by Barb Hendee
The dark story cast a mood upon the rest of the performance, and Jan stepped out to play an even more haunting song than he had the night before. Again, Julianna slipped to the outside of the small crowd, not wishing to be noticed, but… then she looked over by the wagon and saw Rico with the same lovely, brown-haired girl from the night before.
He was staring into her face with longing, and she was gripping his hand.
After a moment, the girl began to step away, drawing her with him, and he followed as if being separated from her was unthinkable. They vanished around the back of the wagon into the darkness.
Julianna hesitated, well aware it would be wrong to follow them, and yet… there was something odd about Rico’s behavior.
Awash with shame, she silently walked over to where they’d slipped behind the wagon and she peeked around the corner.
They were only a few paces away. Neither one noticed her in the dark.
“Please,” the girl was begging. “No one can do this except you. You are the only one who could get past the guards and back out again. My family needs this. We could lift ourselves from poverty.”
Still gripping her hand, Rico shook his head, and his voice filled with pain. “I cannot. I would do almost anything for you, but what your grandmother asks of me is a death sentence, and I have my family to protect.”
The girl began to weep quietly, and he pulled her close, “Lydia,” he whispered. “Don’t ask this of me. I cannot do it.”
Whatever she was asking, his refusal was firm, though it clearly tortured him to tell her no.
Beyond ashamed of herself for having witnessed so private a moment, Julianna drew back and walked away—yet she could not help wondering what the girl had asked that Rico believed would result in a “death sentence.”
She considered telling Jan what she’d heard… but that would mean admitting she’d been spying on Rico—which she had no wish to do. Anyway, whatever the girl had asked, Rico had refused.
Julianna decided to keep silent for now.
· · · · ·
Jan was happy.
The next few days followed a similar routine, but he never found himself bored or restless. He loved helping his uncle to plan and rotate the shows—and he loved performing. Even more, he found himself pleasantly surprised by Julianna having acknowledged his skills and hard work. It had never occurred to him that it would be satisfying to have someone he cared for admire his work ethic, but he did. To him, this life with his aunt and uncle felt more like “work with no work.” Julianna appeared to view things differently.
He was also surprised by how much he relished her presence and companionship on this year’s travels. Always before, he’d viewed the autumn travels as a time for him and his mother, Nadja, to share a special closeness and to leave the rest of the world behind. Now… Julianna’s company had become even more important to him.
And he didn’t know why.
He only knew that each day, he grew more and more grateful that she was the one who’d accompanied him this year. During performances, he was proud to have her swirling beside him in her red dress, striking her tambourine in time to his music. Her light brown hair and hazel eyes and narrow face—with its charming smatter of freckles—were exotic among the family of Móndyalítko, and he liked that so many people assumed she was with him.
Five evenings after their arrival at the fair, once the dishes were put away and the small crowd began to gather around the fire for the nighttime show, Uncle Rosario stepped over beside the flames, and Jan wondered what sort of story he would tell tonight. It never ceased to amaze Jan how many stories his uncle had memorized, and he rarely told the same tale twice.
However, just as Jan was turning his attention toward the campfire to listen, he noticed a familiar sight outside the circle… that was beginning to concern him.
Each night since their arrival, a pretty young woman with silky hair and a generous figure had slipped into their group unseen and gone straight to Rico. She was clearly Móndyalítko, but Jan had never seen her before this year, and he didn’t have a clue to which family she belonged. There was nothing outwardly unsettling about her arriving every night and clinging to Rico. Members of one family formed romantic attachments to members of another all the time.
It was Rico’s reaction that caught Jan’s attention. Rico was a year older, and Jan had known him since childhood. In all his life to date, Jan had never seen his cousin show an ounce of interest in anything besides hunting and offering his family protection.
A few days ago, Jan had asked Rico the girl’s name and been stunned by the vehemence with which his cousin had told him to “mind his own business.”
And now, Rico looked like a moonstruck fawn, holding the girl’s hand and staring into her eyes like a man who’d found something he never knew he’d lost.
This behavior was… unusual at best.
Jan forgot all about his uncle’s story, and instead, he stood watching Rico and the girl.
Tonight, she’d brought a small pitcher and a goblet. She poured a dark liquid—probably red wine—into the goblet and handed it to Rico with a smile. Rico never smiled, so he didn’t smile back, but his eyes were warm as he took the goblet and drank deeply.
He didn’t seem aware that anyone else in the world existed.
Unable to stay rooted and content himself to watch any longer, Jan pressed through the small crowd and headed toward his cousin. As he approached, the girl saw him coming, and she turned and vanished into the darkness. Rico started after her.
“Lydia!” he called.
“Cousin?” Jan ventured.
Turning quickly, Rico saw Jan, and his eyes narrowed. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Chase her off like that.”
“I didn’t chase anyone off,” Jan stated flatly, finding the situation growing ever more strange. “She ran. Who is she? And don’t tell me it’s none of my business.”
Rico was silent for a moment and then finally answered, “Lydia. Her name is Lydia.”
His voice was filled with such longing that Jan couldn’t help feeling that perhaps he had intruded and chased the girl away, and he decided not to press the matter.
