“I accept your apology but there’s no need. Though I would say, Mutta, that you taught her well and she has a lot of ability.” Next to her Inga looked up and beamed.
“I’m also sorry for what happened between you both. I should’ve intercepted her before she came to you or told her before she left. Either way, I’m in part responsible for what happened and the unpleasantness that occurred between you.”
Goodman shook his head. “No, Mutta, I should’ve trusted Inga, she’d kept quiet before. She was my friend and I let her down. But I’m grateful to you for explaining the truth of the situation to her.”
Mutta bowed her head. “There’s no easy way to explain what you are, but I’m sure that Talaka, the head trainer and my leader, would’ve taken great pleasure in destroying her belief and friendship. Inga told you that Talaka has no experience of creatures such as you and may even have been jealous that you settled here and not with her people.”
“Jealous?” he asked quizzically.
Mutta smiled. “You’ll be surprised. We haven’t lost an animal for a while and we don’t starve. Not everyone’s so fortunate. She was demanding years ago that I confront you. But I refused, and Inga began her friendship, so I was able to persuade her to leave things alone until Inga was trained. But it’s my belief that she’s a little jealous of our resident god.”
She waited as he considered her logic and reached the same conclusion. Mutta continued. “Inga would like you to stay and continue to teach her.”
Inga nodded at her side. But Goodman was cautious. “What do you want, Mutta? Could you cope with me living so close to your people again?”
She deliberated before answering. “If we have the same agreement, then I think that we can only benefit from you being here. Would I have your word that you would abide by the same conditions as last time?”
She read surprise in his eyes, he hadn’t been expecting that. After a moment he nodded. “You have my word, Mutta, that once again I won’t harm anyone in your village or the surrounding settlements.”
Mutta bowed her head in acceptance. “My only concern is that Talaka and the other women might not understand why we’ve let you back, but that’ll be my problem.”
“I don’t know how you’d get around that. Except to say that I’m very different to most other Rabisu,” he offered.
Mutta agreed. “You’ve made that quite clear. Why though, do you have the colours around you? I’ve learned that seizers are called white hunters because of the colour of their aura.”
“Is that why you’re different?” Inga asked, speaking for the first time.
He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, then nodded. “A few of us have them. My maker’s maker also has colours. It’s because neither of us fully fed from our first victim.”
“Why does that affect it and give you colours?” Inga asked and Mutta looked quizzically at him, keen to hear the answer.
Goodman frowned; she could see the dismay in his aura. This wasn’t a happy topic for him, she could see that, it was difficult for him tell them.
“We become Rabisu, or seizers, as you call us, over many years. The first transformation takes place when we’re mostly drained of our life force by our maker. The body’s left half empty, with the soul just clinging on. The maker calls to the damned and they fight over the empty vessel until one’s victorious. That one enters through the mouth and takes up residence in the body along with the original soul.”
“Does it hurt?” Inga asked, wide-eyed. Mutta made a noise of disapproval. But Goodman smiled at the question and looked down, clearly remembering.
“Yes, it’s unbearable, but there’s no means to cry or shout. You’re powerless and there’s nothing you can do to stop it invading and filling every part of your being. Then there’s nothing.” He paused and looked up. “When I woke I didn’t realise anything was wrong. The birds were loud and I could see their feathers, but I dismissed it. I just knew that I was hungry, incredibly so.” He stopped suddenly and Mutta was sure that he was reliving it. When he spoke again, his voice was empty. “So I went home. Deliberately ignoring that something was very wrong with me.” He paused again, and looked away, unable to continue.
“You were changed, weren’t you? That was the hunger you felt, the need to feed?” Mutta asked quietly. “And then you went home. Oh, Goodman, I’m so sorry.”
“So am I. My maker was annoyed that I defied her and clung onto life, so she was determined to have me come to her and beg for help. She left me alone to find out what I was by myself. She got her way, I did go to her eventually, but only because there was nothing else for me to do. But if she’d stayed with me as makers are meant to and guided my first feed, well, then I’d be very different.” He smiled sadly. “I have my maker’s wounded pride to thank for my humanity.”
He stopped and looked straight at them and Mutta could see the pain etched on his face. “I attacked my wife. I couldn’t help it. Something, I know only too well now, came over me and I had no other thoughts except the need to feed and to satisfy this hunger that raged inside.”
“But you stopped,” Mutta interjected.
He looked at her. “Yes, I stopped; partly because our dog attacked me, but also because she called out to me. They made me remember who I was. So I took her, barely alive, to our wise woman. She immediately took control, but I hadn’t fed completely, my humanity had kicked in. I don’t know why it happens like that, but it does. That’s why I still have colours: part of me is still human.” He stopped as if considering then added, “Somewhere inside I’m still that naïve young shepherd.”
Inga made a small noise next to her, but Mutta ignored it; she wanted to know more.
“What happened after that?” she asked. “Why didn’t she kill you? What happened to your wife?”
