The Many Lives Of Sexta Sertorius
Chapter Four

Caffa -1357

After neglecting to mention his delay in rescuing baby Sexta, a slightly embarrassed Quintus, in a quieter time, continued his tale.

'There I was,' he told her, glossing over the details that reflected less well upon him, 'with a human infant or a strix in my hands and no aid or facility to cope with either eventuality…'

'What on earth did you do with me?' Sexta interrupted. 'How did you find out what I was?'

'Initially, I waited,' he said. 'Or to put it more accurately, I did nothing because I could think of nothing to do. I brought you here and watched you for several hours – until the sun rose and Bernarda came to clean for me as she usually did. As she still does.

'Bernarda came to me as the widow of a Sun Hunter and because a bachelor of independent means needs a woman of matronly respectability to keep his house and chaperone any lady visitors. As a rule, Sun Hunters do not live long enough to marry but Bernarda's husband came to the struggle later in life. She was therefore already aware of my special requirements.'

'She told me all this several years ago…'

'Did she indeed?' he mused, resolving to caution his doughty servant once again about the dangers of overfamiliarity.

'Well,' he continued, 'she came in that morning and found me staring in perplexity at a screaming infant and assumed command. She engaged a wet nurse because you drank milk for the first three days of your life. We believed you might resist the transformation because your eyes were also still human...'

'What colour were they?'

'What?' Quintus' head jerked up. 'What an odd question... They were the dark blue of all the newly born, but I am certain that they would have become dark brown like those of your birth parents in time. You had hair also, at first. Similarly brown…'

His thoughts wandered off again – to other brunettes, other lives and other loves.

Sexta continued the story as far as she knew it. '…But then I bit the wet nurse and she refused to attend me again.'

'Yes…' said Quintus, his mind back with her again. 'That is when I brought you before the Ancients.'

'Tell me about that, Quintus,' she urged. 'Please.'

'Very well, child,' he yielded. 'I attended the Ancients' majestic residence in the catacombs beneath Caffa, and brought you into the audience hall. It was quiet and dark with their six white oak sarcophagi, each unique in design and size, lining the walls. The Ancients, all of them (excepting the Master, of course), entered in solemn pomp, wearing their ceremonial robes and gravely awaited my petition. I announced myself respectfully and, raising your sleeping form to the assembled court, I begged their counsel - selecting the most deferential language I could conjure.

'The Ancient who styled itself Wormwood, whose host was new and still outwardly female, approached and studied you.

'I believe she, or it, began to converse telepathically until she realised that as I was not of her Strain, nor that of any Ancient there present, I could not hear her thoughts. She adjusted to speaking aloud. "I have felt this creature, these last nights… My Born… Why have you not offered it to me before this time?"

'"She is Born, then… My Lord Wormwood?" I asked.

'"Do you know of her creation?" Wormwood asked imperiously.

'"Do you?" I rejoined a fraction too smartly making the Ancients hiss in displeasure.

'"Certainly, I do" Wormwood said. "It is of my blood, yet not of my worm. "Born" is the most apposite term in this tongue."

'The other Ancients appeared to be conversing telepathically again so obviously their discussion was not intelligible to me.

'Without warning or asking, Wormwood suddenly snatched you from my arms. I was annoyed and tried to retain possession but it become apparent that the Ancient wanted only to examine you thoroughly. It removed the blanket, dress and nether swaddling and turned you upside down. This action naturally woke you up. Your instant reaction was to wail but as Wormwood's hot face sniffed and licked you, you began, much to my surprise, to giggle. Or so it sounded to me; I was long ago informed that new born humans are unable to laugh or smile.'

'But I wasn't human,' she said.

'Nonetheless, as rapidly as you developed, it was still many weeks before you began truly to smile.' He stopped and thought for a moment.

'You smile a great deal, Sexta,' he added reflectively.

There was an undercurrent of accusation to the statement, Sexta felt. She was stung.

