The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 13- “caved”
Otta rolled into Sardica in an ordinary buggy. Not wanting to attract attention, he downplayed his appearance. He had been the first to train the black riders years ago, and was very good at hiding, even in plain sight. As he had promised the King, he was visiting his spies to see what he could find out about the slave trade. He awaited news of Bastion, but he could only hope that his training and his team would bring him success.
Otta had gotten news from the Lower Reach, from his men and the captives they had rescued. Tatu Castle hed been burned, and Bastion had sailed off to Kaffa. Still, Otta needed to know everything he could. It was his business to know, for the good of Jedikai. He had a feeling the slave trade ran deeper than any of them knew.
Otta guided his one-horse wagon through Sardica. It was a similar size to Jedikai, but more sprawling and spread-out, over a flatter land. It was not as well kept; there was more debris and refuse, and more stray dogs loose in the city. There were fewer buildings, but many homes. Most of all, it seemed to Otta that Sardica was not very well-defended. Without the walls that Bastion and the King had erected, they would have little defense in case of an attack. Otta was committed to the defense of his kingdom.
Disappointment ran through Otta at the thought of that. He had wanted to rule Jedikai himself, but was not in line for the throne. Bastion was. They were good men, but Otta always wondered if he would get his chance. Bastion certainly took on a good share of danger; it wouldn’t be unthinkable for something to go wrong for him.
The buggy pulled into a crowded open-air market on the east end of the city. Otta parked it and set the brake, and secured his horse, hooking up a small bag of grain to its mouth. He would be in a hurry to get back, and wouldn’t have time for the horse to graze. He walked towards the smell of cooked meats, and found the overhang he was looking for- a small stand next to the pit where the different meats were cooking. It smelled incredibly good.
He waited near the overhang. It was a gypsy stand, and they were selling baskets, rabbit skins, and assorted little talismans and tokens. Otta had been here before. He waited nearly an hour but did not mind, since he had gotten there on the early side. Finally, his contact showed.
“Are you hungry?” he asked him, walking up.
Otta shook Draiman’s hand.
“I am pretty hungry,” Otta admitted.
“Get yourself a piece of meat!” Draiman encouraged him.
“I might just do that, before I leave,” Otta replied.
“Let’s go sit down a spell,” Draiman said, as friendly as he could be. Draiman led Otta under the gypsy overhang where he had waited. They sat in a dark little tent where the gypsies often told fortunes, for the city folk who were fool enough to inquire.
“What have you found out?” Otta asked.
“It looks like the slave traders are planning to move south from the Lower Reach. Away from Jedikai.” he said.
“How far south?” Otta asked.
“I am not sure. They might move towards Trebizond, from what I heard.”
“That’s a far ways from Jedikai,” Otta said.
“Well, that’s good, right?”
“It could be, if it is true.” Otta replied.
“Don’t worry. My information is good. I travel a lot, and always get the good gossip,” said Draiman.
“Gossip is not good enough, Draiman. I have to know for sure. What do you know of the Lower Reach?”
“The Lower Reach should not be a problem, if the traders all move south from there, away from your kingdom,” Draiman answered. “The Moldavians are always a problem, but I have heard that they intend to import their slaves from the villages on the way to Trebizond, across the Black Sea. They don’t like to get too greedy in any one area. It’s a good way to get caught.”
“How can you be sure?” Otta asked.
“Trust me,” Draiman grinned. “I know what I am doing.”
“Trust a gypsy?” Otta asked with a smile in return. “You know better than that as well as I do!”
Draiman laughed. “Fair enough!” he agreed. “You have always treated me well, and your payments have been generous. I give you the best information I can. I hope it helps whatever you are doing,” he added.
“It helps,” Otta assured him, pulling out a pouch of coins. He tossed it to Draiman. “Anything else I need to know?”
“I have been telling the villagers and other gypsies not to worry. Many are afraid, and that’s not good for anyone. So... don’t worry!”