He thought for a moment, brought his hand up to run it through his hair, then looked at them both again, the sadness and distress painfully etched onto his handsome but stricken features. “Uma, our village’s wise woman, saw immediately what had happened and what had been done. She was going to kill me, but allowed me some time to say goodbye to my wife. She was trained as are you to see colours and to kill the sort of creature that I’d become. She had her spike ready, but she could see that something wasn’t right. She’d known the shepherd from birth and knew that he was a good man, who didn’t deserve to die and spend eternity in hell. Though she was wrong about that. If she’d killed me then, he would’ve been free to continue his soul’s journey but she didn’t know that, she thought she was doing the right thing by letting me live.
“She’d heard of creatures who used their power to heal, so she decided to spare me so I could to try find my salvation and hold onto the humanity I still had inside. My wife, she believed, would make a full recovery, but I couldn’t stay, I had to leave.
“I had no choice but to go to my maker and become like her. Though, through the years, and much to her amusement and annoyance, I clung to my humanity, despite her best efforts to wean me off it. I refused at first to kill, but fortunately soon found that you can judge a person by their taste.”
“Your wife lived then, so you don’t have her death on your conscience?” Mutta asked quietly.
“No!” Inga burst out suddenly, taking them both by surprise. “She died anyway, didn’t she? She died later from a broken heart.” Mutta looked at Inga who had taken a step forward and then at Goodman whose face said as much as she needed to know, it read pure anguish and despair. But how Inga had known that his wife had died, was beyond her understanding.
“She forgives you,” Inga said quietly. “She knows you couldn’t help what happened and she still loves you. You have to forgive yourself now.”
“Inga!” Mutta barked to the girl. “Stop this.” Something was happening here that she didn’t understand. She had no idea how Inga could speak like this, the girl had never shown any seer-ship qualities before, but now she was speaking with power and authority that only came through
contact with the gods or spirits. She was also moving closer to the seizer and he was watching her as if mesmerised and there was a faint spark of hope possibly or something else stirring in his eyes.
“Inga!” she shouted this time. Abruptly the girl stopped and peered around at her. For a moment she looked confused, and then she seemed to shake herself, but Goodman was still looking at Inga, completely transfixed.
“Now we know why he’s different he can stay here,” Inga declared. She was speaking as if nothing had occurred only moments ago and had completely forgotten the strangeness of her words. Mutta wondered if she’d even remember what she’d said.
A little disconcerted by Inga’s strange behaviour, Mutta nodded; it was a good enough reason to let him stay, it would keep Talaka quiet, and she’d no reason to doubt his story. The pain and distress was quite obvious on his face and in the colours around him.
She looked at the seizer, but he was still lost in his own world, oblivious to them and completely unaware that Inga had moved on and had found the solution to the situation.
“She’s right,” she told him to get his attention. “You’re not the same as others and now we know why. If Talaka doesn’t like it she can see with her own eyes how different you are.” Finally, she’d got his attention.
“Are you sure?” He looked wary, and clearly still shaken by what had just happened, but was recovering quickly to regain his usual composure.
“Yes, I’m sure. I can deal with Talaka, though you might have to extend your generosity to other settlements,” she suggested and after a moment he bowed his head in acceptance. “Where have you been staying if not on the hill?”
He glanced at Inga who looked down quickly, obviously embarrassed. “There’s a cave behind the waterfall.”
Mutta frowned and Inga glanced in surprise at her. “You weren’t disturbed by strange occurrences?” Mutta asked and beside her Inga stared in expectation of his answer.
Goodman shook his head “No, not at all,” he replied somewhat bemused by the question.
Inga and Mutta exchanged looks. “That area’s sacred to the goddess. No one can sleep there without her permission. She makes it plain when you’re not welcome.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m thick skinned, but I slept well with no strangeness at all.” Inga whispered to her and Mutta nodded.
“That’s another reason why you can stay. The goddess doesn’t object to you being close to her. Talaka can’t argue with the goddess. Why did you stay there though?”
“That was me,” Inga interrupted. “I took my anger out on the hill where he lives,” she admitted, with downcast eyes.
“She did try to tidy up,” Goodman added.
“Inga, go now and make Goodman’s home sound again. I wish to talk with him alone.”
Inga bit her lip, peeked at Goodman and then raced off.
Mutta scrutinized him for a while, as he stood placidly watching her do so.
“You’re not telling me everything, I know that,” she told him. “There is something else’s going on here. I can feel it, but I’m not sure what it is. I know that it concerns Inga and somehow you’re just as much caught up in this as she is. Why Inga said what she did and how she knew is quite beyond me, she’s never done anything like that before.”
She waited for him to speak, but he continued to watch her, not showing any emotion or reaction at all.
“Inga is probably going to be Mutta after me. That won’t change and we can work together to help her so that in time our combined knowledge can be passed on to others. I don’t understand the bond between you, or why it’s grown up, but it’s there and I won’t interfere, unless it gets in my way.”
He considered her words thoughtfully, then frowned. “I honour the gods, Mutta, all gods and goddesses. They’ve been kind to me, when they’ve had no reason to be. But my Uma taught me that you can’t stand in their way, we’re all subject to their will. We can fight and thwart them, but every time we do, or another interferes and we set off on a different path, then they always ensure that the new road leads to where they wanted us to be in the first place. You can put them off, but you never deny them.” He smiled. “If we agree to that, then we can work together.”