“Your father’s almost finished with his tale,” Jan said, “Fetch your violin and come play a song with me. We can perform a dark duel.”
In their world, it would have been considered beyond bad manners for Rico to refuse this request, but for an instant, Jan thought he might. Then, his cousin nodded unhappily.
The violins were in their cases on the back steps of the wagon, and by the time Rosario completed his story, both younger men had their bows and instruments in hand. Jan led the way toward the campfire with Rico following.
They’d almost reached it when Jan heard the sound of stumbling behind him. Turning, he watched Rico swaying uncertainly on feet, as if dizzy.
“Jan?” Rico said, putting his bow hand to his forehead. “I feel…”
He never finished the sentence and fell forward, landing face first on the ground.
“Rico!”
Jan dropped down beside his cousin as Julianna and Aunt Doreena ran up.
Julianna knelt down as well, touching the side of Rico’s throat. “He’s breathing.”
“What happened?” Doreena asked in alarm.
“I don’t know,” Jan answered in panic. “He just fell.”
A small crowd was gathering. After putting his violin aside, Jan reached out and rolled Rico over onto his back as Uncle Rosario came rushing up. Rico’s eyes were closed, and he appeared unconscious.
“Someone fetch some cold water from the well!” Doreena ordered.
Thankful for something—anything—to do, Jan got to his feet.
“I’ll get it.”
There was a community well only a few stalls away, and he nearly flew across the ground to reach it, filling a bucket and taking the communal pail without a second thought. He couldn’t exactly run on the
way back without spilling his burden, but he did his best to hurry.
He could see the first of the family’s wagons just ahead when someone stepped from the shadows beside the wagon into view.
Jan stopped.
It was the young woman: Lydia.
Suddenly, he remembered the sight her pouring dark liquid into a goblet, and anger flooded though him, replacing the fear he’d felt for his cousin.
“What did you feed him?” Jan demanded angrily.
Lydia didn’t flinch or back up. Instead she raised one hand. “There is nothing I can do now, and I acted only as I was told. If you wish to save him, you need to speak with the Nana in my family. No one else can help.”
His first instinct was to drop the bucket, grab Lydia’s arm, drag her into camp and let Aunt Doreena have a try at getting some answers.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Lydia said quietly, “That won’t help. No one can help him except our Nana… and she wants to see only you. You must come.”
Jan didn’t like this. His second instinct was to walk back into camp, tell Rosario about this odd request, and see if his uncle knew the identity of this “Nana” among the Móndyalítko, but he rejected this notion just as quickly. If he said a word, Rosario might not allow him to go… and he believed Lydia when she said that no one else could help.
Gritting his teeth, he nearly snarled. “You stay right here. I’ll be back in a few moments.”
Hurrying onward, he jogged back into the outskirts of the crowd near the campfire, and he tried to catch Julianna’s eye as she knelt beside Rico. Finally, she looked up, and he motioned with his head. Frowning in confusion, she got up and came to him. Everyone else seemed focused on Rico, who had not been moved yet and still lay unconscious on the ground.
“What are you doing?” Julianna asked the instant she reached him. “Doreena is waiting for that water.”
Handing her the bucket, he said, “I have to go. Help Rico as best you can and cover for me.”
“Cover for you?” Her mouth fell open. “What do you mean you have to go? Can’t you see your cousin is—”
“That girl,” he interrupted. “That strange girl who keeps coming to him. I know you’ve seen her. She handed him a goblet of something tonight not long before he fell. I need to go and find out what it was.”
Julianna froze. “All by yourself?”
“Yes!” He was growing angry again now. “I’ll be fine, but you have to cover for me. Promise?”
With reluctance, she nodded.
· · · · ·
After Jan vanished into the darkness, Julianna carried the bucket to Doreena, who used her own waist sash as a kerchief, dipping it into the water and using to sponge Rico’s face. He lay on the ground where he’d fallen.
“The cold water might bring him round,” Doreena said, dipping the sash again.
Everyone watched expectantly, hopefully, but Rico didn’t twitch. His eyelids didn’t flutter.
“We should get him inside into one of the bunks,” Julianna suggested.
With his face gone pale, Rosario nodded and glanced around. “Where’s Jan?”
Swallowing hard, Julianna answered, “He handed me the bucket and said he was going for help.”
“Help from who?”
“I’m not sure.” Julianna shook her head. “Maybe Master Deandre or a healer.”
This was a weak response, but Rosario appeared too worried about Rico to press the matter. Instead, he called upon his brother, Heraldo, and between the two of them, they lifted Rico and carried him toward the wagon.
Julianna ran ahead to get the door.
“Lay him in the bunk where I’ve been sleeping,” she called back, wishing she could do more.
Rico’s body hung from their grip like he was dead, and Julianna felt a knot growing in her stomach as she wondered where Jan had gone.
· · · · ·
Uncertain whether he should be more enraged or more nervous, Jan followed Lydia through the fair all the way to the very back where the poorer Móndyalítko were normally placed. He expected her to stop at one of the wagons, but she passed the few shabby wagons and led him through the tree line and into the forest.
