Cimon didn’t care. Let the man think what he liked about him, he didn’t worry about social standing or political allegiances. He left that for men desperate to leave their mark in their brief lifetimes. It would be in vain, he knew that, only a few would make a name that would be remembered for good or bad, and a lot of the time even that became blurred and mixed up.
“It’s a pleasure to drink it here on the edge of the empire,” he replied, taking another sip of the very good wine. This was a treat; he hadn’t had such quality for years. How Cassius had managed to get hold of the stuff was beyond him, but he was very grateful that he had and that he was now trying to seduce him with it. The man didn’t realise that he didn’t need to show off, he’d share his bed willingly for a price. A price that Cassius wouldn’t even know he’d paid.
The praefect smiled. “I have connections; serving in the legions has some compensations. Now let’s get to the point, Cimon. You’ve a good reputation, but what do you know of surgery?”
Cimon put his cup down and licked his lips. He didn’t know much, and if the truth be told, he didn’t really deal well with the blood and bones. Ironic as it sounded, even to himself, but he was actually quite squeamish. “Some Greek doctors take an oath that they shall not take up the knife. So I’m afraid I know very little.”
Cassius sat back. “That’s what I expected to hear, but you know about the humours? Or are you of the school that think that’s nonsense and outdated?”
“I follow Hippocrates of Cos.”
“Excellent,” Cassius said and began to draw a picture on a wax tablet he’d produced from somewhere and to explain the image.
Cimon tried to listen and to follow what he was saying, but suddenly out of nowhere, he thought of Inga and how sad she was at what had happened. He tried to focus on Cassius, who was saying something quite interesting, but instead Inga was there in front of his eyes.
He stood hurriedly. “Excuse me, I need some air. Sorry, I’ll be back shortly,” he managed to say before he hastily left the table, leaving Cassius to stare after him anxiously.
In the street and in the fresh air, he dropped his head down and held his knees. Never in all his years had anything like this happened to him before. It had to be coming from Inga. Maybe it was the wards and protections she’d put up, but he hadn’t triggered those in any way. And if anything this seemed to be calling him, not rebuffing him. She had to be up to something, possibly a new skill she’d learnt as part of her training? But why now after all this time? What was she hoping to achieve? For several long moments, she filled his mind and the urge to go back and visit her was powerful; eventually though it faded, and at last he was able to stand, but it left a dull ache inside him which seemed to co-exist with the barely audible heartbeat.
He muttered his annoyance at her under his breath, and went back inside hoping that Cassius would forgive him. He liked the wine and Cassius would make feeding easy tonight.
***
The praefect was sleeping peacefully next to him, giving occasional grunts of contentment, but Cimon hadn’t slept, that dull ache of Inga was still nagging away at him. He’d managed to ignore it most of the time and had allowed Cassius to persuade him to spend the night with him in his barracks. But now in the silence, the alien feeling was annoying.
Carefully, so as not to wake his companion, he climbed out of the bed to look out of the window. There in the darkness he could see the other side of the river where Inga was. He would have to go back to see what she’d done. According to Inga’s rules he had one trip left so he could get his scrolls back, if she hadn’t already taken them. If she’d learnt a new skill then she was pretty effective. She might not be willing to undo whatever she’d done, but maybe Mutta would.
That was the way forward, he decided. He’d return to the valley and try to speak privately with Mutta and maybe Inga wouldn’t even have to know he’d been. He’d just settled on the plan when he heard the bed creak; he didn’t turn, as he could already hear the faint shuffle of bare feet on the floor. Cassius slipped his arms around Cimon’s chest and laid his face against his shoulder.
“Come back to bed,” the praefect whispered quietly. “Tomorrow will come soon enough, let’s put it off for a few more hours.” Gently, he turned Cimon round to face him. He had a point, Cimon thought. The barracks were closer to his stall, so he could leave later in the morning and it was much quieter here than his own claustrophobic room.
