by C. R. Daems
"We see you had a good night at your performance and games, thanks to Amatera and our intervention. It would seem you should now be interested in supporting us with toras. Ten would help us ensure the crowds remain peaceful," the lead man said. He wore a yellow robe like the others but my Ahasha training marked him as different: he stood relaxed like a fighter, talked like an educated man, and was self-confident. They all wore swords, which gave them a distinct advantage against the knives and short clubs the clan traditionally carried for protection. I could see Santo weighing the clan's options. If they lost, everyone would be killed or wounded, the wagons ransacked, and some, if not all, destroyed. The yellow-robes would suffer heavy losses, but that wouldn't change the outcome—it could mean the destruction of the clan. But would ten toras be enough to stop them, if he capitulated.
My thoughts flashed back to the Eyes of God—thugs, killers professing to protect while they plotted revolt. My body shook with rage, and my shadow-self took control.
"You," I shouted, pointing the hilt of my knife at the speaker. "Do you see that painting of a red bird sitting on a vine on the side of that wagon?" I pointed the hilt to a wagon some thirty steps from me and half that distance from him. The bird was a about the size of my hand. "It’s smaller than your head," I said as my knife whistled through the air, slipping into the wood at the bird's head, and vibrating like an angry wasp. "They aren’t toras, but I have six I’m willing to donate. The first one is for you."
I had just finished speaking when another knife hit a finger-width from mine. "I also have four." As Arkady talked, Alida walked up behind me with three knives in her hand and Kata on the other side with two. Edita and Arina stood beside Arkady also holding knives. The leader’s hood moved from me to Arkady and back.
"Amatera will be displeased, gypsies," he said loudly, then turned and left with his followers behind him. Tears running down my cheeks, I ran up the steps to our wagon, closed the door, and threw myself on the bed, banging the pillow like it was at fault. Luka entered soon afterward.
"What’s wrong, hon?" he asked, kneeling by the bed, his hand gently rubbing my back.
"You know what I must do." I hit the pillow again and again. "They have ripped the scabs off wounds that were beginning to heal."
He pulled me to him and silently held me in has arms, rocking a little. A gentle man, I don’t think he understood. I must have dozed off because I woke, momentarily unsure where I was, until Luka jerked upright. He too must have dozed off. I freed myself from Luka’s embrace, pulled out my bag and began dressing. Kasi and Anil had followed the men to a camp well away from town.
"Dangerous?" he asked, his forehead creased in concern. I didn’t answer, unsure what to say. No, love I’m just going to go kill a few men. The Sister of Death’s first choice. If my shadow-self felt sorry, she didn’t show it. By that time, most had retired to their wagons, and I had no trouble sliding out the door and into the night. Even at a slow run, it took over an hour to reach their camp, which was located in a forest north of Kadal, with plenty of water, grasses, bushes, small trees, and game. With Setebos only a quarter moon, I had no trouble approaching the camp. They had posted no guards and within minutes I lay beside the largest tent.
"We should take all the men and go back to raze their camp. They must have plenty of gold and things we can use."
"I had thought our swords versus the knives the men and women carry for protection would have been enough to convince them to be generous. The worst that could have happened would have been one or two of us might have been killed and a couple wounded. But now they will be ready for us, and those damn knife-throwers could kill half our number in the process. No, Amatera would not want Her followers to die for a few coins. You must continue to recruit new members for Her. She has given us a great task, and we must not fail."
"You are right, Prophet Drogo. We must not disappoint Amatera and jeopardize our eternal salvation."
I lay there shaking, while silently thanking the gods, whichever one convinced Drogo to leave the gypsies alone. He or She had saved Drogo's life and my sanity. Sometime later, I rose and ghosted out of the camp and back to the wagons. There I collected my darlings, entered our wagon like a gentle night breeze, undressed, and slid into Luka’s arm. He pulled me to him but didn’t wake. The rays of the morning sun woke me, and I smiled at my love. He had thought me worth marrying, knowing I was the Shadow of Death, had scars that might never disappear, and would continue to be a Shadow—coming and going with or without his approval. I didn’t deserve him, but hoped the love of my visual-self would be enough.
I kissed first one eye and then the other, and he came awake smiling and pulled me close. Magical hands roamed my body, making me forget everything but the wonderful moment that existed between the second that was the past and the second that would be the future. Much later I rolled out of bed and began dressing.
"I’m off to practice. We’ve lots to do to be ready by the time we reach Lampo. Right now we’re a better clown act than serious entertainment." I laughed going out the door but froze on the second step. Santo, Alida, Arkady, and Kata stood in a small group, and half the clan was milling around within hearing.
"It’s about time you got… dressed," Alida said. "We’ve been waiting here for almost an hour. Everyone thought I was joking when I said you did crazy things. Like in Adak, when that Fire Wizard came on stage and grabbed Ilka on a pretext of wanting information. She," Alida pointed at me, "jumps up and shouts Take me, I’m smarter than her. Of course, Ilka has a figure that would drive any man mad, so the wizard ignored her and drags Ilka off with Ryana chasing after them planning to… only the gods know what she was planning on doing. Fortunately, two Sisters showed up and saved Ilka and Ryana."
