The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (47 page)

It was too dark to see much at
first so Mistral trod water and allowed her eyes to adjust while Prospero
paddled in behind her.  After a few seconds she could make out the cave’s
low ceiling narrowing down to meet a thin shelf of rock.  Prospero suddenly
growled and began to circle her protectively, staring fixedly at the back of
the cave.

‘What is it boy?’ she murmured
and stared into the cave but couldn’t make out anything in the dim light beyond
the edge of the rocky shore.

Mistral heard a faint rattling
noise followed by a splash as a stone rolled down from the back of the cave and
dropped into the water.  She held her breath and stared harder, straining
her eyes to see what, or who, had dislodged the stone then gave a startled gasp
when she saw something pale shift in the shadows.  Praying that she hadn’t
disturbed one of the daunting-looking amazons trying to have a quiet swim
Mistral immediately began to scull backwards out of the cave.

‘Come on boy!’ she called quietly
to Prospero. 

Mistral swam out into the warm
sunlight and continued straight to the side of the pool, quickly hauling
herself out before whoever was in the cave came out.  She had become used
to having her own bathroom in the Valley and wasn’t entirely comfortable with
the notion of communal bathing.

Shivering from the cold of the
water, Mistral hastily pulled open her saddlebag and tugged out a clean set of
clothes, dragging them awkwardly over her wet skin she realised that the
trousers were the shockingly tight ones that Melsina had given her. 
Swearing under her breath, Mistral suddenly remembered that Phantasm had packed
for her and rummaged through the saddlebag with a growing sense of panic. 
She found more new shirts and another pair of Melsina’s black trousers but none
of her comfortable, loose fitting clothing.  Looking around frantically
for the dirty clothes she had left in a pile at the side of the pool she
clenched her fists in anger when she saw they had mysteriously vanished.

‘Phantasm!’  she shouted
while she buttoned up the dark red shirt she had never worn.  ‘You’ve only
packed the clothes your mother gave me!’

‘Have I?’  Phantasm called
back in a surprised voice.  ‘How very remiss of me.  I do apologise
Mistral.  I suppose you will just have to suffer looking presentable for
once.’

Sitting on a sun-warmed rock to
pull on her new leather boots Mistral laced them then took out her irritation
on her hair, giving it a vigorous combing before leaving it loose to dry in the
late afternoon sun.  Finally shoving her dagger into her belt and wishing
it was Phantasm’s arm instead, she stalked over to rejoin the twins.

‘Can you please tell me just why
you two insist on trying to dress me all the time?’

The twins spun around, tilted
their heads to study her appraisingly they both smiled and nodded in
satisfaction.

‘Better!’  said Phantom.

‘I agree.  And in answer to
your question Mistral, it’s the irresistible appeal of all that hidden
potential that is really the essence of all your problems.  You need to embrace
all of your gifts, and I’m not talking about just Sight.’

‘And how would dressing like a –
a … oh!  Words fail me!  Help me to embrace Sight?’ she demanded
furiously, waving a hand angrily at her trousers.

‘If you took a little more pride
in your appearance I am sure it would have a positive effect on your mental
state and help you master your gift.’  Phantasm explained patiently.

‘Pride?  How can I be proud
about being dressed like a – a … whatever the hell I look like!’ 

‘Look Mistral, I really don’t see
the problem.  You are wearing trousers and shirt!’

‘Just!’ she howled furiously.

‘And a wedding ring.’ 
Phantasm continued in a firm voice.  ‘Now, there is nothing inappropriate
in your dress so I really don’t think that you’ll be mistaken for one of those
hard-working nymphs.  You are perfectly respectable, and anyway, I doubt
that there is a male here who would dare think inappropriate thoughts about you
with an expression like that on your face!’

Mistral’s eyes widened but she
managed to control her anger by drawing in a deep breath and deciding to change
tactics.

‘But I’m really not comfortable
dressed like this.  And, I don’t think Fabian would approve.’  she
gave Phantasm a pleading look.  ‘Can I have my other clothes back … please
brother?’

The twins regarded her for a
moment.

‘No, sorry, you look much better
like that.  I just can’t bring myself to let you go back out in those
tatty old clothes.’

‘And Mage De Winter looked very
approving last time you wore those trousers.’

