Heart, Faith, and Steel 5/8 =========================== Tak Ne left six days later to retrieve his sword, then he came back to her estate to work for her. Cassandra had mentioned that she needed a farm manager, and Tak Ne was more than qualified for the job. Besides, he enjoyed her company, and it was good to be able to talk freely with another Immortal. And to practice with their swords. "A rich widow can be more eccentric than a slave," she told him, facing him with her sword in her hand. She was no match for him in strength, of course, but she was very fast, and she knew some tricks he had never seen before. He had tricks of his own. Over the next three years, they learned a great deal from each other. ~~ Tak Ne whistled as he walked past the pool in the atrium and headed toward Cassandra's office. She was expecting him, of course; they had sensed each other before he had come through the entry hall. She stood facing the doorway, relaxed yet ready, her hands partially hidden in the pleats of her green-striped gown. Her sword was concealed in her desk, but Tak Ne knew it was there. His katana, as always, was by his side. "Salve, Mistress Callista," he greeted her formally, mindful of the slave-woman Marcia standing against the wall, and the three farmers who stood ill-at-ease in the center of the room. "Salve, Lucius," she answered, motioning him toward the wooden stool in the corner, while she seated herself on the wicker chair behind the desk. Cassandra turned her attention back to the farmers, speaking to the shortest. "So, Garix, you wish me to collect on your loans by buying your farms from you. Then you will continue to work on them, and pay me rent?" "Yes, Mistress," Garix said. "We're already in debt to you, and we cannot pay our taxes." He motioned to his black-bearded companion, who ducked his head in embarrassment. "Rinton here has already sold his oxen and his plow. He's kept his barley seed, but he won't be able to get it planted next season anyway." The third farmer, a burly fellow with graying wisps of hair on a bald scalp, spoke up. "My neighbor just sold his two of his daughters to the brothels. The younger one was eight." He planted his feet firmly apart and hooked his thumbs into his plain leather belt. "I'll not sell my daughter to the brothels. Not now, not next year, nor the year after that. I'd rather see her dead." Cassandra nodded, her face expressionless, then looked at each of them intently. "You realize that if you sell me your land, you will be tenant farmers. The law of origo forbids you--or your sons, or their sons--to leave the farms. You will be bound here, not slaves who can be sold at auction, but serfs nonetheless." Garix shrugged. "We'll be slaves soon enough anyway, if we don't pay our taxes. And I'd rather be a serf here--on land I've lived all my life and with my family about me--than sold to some far-off land, and see my wife and children sold away." Tak Ne stretched and eased out his legs, remembering the day the slavers had come for him. Hard times, hard choices. The Celts of Gaul had been such a proud tribe once, greeting each other as "free people." Now they were reduced to serfs, begging for the chance to farm the land their ancestors had owned, while the rich landowners of the region became like little kings. And queens, he acknowledged, glancing at Cassandra. Rinton spoke now, his voice squeaky with uneasiness. "We'd rather be bound to you, Mistress, than to Publius Breticio." Tak Ne couldn't blame him. Breticio was the other local magnate, and the man was a lamprey--all sharp teeth and slimy skin, with cold water in his veins instead of blood, and a voracious appetite in his soul. "I will not always be mistress here," Cassandra said. The farmers shuffled their feet and looked at each other, then Garix spoke for them all. "We can't worry about that, Mistress. The tax-collectors are coming in three days." She sighed and nodded. "I'll have my lawyer draw up the deeds of sale. You may sign the papers when he is done." She turned to her slave-woman. "Marcia, show them to the kitchen and see that they are fed." When they had left the room, she shoved the scrolls on the desk away from her and stared at the polished wood. "I don't like owning people." "You're a good mistress," he said, coming to stand near the desk. She snorted. "That's because I know what it's like to be on the other side." So did he. "Cassandra...," he began, touching her on the shoulder. She froze under his hand, and he pulled it away immediately. She did not look at him as she went to stare out the latticed window into the garden. Her auburn hair was coiled in a crown of intricate braids on top of her head, and loose tendrils curled on the nape of her neck. His fingers itched to replace those wayward curls. He stayed where he was, knowing she would flee if he pursued. "Why do you always pull away?" She crossed her arms in front of her, and her back went stiff. "So I can be the first to leave." A common pattern for Immortals, always leaving, always moving. Always alone. "Cassandra, I know it shatters us to watch them die, but you and I are Immortal. It