Chapter Six: Regrets

To catch up with me, Marcus had to be really inventive. At first I thought that I was being paranoid; I was convinced someone was following me, but I couldn't figure out how they would manage it. Horses and I usually don't spend much time together, but I had decided that if I wanted to beat the winter snows I needed a mount to get across the Alps. Marcus did me one better. He pulled a Pony Express out of the hat.

I hadn't even left the Roman roads when I heard hooves behind me. A sudden flash of memory took over my mind; a memory of another occasion where I hadn't been expecting pursuit and had been overtaken by an enemy. Cursing, I tried to shake myself out of the memory, but it kept intruding. Instead of Marcus on the Roman roads, I saw Mixtli on the Aztec. It didn't take me long before I was completely confused as to where and when I was. Mixtli had been a political enemy; we had never crossed anything but words. Marcus was a mortal enemy, but still I kept seeing them interposed. Nearly crying in frustration, I hoped letting the memory take its course would help get it over with faster. In Tenochtitlan, I had been on foot and spoken with Mixtli on the ground. This time, I stayed resolutely in the saddle. Sure enough, that was enough for the memory to fade. Sometimes small differences weren't enough.

"Go away, Marcus!" I called to him as he approached. He was wielding a spear, and obviously intended to fight on horseback first. I watched carefully as he approached, letting go of my horse's reins so when I came off I wouldn't hurt her. Marcus looked tired but furious. There was a wild, animal gleam in his eye that made me glad he wasn't a better fighter. Turning slightly in the saddle to get a better angle, my universe contracted to the spear point. Time seemed to slow down, and I waited until just the right moment before twisting my torso out of its way and grabbing the shaft. A quick twist and Marcus was flying through the air and my universe expanded again. I was pulled from my horse, as well, but landed more or less on my feet, holding Marcus' spear in my now splintered hands.

Marcus leapt up with a yell of fury, drawing a sword and rushing me. Using the spear like a staff, I deflected his sword and hit him square on the back all in one movement. The spear shaft broke, not being intended for such force. I discarded both parts, which was usually a silly thing to do, but Marcus wasn't really a threat. Not that I was underestimating him, but no matter how many weapons he had, I could best him with none.

He pulled himself back up from the ground and charged again, looking wilder than before. I rolled my eyes. He wasn't really trying to fight; he was just trying to berserk me or something. Trying to get me to kill him, I suppose. Impatient, I didn't even bother dodging for a while before striking him. This time, I made an "L" shape with my thumb and index finger and hit him hard in the neck, which combined with his momentum was almost enough to collapse his windpipe. Coughing and choking, he staggered for a moment before falling to a knee. Again, to his credit, he didn't drop his sword. But he did when I kicked it from his hand. I assumed he had more weapons hidden in his clothing, but I took a risk and approached him while he was still struggling for breath. I knew I had told him that if he came after me like this, I'd make him wish he were dead. But my heart got the better of me and I offered him one last chance.

"Marcus. Go home. Mourn for Allis. Live your life."

I probably shouldn't have used Allis' name. With a strangled scream, he took a swing at me, not even bothering to reach for another weapon. I barely had to step back to avoid it. With a sigh, I kicked him in the ribs and then the side of the head, knocking him out. Wrestling with suicidal thoughts, I went to retrieve the horses. Marcus' horse was sweaty and tired, but otherwise fine. In one of my packs I had a pretty descent rope. I cut a few lengths off and tied Marcus' wrists and ankles together. Searching his clothes, I found two nasty looking daggers and a poisoned dart. Also a sickle-like handheld blade with a leather handle that I assumed was meant to be hidden in the hand when striking people. Mildly impressed, I put all these in my saddlebag except for the sickle. It was excellent craftsmanship and, although not new, well cared for and unusually sharp. In short a fabulous assassin's tool. Despite having sworn off that particular profession, I still had a healthy respect for superior blades.

Using the rest of the rope, I tied Marcus' wrists to his horse, making sure the rope was long enough that the horse's hind hooves wouldn't hit him. I found a leather lead in Marcus' saddlebag to attach to his horse's bridle. Mounting my horse, I started back on the road, ignoring the splinters in my hands and leading Marcus' horse and dragging him behind. I hated doing this, but causing weeks of pain was better than killing someone, and hopefully by the end of it he really would leave and never return.

Frank is enjoying my high-tech toys. As I leave civilization behind, he's tempting fate to give him a speeding ticket. I really ought to insist on radio silence unless it's important, I'm enjoying Frank's monologue too much.

"Where did you get this car, Aiar?"

"It's just a car, Frank. What do you drive, anyway, a bug?"