Chapter Twenty Five
There was a cave behind the waterfall sacred to the goddess. Cimon had found it during his investigations of the valley. He would stay there now as he didn’t want to trigger anything Inga might have had in place on the hill, though he doubted that her spells were effective. Uma’s hadn’t stopped Shelpa, but they could alert her to his presence.
Once settled in the cave, he crept out again and made his way to the edge of the valley overlooking the village. He wanted to speak with Mutta if chance allowed. But despite waiting all day, no opportunity presented itself, so as light faded, he made the decision to risk going to the tumulus to take his scrolls back.
It wasn’t the most desolate he’d seen the summit but it wasn’t far off. Someone had thrown everything into disarray, and he presumed that it was Inga. The buckets he’d left so carefully were now full of broken pottery and sitting just inside the entrance. The ash from his fireplace had been scattered, but then gathered up into a pile. Someone had obviously tried to tidy up after the place had been ransacked.
Warily, he approached what had once been his home. He shook his head in bemusement and wandered past the stone into the inner chamber. The three chambers were still empty, but in the fourth one, he saw with pleasure that Inga had taken more scrolls, leaving the pile depleted. That was a good sign, she was still learning, at least she hadn’t rejected everything he’d taught her.
He made his way back to the entrance, realising that he hadn’t felt any wards or protection on his way up the mountain or at the stone boundary, and there weren’t any in here either. He knew defensive shields, he could feel them and would’ve known if he’d broken them or set them off. It was possible though, that her people’s petty weavings and enchantments were so refined that you didn’t know about them until it was too late. But somehow he doubted that. The German people he’d found so far were hardworking and efficient, but not subtle. The most likely reason he couldn’t feel anything was because there was nothing to feel. But as he left the dwelling, he noticed a faint emanation coming from the old fireplace.
He squatted down to examine the mass of congealed ash. This was emanating power. A slow steady energy, which matched the slow ache he felt inside. This was Inga’s work. It was basic but typically German, in its efficiency. He couldn’t help but smile. It was a drawing of a man, a childish and heavily stylised picture of him, traced out in the ash paste, which had hardened. It was impressive, though thankfully, already losing power. But this must have been what had caused him so much grief with Cassius that night. He shook his head in amused surprise when he realised that he’d no idea how to stop its effects.
Suddenly alert he looked up. Someone was coming, coming at a great pace through the trees. So she had put up wards; that was impressive work, as he’d completely missed them. She wasn’t being subtle now, in fact she was thundering through the trees scaring the roosting birds and causing them to flutter and fly.
Inga emerged from the trees breathing hard, she looked around the summit, saw him, and raced up and was about to throw herself against him when he managed to stop her.
“You came back,” she said delightedly. Mystified, he scanned her colours and then searched for any signs of a spike, but seeing none he relaxed a little.
“I’m allowed one last trip, I believe,” he reminded her keeping his face blank, still unsure as to what was happening.
She looked surprised. “But that doesn’t matter now. You’re here. Oh, Goodman, I’m so pleased to see you. I’ve missed you. I??
?m so sorry for what happened,” she said and threw herself into his arms.
Cautiously, he put his arms around her and held her, still wary, but her colours were genuine, there was no falseness in her greeting, which was disconcerting to say the least after the way they’d parted.
Instinctively, Cimon dropped his head down and breathed in her fragrance. She smelt of camomile, fresh herbs and healthy vitality. Smells which stirred memories of a long time ago, and another life. But she was unconsciously pushing herself into his body, forcing him to acknowledge that whilst he’d been away she’d grown into a young woman. The combination of her proximity and the nostalgic heady scents broke the barriers he’d subconsciously created and he finally accepted that he was holding a young woman he cared about, and that in turn was causing a reaction inside him that had been dormant since Callie.
