The Assassin's Tale (Isle of Dreams) (9 page)

‘Thanks
Mistral!  A meal it is!’  Phantasm grinned.  ‘But nothing
expensive,’ he added with a worried frown, ‘or I really am going to have to
start charging for my obviously irresistible charms.’

‘You can see
who got all the modesty,’ Phantom muttered scornfully.

They followed
the rest of the apprentices out of the Main Hall and along the corridor,
listening in to their conversations about everything they knew about different
types of armour.

‘Metal is
alright but it offers no protection against the Craft,’ Xerxes was saying
loudly. 

Mistral rolled
her eyes.  She was starting to realise that Xerxes had an opinion on just
about everything and was always keen to express it.

‘What we need
is troll skin,’ he continued knowledgably.

‘Is he
right?’  Mistral whispered to the twins with a disgusted look on her
face.  ‘Surely that would stink!’

Phantasm
nodded, ‘Sadly, Xerxes is right.  Troll skin is incredibly tough.  It
offers good protection against both bladed weapons and spells – but you’re
right, it does smell awful.  The tanning process takes a lot of the stench
out, but it always lingers a bit.’

They stepped
out of the Entrance Hall and began to walk down the path to the village. 
It was bright but the frost still lingered in the shade of the buildings. 
Mistral knew it wouldn’t be long before the heavy winter snows fell and
wondered how long the Valley would be cut off for during that time.  A
sudden panicked thought struck her.  Had she just swapped one prison for
another by leaving Nevelte and coming to the Valley?

‘It’s only a
year,’ she muttered to herself under her breath.

‘Or two in
your case,’ said Phantom brightly, catching her quietly spoken words.

Mistral heaved
a sigh and walked on a little faster.

They decided
to go to Mistress Eudora’s first as all the other apprentices had piled into
Toothe and Nayle ahead of them and the tiny shop was heaving.

‘Ready
darling?’  Phantasm asked, opening the door for Mistral with a solicitous
smile.

‘What about
me?’  Phantom demanded looking sulky.  ‘I suppose you don’t care that
the old tart is going to be slobbering all over me now do you?’

‘No,’ said
Phantasm shortly and stepped through the door after Mistral, leaving his
brother fuming on the doorstep.

Mistral played
her part to the best of abilities, which were based on the fairly limited
experience of observing the adolescents in Nevelte flirting awkwardly with one
another.  She simpered adoringly over different jerkins and even managed
to compliment him on his choice when he tried a couple on.

Her act must
have been reasonably convincing as Eudora immediately switched all of her
affections to Phantom, lavishing him with flattery while she forced him to try
on an endless stream of soft leather jerkins.

‘Oh my! 
But this one does bring out the beautiful lights in your eyes!’ she purred,
holding another jerkin up for Phantom to try on.  ‘Simply … ravishing –’

‘It’s black,
like all the others,’ said Phantom shortly, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

‘No, no, I
think it’s more of a very dark inky colour,’ said Mistral, clutching Phantasm’s
arm proprietorially.  ‘Very … you,’ she added helpfully. 

‘Right, well
whatever colour it is, it’ll do,’ he said bad-temperedly, buttoning it right up
to its highest point when he caught Eudora’s eyes travelling hungrily over him
again.

Eudora held
out her hand to receive Phantasm’s money without even bothering to look at him
or count it, her bright blue eyes were fixed purely on the sight of Phantom
unbuttoning his jerkin to reach for his leather money pouch tucked inside his
shirt. 

‘How
much?’  he asked, looking up to meet her burning look and instantly
cringing.

Eudora giggled
coquettishly, ‘I couldn’t charge my favourite customer!  Now do tell me
that you have better manners than your brother,’ she said with a disdainful
sniff in Phantasm’s direction, ‘and keep your promise to come and have tea with
me tomorrow.’

‘Oh that would
be most pleasant, but I’m afraid I must decline,’ said Phantom looking
regretful.  ‘My brother and I have an arrangement you see, and it’s my
turn to take Mistral out tomorrow.’

Ignoring
Eudora’s shocked gasp and Mistral’s horrified stare, Phantom smiled sweetly at
her and quickly left the shop.  He had barely taken two paces into the
street before Mistral flew up behind him, incandescent with rage.