“Thank you, Draiman,” Otta said, as he stood up to exit. Draiman gave him a hearty handshake. “Let me buy you a big leg.”
They went out to the meat market next to the gypsies and made small talk, as they got a couple giant wild turkey legs off the spit. Otta said his farewell, and left quickly. In a short time he was back on the road to Jedikai, drinking water from his wineskin, enjoying an excellent turkey leg.
Otta did not trust Draiman, not one bit. It was foolhardy enough to trust gypsies anyway, but Draiman was not likely the friendly sort he made himself out to be. He provided information, but it was the things he didn’t say, that belied his news. Otta pondered those things as he hurried along the road. Most troubling of all- Draiman had said nothing of the castle at Tatu burning down, in the Lower Reach. There was no way he didn’t know.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lyubov rubbed her old wizened hands together and put them towards the fire, warming them up as night fell in the west meadows of Jedikai. The sounds of the city’s stone builders had finally waned. They all awaited word of Yana, and her mission with the black riders. Luba, Emilee, Dimmie, and Jaelle sat with Lyubov, as Luba prepared her little crystal ball. Luba had been taught to only use it at night. Some fortune-tellers used it in daylight, in cover of tents, but Lyubov told her that was faulty.
The small group did not gather around the fire, but close in with each other, next to it. The other caravans in the west meadows all carried on their own music and fires and dancing, but most of them were just as curious as to Yana’s fate. Their futures would all be affected. Some of the other elders awaited word from Luba’s reading tonight, just as they all awaited official word from the city. Lyubov wanted most of all just to see the lovely face of Yana herself, their young, strong leader.
Luba produced the ball from her satchel, and stroked it with her hands, closing her eyes, and thinking of Yana intensely. Then she pulled out a scarf that belonged to Yana, one that she always wore. She set the ball in the center of the scarf, and then held the ends of it, lifting them up and down conversely, polishing the crystal gently. When she was satisfied, she opened up the scarf and set her hand underneath it, holding the ball in her hand, but not actually touching it.
Luba’s back was to the fire, and the scant moonlight was just what she wanted. She looked into the ball a while, and then closed her eyes. Then she looked around the ball, not directly at it, but at its edges- then closed her eyes again. She did the sequence three times, and then leaned in to see what she could, thinking of her dear friend.
She saw very little at first, but Lyubov had assured her that was normal. She looked intently, letting the ball reveal what it may. Luba closed her eyes once more, sensing Yana, and opened them again, to find Yana faintly walking, within her ball. Her heart leapt, but she stayed silent, watching. Yana was walking slowly. She seemed upset, by the feel of it. Still walking, she was joined by a male figure walking with her. Luba could not make out the man’s face, it was mainly absent. She watched patiently. Moments passed by, each of the gypsies in her circle looking in, waiting.
Luba was just about ready to end the reading, and tell them what she saw, when it began to change. The man’s face became visible, but it was not the face of a man. It was the face of a wolf. Yana was walking with him, seeming to grow more upset. Her eyes seemed haunted. As Luba noticed that, flames sprung up around them. Yana and the man with the wolf face were in the midst of fire, growing u
ntil it suddenly seemed to make the whole ball flash with firelight.
Luba quickly closed the scarf over the ball, concealing it. She did not want to tell what she saw, but she knew her face was already giving her away. She looked up at Lyubov.
“Yana is alive,” she said. She was sure of that.
“What else did you see?” Lyubov asked, the others listening intently.
“I saw... she was walking... I saw a wolf.” Luba said.
“I hate wolves,” Emilee spoke up, recalling her night in the pixie tree.
“No, it wasn’t like that,” Luba tried to explain. “The wolf- it was a man, and...” she trailed off. “I don’t know what I saw.” She thought of the look in Yana’s eyes- that dead, empty look. Without another word she scooped up her things and left the fire to go back to her wagon.
