The Seer (64 page)

He nodded,
‘There are three judge’s stations for the first event; you and I are running
this one, Master Casterton and Mistress Lightwater the second and Master Nox
and Bernadette the third.’

Mistral hid a
smile at the thought of Malachi suffering Bernadette’s inane chatter for the
duration of the first event and bent her head over the parchment, pretending to
scrutinise the entrant’s names. 

‘Hang on a
minute!’  She said suddenly.  ‘This one’s only an apprentice!’

‘The
tournament is an open event Mistral.’

She nodded in
surprise and, not for the first time, found herself marvelling at Leo’s
seemingly limitless cunning.  Opening the event to apprentices could only
increase his popularity with them, despite the fact that they stood a
snowball’s chance in hell of even completing the first event.

‘Warriors! 
I salute you!’

Mistral rolled
her eyes at the sound of Leo’s self-important voice and looked over to the
watch him address the tightly packed mass of warriors in the village
square. 

‘There are two
rules that apply to today’s tournament: the first; do not dismount at any point
during your event, and the second; ride to the best of your ability!’

Mistral gazed
over the sea of warriors gathered in the Square.  Spirit stood out like a
gold coin, gleaming in the weak rays of sun that found their way through the
heavy rain clouds.  She smiled wistfully, focussing on the figure on her
back she listened in on his thoughts, which were typically full of
determination and focus.

‘Mistral,
would you excuse me?’

‘What?’ 
Mistral looked around with a bewildered expression on her face, why would
Gleacher ask her permission for anything?  ‘Oh!’

Imperato’s
timeless eyes met her startled look.

‘How are you
my daughter?’

‘Er, good –’

‘I hear that
you and Mage De Winter were successful in bringing a herd of unicorns to the
Isle.’

Mistral
registered the note of paternal pride in his voice and suppressed the urge to
raise an eyebrow.  It was eighteen years too late to start that sort of
behaviour as far as she was concerned.  She nodded and looked away,
seeking out Fabian again.

‘Alyssa asked
me to send on her thoughts.’  Imperato’s deep voice held a strained note
that made Mistral turn and look at him with frown.

‘She wanted to
come today?’

Imperato
nodded once, a short confirmation of a disagreement that had obviously caused
them both some pain.  Mistral closed her eyes to hide the irritation in
her expression.  The last thing she wanted was to cause a rift between
Imperato and Alyssa.  For a centaur’s bonded partner to leave the confines
of the tribal home was almost unheard of; to attend a tournament in the Valley
of the Ri would have been an unprecedented event.  Alyssa must have been
desperate to see her.

‘I’m sorry
that I haven’t been back, but I have been really busy,’ she cringed at how lame
her excuse sounded, despite the fact that it was genuine.  ‘But I’m
probably going to have a lot of free time over the next couple of weeks; Fabian
is competing today you see.’

Imperato gazed
at her impassively, ‘You believe your Mage will win a place in the final
three?’

‘I know he
will!’

‘Then I hope
he does not fail your strength of conviction.’

‘He
won’t!’  Mistral snapped back and found herself clenching her fists into
tight balls of frustration.  Eighteen years!  After eighteen years of
freedom she was suffering the first taste of a parent’s suffocating
superiority; the firm belief that they knew it all when they really knew
nothing!  Just what did he know about her life?  Nothing! 
Precisely that!  Nothing!

‘You should
have allowed Alyssa to come today,’ she said through gritted teeth, knowing it
would irritate him.

‘Our ways are
not your ways, daughter.’  Imperato responded mildly.

‘Oh
really?’  Mistral flared, unable to stop herself.  ‘So I can’t
comment on your beliefs, yet you seem quite content to scorn my belief in my
husband!’

Imperato
turned to regard her with his fathomless eyes, ‘I meant no offense in my words,
merely my sincere hope that my daughter would not be disappointed.’

Mistral’s
indignation vanished, leaving her feeling small, like a deflated balloon; once
so puffed up with hot air to be abruptly left shrivelled and ashamed.  He
was only expressing concern for his daughter; the same as she would wish for
her son ... and woe betide anyone that so much as dared to even consider
disappointing him!