doesn't have to be that way with us." Her hands tightened on her arms, the fingers digging into the flesh, and she shook her head in bitter denial. "Dying isn't the only way to leave, and mortals aren't the only ones to go." Ah. He had stopped giving his heart to mortals after Shakiko had died, but there were other ways to be left alone. "What happened?" he asked, very gently, very softly. Her lips twisted in a pathetic attempt at a smile. "My first master, the first man who ever..." The first? Nearly two thousand years ago? This hurt went deep in her. "He sold you?" "No." The word came out soft and strangled. "Not even that. He gave me away. I thought I had pleased him well, kept him happy, and he just... handed me over one day, gave me to another man. When the other man started to..." She stopped and took a slow breath, then continued, "I called for my master, begged him to help me, but he never came." She shrugged. "I was nothing to him." Cassandra turned from the window, and her voice was coldly determined. "I was very young then, very foolish. I'm not anymore." Neither of them were, but there was still a time for happiness in their lives. There was always time for that. "You lied to me in Corinth, didn't you?" he asked, seeing now why she had refused him. "You don't prefer women." "I prefer love," she answered. "And I need trust. Finding both together is hard." He walked over to her and gently wiped away the tear on her cheek with his thumb. "Not so hard," he said. "Not for us." "Tak Ne...," she whispered, shaking her head, but she did not move away from him this time. "I am not your master now, Cassandra. And," he said with a grin, "you are no longer mine. We have no power over each other, except the power we choose to give." She was still hesitating, still poised to flee, and he added, very softly, "The power of faith, and the power of love." The darks of her eyes grew larger, and she trembled, but with a mixture of desire and fear. He grinned again and repeated what he had said to her long ago, breaking some of that tension. "It would be most enjoyable. For both of us." An answering smile flitted across her face, then disappeared. "I can't ..." "You can, if you want to. Do you want to, Cassandra?" He knew she did, and he also knew she was terrified of that want, that need. "I can't promise never to leave you, but I will never betray you." "I know," she said softly. "We can be more than friends," he offered, taking her hands in his, not grasping, just holding them on his palms, so she could pull away if she chose. He had offered her reassurance, now he appealed to her strength and her pride. "Don't let what he did to you then control you now, Cassandra. We can trust each other, and maybe together we can find love." She nodded slowly, and the determination came back, but it was not cold this time. "Yes," she said, and held tight to his hands. "Yes," she said again, then stepped forward and kissed him with a deep hungry longing that seared them both with its ache of loneliness. Tak Ne finally broke from the kiss, then chuckled and kissed her on the forehead as he held her comfortably within his arms. "I was right about you, all those years ago," he said. "You are a woman of deep passions." "And I was right about you," she said, smiling back up at him with that joyous smile he had seen only a few times, but still remembered. "You prefer willing--" She slid her hands up to his shoulders and urged him closer. "Very willing," Tak Ne agreed, finally allowing his fingers to wander to those tempting curls at the back of her neck. "--and enthusiastic--," she murmured against his lips, her hands moving lower down his back. "Very enthusiastic." He kissed her this time, the passion overcoming the loneliness, but still searing both of them with need. "--bedpartners!" she concluded triumphantly, her eyes sparkling, her face flushed. "Yes, you were right about me," he said, smiling. "So, where's the bed?" ~~~~~ The next day, they went to a small village near the sea, away from gossip and prying eyes. Mistresses and their former slaves were not supposed to consort with one another. But they consorted, frequently--on the beach, in the water, at night when the sky was black silk scattered with stars, in the morning when the fresh breeze came from the sea, in the heat of the day in their hut. "It's good that I'm Immortal," he said, lying on his back, holding her close while she twined her fingers in his chest hair. "I could never keep up with you otherwise." Cassandra laughed and kissed him. "I have a lot of catching up to do." She kissed him again, then kissed the tip of his nose. "And you're the perfect man to do it with." He smiled at that and ran his hand down to her backside, casually following the curves there. "How long has it been for you?" "Some years," she answered, not answering at all. She had been sold to the brothels in Rome during Nero's reign over two centuries ago, and she hadn't wanted any man to touch her since then, until now. But Tak Ne didn't need to know that, and she didn't want to think about that. "Let's go swimming," she said suddenly, and he