‘Come on brother!  I’ll muck
your horse out for a whole week!’  Mistral wheedled.

‘No.’

‘A fortnight then!’

‘No.’

They bickered all the way back to
the tent to find that Xerxes had started a game of knuckle bones with Cain’s
cousins and was having a heated argument with Hermes about the rules.

‘No!  Two rolls of the dice
are not permitted if you are “feeling lucky” Hermes!  Just face it! 
You’re a cheating hob like your wretched cousin!  Ah –’ he broke off to
leer at Mistral as she approached.  ‘Hello Mistral!  Wearing my favourite
trousers again I see!’

Mistral glowered meaningfully at
the twins who merely shrugged and ducked inside the tent, no doubt to organise
her wardrobe for the rest of the festival.

‘One more word and I will beat
you to within an inch of your life.’  Mistral snarled, venting her
frustration on Xerxes.

‘I don’t think he’d complain.’
 Hermes murmured, running an eye over her trousers.

‘Oh for crying out loud!’ 
Mistral snapped and abruptly turned on her heel and stormed off, diving between
the tents to be rapidly lost from their sight. 

Drawing in several deep breaths,
Mistral forced herself to try and calm down while she strode through the
confused tangle of tents, stepping over guide ropes and apologising brusquely
whenever she lumbered through surprised groups of Arcanes playing cards or
chatting quietly around their campfires.

Prospero padded silently
alongside her, his pale eyes occasionally flicking towards the dark interiors
of the tents they passed but never leaving her side.  Once she had calmed down
enough to think rationally again Mistral made the happy discovery that she was
actually on her own.  She smiled and instantly forgave the twins for the
incident with the trousers.  Feeling her mood and the corners of her mouth
lift at the same time she looked around with fresh enthusiasm.  It was
time to explore.

Letting her mind wander and her
feet do the same, Mistral meandered aimlessly through the tents, smiling and
nodding at any Arcanes that met her gaze but politely refusing their offers to
join them in a meal or a game of cards.  She was too happy simply walking
around and enjoying the atmosphere.  The festival was for her kind only,
those whose appearance had forced them into exile from the human world to an
Isle where they were considered inferior by the ruling Mages.  But for
three days they could rejoice in their uniqueness.  A celebration, that’s
how Saul had described it, and she could see what he meant.  Whatever
differences the Arcane tribes had were put aside for the duration of the festival
with any lingering bitterness redirected towards the Mage population. 

‘Have you heard the one about the
three Council officials trying to cross a river?’

Mistral listened to the start of
another crude joke about Mages being told to a laughing group of goblins and
gazed down at the band of gold on her finger.  She had no doubt that she
was going to be regarded as a traitor for marrying a Mage.

Her Mage.

Slowing to a thoughtful walk she began
to wonder what Fabian was doing right now, whether he had found Putreo and
completed the Contract.  Perhaps he was already making his way back and
would be waiting for her in the Valley when she returned from the
Festival.  Occupied by her hopeful musings Mistral didn’t realise where
she was until she was suddenly staring into a pair of soulful dark eyes.

‘Oh!  Sorry!’ she gasped
when she realised that she had wandered straight into the centaur camp. 
‘I was –’

‘Deep in thought.  Yes, I
could see that.’  the finished centaur in a deep voice.

Mistral nodded and silently
cursed her carelessness.  What had Phantasm said?  That they took
offense easily, and she had rudely blundered into their camp.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she muttered
and began to back away, somehow feeling that it would be even more
disrespectful to turn her back as she left.

The centaur fixed her with his
deep stare, ‘Stay, Seer, there is much we need to discuss.’

Mistral blinked at him …
Seer
... ‘I - I haven’t got the Sight –’ 

The centaur continued to gaze at
her calmly, ‘Not yet maybe.  But you will master your gift.’

‘I don’t think I can actually.’

Mistral was shocked to hear her
voice admitting something she dare not even confess to herself.  She
quickly bit her lip to stop herself from confessing any other secret fears,
like the fact that if she never mastered Sight she would never have a life with
Fabian. 

‘Imperato.’  The centaur
announced and after a moment’s confusion Mistral realised that he was
introducing himself.