‘I’m sorry,’
she muttered.  ‘I thought you were getting at me, not … supporting me.’

It was such an
alien concept for her to try and comprehend, that someone cared for her and
wanted nothing in return.  Fabian loved her implicitly, but he was the
only living being she’d met that expected no return for his love.  The
twins, her brothers, even Prospero and Cirrus, all required something in return
for their friendship and loyalty, a system of give and take that she was more
than comfortable with … but the unconditional love that Imperato and Alyssa
were offering to her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced.  She
barely knew them, yet they both seem ready to give her far more than she was
prepared to receive. 

Imperato did
not respond to her muttered apology but gazed over at the village square. 
Leo had finished his speech and was instructing his Training Lieutenant,
together with Gleacher to divide the warriors into their three groups. 
She could hear Gleacher’s voice shouting out the names of each contestant and
indicating which set of poles they were to be racing through.  This was
the largest event and would take the most time; Mistral glanced down at the
parchment in front of her again and re-read the names.  She recognised
Fabian’s, of course, and also Cain’s, and a couple of the others.  One
name struck her as odd; Erin, a female name.  Mistral frowned, she hadn’t
seen any of the amazon warriors in The Cloak over the last couple of nights,
but then they were not famed for their ability to ride and wouldn’t have been
particularly interested in the tournament anyway… so who was Erin?

The mass of
horses and their riders gradually divided into three distinct groups then rode
into the paddock towards the start-line of each set of poles.  It was a
simple test; twenty poles spaced evenly apart had to be ridden through and the
bulls-eye of the target struck cleanly with a crossbow bolt before the rider
returned through the poles.  The rules were basic; if either a pole or the
bulls-eye were missed, the rider was disqualified. 

Gleacher
returned to briefly collect a parchment and quill then walked up the course of
poles to stand a safe distance behind the target, ready to record the accuracy
of each rider’s shot.  Mistral was left in the silent presence of
Imperato, now gazing impassively over the sea of milling horses and
riders.  Each timing station was positioned at what was effectively the
start and finish line; the riders would approach, give their name then await
the starting signal before galloping through the course of poles towards the
target.  

Mistral barely
glanced at the first warrior who approached on an excited bay horse, ‘Name?’

‘Ezra.’

She ticked his
name off and raised the whistle to her lips, ‘On my whistle –’ She blew the
whistle and simultaneously pressed the first knob on the top of her clock, only
then registering that Ezra had been the first year she’d wanted to pulverise
for interrupting a private conversation between her and Fabian.

‘Time.’

Mistral
slammed her hand flat against the third knob at Imperato’s muttered
reminder.  Giving him a silent look of thanks, she quickly wrote down the
time showing on the dials against Ezra’s name before looking  at the next
warrior riding up to give his name.

Warriors
approached the table in a continual stream, she efficiently ticked off each
name, blew her whistle and recorded their time until Fabian approached the
table on Spirit.  Then Mistral could only gaze wordlessly at him while he
smiled and spoke his name in velvet soft tones. 

Her eyes
followed his lean dark figure riding towards the start-line and gave a
half-hearted blow on her whistle.  Completely unnoticed by her, Imperato
leaned over to press down the knob to start the time when Spirit plunged
forwards at a flat out gallop, weaving nimbly through the poles with Fabian
leaning low over her neck, controlling her with one hand while he aimed his
crossbow for the target and fired, striking the bulls-eye with devastating
accuracy before pulling her around in an impossibly sharp turn and racing back.

‘Time.’
 Imperato murmured softly, pressing down the third knob on the clock in
front of Mistral while she gazed longingly after Fabian, mindlessly twirling a
lock of hair through her fingers.

The morning
wore by in an endless procession of warriors and their horses.  Cain rode
with typical recklessness, his fleet grey mare outpacing all the others with
almost disdainful ease, making Mistral grin with unashamed pride when she
punched down the knob as he galloped past her.  Eventually the last name
on the list was reached and Mistral was finally faced with the owner of the
name “Erin”.