‘What did you
say that for?  Now she’s going to tell the whole village I’m some kind of
tart!  I’m going to kill you!’  she raised her fists threateningly
and Phantasm swiftly grabbed the back of her jerkin, holding her off his
grinning twin.

‘Oh come on
Mistral, no-one will seriously believe her … and anyway, you deserved it for
that terrible acting!  Honestly!  You’re an awful liar!’

Mistral was
still spluttering threats about dismembering Phantom and describing in detail
what she would do with each individual piece when they arrived outside Toothe
and Nayle.  The shop was nearly empty now.  Only Saul and Cain were
still there, haggling with Titus over the counter at the back.

Pausing
briefly in her diatribe against Phantom to admire the shining butterfly knives
resting in their display case in the window, Mistral followed the twins up the
steps and took up where she left off.

‘And you can
forget about me reading auras for you in card games because I am never going to
do you a favour – ever!’

‘You weren’t
going to do that anyway!’  Phantom snorted angrily.  ‘Now will you
please shut up, or am I going to have to make you?’

‘Oh really?
 I’d like to see you try!’  Mistral raised her eyebrows and glared at
him icily.

‘No fighting
in my shop please!’  Titus’ rasping voice called from the back.

Mistral glared
unspoken threats at Phantom while he smirked back at her.  Phantasm sighed
and strolled over to where Saul and Cain were finishing their dealings with
Titus Nayle.

‘Armour is
it?’  Titus asked in a slightly irritated voice, not looking up from
counting out the money he’d just taken from Saul and Cain.

‘If it’s not
too much trouble,’ Phantasm murmured and leant casually against the counter to
wait for Titus to finish sweeping the coins into a linen money bag.

Saul and Cain
eyed Mistral’s fuming face while they picked up their purchases.

‘What’s up
with her?’  Saul muttered to Phantasm.

Phantasm
rolled his eyes and sighed again, ‘You really don’t want to know, however I
would suggest to Xerxes that it would be a fair bet that there will be
bloodshed between her and my brother before the night is out.’

Saul laughed
and left the shop, grinning at Mistral as he went.

‘No troll skin
left now,’ Titus said shortly, bustling into the back room and returning with
his arms full of pieces of armour made from a dark, leathery material and
partially encased in a bright metal. 

‘What’s left
then?’  Mistral demanded moodily, stalking up to the counter and picking
up a piece of the armour. 

‘Gorgon skin,’
replied Titus shortly, bringing more pieces out from the back room and laying
them on the counter.  ‘On the up-side, it’s more durable than troll skin
against both weapons and all known spells and has the added benefit of smelling
less distinctive.’

‘And the
down-side?’  Phantasm asked, fixing Titus with a piercing look. 

‘It’s twice
the price.’  Titus stated baldly.

Picking up a
chest plate Phantasm examined it carefully, ‘Of course it is,’ he sighed. 

Even after
putting down all the money she had left in her purse against her new purchase,
Mistral still had to sign a piece of parchment agreeing to a sizeable debt to
be paid back once she Qualified.

‘You never
know, we might get lucky and get killed before we actually have to start paying
for all this stuff,’ said Phantom grumpily when they left the shop with their
arms full of slightly strange smelling armour.

‘I don’t know
what you’re complaining about,’ snapped Mistral.  ‘You didn’t have to pay
for your jerkin did you!’

‘Oh, please
not this again!  I really can’t take another moment of you two arguing!’
 Phantasm interrupted swiftly.  ‘Let’s go eat.’

The weeks flew
by in a routine of intensive training.  As Barak had warned, despite it
being January most of their training sessions were held in the outside
Arena.  Mistral didn’t mind, she preferred being in the fresh air and the
training was vigorous enough to keep them warm.  The heavy winter snow
falls came later in the month, forcing them to use the huge Training Room on
the third floor.  The purpose of the vast mirror became clear when they
moved on from unarmed combat to swords, using their reflections to check
technique and stance.  They drilled wearing full armour, taking it in
turns to repeatedly practise attack and defence until they were exhausted and
dripping with sweat.  Despite Barak’s continued derision at her opting for
double-swords, Mistral took to handling them quickly and swiftly gained the
reputation of being a fierce opponent to work with.