"It's not just any sedan that can go 220!"

I roll my eyes. "You're not going 220, Frank."

"How do you know?"

"Just don't miss your exit. I'd really like some visual confirmation that I'm in the right area."

"Aren't you supposed to rendezvous with Pao's tails?"

"Yeah, but it's been hours since I got their last GPS coordinates. And reception for my PDA here isn't consistent."

"Weren't they supposed to relay through me?"

"Well, I told them to, but I haven't gotten confirmation yet. I know it's only been a few hours, but I don't like it. It doesn't feel right. I don't really think Pao would kill them, but something may have happened. I hope I'm the only one this close on her trail." I try not to let too much concern slip out in my voice, but between my concern for Pao and an intrusive memory I loose some control. Trying not to curse, I grit my teeth as the wash of memory inundates most of my senses. Once again I get one moment interposed on another and have to really work to remember which is the present.

"Aiar! What happened?" Frank's voice seems to come from far away and very close, all at once. I realize I'm cursing aloud in Urdu.

"Sorry," I manage to squeak out to Frank. "It's nothing."

"Nothing! What the fuck kind of nothing makes you sound so pissed off?"

But I'm still drowning in the memory. I bite my tongue, literally, and the short pain and taste of blood makes the memory recede.

"Sorry, Frank. PTSD."

"Something bad happen that time in India?" I guess he must recognize Urdu when he hears it. I didn't really think languages were much in his repertoire.

"No, not as such. I don't really understand why, but even trivial memories sometimes intrude."

"What does the shrink say?"

Now that's a question I didn't expect. I pause, unusually slow to come up with a lie, and since it's probably obvious I'd be lying anyway, I just tell the truth. "I stopped going."

"Aiar."

"I know, I know, you don't need to tell me. It's just… hard. His security clearance isn't high enough for me to tell the truth most of the time. I don't think he can help me if I don't tell the truth. Well, that's probably not fair, but still."

"Can't you request someone with a high enough clearance?"

"There aren't any." I sigh. "We shouldn't be talking about this. Are you almost there?"

"Yeah. You sure found a swanky neighborhood to set up shot in."

I laugh and try to return my attention to the land and pick up my pace. The sooner I catch up the better.

Ari held me close, kissing the back of my neck. I stared into the smoldering fire in front of me, luxuriating in Ari's stomach against my back, his arms around my body, his thighs against mine, and his breath on my shoulders. We were still too cold, but neither of us wanted to get up to rejuvenate the fire. Better to just stay close. When Ari started showing signs of wanting to have sex, I felt my heart swell with love and affection and my body heat with the sudden fire of desire so that I felt suddenly as if it were spring and not winter.

I tried to turn to face him, but he held me tight, and I let him have me that way. I arched my neck back so I could kiss his lips, and under our meager blanket, I felt safer and more alive than I ever did in my mother's arms or dancing at night. A moment or an eternity later, we laid still, trying to keep the heat we had created from escaping. What death and my father and slavery had stolen from me, Ari had returned to me twice over. I knew one day I would loose him, too, but until then, I stole every moment with him from death and time that I could.

I thought he had fallen asleep, but then he stirred and looked at me. I smiled and looked back. He kissed my nose and I lowered my head and closed my eyes, concentrating on how his body felt close to mine. He turned back to pick up something behind him. I didn't really think anything of it. Then heat and pain lanced through my stomach.

I gasped and choked on my scream. I looked down at my belly, and there was his knife, plunged in all the way to the hilt. And Ari's hand on the hilt. Unable to breathe, I looked up for Ari, trying to mouth "help." The word died on my lips. The face I saw was nothing like Ari's. He had a triumphant and gloating look in his eye. He smiled malevolently at me.

Completely uncomprehending, I managed to choke out, "But… I love you."

He laughed. But it wasn't his laugh; it was a horrible, cackling laugh.

"Silly little girl," he said, but his voice wasn't his, either. My sight started to fade, and I started to cough again. All the warmth of my body seemed to be slipping out through my stomach. Then another lancing pain came as Ari yanked the knife out. I tried to scream, but I had no breath. Pain shot through every part of my body, robbing me of all my senses but feeling. I had to get into Ari's arms again. That would make everything all right. I would be safe there. I tried to say his name again, but my lips barely moved. I heard his voice, but couldn't make out what it said. It was harsh and mocking. I tried to move towards him, but my body wasn't listening to me. My sight was completely gone, and a deathly chill had penetrated even the pocket of warmth around my heart. The last thing I felt was the overwhelming desire to cry, but all that happened was my last breath escaped me.

"Chod!"

