He’d taken some money, which had been left in the vaults to pay the food suppliers and he used that now, to buy some drinks in a tavern close by the hiding place. He was deliberately getting drunk. Once he was happy that he was inebriated enough, he wandered out through the streets looking for the house that Cyrus was holed up in. As he walked, he concentrated on the aura around him, hoping that the alcohol would cause the mortal colours around his body to splay out into the white cloud. He’d seen this effect on Cyrus the few times that he had allowed himself to drink, and he was counting on this happening to him as well so he could disguise himself and avoid detection from any wielders.
Fortunately he didn’t see any until he came to the area around the house where Cyrus was hiding. Cimon exaggerated his inebriation and wandered down the street humming an old Greek tune and stumbling as he walked. Unexpectedly out of nowhere a wielder stepped out of a concealed entrance and almost walked in to him. Taken by surprise, Cimon was forced to use all his concentration to appear confused and irritated whilst trying not to let his fear reflect in his colours.
He managed a drunken double take and stumbled around the man blocking his way.
“Oi, drunk man. On your way now. And watch where you’re going,” the wielder growled at him, discreetly concealing his spike in his clothes.
Cimon kept up the deceit by speaking. “I’m going, I’m going. You should look what you’re doing as well,” he muttered, then uttered some more unintelligible stuff. The wielder turned his back dismissing him and immediately Cimon reached down to the sword by his side and sliced the man almost in two. He fell with a dull thud to the ground with his life’s blood seeping out onto the dirty cobbles and Cimon’s hand pressed firmly over his mouth to stifle his dying whimpers. Anxiously Cimon glanced around, but no one else was close by, so he quickly picked up the fallen man by his legs, dragged him back to the concealed entrance and stuffed him inside so that the body was completely obscured from the road.
That was number five, still ten to go. But the alcohol was completely gone from his system, so that trick wouldn’t work any more. He’d have to take any remaining wielders on face value and get Cyrus back without being followed. He grinned, this was just the sort of challenge that the other soul excelled at and it had been too long.
Thanks to his previous training and experience he checked the roofs because they gave the best view of the neighbourhood and that was why he saw the next man sitting with his bow resting on his crossed legs overlooking the intersection. Cimon glanced around and decided his next course of action. After some thought, he retraced his steps and made his way to the rear of the terrace that the wielder was occupying, he decided that it would be best to climb another house and then creep along the roof to surprise the man. When he reached the top, he saw that the wielder was sitting with his back to him, his attention fully focused on the streets below, meaning that that he was literally a sitting target. Quietly and very slowly Cimon moved closer whilst the man remained completely oblivious to his presence, then he ran the last few metres. The wielder had only half turned before Cimon sent his shade to Hades. As he disarmed the body he claimed the bow for himself; it was a shepherd’s weapon after all and an extra knife was always welcome, even the spike could have its uses.
Cyrus’s hiding place was only a few houses down on the left, but the wielders wouldn’t know that so they would be searching the whole area. The best course of action was simply to wait and see how many were here looking for his friend. Cimon studied the bow to pass the time, he’d missed handling one of these and they reminded him of happier days in Greece. But the dark shadow of a wielder coming down the street pulled him out of his nostalgic reflections.
The man looked up and stopped in his tracks, obviously surprised to see a Rabisu sitting where his colleague was supposed to be. That hesitation was to be his last. Cimon framed the shot with the expertise of a shepherd raised to shoot anything that threatened his flock. Moments later the man fell dead with a cry. Cimon allowed himself a smile of satisfaction, but before he could make his next move another one was running to his friend’s side. This was too much fun, Cimon thought, as he notched the next arrow and with scarcely time to aim, he fired again and the wielder went down. That left eight of them, he concluded, and waited for any more to cross his path.
The rest of the night passed easily enough. Cimon accomplished his goal without any further complications and was able to bring Cyrus back to the tunnels without being followed. The older Rabisu had been surprised to see who his rescuer was and rather dubious at the proposed method of escape, but when Cimon showed him the effects he could produce with the alcohol inside him, Cyrus was won over.
The two Rabsiu donned blonde wigs borrowed from the girls in the house which had been knotted and styled to resemble the hairstyles worn by warriors from Germania. Then intoxicated with drink they had both stumbled together, speaking and singing badly accented Latin until they had reached the safety of a tavern owned by Julia’s people. Once they saw that the place was free of wielders they had approached the owner and revealed themselves. He’d immediately led them into the back and showed them the way to the cellar; once in there they were safe.
***
Julia and Cyrus were impressed with Cimon’s devious strategy and the skill in which he had carried it out. He’d single- handily killed off three wielders in one night, which was almost as many as they had managed together, and there was no question that he wouldn’t be allowed to leave the tunnels in future along with the other ex-soldiers, as he’d proved more than capable of looking after himself.
With the wily and resourceful Cimon added to their number, the Rabsiu were soon able to eliminate the remaining wielders. The visitors hadn’t helped themselves though, as they’d been high-handed and arrogant towards the other Roman wielders, who were already in the city but not members of their sect. They’d even killed some of them, accusing the locals of being too tolerant and traitors to their calling. Consequently, the native wielders hadn’t helped their foreign cousins and had left them to it by keeping out of their way as much as possible.
