understanding flicker across his stern features but it was gone in a
flash. 

‘Yes, take the
next shift.  I will send one of the apprentices along to relieve you
before we eat.’

Mistral
slipped quickly from the tent and into the bright sunshine, filled with relief
that Gleacher had accepted her story without too many questions.  She
wasn’t entirely comfortable with keeping the whole truth about her journey from
him, but she couldn’t see how to leave out Fabian’s involvement without leaving
some bits out ... and hadn’t Leo specifically told her to avoid mentioning
Fabian at all costs?  Or was that only to Mage Grapple … she couldn’t
remember.  Mistral listed reasons in her mind to justify to herself why
she had been so unwilling to discuss Fabian’s considerable involvement, but a
small part of her had to admit it was mainly because he had saved her from the
wolverines then personally escorted her for the duration of the sea crossing
after tending Cirrus for her.  She cringed.  It all made her sound
like some hapless female in need of constant protection, not an apprentice in
the Ri.

Still wrapped
up in her thoughts Mistral didn’t realise she had reached the camp entrance
until a familiar dung-heap aroma filled her nostrils.  Grendel was squatting
like a huge toad in the cool shadow of the canvas wall, his eyes fixed
unblinkingly on the desert road. 

‘I’ve come to
take over,’ she said, quietly stepping into the shade beside him. 

Grendel
grunted and nodded his head towards an insignificant puff of smoke on the
horizon.

‘Dust cloud,’
he growled.  ‘Horses approaching.  I’ll sound the alarm.’ 

Heaving
himself upright, Grendel stomped off towards the large red and white tent
leaving Mistral to stare out at the distant cloud on her own.

Her pulse
quickened when she realised that this must be Mage Grapple’s negotiation
party.  Fabian would be with them too … he would have to ride right past
her … would he give any sign that he knew her?  Her heat quickened at the
thought of trying to explain that to Gleacher and the other apprentices. 
They would instantly treat her with suspicion and mistrust if they thought she
had been lying to them. 

Several loud
shouts rang out from the camp behind her swiftly followed by the sound of
galloping hooves.  Four of Rufus the Red’s army thundered past her on
horseback and out along the desert road to meet Mage Grapple and his
party.  Mistral instantly recognised the lead rider as the swarthy figure
from The Cloak and Dagger.  He was obviously one of Rufus the Red’s high-ranking
soldiers.  She watched the riders melt into the shimmering heat haze and
couldn’t help but think that it didn’t bode well that Rufus the Red had chosen
not to go in person.  After a while Mistral realised with relief that
Grendel wasn’t coming back and she was left alone with her thoughts once
more. 

The afternoon
wore by slowly with the riders returning, stony faced and tight-lipped just
before sundown.  They did not look at Mistral as they rode into the camp
entrance but she had plenty of time to study the aura of the one she assumed to
be Rufus’ general as he approached.  A halo of deep red ringed with
shining copper hung in the air around his head.  When he drew nearer
Mistral could just make out a tinge of royal blue on the very outer perimeters
of his aura before she had to drop her gaze to avoid staring too obviously at
him.  But she had seen enough to know that it wasn’t good news; anger,
stubbornness and purpose.  It looked as though they would be going into
battle after all.  Mistral sat back down onto the hard sand and was about
to begin mentally making her battle preparations when a light touch on her arm
made her jump.

‘Mistral,’
Saul spoke quietly and sat down in the shade next to her.  ‘Master
Shacklock has sent me to relieve you.  They’re all about to eat.’

‘Thanks Saul,
but I’m not hungry.’

‘Master
Shacklock said I was to insist.  Something about not wanting what little
brains you had left to be fried by the sun,’ smiled Saul.

Mistral looked
at him in surprise, ‘Master Shacklock said that?  He never makes jokes!’

Saul chuckled,
‘Well not exactly, but his meaning was clear.  Your presence is required.’

Mistral looked
apprehensive, ‘Did he say anything else?’

