The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (28 page)

‘Damn it,’
Phantasm exclaimed in frustration.  ‘I knew something was going on! 
And now we can’t hear properly!’

Mistral could
tell by the look on his face that he was seriously considering stealing back up
the staircase and listening at the door.

‘Don’t even
think about it,’ she warned.  ‘If he catches you outside his door your
career will be over faster than one of Grendel’s showers!  Come on, let’s
go.’

Mistral and
Phantom began to walk quickly away from the base of the staircase.  Giving
one last longing glance up the stone staircase, Phantasm reluctantly followed
on.  They walked swiftly along the corridor in silence.  When they
moved out of hearing range of Leo’s tower room Mistral tensed slightly, waiting
for the angry tirade to start. 

She didn’t
have to wait very long. 

‘Well,’ began
Phantom in an unnaturally light voice.  ‘We got a bit more than we
bargained for there didn’t we?’

Mistral
cringed; she knew what was coming next.

‘Now how did
that happen?’  Phantasm asked with mock amazement.  ‘Did we get
persuaded that it would be
easy
by someone we know?’

‘Do you think
so?’  Phantom gasped sarcastically.  ‘Well, who could that be I
wonder?’

‘Fine!
 Fine!  I admit that I might have got us in a little bit deeper than
we’d reckoned, but –’

‘Might?’

‘A little
bit?’

Mistral held
her hands up in surrender, ‘I’m sorry.  Happy now?  What can I do to
make it up?  You know I hate it when you sulk.’

The twins
smiled angelically at her.

‘Tell us all
about Nevelte,’ Phantom promptly demanded.

Mistral sighed. 
It was going to be a long night. 

The next
morning Mistral rose at dawn feeling as though she hadn’t slept at all. 
The twins had kept her up half the night with an endless stream of questions
about her dull upbringing in Nevelte.  They had been perplexingly
fascinated in where Brothertoft had found her as a baby and had questioned her
relentlessly on which Arcane tribes lived in The Velvet Forests.  Mistral
had been as forthcoming as she could be, feeling that she owed them after
dropping them in at the deep end with the Contract, which, strangely, they
didn’t seem inclined to want to discuss at all.  In the end, even Phantasm
had conceded defeat about her birth parents. 

‘You don’t
look like any of the elven or yarthkin races,’
he had said for what felt
like the hundredth time.

‘No,’
she
had agreed resignedly.

‘Or Mage
born.  You don’t have the Craft do you?’
he had repeatedly asked.

‘No,’
she
had confirmed wearily.
 

‘So, what
blood do you have?’
he had mused.
 

And so it had
gone on until Mistral had fallen asleep on Phantom’s bed and they had woken her
to send her off to her own room.  They were good friends, but that was
pushing things a bit too far. 

She yawned and
stretched before reluctantly sliding out of her warm bed.  Dressing
hurriedly, Mistral glanced around her room and tried to remember what Leo had
told them to pack.  Both swords obviously, crossbow – always handy …
throwing knives?  Probably not, unless she was going to convince Mage
Grapple by piercing him with sharp blades from a distance … dagger,
definitely.  Mistral reached under her pillow and pulled out her favourite
short bladed dagger.  Cloak, waterskin, basic medical kit, tinder box,
spare clothes … as she wandered around her room throwing random items into her
saddlebag she smiled to herself and bet that the twins had folded their clothes
neatly first.

Mistral looked
out of the window at the breaking dawn.  The morning sky was stained with
vivid yellows and pinks, promising to be a beautiful day.  She walked to
her door and turned to give her room one last cursory glance she almost slapped
a hand to her forehead at her own forgetfulness.

Armour!

If she did end
up going to The Desert Lands then she would definitely need her armour. 
Mistral strode over to the only piece of furniture in the room apart from her
bed, a deep wooden box pushed up against the wall underneath the window. 
She flipped up the lid and reached inside with a tingle of anticipation. 
Her armour had been an expensive purchase and she had so far only used it in
practise training sessions, but Titus had assured her that it was the
best.  Rummaging around in the bottom of the box, Mistral finally located
what she was looking for.  The simply designed pieces consisted of a
chest, back plate and protective shoulder sections joined by sturdy straps all
made of gorgon skin.  Mistral pulled the armour out of the box and held it
aloft, it had an unusual aroma, not exactly unpleasant but definitely
odd.  Gorgon skin was tougher than troll skin – which was the cheaper
option due to its distinctive smell, but both materials had the added benefit
of being impervious to sorcery.  Just what she needed if she was going to
be meeting Mage Grapple and his army of warlocks.