‘Oh … I’m Mistral,’ she muttered,
feeling suddenly self-conscious in her new clothes.

Imperato smiled, softening his
hard, proud face, ‘I know.  Join us.  You will be safe here.’
 he gestured to the tribe of centaurs waiting quietly behind him.

Mistral gazed in wide-eyed wonder
at the tribe while they took it in turn to introduce themselves.

‘Dravite,’ announced the centaur
closest to Imperato.  Mistral couldn’t help but notice his equine body was
a magnificent dark chestnut and hoped that he didn’t take offense at her probably
all too obvious admiration.

‘Faras,’ said the centaur next to
him in a quieter voice.  He had blue eyes that seemed not to look directly
at her, but beyond her.  His hair was lighter and his equine body that of
a dappled grey.

The rest of the tribe introduced
themselves, too many for her to remember.  She nodded mutely at each
before quickly realising that there were no females present.  Her
confusion must have showed on her face because Imperato abruptly turned to her
and spoke in his wild, deep voice.

‘Our Bonded partners remain in
The Velvet Forests.  It is not appropriate for them to attend.’

Mistral instantly noted two
things; Bonding, and the fact that they felt it was not appropriate for females
to attend.  She glanced down at her trousers again and grimaced, wondering
just how offensive they found both her presence and the way she was dressed.

‘Join us in a drink to celebrate
the gathering of the Arcane tribes,’ Imperato said and waved one of the tribe
forwards to offer Mistral a horn cup full of a golden liquid.

Mistral accepted the drink the
centaur offered and took a tentative sip.  It was mead, strong and
sweet.  She glanced down to see Prospero sitting quietly by her side, his
expression alert but relaxed.  He obviously felt that the centaurs posed
no threat to his mistress.

‘You are Ri.’

It was a statement, not a
question and Mistral merely nodded, hoping that her being a female warrior
would not offend them any further.

‘Where were you raised?’

‘Nevelte.’  Mistral answered
hesitantly.  ‘It’s a sorcering village … but, I’m … I’m not Mage born …
I’m sure really sure what I am –’

Imperato looked at her for a long
moment, his deep gaze unfathomable and for a heart-wrenching second Mistral was
reminded of the way Fabian looked at her.

‘You are Bonded.’

Mistral swallowed quickly to
vanquish the lump in her throat and nodded.

Imperato suddenly frowned and
stared at her with a dark intensity.

‘Why do you fear your Sight?’

‘I – I’m not sure.’  Mistral
stammered helplessly.  Something in the centaur’s powerful gaze seemed to
make it impossible to hide anything from him, almost as though he could see
into the deepest recesses of her soul.  ‘I think, maybe, that I’m not up
to the responsibility of it, I mean … what everyone expects is just beyond
me!  I’m not right for something that important –’

‘Right?’  Imperato echoed
sharply.  ‘Who are you to judge what is right or wrong for the Isle?’

Mistral stared at him in silence,
frightened to respond and antagonise him further.

‘Sight would not manifest itself
in an unworthy vessel.’  Imperato continued in a hard voice.  ‘You
need not fear your
rightness
to be honoured with the gift of
Sight.  What you fear is fear itself, and that is a futile pursuit.

‘Our centaur tribe has produced three
Seers over the last thousand years.’  Imperato continued in a proud
voice.  ‘The Divinus may be elven born but I myself schooled him in his
gift.’

Mistral stared at him in frank
amazement.  Imperato was older than the Divinus?  He looked in his
prime, strong and healthy with not even a single grey hair showing in his long
hair and dark beard.

‘We are known as stargazers,’ he
paused and looked suddenly disdainful.  ‘A term that does not do justice
to the lifetimes we dedicate to studying the movement of the planets and the
implications their celestial dance has on our fleeting existences.

‘However, you, my child,’ he
fixed her with a dark gaze that was abruptly kind, almost fatherly, ‘are born
to be a Seer.  It is written in the stars and in your soul.  Do not
fear the responsibilities of the role you have been chosen to fulfil.  You
will not be the next Divinus.  That destiny is already filled by another
who waits impatiently for his time to arrive.’

Mistral kept her face
expressionless but she instantly knew that Imperato was referring to her
fiercely ambitious Training Captain, Leo Sphinx.