Saul nodded
and gazed out across the desert for a moment before replying, ‘Yes, he said
that Master Sphinx had been informed of a double-cross and sent you to bring
the information to us.  We know all about St Martine’s connection to Mage
Grapple and about the warlock army,’ he said grimly.  ‘But thankfully
everyone has got gorgon or troll skin armour – as if it didn’t stink enough in
that hot tent with Grendel around!’

Mistral felt
some small grain of consolation that all the warriors had good armour, but even
so, she couldn’t help but think that only Grendel and the more experienced
warriors would stand a realistic chance of surviving a fight with a
warlock. 

‘And nobody
blames me?’  Mistral asked hesitantly.

‘For
what?’  Saul looked mystified.

‘I don’t know,
for the warlock army being here I suppose,’ she muttered, letting her voice
tail off when she realised that she’d said more than she should have.

Saul shook his
head, ‘Sometimes I think you’ve got a serious persecution complex
Mistral!  All the warriors are actually pretty impressed that you got here
with the news at all, which reminds me,’ he turned suddenly to look at her, a
curious expression on his face.  ‘Did you really travel on Mage Grapple’s
warship?’

Mistral nodded
but didn’t say anything.

‘What was it
like?’  Saul persisted.

Mistral
shrugged, ‘I don’t know, I slept for most of the journey.’

Saul frowned,
‘You slept?  But, how long was the crossing?’

‘One night.’

‘One
night!’  Saul exclaimed in an awestruck voice.  ‘It’s taken us four
days to get here!’

Mistral stared
at him.  She had travelled across the breadth of the Isle and over an
ocean in the time it had taken the Ri’s ship to make the crossing.

‘Why did it
take so long?’

It was Saul’s
turn to shrug, ‘I’m no sailor but the Captain was using some pretty choice
swear words to describe the wind, something about the sails being flatter than
a witch’s –’

Mistral
laughed and held up a hand to stop him from finishing his sentence and they sat
in companionable silence for a moment until Saul spoke again.

‘Where are the
twins?’

Mistral
sighed.  She had been thinking about them too, hoping that they had made
it back to the Valley.

‘We got set
upon by that pack of Blackheart Wolverines running through The Velvet
Forests.  The twins’ horses got pretty badly mauled and they had to go
back.  In fact, when we get back to the Valley I was thinking of
organising a hunt to clear the pack out, I owe those mangy mutts,’ she added in
a vengeful tone.

‘A hunt would
be good,’ he agreed enthusiastically and then his faced suddenly changed. 
‘Hang on, so you travelled on your own after that?’ 

Mistral looked
across the sands to avoid his gaze and shrugged.  She didn’t want to even
think about Fabian De Winter, never mind talk about him.

Saul looked
impressed, ‘That took some guts!  I’m not sure I would have gone on. 
But I’m glad you did, we know what we’re facing now.’

Mistral looked
at him, ‘You would’ve gone on too Saul.  Any of us would do the same for
each other.’

Saul looked
unconvinced but nodded, ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he paused and suddenly grinned at
her.  ‘I’m pleased you’re here.  It wouldn’t be the same going into
battle with one of us missing.’

‘Except Golden
of course,’ muttered Mistral.

Saul snorted,
‘Haven’t you noticed that she always vanishes after each Saturday training session
for the rest of the weekend?’

Mistral pulled
a face, ‘I try not to notice Golden at all.’

Saul laughed,
‘We’ve all got bets on where she goes.  I reckon it’s a lover, but Cain
thinks she’s really a vampire and has to stock up on blood at the weekends.’

‘Huh?  A
lover?  No chance!  More likely to have her nose hairs plaited or
something equally as pointless done to her pristine countenance.’  

They both
laughed.  Mistral felt herself relax slightly.  It was good to be
amongst the apprentices again.  She was relieved that they didn’t appear
to blame her for not being able to turn back Mage Grapple’s army, which made
her suddenly think that Gleacher must have left out the fact that she’d failed
in the first part of her Contract.  Mistral was grateful for his tactful
omission but also slightly puzzled as to why the Contract’s Officer would have
done that.  He was hardly the compassionate sort after all.  Suddenly
fed up with everyone seeming to have an ulterior motive, Mistral decided to
find out what Gleacher’s reason had been for herself.