“What does that mean?” asked Dimmie. He shared their alarm in seeing Luba so rattled. Lyubov motioned for him to be quiet, with a look of kindness, and got up slowly and left the group as well.
“What does that mean?” Dimmie asked again after Lyubov left.
“Yana is alive,” Jaelle spoke up. “That’s what it means.”
“If she is alive, she will come back, wolf or not,” Emilee said. “Maybe the reading wasn’t right,” she added, knowing that none of them believed that. Luba was too skilled. She was not known for errors.
“I just hope there’s no more wolves in my future,” Emilee said.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Bastion helped load the last of the cargo off the stolen ship at Jedikai’s closest port, Jofranka. It was more than one full day’s ride back to Jedikai from the shore of the Black Sea. The Lower Reach was much further south, and certainly not a suitable port for them to return to. Jedikai did a good bit of business in Jofranka, importing and exporting foods and spices, materials, and even livestock.
Bastion had searched the port for any people traveling back to Jedikai, and good fortune presented him with two groups. They had all come to the port town to export their goods, and had empty wagons except for the goods they purchased to take back with them. Bastion offered them all the goods they could carry from the ship, and they were happy to help their Prince as well. They made room for all the goods they could, in addition to the black riders and captives that they would escort back to Jedikai.
Bastion set the last load he would carry, and shook the hand of the man in charge of the groups headed back.
“Is that her?” he asked, looking towards the docks.
“Who?” Bastion knew what he meant.
“The gypsy. The one that came to the King’s Hall? The one who danced with you?” he said.
“Yes. That is Yana,” he answered.
The man took a good look at her, and sized her up.
“The whole city’s been talking about her since then,” the man said. Bastion figured as much, but had not given it much concern. There was always talk about something.
“They all want to know if she will be your queen one day!” the man said with enthusiasm.
Bastion chuckled. “A dance does not make a queen, to be sure.”
“To be sure,” the man agreed. “But... a gypsy queen? You can wager that the talk will go on anyway!”
“Yes, they will talk,” Bastion said. That was one of the things he never did like about city life. The man took a more serious tone, and leaned closer to Bastion.
“The young women of Jedikai will be none too pleased at the thought, I expect,” he said, “nor some of their fathers.”
“I shouldn’t worry,” he tried to assure him. “She is a gypsy, and they aren’t known for city life.” The idea of angering the gossips, however, amused him.
“I’ll give you one thing, though, that you can tell anyone you like,” Bastion said. “That young gypsy right there saved every one of us.”
The man raised his eyebrows.
“Including me,” Bastion said.
Bastion bid the merchants farewell, along with his men and the captives. He grabbed a lit torch and approached Yana, who had walked out to the end of the dock, where the empty ship they had arrived in awaited.
“You ready?” Bastion asked her.
“Ready,” Yana replied.
The ship was tugging on the dock so hard that it felt like it might come apart. The sail had been dropped and the breeze blowing out to sea would have had the ship nicely making way. Instead, it had one thick rope attached to the stern and the dock, pulled taut, and Bastion chopped it loose. Immediately the dock settled and the ship lurched forward out to sea, unmanned. Yana waited a moment, and then knocked the arrow she had prepared, and touched it to Bastion’s torch, lighting the tip. She took careful aim, even though it was a huge target. Launching the arrow high into the air, they watched it sail, landing on the rear deck amidst the heating oil they had spread, and igniting a massive blaze. The ship sailed further out to sea as they watched it go, burning down in earnest as it went.
“You’re pretty good with that bow, little gypsy,” Bastion said.
“I’m pretty good at starting fires, too,” Yana said, holding her side where it still hurt. They made their way to the horse the merchant had left for them.
“There’s a gypsy pitch nearby, and I want to get a good dressing there. They’ll have herbs that will help it heal. There was no good medicine on the ship,” Yana said. “You gaje... it’s amazing you get by without the things the gypsies have.”