Eventually the Rabisu were able to return to their lives, though this was done gradually so as not to attract attention with the sudden influx of people reappearing in Rome. Many, unsurprisingly, chose to leave, preferring to be alone after being confined for nearly two months together.
Cyrus stayed in Rome; his priority was to check that his business was secure and to re-establish links with his freedmen. After some thought Mardonius also stayed, so did Shelpa and therefore Cimon as well. When they’d finally been able to return to Cyrus’s villa, there had been a scroll from Enhil waiting for him. He’d read it alone away from the others and though it didn’t give him many answers, it did at least clarify his belief that Enhil had tried to get him away from Rome before the sect had arrived.
Chapter Eleven
There was no doubt that his time in the tunnels had changed Cimon. The other part of him, the mercenary, had come to prominence and he’d enjoyed the confidence and assurance that had come with it. He’d experienced and accepted the integration of the other soul years ago, but had never fully embraced it. Now though, he made a point of engaging with the other hidden aspect of his Rabisu nature, which had proved to be incredibly useful. As a Rabisu he was naturally powerful, much stronger than the other soul had ever been, but he was also out of practice, so as soon as they were back in Rome he began to take exercise seriously, went to the gymnasium daily and regularly trained with instructors to improve his handling of weapons.
Cimon laid the senator’s wife down on her bed and kissed her, tasting the honey of the sweets she’d eaten only moments earlier. She’d been teasing him all night with her pouts and provocative stares, all designed to let him know that she was available and very willing. He’d expected nothing less from her; it was becoming a tradition that when the senator was away in the provinces, she would initiate some private after-dinner entertainment
between them. Though it wasn’t always when her husband was away and nor was it solely after dinner.
He could feel his heart pounding with anticipation as he drank in her kisses and allowed his fingers to savour the soft smoothness of her skin. For a moment he fumbled with the belt of her stola until she realised and came to his aid, helping him undo the knots. Grinning, they undid the ties of the other ribbons together, then once they were undone Cimon moved to the clasps at her shoulders, but hesitated momentarily.
His heart was still beating away, but it had been joined by another equally loud rhythm, which didn’t belong to him. The senator’s wife didn’t notice, she was kissing his neck and concentrating on other things, but Cimon was acutely aware that something had changed. The noise was becoming louder now, thundering in his head, blocking any other thoughts or sensations. He pulled away and looked down at her, breathing heavily but not from desire.
“What’s wrong?” she asked petulantly.
“I don’t feel well, in fact, I’d better go. You don’t want me collapsing on you.” He heard her say something, but he wasn’t listening at all now. He swung his legs over the bed and put his head in his hands so he could focus on what might be happening. There could be but one explanation, but it had only been thirty-five years ago… and then he remembered that Cyrus had said that it could happen at any time. He stared at the floor. He had to get out of here, and he needed to be alone.
“I thought that you were going?” The woman’s voice broke through his thoughts. Cimon nodded and stirred himself into action. He reached out to retrieve his tunic from the floor, stood and pulled it on, and then he left, not at all sure where he was going.
He wandered the streets of Rome with the heartbeat pounding away in his head. The frenetic pace had at least slowed down to a steady rhythm, but it was still unbearably loud. This had to mean that Callie was back, but he hadn’t imagined that this would happen so soon, and he wasn’t sure how he felt. If he was honest, he hadn’t thought about his lost wife very much recently, despite the fact that they could have both still been alive if events had been different. He’d accepted this life and who he’d become, so to be confronted with the past now was confusing.
The heartbeat must mean that she’d be reborn in mortal flesh, which would certainly explain the frantic heartbeat at the beginning. When Uma had said this could happen he hadn’t considered the practical implications that being reunited with Callie again would entail. But there were numerous complications, starting with the basic one, which was simply where would he find her? Then there was the fact that she would be a child, so should he find her and stay with her until she was old enough to understand or wait until she was older. But then if he waited, what if she loved someone else, or if they simply didn’t even like each other? This unexpected turn of events raised so many questions that he hadn’t considered before and he didn’t know if he wanted to begin answering them.
He paced all night but came to no conclusions, but as the dawn spread her rosy fingers across the sky, the heartbeat began to recede. It became quieter and softer until it was hardly there, just a whisper in his head. He sunk down against a wall in the street and surrendered to his confusion and frustration.
***
Cyrus realised immediately that something was troubling Cimon and he knew that eventually Shelpa would also see it and would need reassurance and support when it dawned on her what was most likely happening with her youngest created child. But to her credit she noticed sooner then he’d anticipated.
“Cyrus, I need to talk to you,” she told him without any preamble as he sat in the garden enjoying the sun and reading business scrolls. He put his scroll down and looked at her.
“I can see colours, Shelpa. I know what you want to talk about.” He smiled gently at her, knowing that this would be hard as the bond between her and her youngest created child was so strong. But it would be difficult for all of them, as Cimon was part of all their lives and they’d been a close-knit family for so long.
She sat down next to him without her usual grace and flourish and slumped.
