The Assassin's Destiny (Isle of Dreams) (77 page)

‘Your aura just went the most
revolting shade of ruby I’ve ever seen!  Please don’t tell me you’ve got a
crush on that old trollop!’

‘The experience a mature woman
offers can be very attractive.’  Xerxes swept the cards up, his expression
aloof.  ‘Another game?’ 

Xerxes smirked, ‘What my brother
really meant is that his army of sweethearts have finally joined forced and
gone on strike and he’s feeling lonely.’

‘On strike?’  Cain joined
them again, his impish face alight with curiosity.  ‘As in –’

‘Oh yes.’  Brutus nodded,
his grin broadening.  ‘They’re refusing to see him again until he chooses
just one of them and shows some kind of commitment.’

‘Oh dear.’  Phantom murmured
sympathetically.  ‘Enforced celibacy not suiting you then Xerxes?’

Mistral laughed, ‘I think
desperate would be a closer description judging by his aura.’

‘Back to Master Nox please
Mistral.’  Phantasm hid his words by leaning forward to sweep up the hand
Xerxes dealt him.  ‘Have any of the first years had one of those rather
questionable Training Contracts recently?’

Mistral shook her head and
glanced down at her own cards, ‘Looks like that little scheme of his died with
Putreo.’

‘Or Master Nox suspects we know
and is letting the dust settle.’  

‘What is there to suspect?’ 
Mistral muttered and dropped a card onto the table.  ‘Putreo’s dead and
all the loose ends were tied up with the elf he had assassinated.  There’s
no evidence.’

‘True.’  Phantasm gazed
broodingly at his cards before picking one.  ‘Or maybe he already has
enough gold to buy his way to power when the Divinus passes.’

‘Gold?  Huh!’  Brutus
snorted and tossed a random card down.  ‘When I think of all the Training
Contracts we did with those little added extras for Master Nox I want to be
sick!’ 

‘I remember scraping scaramander
scales off a five day old corpse for him.’  Xerxes gave a disgusted
shudder and flung a card down.  ‘It took days to get the smell off my
hands!’

‘I collected gargoyle eggs.’
 Mistral re-arranged her cards thoughtfully.  ‘They smell like dung
and move on their own.  It was vile.’

‘I had to milk a basilisk of its
venom.  Damned thing nearly bit my hand off.’  Cain said bitterly and
dropped a low card onto the table.

‘What I still don’t get is why
Gleacher lets himself be used in the plan.’  Brutus frowned at his cards before
selecting one and sending it spinning across the table with a practiced flick
of his wrist.  It skidded to a halt, face up on top of the pile. 

‘Show-off.’  Xerxes muttered
and ran a finger lightly over the cards in his hand, pulling one and dropping
it down with a flourish.  ‘I personally refuse to believe that Gleacher’s
in it for his own gain.’ he said firmly.  ‘I’ve fought beside him on
mercenary Contracts and there’s no way he’d do that.  Gleacher’s Ri
through and through.’

‘I agree.’  Phantasm sent a
queen somersaulting onto the pack.  ‘In fact, I agree so much that I think
he’d willingly consent to being the carrier just to protect any apprentices
from being coerced into doing it.  Let’s face it, getting the raw
ingredients is dangerous, but it’s not punishable by death.  Being caught
with illegal potions is.’

‘Why would he agree to do it in
the first place though?’  Cain argued.  ‘Why didn’t he just tell
Malachi where to go and expose him for the snake he is?’

Phantasm shrugged, ‘I think it’s like
we said before; Master Nox must have some kind of hold on him.’

‘Oh dear brother, your luck is
not good tonight.’  Phantom sighed and casually dropped a king onto the
pile.

‘Nor is yours brother.’
 Mistral smiled and dropped two aces onto the table.

‘Damn!’

‘You are so banned from cards
sister!’

Mistral laughed and drained her
tankard, ‘Whatever Brutus.  Just put your money where your mouth is, oh,
and get the ale in while you’re at it.’

Brutus returned to the table a
short while later, his hands laden with tankards, ‘Ah, this is just like old
times.’    

‘Nearly brother.’  Cain
glanced at the empty chair next to him.

Mistral met his eye, the memory
of Saul rising like a ghost to sit at the table with them.  She looked at
her cards again.  Would it always be so?  Or would time, that cure
all salve, heal this? 

October passed and November
arrived, bringing morning mists that lingered across the Valley in a shimmering
veil, hiding the village from sight. 