"Calm down, we can still track her."

"I knew it! I knew I shouldn't have come here!"

"Hey, it's alright, we can get on the road in an hour. There's a-"

"Chod chod chod!"

"Ookay, umm, I think you should calm down."

"Is that Arabic?"

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Mike, come on, let it alone."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Yeah, well, it's not our fault."

"Chod!"

"Yes, we heard you the first time."

"Transport's this way. Come on, if we make good time we won't loose too much ground."

I stalk along after the four people I assigned to be Pao's tail. I knew it, I just knew it. Why why why didn't I listen to my instincts! I knew this would happen and I came anyway. I kick a fallen branch as we pass and curse some more. I'm making my companions uneasy, but I don't care.

I need to tell Frank. I fish my microphone out of my sleeve. "Frank?"

"Yeah?" I've been in this profession long enough that I should know better than to use informal speech in communications during an op, but to be honest I've never found that code words and names hide much from listeners, and Frank never saw their point at all.

"She's on NY-28 somewhere between Pine Hill and Highmount. Either she had arranged to be picked up or she's hitchhiking."

"What's your guess, I-88?"

"I don't know. I think she's just trying to loose us."

"Does that mean she knows you're after her or she doesn't?"

"I told you, I have no way of contacting her, the last number I had was for China. She probably doesn't know it's me organizing this particular search. I don't suppose the Watcher information turned up anything new?"

"No, they're still looking for her in the city."

"Well. Chod. Umm, anything on Ben?"

"Not a peep. They think they're getting closer, though."

"Well, see if you can find and track what car she got into."

"You know your satellite coverage isn't quite that good, right?"

"Yeah, but you may get lucky, you never know."

"Alright. Hey, there's someone here."

My heart clenches briefly. After a pause I ask, "Can I listen in?" He doesn't answer, but turns the microphone back on. I won't be able to hear well, but I should be able to hear most of Frank's conversation anyway.

"Well hello there, sir, what can I do for you?" I hear Frank ask as he opens the door.

"You're new," a deep, male voice says. A chill runs up my spine. Oh fuck.

"Oh, no, actually I'm used. But the salesman's gone home for the night, so unless you want to peek under the hood you'll have to wait till he gets back." Oh, Frank, be careful.

Tiresias gives a short, humorless laugh. "Do you know who you work for?"

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." Don't listen to him, Frank!

"She is dangerous. You are playing with fire."

"Never met a lady who wasn't dangerous."

Tiresias pauses. I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. "Do you know who hunts her?"

"Other than you?" Bless Frank and his flippant answers. If I hadn't sworn off men I'd kiss him.

A satisfied noise from Tiresias betrays Frank's bravado. "Why do you think her daughter's in danger?" I nearly choke. Did the Watchers sell me out after all?

Frank decides to stop playing dumb. "And what do you know about that?" Not much else he can do, but it's playing into Tiresias' hands.

I can hear the satisfaction in Ray's voice. "I know Aiar is being hunted, as is her daughter. Her daughter is an innocent in this, even if she is a Watcher. But she is deceived. As are you."

Frank's not buying it, thank god. "And you're here because…?"

"Because I would protect the daughter from the sins of the mother." Yeah right, and I'm a spring chick.

"Uh huh." Frank's putting on a good show of suspicion, but I can hear the curiosity behind it, and so can Tiresias.

"Whatever you know about Aiar is what she wants you to know. She hides behind many masks. You may not do well to help her." Is he playing up his accent? Surely he's more fluent in English than he's letting on. What's he doing, cultivating an air of mystery? Possible I guess. Frank finds that sort of thing more amusing than impressive, but if he only subconsciously notices it… Please see the mask, Frank.

"We all wear masks. I got a great William Shatner one Halloween." Despite the severity of the situation, I almost crack a smile at the image of Frank in a Captain Kirk mask. Tiresias doesn't think it's so funny, though.

"She has killed, you know. In self-defense, yes, but also out of malice, greed, ennui. Ask her. Find the truth in her eyes. Vengeance comes for her, and she owes it her life."

"What, she killed your mom or something?"

"No. Goodnight, friend cowboy." I hear the door close behind him.

Frank is quiet for a minute, and I hold my breath. Please, Frank, please.

"Aiar?" he finally says, and lets go of the microphone at last so I can speak back.

"I'm here. Look, Frank, that was Tiresias. Did I ever tell you anything about him?" I know I mentioned him once to Frank, but I don't know if Frank remembers.

"I don't think so."

"Well, it's no good me telling you now. Be careful of him. He preys on doubt and uncertainty. He's well practiced at it. And if he means well towards Pao I'm a dolphin. You did well, Frank."