Columbine
continued to be openly aggressive towards her, never missing an opportunity to
antagonise her into a fight either in training or during their own time. 
Mistral’s fiery temper was her weak spot and she had been in trouble with the
Training Lieutenants twice already for fighting with Columbine in The Cloak and
Dagger.  Golden remained distant and aloof during Columbine’s violent
outbursts but Mistral wasn’t fooled.  She was sure that behind the scenes
Golden was feeding Columbine’s inexplicable dislike of Mistral for her own
amusement.  Phantasm explained to her that nymphs were obsessive, jealous
creatures and she obviously saw Mistral as some sort of threat; though to what,
Mistral didn’t have a clue.

The worst of
the snow storms ceased by the middle of February and the apprentices were
ordered to clear the Training Arena of snow so that they could continue
training outside, moving back to unarmed combat again. 

February
blurred rapidly into March in a relentless cycle of training.  One day
would be spent on horseback learning how to handle a horse and a weapon at the
same time, another day spent out tracking different types of creatures, then a
day spent in the Arena doing endless training drills with varying
weapons.  Each dawn saw the apprentices already up, cleaning weaponry and
tack, mucking out and grooming their horses before belting down to the Training
Arena to begin another gruelling session overseen by Leo Sphinx or one of his
brutish Lieutenants.  The twins detested the unarmed combat; their slender
builds made them easy targets for the colossal Grendel who never missed an
opportunity to throw them around like rag dolls.  Mistral was tougher than
the twins from years of brawling with the other adolescents in Nevelte but she
was no match for Grendel either.  All three of them usually finished the
day nursing bruises and dented pride.

‘I wish he
would just crawl back under his rock or something,’ groaned Phantom gingerly
touching a fresh black eye.

It was a
Friday evening and the twins and Mistral were drinking away their aches and
pains after another long day of training.  The Cloak and Dagger was
quiet.  Floris was idly rubbing glasses with a dirty looking cloth, a
faraway expression on his ruddy face. 

Columbine had
continued her personal vendetta against Mistral during training that day. 
Mistral had a black eye and sore ribs from where Columbine had managed to slyly
ram her knee in during a take-down exercise.  She also had a pounding
headache from where Grendel had then unceremoniously thrown her across the
Arena and into the surrounding fence.  She took a large swallow from her
tankard and groaned.

‘Even drinking
hurts!  Just where does he get his strength from anyway?  And what’s
with the smell?  It’s not as though he needs to be any good at fighting,
he could knock his opponents out with just one whiff of his armpits.’

Phantasm
chuckled and quickly stopped, clutching his own ribs with a pained look on his
face, ‘Half-troll,’ he explained and looked around quickly, as though expecting
an angry Grendel to launch himself out from the shadows to defend his honour.

Mistral sat
for a moment and digested this piece of information.  It certainly
answered a lot of questions about his size and strength, never mind the smell –
a sudden thought struck her.

‘Which half?’
she whispered to the twins.  ‘I mean ... was it his mother or his father?’

There was a
long pause while the twins considered the question then Phantasm finally heaved
a sigh and reached for his drink, ‘Doesn’t really warrant thinking about either
way, does it?’

Mistral
laughed and took another long drink from her tankard before nodding
surreptitiously to a Ri warrior stood at the bar, ‘What about him then?’ 
she asked in a low undertone. 

This had
become one of their favourite past-times: guess the blood-line.  The
Valley was visited by a constant stream of warriors coming to collect work from
one of the Agents.  All of them frequented The Cloak and Dagger at some
point during their visit, providing the twins and Mistral with an unending
source of new faces for their game.

The twins
studied the unfamiliar warrior. 

‘Definitely
elf blood,’ said Phantom confidently.

Mistral nodded
and flicked her gaze onto another warrior.

‘And him?’

‘Oh, now that
is a strange mix,’ said Phantom, gazing curiously at the newcomer as though he
were a particularly interesting specimen in an experiment.

‘Looks like
minotaur blood to me,’ murmured Phantasm speculatively.

‘Yuk!’ said
Mistral, screwing her face up in disgust.