Mistral leapt out of bed with the
first real burst of excitement she’d felt in weeks.  It was Sunday and
Fabian was taking her hunting.  It would be their first hunt together
since she’d begun her gruelling regime and she couldn’t wait to spend some time
with him.  She paused to look out of her frosted window and
shivered.  It would be bitterly cold in the forests but Mistral would have
braved a snowstorm if it meant spending the day with her Mage. 

Returning from the showers she
found a note had been pushed under her door.  She unfolded it and frowned
at the unfamiliar writing.  Her eyes slid quickly down to the name at the
bottom, written in beautiful slanting script:

 Eternally yours … Fabian

With a horrible sinking feeling
she hastily scanned the rest of the note but was relieved to read that he was
only meeting her an hour later than he’d promised because Leo had requested a
meeting with the Divinus that morning.  She read the note twice over,
reflecting that she’d never actually seen his handwriting before.  There
was still so much she didn’t know about her Mage.

With an irritated sigh Mistral
realised that she now had a couple of hours to fill before she would be meeting
him.  She gazed discontentedly around her room, searching for something to
occupy her and her eye fell upon her saddlebag, tossed in the corner.  She
should probably pack it ready for the hunt.  She could even go down to The
Cloak and ask Floris to make them some lunch to take.

Crouching down beside her
saddlebag she undid the straps and opened it.  Pulling out her old
tattered black trousers she suddenly realised that she hadn’t used her
saddlebag since The Festival of the Arcane.  She rummaged deeper, pulling
out dirty clothes and some mouldy bread, then her fingers brushed against
something heavy.  She pulled it out and rocked back on her heels to regard
the object with a frown.  The white linen bag in her hands was embroidered
with the snarling head of a wolf and chinked with the promise of coin. 
Her winnings from the festival.  She opened it cautiously and peered
inside.  There was more money there than Mistral had ever seen, but she
didn’t want it.  She stared at the bag with something close to
revulsion.  She might as well have been holding Saul’s life in her hands.

Mistral stopped herself with a
quick shake of her head.  That wasn’t right.  Saul had died for her,
not the money.  She looked at the gold again.  Well, she certainly
wasn’t worth five hundred gold coins, so what the hell was she going to do with
it?

Mistral’s face creased into a
thoughtful expression while she stared at the bag in her hand.  She wanted
to do something
right
with the money, something that Saul would have
approved of, something befitting his memory.  She couldn’t buy herself the
Sight, unfortunately ... but she could buy something for the brother that
missed him the most.

A sudden thought struck
her.  Would it look like guilty conscience?  She sighed and glanced
at Prospero, lounging sleepily on her bed.  He gazed back through
half-open eyes.

‘What do you think Prosp? 
Will it make me look like I’m guilty or incredibly generous?  Because I’m
neither.  Well, I’m guilty, of course.  In fact, I think I’ve got
guilt tattooed on my –’

‘Mistral?  Who’re you
talking to?’  Phantom’s head suddenly appeared around her door.

‘Prospero!’  Mistral
snapped, glaring at him.  ‘And don’t you knock anymore?’

‘No need.  You banned your
Mage didn’t you?  What could I see?’  Phantom shrugged unconcernedly.

‘Lots.  But let’s not go
there.’  Mistral glowered at him.  ‘Something you wanted?’

‘Only to moan at you!’

‘Oh feel free!  What have I
done now?’ 

‘Had a hot shower!’

‘Sorry brother.’  Mistral
grinned.  ‘Did you get a cold one again this morning?’ 

‘Yes!  And I’m getting sick
of it!  It’s alright for you, I’ve seen the size of that bath at your
Mage’s house!  We don’t have such luxuries here, and we won’t have until
our damned apprenticeships are paid off and we can afford a place of our own,
which won’t be for a long time either!’

‘Sorry Phantom.’  Mistral
apologised again.  ‘I promise to get you up tomorrow morning before I have
my shower and let you have the hot one.’

‘You’d better.’  Phantom
sniffed, looking slightly mollified.  ‘Because I think I actually had ice
in my hair after my shower this morning.’

He slammed the door shut and
Mistral listened to his footsteps stamping away with a smile, suddenly knowing
exactly what she was going to do with the bag of gold.

‘Come on boy!  We’re going
shopping!’  Mistral cried and laughed at how excited she felt about such
an alien concept.