He hadn’t come here expecting this, they’d ended on such bitter terms and now she was crashing through his defences; his body had changed, but it still retained the memory of what it felt like to hold his wife and have a deep primitive need to protect and shield her from all harm. Where Inga pressed herself against him, he was warmer and more alive. She felt nothing like Callie, but he was responding to her as if she was. He’d fought it for so long, but now it thundered through him and he knew that he couldn’t undo the last few moments. He wouldn’t want to keep her away any more, in fact it was the opposite and he had to keep control of his feelings.
Thankfully she moved away a little so she could crane her head up to look at him.
“I’m so sorry,” she was saying as the tears trickled down her cheeks and onto her lips. He wanted to wipe them away and to taste the salt on her mouth, but he couldn’t, this was Inga. Gently, he moved her further away from his body, before she became aware of his own emotions surging through him, defying any form of control.
“Inga, it’s all right. Tell, me, what’s changed? What’s happened?”
She nodded and took a deep breath. The tears still fell, but she looked beautiful, the happiness lit her face, making it luminous in a way he’d never seen before.
“Mutta told me that she already knew what you were. She said that you had an agreement, and Talaka had never seen a seizer before, nor had her trainer, so she didn’t know what she was talking about. Well she did, but she didn’t understand that you were a good one.”
“Stop, Inga, too fast! Let me think.” She paused, watching him with bright blue eyes, still desperate to speak.
“So Mutta told you that she and I had spoken?”
She nodded and was off again. “She went to you after Helda’s camomile and she found that you were looking for salvation which is why you helped us, but stayed away from the other people to stop temptation. You promised that you wouldn’t hurt anyone because you didn’t want to be like this, a seizer, I mean, and it was the only way for you to be free. Oh, and you were going to tell me, but Talaka called for me before you could. And I didn’t…”
Once again he interrupted her, holding her shoulders to keep her from hugging him again. “Inga, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you before you went, long before, so that you knew what you were dealing with and could make your own decision.”
“No, it was completely understandable that you didn’t. How could you ever have found an easy way to tell me that you feed off people to survive?” She looked at him, and he had to look down, because she put it so baldly. “See, even now you’re embarrassed about it. And you discriminate and only hurt horrible people. No, Goodman, I should’ve listened to Mutta’s warning and spoken to her before coming here and sending you away. I’m so sorry and I feel so silly about that. As if I could stop you with a spike.”
“You could have, Inga, just now when you came hurtling towards me.” She looked shocked and mortified at that.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I was just so surprised. I’d been thinking about you all day and then I don’t know… something made me come.” She looked at him full of contrition. “And you were here. It must have worked.” She glanced around him peering over to the dwelling. “Oh, I have to stop it.” She slipped out of his hold and raced over to the entrance.
“Inga, did you put wards and protections up here at all?” he asked, taking advantage of her distraction.
She squatted down by the fire and glanced up. “No, I didn’t in the end. Mutta spoke to me, but…” She paused and looked into the dwelling. “Have you been inside?”
He came closer, keeping his face blank. “I’m afraid so. I presume it was you?”
She bit her lip, guilt and shame flushed across her face making it darker in the gloom. “I’m so sorry. I did try to tidy up, but the pots were broken.”
“I understand. It was you who took the scrolls though, wasn’t it?”
“Oh yes, they’re in our house. Do you want them back? I was hoping you could finish teaching me to read.” She gave a small hopeful smile, but he looked away not sure how he felt about that. He turned back when he heard Inga spit a few times onto the floor.
“What’s that? I assume that’s what you used to get me here?”
Inga glanced up. “It worked.” She spat a few more times, until she’d transformed the ash back into a paste. Then she rubbed it out so the picture was completely gone. “There, it’s finished. Mutta taught me, but she doesn’t know that I made one. Did you feel it? Is that why you’re here?”
“You could say that,” he replied as she stood and wiped her hands on her dress.
“Was it strong?” she asked curiously. He’d rarely seen her so excited before, she was positivity glowing with happiness, the questions were just spilling out of her and she seemed oblivious to his reserve and wariness.