They had long
since whiled away an evening debating the various blood-lines of the other
apprentices; Xerxes and Brutus were of elven descent, Saul was half-yarthkin
and Cain had hob-blood in him on his mother’s side while Golden was obviously
closely related to a nymph.  The twins confessed to be half-sylvads, wood
nymphs, but had uncharacteristically said little when Mistral had not spoken
about her own blood-line.  The twins knew that she didn’t know who her
parents were and didn’t push her for more details.  Of all the
apprentices, Columbine’s blood-line had fascinated Mistral the most, mainly
because the twins had struggled to conceal their contempt for the creature that
she was related to.  Gargillians were a vicious, water-dwelling race that
lived on raw fish but relished the taste of human flesh when the opportunity
arose.  She couldn’t imagine who would willingly mate with such a creature
and when she had voiced this thought out loud the twins had given her a funny
look, as though she were being naive.

‘Most
half-breeds aren’t what you might call “love children” Mistral,’
Phantasm
had muttered darkly. 
‘Why do you think no-one openly discusses their
blood-line?  Most of the time it’s a litany of rape and misery.  Not
a cheerful topic of conversation at the best of times!’

Mistral had
suffered his rebuke in silence and put off asking them about their own
parentage until a more suitable time, which had yet to present itself.

The door to
the tavern opened and the two second year apprentices walked in.  They had
been absent from training for a couple of weeks, obviously on a Contract.

‘When do you
think we’ll start getting Contracts?’  Mistral asked, looking at them
enviously. 

Apart from the
times they were sent out to hunt, she had been stuck in the Valley for nearly
three months solid and was starting to feel the strong desire to roam
again. 

‘Soon, I
should think,’ said Phantasm thoughtfully.  ‘We’ve covered basic tracking,
hunting, swords and unarmed combat.  I’m sure we’ll get something to test
our skills on before too long.’

‘Probably a
knucker,’ said Phantom wearily.

‘I don’t think
I’d even mind that if it meant getting out of the Valley for a bit,’ said
Mistral longingly. 

‘I think
you’ll get the chance sooner than you think!’  Saul announced cheerfully
and sat down next to her.

They looked at
him interestedly.

‘Nice black
eye,’ he commented, wincing sympathetically at Mistral’s appearance.

‘It’s nothing
compared to what I’m going to do to her when I get the chance,’ she muttered
savagely. 

‘Anyway, back
to what you were saying,’ said Phantom impatiently. 

‘Well, don’t
quote me on this,’ Saul said, leaning forward and speaking in a conspiratorial
voice, ‘but Cain said he overheard Master Shacklock debating with Master Sphinx
over some Council Contract that he reckons would be good experience for us.’

‘All of
us?’  Phantasm asked with a frown.

Saul nodded,
‘That’s what Cain said; a group Contract or something.’

‘Sounds good,’
said Mistral, her eyes shining with excitement.  ‘Anything to get out of
here for a bit – and I might get the chance to do away with Columbine while
no-one is looking!’

‘I wouldn’t go
getting your hopes up,’ said Saul with a laugh.  ‘Caleb and Cyrus will be
coming with us to keep an eye on our behaviour.  Apparently first years
have a reputation for vanishing into the nearest village tavern on their first
expedition out of the Valley and not coming back!’

‘So it would
be overnight at least,’ said Mistral enthusiastically.

‘Can’t see
Golden roughing it in a cloak on the ground overnight though, can you?’ 
Phantom said, looking meaningfully over to where the half-nymph was engaged in
a deep one-way conversation with Columbine.

‘She’s
training to be a warrior isn’t she?  Golden will have to get on with it
like the rest of us,’ said Saul with a shrug.

‘I bet she
doesn’t go,’ said Mistral scathingly.  ‘She’ll have a hair appointment or
something.’

They all
laughed and Golden spun round to glare at them suspiciously.

‘When do you
think we’ll find out?’  Mistral asked and quickly took a long drink from
her tankard to hide from Golden’s searing glare.

‘It won’t be
tonight that’s for sure.  Master Sphinx is out of the Valley on business
and he’ll want to give the briefing in person before sending us out on our
first Contract.’

‘I hope he
gets back by the time training ends at lunchtime tomorrow, I’ve got Apothecary
duties,’ said Phantom glumly.

Saul pulled a
face, ‘Bad luck brother.  I think he’s gone to the Mage Council, which has
got to be at least a two day ride, and that’s if you really push it.’

Phantom sighed
and looked at his empty tankard dejectedly.

‘Another?’
said Mistral with a small smile, rising to her feet and reaching out for his
empty tankard.