He pauses again. "Aiar, was any of that… is there some truth in what he says?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "There's some truth to it. Look, Frank, we should talk about that in person. I'm not avoiding, I just can't say all that I want right now."

"Yeah, sure, Aiar." He covers his doubt well, but not well enough.

"Please, just help me find Pao for right now." I hate loosing friends like this.

"Right. I'll get on it," he says, more businesslike.

Curse you, Tiresias, to the seventh generation, and the seventy-seventh.

Marcus woke up as I finished cleaning the rabbit I had caught for dinner. The fire was going strong and I had already collected all the water I'd need. Marcus groaned and blinked blearily. It took him a minute to realize he was still tied up. He was bloody and bruised, and one of his eyes was almost swelled shut. One of his ankles was broken and several of his ribs. His collarbone was bruised badly, but not broken.

"You're not healing so quickly anymore," I said to him, getting the rabbit started over the fire.

He spat a string of curses at me, then said, "You're a fool not to kill me!"

I sighed. "A fool to keep an oath? I hope not."

"Oath!" He spat. "Your kind takes no oaths to heart!"

Raising my eyebrows, I looked him in the eye. "My kind? What kind is that? A woman? An ancient? A tribal?" A bitter part of my mind wanted to ask just what he thought he knew about me, but the rest of me was too mentally exhausted to feel sufficient bitterness.

"Assassin!" he spat at me.

Well, he had me there. I looked back to the rabbit, not out of shame but depression. "I'm not an assassin anymore, Marcus. I haven't been since before you were born."

He laughed, thinking he had touched a nerve. "I hear the stories about you! The people you killed, the deceptions you raveled. You don't just walk away from that kind of life!"

Considering the meat in the fire, I said dispassionately, "No, you don't."

Undaunted, Marcus pressed it further. "Once an assassin always an assassin!"

I shake my head, staring past the meat and letting my eyes loose focus. "Nothing's that simple." I don't expect him to believe me.

He struggled against his bonds. "You have no honor! No pride!"

I glanced up at him, more interested in his injuries than his words. The cuts above his eye had healed almost completely, his bruises had lightened, and although I was pretty sure his ankle was still broken, judging by his bruising his ribs had healed.

"Be still. I'd like to eat before we start again."

He spat at me again. I had to admire his drive; he was doubtless pretty dehydrated. "Coward!"

"Coward, am I?" I said quietly. "Is that what you call a warrior who kills a petulant child? I stay my hand not out of fear, but out of pity and a desire not to strike without need. But you won't believe me. My words are wasted on you."

I turned the strips of meat over. I knew the smell of it must have been excruciatingly tantalizing. But he wasn't ready to accept kindness from me yet. Once the meat was done and I had eaten, Marcus was looking much healthier. Time to keep my word.

Sitting in a beat-up pickup truck with the agents I'd set to tail Pao, I curse myself some more for not listening to my instincts. I knew this would happen. Pao's too good; I trained her myself. All I can think of now is getting back to Frank and redoubling the effort to find Ben. But the agents I'm with still think they can relocate Pao. I know better, but I might as well let them try for a few hours. It's bad for morale to take hunters of a trail when they can still smell the scent.

Frank's been pretty quiet. He's mulling over what Tiresias said, no doubt. All he's said to me over the last few hours has pertained to GPS locations and relaying my orders. I hate loosing friends like this. Even if he stays loyal, I'm pretty sure he doesn't trust me anymore. I don't really know how to regain that trust. We've been through a lot together, especially in the Agency. But that sort of thing only goes so far. I'm a deft hand at manipulation, myself. I could probably twist the truth, say things in the right way, display the right emotions in the right amounts, drop seemingly innocuous information in conversations he'll only remember later, just like Tiresias did and does. But I don't want to. Manipulating friends is a breach of friendship, and I like having a friend. I don't have very many, mainly for their own protection.

Tiresias… why did he choose now to reenter my life? He's never been an enemy, exactly, but we're far from friends. A sudden though occurs to me; who was Tiresias' teacher? I picture the Watcher report in my head. His past had a lot of question marks in it. No teacher was listed; his earliest known contact with other immortals had been a standard fight. So someone had probably at least explained the rules to him. The Watchers' information is notorious for having gaping holes in strange places. What about Rji? The Watchers have no official information on her. She trades favors with them for their blind eye, as I do. She wasn't listed on Tiresias' report, but that doesn't mean much. Suspicion begins to gnaw at me. Tiresias could have motives entirely independent to come after me now, when I'm vulnerable, but there could be a link. Di immortales, I hope there's not.