Yes, Thorne had seen this very one struggling with words, finely chosen words, to save everyone.
The blood drinker gestured for him to take a seat to the right, against the wall.
He accepted this invitation, and found himself on a long leather cushion, the candle flame dancing wickedly before him, sending its playful light into the other blood drinker's eyes. He could smell blood now in the other blood drinker. He realized that the blood drinker's face was warm with it, and so were his long tapering hands.
Yes, I have hunted tonight, but I will hunt with you again. You need this.
"Yes," said Thorne. "It's been so long you can't imagine it. To suffer in the snow and ice was simple. But they're all around me now, these tender creatures. "
"I understand," said the other blood drinker. "I know. "
These were the first words Thorne had spoken aloud to anyone in years and years, and he closed his eyes so that he might treasure this moment. Memory was a curse, yes, he thought, but it was also the greatest gift. Because if you lost memory you lost everything.
A bit of his old religion came back to him¡ªthat for memory, the god Odin had given his eye, and hung upon the sacred tree for nine days. But it was more complex than that. It was not only memory which Odin gained, it was the mead which enabled him to sing poetry.
Once years ago Thorne had drunk that poet's mead, given him by the priests of the sacred grove, and he had stood in the middle of his father's house singing the poems about her, the red-haired one, the blood drinker, whom he had seen with his own eyes.
And those around him had laughed and mocked him. But when she began to slay the members of the clan they mocked him no more. Once they had seen the pale bodies with their eyes plucked out, they had made him their hero.
He shook himself all over. The snow fell from his hair and from his shoulders. With a careless hand he wiped the bits of ice from his eyebrows. He saw the ice melt on his fingers. He rubbed hard at the frost on his face.
Was there no fire in this room? He looked about. The heat came magically through small windows. But how good it was, how consuming.
He wanted to strip off his clothes suddenly and bathe in this heat. I have a fire in my house. I'll take you there.
As if from a trance, he woke to look at the blood drinker stranger. He cursed himself that he had been sitting here clumsy and mute.
The blood drinker spoke aloud: "It's only to be expected. Do you understand the tongue I speak?"
"It's the tongue of the Mind Gift," said Thorne. "Men all over the world speak it. " He stared at the blood drinker again. "My name is Thorne," he said. "Thor was my god. " Hastily he reached inside his worn leather coat and pulled out from the fur the amulet of gold which he wore on a chain. "Time can't rust such a thing," he said. "It's Thor's hammer. "
The blood drinker nodded.
"And your gods?" Thorne asked. "Who were they? I don't speak of belief, you understand, I speak of what we lost, you and I. Do you catch my meaning?"
"The gods of old Rome, those are the gods I lost," said the stranger. "My name is Marius. "
Thorne nodded. It was too marvelous to speak aloud and to hear the voice of another. For the moment, he forgot the blood he craved and wanted only a flood of words.
"Speak to me, Marius," he said. "Tell me wondrous things. Tell me all that you would have me know. " He tried to stop himself but he couldn't do it.
"Once I stood speaking to the wind, telling the wind all things that were in my mind and in my heart. Yet when I went North into the ice, I had no language. " He broke off, staring into Marius's eyes. "My soul is too hurt. I have no true thoughts. "
"I understand you," said Marius. "Come with me to my house. You're welcome to the bath, and to the clothes you need. Then we'll hunt and you'll be restored, and then comes talk. I can tell you stories without end. I can tell you all the stories of my life that I want to share with another. "
A long sigh escaped Thorne's lips. He couldn't prevent himself from smiling in gratitude, his eyes moist and his hands trembling. He searched the stranger's face. He could find no evidence of dishonesty or cunning. The stranger seemed wise, and simple.
"My friend," Thorne said and then he bent forward and offered the kiss of greeting. Biting deep into his tongue, he filled his mouth with blood, and opened his lips over those of Marius.
The kiss did not take Marius by surprise. It was his own custom. He received the blood and obviously savored it.
"Now we can't quarrel over any small thing," said Thorne. He settled back against the wall greatly confused suddenly. He wasn't alone. He feared that he might give way to tears. He feared that he hadn't the strength to go back out into the dreadful cold and accompany this one to his house, yet it was what he needed to do so terribly.
"Come," said Marius, "I'll help you. "
They rose from the table together.
This time the agony of passing through the crowd of mortals was even greater. So many bright glistening eyes fastened on him, though it was only for a moment.