“Yes, Inga, it was strong.” She grinned, but then noticed his face.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think, I wanted you to come back and I didn’t know any other way. Was it uncomfortable?” Once again she looked ashamed.
“It was bearable, eventually. But please tell me next time that you’re planning on doing something like that. You obviously have some skill.”
She smiled and the clouds shifted from her face. “I put some of your hair in there and focused on you as I drew it.”
“I certainly felt that part,” he answered, showing her that he wasn’t as impressed.
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, I just wanted to make amends. I shouldn’t have used your hair,” she said and flew into him again.
After a few moments he brought his arms up to hold her, his wariness overridden by his automatic response to her distress. She was definitely a woman and female shaped, and his body was making very sure that he knew that she’d reawakened the protective human male in him, which had lain dormant since he’d been forced to leave Callie in Uma’s cottage all those years ago.
Once again he gently released her hold and moved her away. “It’s all right, Inga. No harm done, but bear something in mind next time. You came here because you felt my arrival, maybe you don’t need to summon me?” he suggested raising his eyebrows at her.
“I did feel you, didn’t I? “She smiled as he nodded then continued. “Will you stay now? Stay here with us?”
He shook his head “I can’t. You’ll have told this Talaka what I was and that I’d gone. And your people won’t want me living here.”
Her face lit up and the words poured out again. “No, they don’t know. They still think you’re a god. It wouldn’t have looked good if Mutta and the others had allowed you to stay without knowing what you were. They’d have questioned Mutta’s and everyone’s abilities. So no, they don’t know. They’re not a problem. But Talaka might be. She’d probably question why we’ve let you come back.” She frowned. “Though we’ve good reason to want you to stay, but she might not see it like that.”
He was about to speak when she carried on. “We’ll speak to Mutta. She’ll know what to say. Will you speak with her?”
“Inga, she won’t want me either. Have you thought ab
out that? You do. But I still am what I am, that doesn’t change. It’s a relief to her that I’ve gone,” he said patiently.
But she was quick to reassure him. “Oh no, she said she was half glad at first, but as it’s been such a bad summer and we had a harsh winter before that, she’s often said that she wishes you were still here. Oh, and we think we’ve found another plant in the scrolls but I can’t read some of it, so I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you back.”
Cimon doubted that, but eventually she persuaded him to meet Mutta the next day.
***
Mutta sat down on the boundary stone and watched as Inga began to pace up the hill. “Inga, wait, he’ll know that we’re here. Give him a moment,” she called to the eager girl before she disappeared. Inga didn’t come back, though she did continue at a slower pace. Mutta sighed. Inga was so pleased to have Goodman back, even if she had done a summoning, without asking for permission first, though Mutta had to concede it had worked very efficiently.
She glanced over, away from the hill to see, much to her surprise, Goodman approaching from the opposite direction.
“Inga!” she called. “Inga, he’s here.” She heard Inga cry and then the girl came hurtling down the slope. Mutta sedately got to her feet and followed in the eager girl’s wake.
They met half way across the pasture. Inga stopped a few metres from Goodman, who didn’t come any closer.
“You weren’t on the hill,” Inga said breathlessly.
He nodded to Mutta. “No, I stayed elsewhere. It didn’t appeal.”
“Where?” Inga asked.
“Inga!” Mutta admonished. Goodman smiled.
“There’re a few places to sleep around here,” he replied, clearly amused but not giving anything away.
Mutta watched him very carefully. This was first time that she’d seen him in daylight, and though he was handsome, she could now see why he could pass unnoticed amongst men.
“I’m sorry for Inga summoning you like that. I taught her, but I didn’t know that she’d use it against you. And as she’s in my care and under me for training, it’s my responsibility I apologise for her misuse.”
Inga looked shamefaced, and suddenly saw something in the grass that she found fascinating.