Satisfied that
she had everything she needed, Mistral strode to her door and flung it open to
see the twins lounging casually against the wall outside her room.

‘Finally!’

‘Are you going
to make a habit of waiting for me to appear from behind closed doors?’ 
Mistral asked irritably and slammed her door behind her with more force than
was strictly necessary.

‘Only when
you’ve persuaded us to go on an unpaid suicide mission,’ replied Phantasm
cheerfully.

Mistral pulled
up short and turned to look at him.

‘Unpaid?’ she echoed
faintly, ignoring the jibe about suicide mission.  It would not come to
that; he was just being dramatic.

‘Uh-huh. 
Sadly we won’t be getting anywhere near the same amount of money as the
Mercenary Contract was paying even though it’s essentially the same work. 
I had a good read through the Contract before giving it back to Master Sphinx,
and guess what?  It’s payment on successful achievement of outcome only,
and the payment will be “held over in lieu of training expenses occurred”,’ he
quoted bitterly.

Mistral
winced, ‘I’m really sorry.’

The twins
sighed.

‘It’s fine,
really,’ said Phantom consolingly.  ‘You’ve already made it up to us.’

‘I
have?’  Mistral frowned.

‘Oh yes! 
Watching you squirm when we meet your adoptive parents is going to be better
than two Contract fees!’

Mistral
gritted her teeth and kept quiet.  She had not quite worked out how to
avoid this one.  The last thing she wanted was the twins meeting
Brothertoft and Elnora and in the process becoming armed with lots of stories
of her childhood exploits to tease her with for the rest of her
existence. 

‘Breakfast?’
she asked brightly, swiftly changing the subject.

They left the
Valley a short while later under a sky of clear uninterrupted blue. 
Riding out through the North Gate and into the surrounding meadow it was hard
not to feel a tingle of anticipation despite Phantasm’s obvious doubts about
the Contract.

‘Nevelte,
Nevelte,’ said Phantasm musingly to Mistral.  ‘It’s a funny sort of a
name, what does it mean?’

Mistral
snorted and pulled a face, ‘It means the villagers were too lazy to even think
of a name for where they lived.  The village is near The Velvet Forests
you see.’

‘No, not
really,’ said Phantasm looking mystified.

Mistral
sighed, as if it was painfully obvious, ‘Near Velvet Forests?  Whenever
the villagers described where their home was they would say that it was “near
Velvet Forests” and before long it became “Nevelte” as in “near Velvet.”
 They couldn’t even be bothered to complete the sentence!’

Phantasm gave
a short laugh.

‘So you can
see the kind of intellect we are dealing with here,’ continued Mistral in a
disparaging tone.  ‘A bunch of low grade sorcerers who couldn’t weave a
spell if it came with instructions!  I swear the Craft is wasted on some
sorcerers.’

‘Craft follows
bloodlines.  Powerful sorcerers are born, not made.  They couldn’t
help it if their own skills were weak,’ chided Phantom, riding up on Mistral’s
other side. 

Mistral
shrugged dismissively and looked unrepentant.  She was not looking forward
to returning to Nevelte.  In fact, the very thought made her want to turn
Cirrus in the opposite direction and gallop away until there was at least a
continent between her and that godforsaken village.

The twins were
keeping silent, but she could see from their expressions that they were feeling
slightly smug.  No matter how bad-tempered about it she became, Mistral
had agreed to go to Nevelte and let them meet her adoptive parents and that was
the end of it.  She was trapped.  She knew, and they knew it.  Mistral
sighed dejectedly and tried to get the twins to talk about something else.

‘Look, I know
you’ve been avoiding the subject, but can we please talk about the Contract?’

The twins
looked at her in mock surprise, ‘Bored of talking about your home village
already?’  Phantasm asked.

‘I was bored
by that subject before you even raised it,’ she muttered, then said more
clearly.  ‘You know we need to talk about the details and put some sort of
plan together.’

Phantom shook
his head and gave his brother a confused look, ‘I do apologise, I think I must
have misheard.  But did
Mistral
just say that she wanted to talk
about details?’

Phantasm
smiled briefly but did not look at either of them.  His gaze was fixed on
some distant point on the horizon.

‘Well?’ 
Mistral prompted impatiently. 

Phantasm
seemed to bring himself out of his reverie and turned to look at her, ‘I am not
sure that putting a plan together will help us with this Contract,’ he sighed
quietly. 

‘What do you
mean?’

Phantasm sighed,
‘Well, have you actually considered that Master Sphinx has sent us on this
Contract to purposely fail?’