“Where are we going?” he demanded.
“I told you. To see Nana.”
This was no answer, but he had little choice except to continue following her. She pressed on through the trees with familiar ease and emerged in a clearing. Jan paused and took in the sight before him.
In the darkness, he had to make it out by the flames of two campfires: one large and one small.
There were two rickety wagons, badly in need of repair and fresh paint, along with four horses and five skinny chickens. Seven people turned to stare at him: four women, one little girl, a youth about fourteen, and an old man with a pipe. They were all Móndyalítko, but he’d never met nor seen any of them before.
Right away, his full attention turned to one of the women—who was standing next to a cauldron on a hook over the largest of the campfires.
“I’ve brought him, Nana,” Lydia said.
Jan studied the woman. “Nana” was often used as a term of endearment for a grandmother, so he’d expected a crone. The woman by the fire was in her mid-forties with long dark hair only now streaked with a few strands of gray. She was slender, wearing a faded blue gown that fit her well, and her narrow face showed signs that she’d once been beautiful.
Jan didn’t care.
“What did you do to Rico?”
By way of answer, the woman glanced at Lydia, who nodded and said, “Yes, it’s done. He drank the wine.”
Then the woman smiled at Jan. “Please call me Nana. Everyone does.”
“What did you feed him?”
Nana held up one hand. “Nothing that can’t be undone.” She tilted her head. “But I have need of something… something I dare not get myself. Lydia tried to engage Rico’s help, but she failed, so I began to watch your family, and I noticed you were clever. Rico might be a shifter, but I think now that perhaps you being clever is a greater strength.”
All nervousness fading, Jan strode toward her. “Whatever you fed him, you give me the antidote right now, or I’ll go straight to Master Deandre and accuse you of poisoning.”
“By all means, do so. That won’t save your cousin, and from what I’ve observed, the rest of your family finds him… valuable.”
Jan froze. “Are you saying there’s no antidote?”
“Not in the sense that you mean. There is no herb or potion you can pour down his throat. He’s not been poisoned. He’s been cursed.” She gestured to the cauldron hanging near the fire. “I spent much of life studying spell craft, attempting the creation of my own spells, but they got me nowhere, earned my family almost nothing. Perhaps I had no gift. Not long ago, I discovered the value of taking the spells of others and learning to use them. For this, I do have a gift.”
Jan glanced at Lydia, who was listening with an unreadable expression, but his anger faded as his anxiety returned. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. Nana was clearly what the Móndyalítko referred to as a kettle witch: someone without natural powers like the Mist-Torn or the shifters but who had created power for him or herself via the study of spell components. Most of the Móndyalítko avoided them when possible.
“I used such a spell on your cousin,” Nana continued. “A sleeping curse. The wine itself was cursed, not your cousin, but he took it from Lydia’s hand and drank it willingly. The components alone were quite costly, and I expect a good return.”
Jan stared at her without speaking, breathing through his teeth.
“Waking him is simple,” she said. “You only need to complete a task I set for you, and he will awaken. Fail or refuse, and he will remain asleep. In three or four days, he’ll die from a lack of water.”
“You would kill him?” he asked raggedly. “One of the Móndyalítko? That goes against all the beliefs of our people. You’ll be an outcast.”
Holding both palms up, she said, “Ah, but I wouldn’t be killing him. You would. It is fair game for me to cast a spell that presents a challenge to another family. That is allowed.”
Still breathing in through his teeth, he wondered if she was telling the truth regarding what was “allowed.” There were many elements of his mother’s people that he didn’t fully understand.
“What is it you want?” he blurted out.
He felt trapped and helpless… and he hated nothing more than being helpless.
She smiled again. “A scroll. That is all. Just a scroll. I can even tell you its location. You simply need to get it and bring it to me, and the curse will be broken and your cousin will awaken.”
Dropping to one knee, Jan pulled dagger he kept in his right boot and stood up again. “I’m not full-blooded Móndyalítko. My father serves the Äntes. What if I cut your throat? Would that break the curse?”
To his surprise, none of the other family members moved to try and stop him, not even Lydia. They all stood watching.
Nana shook her head calmly. “It would not.”
Lowering the dagger, Jan ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what to believe, but he couldn’t let Rico die.
Gritting his teeth, he asked. “Where is this scroll?”
· · · · ·
Back in the wagon, Julianna sat on the floor, near the door, feeling useless as she watched Doreena and Rosario try to wake Rico.
Doreena got down a bottle of strong smelling salts, opened it, and placed it under his nose. He didn’t twitch.
Rosario resorted to slapping him lightly, trying to bring him around.
“Rico,” he said. “Wake up!”
Nothing happened.
Belle stood deeper inside the wagon, on the other side of her parents, wringing her hands, appearing genuinely distraught, and the walls felt close with so many people inside—hence Julianna sitting on the floor near the door.
Movement outside in the darkness caught her eye, and she peered out to see Jan waving her toward him.
Everyone else was too focused on Rico to notice Jan outside, and so she backed toward the doorway. “I’ll give you all more space.”
No one answered.