“We get by,” Bastion said. “I think it’s amazing that the gypsies get along so well. It’s a hard life.”
“That is what makes it a good life,” Yana said. They arrived in the gypsy camp Yana had headed for, and she found the woman who was known for treating wounds and ailments. Several gypsies recognized her from her travels, and Bastion enjoyed watching them all come up and greet her so warmly, and getting to meet them. Some had missing teeth, some had very long hair, many had strange outfits he had never seen... but all of them were friendly, offering help, food, or whatever was needed. That was surely why they thrived, Bastion figured. They stuck together.
Finally, they mounted up, Yana sitting behind him, happy to be leaning into him and feeling his strength as they rode. She looked out her telescope across the terrain. She had been planning a surprise, ever since she realized where they would make port.
“Bastion,” she said, “I want us to go somewhere special, before we go back to the city.” Yana was looking for a way to prolong her time with him before she had to go. Perhaps she would pretend that she didn’t have to go at all.
“Somewhere special?” Bastion said. “Where?”
“Bosh,” she teased, “it’s a surprise, of course. Trust me.”
“Trust a gypsy?” Bastion teased back.
“Hmmph,” Yana answered. “Just head to the left side of that grove up there. It’s not far.”
Bastion laughed, and headed for the grove. Yana guided him through the rocky field, and up a ridge, bringing them to the mouth of a small cave.
“This is it,” Yana said.
Bastion dismounted and helped Yana down carefully. Bastion looked around. The ridge overlooked Jofranka, and the Black Sea. It was beautiful, but otherwise unremarkable.
“This is it?” Bastion asked.
“I want to camp here tonight. Just you and me,” said Yana. Just the thought of it made her tingle with anticipation, and she held her wrist. It felt like all that feeling resonated from it, as she remembered the faded wound there.
“And so we shall,” Bastion said. “We better gather some wood, then.” Yana set about making it comfortable, unpacking the horse and arranging their things, mindful of her wound. Bastion collected wood, finding plenty, and set up a fire pit right at the mouth of the cave. He lit the fire, and went to explore the cave itself. It was narrow, with a bend that curved well into the mountain. It ended in pure darkness, only lit by the flaming twig he carried. There was a large pile of heather and straw heaped in the cave’s end. It would make a decent place to s
leep, he thought, and went back out to Yana.
The sun began to set over the sea, magnificent oranges and purples blending in the clouds over the water. Bastion set up a spot where they could sit comfortably, watching the fire and the sky together.
“So, why is this place special?” he asked, settling in.
“It is special because of you and I,” she said. Yana had always made it a point to camp at this obscure cave when her travels had brought her this way.
“Do you mean that we are something special?” he asked. “You and I?”
“You have been special to me since the moment I got this,” she said, pointing to the old scar on her wrist. Bastion instinctively touched his chest, the scar he had gotten that same night.
“I loved you, that night in the rain,” Yana said. “You had never said a word or looked in my eyes, at that moment... it was just... the way I felt. The way you felt.
“I have loved you every day since then,” she continued. “My travels have been bittersweet without you, Bastion. I have longed for you on many nights.”
“Why did you not come to me?” Bastion asked.
“I... I have been afraid of you, Bastion. I knew I could not have you, and it hurt. I knew it would... I knew I would get hurt even more.”
“And now? Are you still afraid of me?” he asked.
Yana nestled her head into his chest.
“Yes.”
“You are still afraid you will get hurt, being with me?”
“I can prove it,” Yana smiled, pointing to the gypsy dressing on her wound.
“It is hard to argue that,” he conceded.
“I do not wish to hurt you, Bastion,” she said. “It would not be a kindness to you, to get too close.”
“It’s too late for that now,” Bastion said.
“I did not mean for this to happen. I know I should have left you alone, but I... I didn’t want to.”
“If you had left me alone, I’d have died in that gulley. I imagine that would hurt worse,” Bastion said.
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