‘You think he
actually wants the warlocks to fight with the Ri?’  Phantom asked with a
frown.

‘No, I don’t
think that – but I do wonder why he’s sent us in particular.  We don’t
exactly possess the experience or skills required –’

‘We know
why!  It’s because we’re expendable, so if we do stuff up, no-one will
know!’  Mistral broke in impatiently.

Phantasm gazed
at her broodingly, ‘I think it’s more than that.  The whole thing just
doesn’t add up.  Why isn’t Master Sphinx dealing with this himself? 
He has the connections to meet directly with Mage Grapple and prevent this
whole pointless chase across the Isle.’

‘Maybe he
wanted to give us the opportunity to prove ourselves.  After all, we have
made it clear that we want to stay on for a second year, and only apprentices
with something about them get that invitation,’ argued Mistral.

‘Possibly,’
said Phantasm, looking unconvinced.

Mistral rolled
her eyes, ‘Right, well while you dream up conspiracies d’you mind if Phantom
and I draw up a plan of action?’

Phantasm
shrugged indifferently, ‘Be my guest.’

Mistral shot
him a contemptuous look before switching her attention to Phantom, ‘So we skip
Nevelte as Mage Grapple obviously won’t stop at a fleapit like that, and ride
straight through The Velvet Forests ... I know a really good route that’ll
knock about half a day off our journey.  We ride hard and get down to the
Amber River as soon as we can.  By my reckoning should arrive there by
tomorrow evening ... which should be well before Mage Grapple … and then –’ she
paused and drummed her fingers pensively on the pommel of her saddle.

‘Yes,’
prompted Phantom a little sarcastically, ‘I’m waiting for the rest of this
masterpiece to be announced.’

‘I’m
thinking!’  Mistral snapped.  ‘Right, so when Mage Grapple appears
you two have a chat with him – you’re good at that sort of thing ... he goes
off back up north with his army and we go back to the Valley and it’s all
sorted!  Easy!’

‘Oh, very well
thought out Mistral!  But what happens if Mage Grapple doesn’t take the
word of three unqualified first year apprentices and decides to do something
logical like, oh I don’t know, rescue his sister and her husband from being
massacred by Rufus the Red’s army plus a bunch of Ri warriors?’ 

‘Well you
think of something then!’  Mistral snapped and startled Cirrus. 

‘Oh no! 
I’m too overawed by your impressive strategy!  Tell me another – I could
do with a laugh!’

Mistral turned
sharply in her saddle to face him, her eyes blazing with anger, but before she
could open her mouth to continue arguing, Phantasm cut in smoothly.

‘Well that
went well,’ he said in a slightly acidic voice.  ‘But fun as it was to
watch two such great intellects beating out a plan I think that we had best
keep it simple.’

Phantom glared
stonily at his brother and Mistral looked on furiously.  Phantasm ignored
them both and continued in a mild tone.

‘I know you’re
both going to disagree with me here, but credit me with some astuteness when it
comes to reading people’s true intentions.  I believe that Master Sphinx
intends for us to fail and then step in at the last minute himself to rectify
the situation.’

‘But that just
doesn’t make sense!  Why would he do that?’  Mistral burst angrily.

‘To put us in
his debt,’ he replied quietly. 

Mistral looked
at him, completely mystified but Phantom had an expression of dawning
comprehension on his face. 

‘Well that’s
conniving and manipulative beyond anything we ever saw at the Council,’ he
breathed in an awed undertone.

Phantasm
raised his eyebrows and nodded, ‘Hmm, I think that even we may have seriously
underestimated Master Sphinx.’

Mistral
frowned at him, ‘But we’re already in debt!  Every apprentice is!  We
know we’ve got to work exclusively for the Ri once we’ve Qualified to pay them
back for our training.’

‘No this would
be more of a personal debt –’ Phantasm turned suddenly to fix her with a hard
look.  ‘Think about it Mistral!  My brother and I have the power to
influence thoughts while you could well have the Sight!  Do you realise
what that could mean for Master Sphinx’s career?  He’s ambitious beyond
anything I’ve ever seen.  With our gifts we could help him to achieve
everything he wants!’

Mistral and
Phantom shared a dubious look and waited for Phantasm to continue. 

‘We’re way out
of our depth on this Contract.  He knows it and we know it.  Mage
Grapple will never deign to meet with three Ri apprentices!  Even if we somehow
managed to warn him of the Ri’s presence in Rufus the Red’s army, he’s still
going to travel to The Desert Lands.  His sister’s life is in
danger!  So the end result of our impending failure will be all our
brothers being killed because we failed.’