The bright sapphire
blue eyes and cropped curly hair immediately told Mistral that Erin had fairy
blood.  She grinned cheekily as she gave her name, revealing small even
white teeth.  She was riding a finely built pony, expensive looking, and
for some reason that annoyed Mistral.  She gave her whistle a prolonged
blow, sending out a high-pitched squeal that echoed the inexplicable dislike
she suddenly felt towards the petite warrior now galloping with irritating
accuracy through the poles towards the target positioned at the end.

‘Miss, damn
it!  Miss!’  Mistral found herself wishing under her breath. 
But even from the distance of the table she could tell that Erin’s shot had
been true and for the first time in her life, she was completely overwhelmed
with jealousy.  The thought of Fabian spending two weeks with the
grinning, elfin-figured Erin was more than she could stand.

‘Is that the
last one?’  She demanded and abruptly stood up.

‘The first
event is completed.’  Imperato confirmed in his steady voice.

‘Good! 
Because there are a couple of people I really need to see right now!’

Leaving her
scattered paperwork in the care of her surprised looking father, Mistral
stormed across the paddock, her eyes raking through the mass of dishevelled warriors
on contrastingly gleaming horses until she spotted the blonde heads she was
looking for and marched towards them.

‘Tell me you
lost!’  She hissed the moment she was in earshot.

‘We rode with
skill and shot with accuracy.’  Phantasm replied stiffly.

‘Yes, yes of
course you did.  I’m sure it was text book!  But did you lose?’

‘We may not
have been the fastest on the field –’

‘Good!’ 
Mistral exhaled sharply with relief.  ‘Because I want you to make
her
fall
off in the next round!’

The twins
followed Mistral’s glare to see Erin giggling up at a bemused looking Samson,
who had obviously ridden well from the way she was flirting with him.

‘Why?’

‘She is
not
going to be spending two weeks doing that to
my
husband!’  Mistral
growled with dangerous emphasis.

‘Oh
please!  As if your Mage would ever look at another woman!’

‘I don’t
care!  Make her fall off!  Or I
swear
I’ll make your lives a
misery for the next two weeks!’

‘Jealousy is
so unbecoming Mistral.’  Phantasm reproved her with a frown.  ‘And
completely unlike you!’

‘Make her fall
off or I will!’  Mistral snarled, reaching instinctively for the belt of
knives she always wore, only to realise that they were missing.

‘Yes.’
 Phantasm murmured, catching her reflexive action.  ‘It is probably a
good thing that your knife belt no longer fits around your waist.’

Suddenly
Mistral was crying, uncontrollable tears of frustration and anger. 
Swinging himself from his saddle, Phantasm immediately pulled her into a hug,
releasing her to look down at her tear-streaked face with an amused
expression.  ‘She’s a terrible flirt I know, but she can’t help it! 
Surely you can see she has fairy blood?  She would probably flirt with a
corpse!’

‘And that’s
what she’ll be if she so much as goes near Fabian!’  Mistral managed between
sobs.

‘I know it’s
hard for you,’ he sighed.  ‘Not able to compete and forced to watch
another female warrior riding almost as well as you can … so, just because I
don’t want my godson upset by your over-emotional state, I ‘m willing to
suggest a compromise.’

‘What?’ 
Mistral sniffed tearfully.

‘If she passes
the next round my brother and I promise to ensure that she’s not successful in
the third.’

‘Why not the
second?  Just get rid of her!’

‘Mistral, this
is a tournament!  She may fail on her own yet, and wouldn’t that be more
gratifying than knowing we’d used our gift to make her?’

‘No.’ Mistral
scowled.  ‘What would be more gratifying is for me to be allowed to
outride her in the damned tournament instead of sitting on the side like some
fat ornament!’

‘Fat?’

‘Yes!’ 
Mistral wailed and broke into tears again.

‘You are not
fat Mistral!  You are
pregnant
!  That’s a baby growing inside
you, not an overindulgence of cakes!’

Mistral said
nothing and wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her cloak, knowing the
split-second before he spoke that Fabian had witnessed her breakdown and was
now standing right beside her. 

Shooting
Phantasm a warning look, she turned to face Fabian with a watery smile, ‘You
rode brilliantly!’