“He’s going, isn’t he?” she asked, but it was a statement not a question.
“Yes, he is.” He paused. “We all do it. You left me,” he reminded her.
She glanced at him. “But I kept coming back; you couldn’t get rid of me, even when you had Artemnisia.”
“He might be the same. Enhil says that you only have such a strong connection with one of your created children, maybe he’s yours, as you’re mine?
“Not like Agis then?”
He laughed and took her hand. “No, nothing like Agis. Thank the gods. Cimon’s ruthless, you can see that, but he’s not cruel for the sake of it. He’ll consider you and your feelings, I’m sure of it.”
“I shouldn’t make another child then?”
“No, Shelpa, there’s no need for that,” he told her patiently. “Two in just over two hundred years is enough. I’d hoped that you’d stay with us, unless of course you want to go off as well?”
She smiled slightly. “I’d like to stay for the time being. I don’t like being alone.”
Cyrus agreed. “Nor do I, that’s why the door is always open to you and Mardonius. He paused. “And now to Cimon also.” She looked sadly at him, and Cyrus lifted his arm for her to lean in next to him.
***
Cyrus had promised Shelpa that he would talk to Cimon, though he’d wait until he felt that the time was right to broach the subject. But the ideal opportunity came a lot sooner than he’d anticipated. Shelpa had left to go the baths and Cimon had finished meeting with some freedmen when Cyrus intercepted him and invited him into the garden. Mardonius was already out there, enjoying the sunshine, but he jumped up when he saw them and looked questioningly at Cyrus who nodded, so he sat back down again.
“Cimon, I can tell that you’re not happy at the moment, something’s changed for you. I don’t know what it is, and it’s not my place to know. But...”
“You’re growing up,” Mardonius put in. Cimon looked over at him, then back at Cyrus, who shrugged and nodded.
“It happens to us all. Even Shelpa left me; admittedly she soon came back, but she kept coming and going for a few years. I left Enhil, Mardonius left Tep. There comes a point when we want to be free to explore different places and try different things without the restraint of our elders.” He smiled and added, “Though, I think that, thanks to Mardonius you’ve tried most things. But you get the idea.”
“We call it the wild time,” Mardonius put in, “when our appetite increases and we’re at the prime of our lives. It can last for quite a while, but after a hundred years or so, we become a little more cautious again. If we survive, that is.”
Cyrus elaborated. “This is the time when we might still be alive if we’d remained mortal, so we can feel powerful, as if we can take on the world. Later the realisation that you should be dead is quite incredible and turns even the most sensible Rabisu’s head.”
Mardonius nodded in agreement to what Cyrus was saying and added, “It’s as if all the chains have been pulled away and you’re indestructible. You’re not. But it feels like it.”
Once again Cyrus qualified the point. “This is when most of us die. When we’re free from the influence of our older and wiser makers.”
Cimon looked thoughtful for a moment, then he gazed up at them. “If I go, can I come back again?”
The two older Rabisu laughed.
“Of course,” Cyrus said. “We’d rather you didn’t go, but we think that it might be what you need to do. Cimon, you’re welcome here at any time. And for as long as you want as well.”
Cimon let out a big sigh. “I admit that I do feel trapped. I love being with Shelpa, but I’d like some distance from her. I want to get away from here and just… I don’t know… just go,” he finished.
“It sounds as if this is your time to leave. I recognise that frustration. Just promise me something. Please come back a
nd visit us and Shelpa. You’ll know where she is, you’ll feel her. But don’t do what Agis did and just disappear. Write when you can, and visit if you can bear to.”
Mardonius grinned. “We have to live with her and it’s not fair on us if she gets depressed.”
Cimon nodded. “I’ll definitely be coming back.”
“Oh, and you owe me twenty denarii,” Mardonius reminded him. “We had a wager, remember?”
“We didn’t fix a price,” Cimon contested
“We did now. That’s the price for putting up with a very sad Shelpa.”
Germania
Chapter Twelve
Shelpa was surprisingly stoic when Cimon left. Mardonius whispered to him that it wouldn’t last, but surprisingly, she kept back her tears whilst he was still around to witness them. Cimon said all the right things and promised to keep in touch and come back regularly, but his thoughts were already on his journey and where it was going to take him.
He’d recently, quite by chance, made a discovery about his destination. As he’d adjusted to the second heartbeat, he’d become increasingly aware that there were times when it was louder, and other instances when it was quiet enough for him to believe that it had gone entirely. He could find no rhyme or reason for the changes, until one day he came across a plan of the streets of Rome. It showed the main thoroughfares in relation to the rest of the empire and suddenly it all made sense. The heart was louder when he faced north, so for curiosity’s sake more than anything else, he was heading to Raetia and possibly even Germania.
He travelled on foot with his meagre possessions in a bag slung over his shoulder. As a foreigner or “peregrine”, he couldn’t be an official traveller in the empire so he had to stay at inns along the way, but these turned out to be an excellent source of everything he required. At first he missed his friends, especially Mardonius, who had been his partner in crime for over twenty years and it felt odd not having their company around him, but he soon came to appreciate the freedom of hunting alone.