'You hardly smile at all, Quintus,' she blurted, almost in retaliation. Her undercurrent was a plaintive one, as if she would have preferred a sunnier mentor. And it was much more overt.

She regretted it immediately and doubly so when he turned and fixed her with the stare. She dropped her eyes to try to avoid it but it seemed to burn through her skull. For a fraction of a second, he had seemed hurt and that in turn caused her more pain and embarrassment than any amount of disapproval.

'I am sorry, Quintus, I didn't mean…' she began to tell her lap but he cut her off.

'Joy can be stolen,' he said sharply. Then he took a deep breath and resumed as if the misunderstanding had never occurred.

'While you were largely unperturbed, I found this rough and proprietary attention towards you troubling and Wormwood noticed my disquiet. Meanwhile, the discussion between the other Ancients had escalated into an angry dispute, with two apparently siding with Wormwood and me, and an opposing three arguing aloud for your swift termination.

'Kush was anxious… frightened even and he shouted, "Remember Quarta?" who was his Born, of course. He turned to Erlik of Siberia, as if he were the most likely to add his support. "And do you forget the trouble Primus has caused?"

'Erlik, despite being the most senior by nearly two centuries, did not, and does not, hold a special status amongst the six. He was, however, the calmest, saying, "The child is nearly human. Think of the possibilities." This perplexed me at the time and has caused me great unease ever since, but as the others were yelling, "No more Born…!" and baying for your death, I seized on his declaration as support for my cause.'

'You wanted to keep me, then?' interrupted Sexta hopefully.

Quintus paused once again and considered how best to explain his standpoint. 'Sexta, you will discover that, sometimes in life, your own thoughts and wishes are only discovered when another vehemently propounds their antithesis. Now, may I continue my narrative without further disruption?'

Sexta nodded sheepishly and Quintus resumed.

'Erlik fervently repeated his exhortation: "Are you blind to the opportunity…?" before slipping into telepathy, I presumed for reasons of secrecy from me. To my consternation, the silent communication had seemingly caused hope to dawn for Kush and he exclaimed, "Against Quarta?" "Yes," Erlik affirmed, "And against the Young One." That is one of their names for he who calls himself the Master.

'Another Ancient protested that the Born could not be controlled but Wormwood interjected, "The Sixth Born is MINE! The risk is MINE! And I choose to take it." This truth was acknowledged by all the others, albeit reluctantly, and the argument was over.

'Wormwood issued instructions for me to find someone to raise you, to train you as a Hunter when you were old enough and to bring you back for examination every thirteen moons.

'I knew that they were ordering me around as if I were just another Hunter but I did not complain. In fact, I felt satisfied with the outcome. And of course, Bernarda was delighted to be able to keep you. At first, she persisted in calling you Sophia - your human name, the name your parents gave you,' Quintus told Sexta, 'but I warned her against becoming too attached in case…'

'In case of what?' Sexta asked, crestfallen.

'In case of unforeseen occurrences,' he said peremptorily. 'She maintained that she needed to call you something, so I simply considered the description your Sire had given you – "the Sixth Born" and designated you in Latin in accordance with the series chronicled in the book, Filii de Opacare.'

Sexta felt somewhat chastened at this rather cool account of her naming. It was heartless, really. At least he had given her his family name of Sertorius. It had almost certainly been solely a matter of convention - society would have expected his daughter to bear his name, but she still took some comfort in the fact that, for whatever reason, he had marked her as belonging to him.

'Your upbringing was entirely Bernarda's province until you were strong enough to learn the first unarmed manoeuvres,' Quintus told her. 'Nevertheless, I still had to find a way to feed you, to bring you fresh blood in a plague-ridden city under siege. The hunting was meagre enough for me that winter, so I…'

He was suddenly interrupted by a handsome young man, in his late teens, bursting through the door.

'I know what's going on…' panted Gerolamo Piambo.