“I can agree with that, but I’ll put my people first in all things. The gods don’t have much time for oath breakers.”
“No, they don’t. So we’ll agree to differ occasionally, but work together the rest of the time?”
Mutta couldn’t help but give a tight smile. It was a small price to pay for security for her people.
***
Inga watched as Goodman turned the meat on the small spit at the entrance of his dwelling. The delicious smell was making her tummy rumble, but she had other things on her mind.
“So you’ll be going soon?” she asked a little petulantly. Winter was well and truly upon them and the weak sunshine hardly made any difference to the daytime temperature.
He looked up at her. “Yes, soon; possibly tomorrow.”
“Will you kill people?” she asked quietly, meeting his eyes briefly.
He turned his attention back to the spit. “Yes, I will. But they won’t be innocents, you have my word, Inga.”
She nodded, still staring away. “Will you have sex?” she asked quickly, clearly embarrassed but curious to know.
“I hope so,” he replied and she could hear the smile in his voice, but to save her embarrassment he turned the meat again.
“I’m sure you’ll find plenty of willing companions,” she told him, looking determinedly away.
“I’m normally quite fortunate,” he admitted concentrating on the meat.
She was quiet for a moment considering what he meant by that. “What else will you do?” she asked suddenly, looking at him fully for the first time.
“What, when I’m not killing people or sleeping with them?”Sorry, Inga, but I actually do more than that. Hopefully, I’ll eat, drink and…” He thought about it, then grinned at her. “Have my fill of everything else!”
She frowned, unimpressed by his humour. “I’ll miss you.”
He stopped playing with the spit and smiled gently. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Before the snows?” she asked hopefully.
“I’ll try.” He stared for a moment, until she blushed and put her hair behind her ears. “Shall I get you something whilst I’m there? So that you know I didn’t forget you.
She bit her lip, but her eyes were shining.
“I don’t know what you might want, but I’ll have a look and see what I can find.”
“You could ask one of your ladies for advice?” she suggested hating herself for the slightly jealous tone in her voice. In return he gave her a look that made her laugh. Suddenly she noticed that it was almost night. “I’d better get going, it’s really dark.”
She stood. “You won’t go before saying good bye, will you?” she asked anxiously.
Goodman shook his head. “I’ll wait, I promise. Now go before they shut the gate.”
She still hovered. “I can open the gate, it’s not hard. Sometimes, I have to get up before anyone’s awake to open it, so I know how.”
“Inga, go. Or I’ll be in trouble with Mutta,” he told her, laughing. “I’m not going tonight! Does it look as if I am? Honestly?”
“No,” she admitted. He nodded and made a gesture with his hand for her to be gone. Grinning, she finally left, racing through the fir trees and rushing down the slope.
Cimon could hear her progress as she ran back to the village. He sighed and turned the spit again. He’d only been back two cycles of the moon and it seemed as if he and Inga had made up for the lost time already. She was making good progress with her reading and seemed to grasp it naturally with her quick mind. But she could drive him to distraction, when she teased and flirted as well as any senator’s wife, and then, inexplicably, at other times she was shy and bashful, reserved even.
Mostly though, she seemed oblivious
to the effect that she had on him, and her exuberant energy and enthusiasm could unnerve him more than any knowing look or provocative touch. It was a heady mixture and he found it hard to keep up with her mercurial changes. But he steeled himself, despite what she did, not to react and to keep a natural distance between them. However, this was hard when she’d sit down virtually on top of him, or manhandle him to look at something, but worst of all were the hugs, which she did spontaneously sending him into overdrive and leaving him to dream of the chill waters of the mountain’s streams.
He could understand Inga’s confusion: she was growing up, and having to deal with her attraction for a man who was close, but forbidden to her. It was also possible that she had suppressed feelings and desires from another life, which she was completely unaware of.
He had to let anything between them develop naturally; he wouldn’t force her to remember or feel things for him. There was too much at stake, it had to be genuine between them both. It needed to be, if he really was going to ask her to end this existence before another Wielder did.
That was why tomorrow he was going back to the Romans over the river and feeding before coming back for another winter of keeping the villagers alive. Only this time it was more than one village, it was several. It wasn’t going to be easy either, as it had been a bad summer after a hard winter, so this would really test his endurance and commitment.
***
Cimon stared down at the scroll lying on the desk in front of him. Cassius looked across at him clearly delighted at the offer being made to what he believed was a young Greek doctor.
“You can still have your own private clients. You’ll be rich when you add that to the basic pay of the army.”
He stood and came to stand behind Cimon and placed his hands on his shoulders. Cimon was stunned, he hadn’t expected this. He’d run into Cassius by chance after a few days in the small town, by then he’d been fully fed and replenished, so Cassius had been in no danger from him when they’d shared several glasses of the delicious Campania wine. He‘d spent a few nights with him since and was actually getting rather bored of the possessive praefect. But tonight, he’d been presented with an offer of a job.
“But Cassius, you have Greek medics working with you already, why would you want another one?”