laughed and came with her to the beach. They swam in the blue-green waves, then made love again under the shade of the trees. "Have you ever married a mortal?" he asked, holding her close again. "Three times," she answered, then decided she could trust him with more. "My first husband was Taleer, before I was a century old. He was a musician in the Temple where I was a priestess. We were together nearly forty years, raised three children." She closed her eyes, but the memory of his face was blurred. She could still see his hands, though--beautiful hands the color of mahogany; long, elegant fingers; calluses on the sides of his fingertips from the strings of the lyre. "A good man for you," Tak Ne observed. "Yes," she agreed, remembering clearly Taleer's gentleness, his patience, and his love. "A good man." She smiled at the man she was with now. "As are you." Tak Ne was not prone to jealousy, but talking about old lovers was still awkward, and some reassurance was called for. "Your other husbands?" he asked, still curious. "Mal-tek died of a fever after we had been together about ten years. Garon was my third husband, when I about five hundred. He and our children were killed in a raid on our village." The leader of that raid had been an Immortal named Roland. He was immune to the Voice, and he had his own way of playing the Game. He had tortured her family to death in front of her, made her watch from a cage while her husband and her children screamed for her to help them. She didn't want to talk about that, either. "After that ..." She shrugged. After that, she had avoided becoming involved with mortals. She had had friends and taken lovers from time to time, been fond of them, cared about them, but she had never dared to love them. Mortals you loved were valuable--and unwitting--pawns in the Game. "And you?" she asked, turning the conversation to him. "My first wife was Nipik, in Egypt before I became Immortal, then En-thalat in Babylon." He paused, and Cassandra squeezed his hand lightly, remembering what he told her about the Kurgan. He returned the pressure, then continued. "My third wife was Shakiko, a princess in Ni-Hon. She died nearly eight centuries ago. And after that ..." He smiled at her and shook his head. "It's not an easy life, sometimes." "No." "But it is life," he said, stretching luxuriously and happily. "And there's so much to see, so much to do." She knew that, and being with Tak Ne made it easier to keep believing it. "I think that's why the Fates made me Immortal," Tak Ne continued. "They knew I wouldn't be happy until I had experienced all that life has to offer." "Oh?" she asked. "And what haven't you experienced yet?" "I don't know," he answered grinning. "Why don't you show me things, and then I'll tell you if I've done them before or not." "This could be most enjoyable," she said, her fingertips trailing a delicate path down from his chest. "For both of us," he agreed, his own hands wandering here and there. ~~ Cassandra sold her estate after another ten years, knowing it was time to move on. People were beginning to talk about the widow who did not age. She gave final gifts of lands and funds to the two schools she had established in the region, then she and Tak Ne moved to Africa, then Egypt, then Greece once again. They stayed together for another seventy years, parting from time to time, meeting again after a year or two. When Theodosius was Emperor, Cassandra went to Hispania to meet Tak Ne, as they had agreed. He was not alone. "This is Roderigo Rubio, my student," Tak Ne said, performing the introductions in the courtyard, under the shade of the flowering lemon tree. "Rubio, this is Callista, a friend of mine." The tall thin Immortal stood stiffly at attention. "Salve, Callista," he said, locks of his graying blond hair falling over his eyes as he bowed his head. He tossed them back and looked her over thoroughly, then stared directly at her with pale-blue eyes. She stared back and smiled, just a little. A challenge from such a young one was more amusing than annoying. "Salve, Rubio," she said in return. "You are a native of this land?" she asked, though it was obvious enough from his accent, and from his appearance. The tribes in Hispania were part of the Celtic people, and Celts were known for their height and their manes of light-colored hair. She had lived among them several times, since they matched her own physical appearance, but their tradition of taking heads made her uncomfortable, and she never stayed long. "Yes," he said. "From the mountains in the north." "Rubio and I have been together since last summer," Tak Ne said. "He's learning very fast." He needed to. Immortals might live forever, but they had no time to waste in learning to play the Game. She nodded again and smiled at Rubio pleasantly. He nodded back, then turned to his teacher. "We were going to spar after the mid-day meal." "Tomorrow," Tak Ne said, with casual wave of his hand. "Callista has just arrived." He bowed slightly, then offered his arm to her. Cassandra smiled and took it, then they walked together into the dining room. Rubio did not follow. ~~~~~