The shop bell gave a mournful
clang when Mistral pushed the door open.  She stepped inside and peered
around curiously.  She had never been into this particular shop in the
village before and could immediately see why.  Boredom crept over her as
she took in the piles of parchment stacked up on desks around the room. 
The air smelt stale and thick cobwebs hung from the ceiling like banners at the
drabbest party ever held.

‘Can I help you?’  a croaky
voice enquired from behind one of the stacks of parchment. 

Mistral turned to see a hunched
figure peering at her over half-moon spectacles, leathery skinned and
hook-nosed.  A goblin.  She almost smiled at the irony of it. 
Only a goblin could be an estate agent.

‘Er, yes please.  I want to
see two properties you’ve got up for sale.  Right now, if you’re not too
busy.’

The goblin’s beady black eyes
immediately gleamed and Mistral hid a smirk.  Her hunt today would be
nothing compared to how blood-thirsty the next couple of hours were going to
be.

‘Certainly!  Boaz Fagg at
your service!  Now tell me, my dear, which ones would you like to see?’
 Boaz leapt to his feet and trotted around to the front of the desk,
grabbing a large ring of heavy iron keys from a hook on the wall.

‘Well, there’s a house on the
west side I want to see.’  Mistral followed Boaz out of the shop and into
the street.  ‘But let’s start with a commercial property you’ve got. 
The one on East Street.’ 

‘Ah yes, I know the one.’
 Boaz turned to give her an overly regretful look.  ‘It is spoken for
my dear, so sorry.  However,’ he leaned towards her with a shifty
expression on his face, ‘I may be persuaded to let you overbid the current
buyer, for the right price.’

Mistral fixed him with a hard
look, ‘Actually, I want to purchase the property for the current buyer.’

‘Really?’  Boaz looked at
her in surprise.  ‘Well I am pleased!  To be honest, I never thought
he’d find the money.  He’s always in the tavern drinking and gambling with
the rest of his wayward brothers!’

Mistral gave him an icy look,
‘Who also happen to be my wayward brothers.’ 

‘Jolly nice bunch they are
too!’  Boaz amended hurriedly and gestured to the street.  ‘Shall
we?’

‘After you.’  Mistral
scowled evilly, sending Boaz scurrying ahead up the cobbled street.

‘Ah!  Here we are!’
 Boaz announced, waving grandly towards a dilapidated property sandwiched
between a butchers shop and the saddlery store where one of Xerxes’ many
sweethearts worked.

‘This?’  Mistral eyed the
shop in a distinctly underwhelmed fashion.  ‘It looks like it should be
condemned, not sold!’

‘A lick of paint will make all
the difference.’  Boaz patted the rotten window frame defensively and
quickly jumped back when it crumbled under his hand.  ‘Er, care to see
inside?’

‘Not really.’

‘Surely you can see the
potential?’  Boaz cried, his face falling dramatically.

‘Potential to be a pile of rubble
maybe.’  Mistral muttered, examining her fingernails in a bored manner.

‘What if I came to some
arrangement on repairs?’  Boaz wheedled.

Mistral gave the dilapidated shop
a cursory glance then shook her head, ‘Nope.  Sorry but I’m disinclined to
offer on such a heap.  I think my cash will be better spent elsewhere.’
she turned to look at another shop further up the street being offered for sale
by a different agent.

Boaz coughed, ‘Cash you
say?’ 

Mistral nodded, her eyes hard,
‘Gold.’

Boaz licked his lips,
‘Gold?’   

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Full repairs and renovations
included in the price!’  Boaz offered wildly.

Mistral cocked an eyebrow,
‘Stocked and furnished?’

Boaz paused to consider, but it
was all for show.  Mistral caught the flash of greed in his aura and hid a
smile.

‘Done.’  Boaz smiled and
stuck a skinny hand out to shake.

You will be.
  Mistral
smiled brightly and pumped his hand vigorously, ‘And the flat above.’

‘Absolutely not!  I
couldn’t!  Too much!’  Boaz spluttered and jerked his hand back
sharply.

‘Your loss.’  Mistral
shrugged and began to walk up the cobbled street towards the other
property.  She had barely taken five steps when Boaz’s creaky voice called
out.

‘Wait!’

‘Yes?’  Mistral turned, her
expression politely distant.

‘This gold … you would be making
a payment in full … no credit?’

‘Oh yes.  I’m very rich.’
 Mistral confirmed flippantly and began to walk up the street again.