Everyone stood looking from Alida to me.
"I’ve lots of other stories. Stela calls Ryana her wild daughter. And I love her like a sister, even though she does some really dumb things."
"Maybe the clan needs a wild member," Santo said. "I froze last night. Fighting would have caused too many deaths and maybe the destruction of the clan, and paying them money would be a never-ending toll every time we were in Kadal, which we can ill afford. And because we paid, a potential threat to every clan."
"That throw last night was impressive. But could you have killed him and the others?" Arkady asked, and all eyes turned on me. I wanted to laugh and cry. Yes, all twelve without a second's hesitation or remorse.
"It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they believed you and I would. I don’t think the leader was anxious to test me." I gave a small laugh that sounded like a giggle. That caused a ripple of laughter that soon spread throughout the camp.
"Did they teach that at Ahasha?" Santo asked.
"No, they teach clan," I said, spinning my ball on my finger as I began walking away. Before long, Alida, Kata, and Maria where following with their balls spinning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TUSKA: Lampo - Vengeance
We left Kaslos, one day early to everyone's relief, although we had not seen a yellow-robe since that incident. But who would know? If they shed their robes, no one could recognize them. We saw a few more yellow-robes in Naze but were not bothered. From what I could see they seemed friendly.
Leaving Naze, we were all excited about reaching Lampo and our first public performance with the wooden balls, which Dmitri had painted white for us so the audience could follow them easier.
We spent every available hour on each stop practicing on the five day trip to Lampo. By the time we reached Lampo, the clan thought the act ready. It was a rare event when one of us dropped a ball, and Marie's recovery routines actually were so good Kata had been tempted to include an intentional miss or two. But in the end, we decided not to insert any additional changes for now.
Santo arranged the acts for the first night so that the members of the ball team were not performing with any others. Our act started with the three of us kneeling on the stage when Kata walked on holding
the four white balls. She stood looking at the balls in her arms when one appeared to slip out, hit her foot, and rolled to me and onto the back of my hand. Then my routine started. I rose, letting the ball glide over my body with what looked like effortless ease. After several minutes, while the ball continued to move, I lowered myself to my knees and let the ball slip off my hand and stop. At that point, Kata dropped the second ball and looked to be trying to catch it in her lap, but it rolled down her legs and over her knee, hit the floor and rolled to Alida who stood raising it on her foot and went into her routine. Then it was Marie's turn. When Marie finished, Kata spun the last ball onto her finger and performed her routine. Eventually, Kata finished, also in a kneeling position.
The audience gave us a good round of applause thinking the act over. The four balls arched into the air as we each stood and the coordinated team routine started as the balls were passed from member to member with high arching throws that were caught behind the neck, between the knees or feet in a variety of positions: standing, kneeling, lying, and jumping. We left the stage with a boisterous round of applause.
We were all on an adrenaline high. Not because we hadn't been in acts and gotten loud applauses, but because we had created a new act no one had ever seen before. I could hardly concentrate when I entered the fortuneteller tent. The first three were women who performed the lowest of the work and could barely afford the two coppers. That sobered my mood and brought me back to earth. If that weren't enough, an older man entered looking down-and-out and smelling of ale. He put down the two coppers and sat with his head down.
"What can I do for you, sir," I said feeling somewhat depressed without hearing what he wanted.
"I'm dying. The doctor said I have a wasting disease. I want to know when and where it will end," He said, followed by a choking cough. He covered his mouth with his arm and stood abruptly, pushing the table into me and knocking me backward. I fell with the table on me. When I looked up, he had a dagger in his hand. His face twisted in hate.
"You have offended Amatera through your violence against the prophet Drogo. He demands your death," he hissed, while maintaining pressure on the table that had me pinned to the ground. And while my hands were free, I couldn't reach my needles or knife. As he leaned over the table and closer to me, I dropped into the moment, where concerns over life and death didn't exist to cloud my thoughts, and felt my crystal ball roll over my stomach and onto my chest, around my arm, and into my hand. He hesitated as he watched the crystal ball moving, and shook his head. He drew back the dagger for a slashing blow to my throat—too late. By then, the ball had left my hand and smashed into his face. He screamed, stumbling backward out the tent into several people waiting in line.
"You whore of war," he shouted, blood spurting from his nose and dripping from his mouth. He crouched, dagger waving back and forth as he watched me. It all ended when Santo came up from behind him and wacked him in the head with a club.
"What happened, Ryana?"
"He's one of Amatera's followers—the yellow-robed one that attacked us in Kaslos. Drogo must have sent him to kill me because we refused to give them any money," I said loud enough for most of the crowd to hear me. Looking around I saw two men in yellow-robes holding another robe.
"You two," I pointed at the men. "Why don't you give your friend his robe and get him some help. He injured himself trying to kill me."
A lot of conversations erupted, as looks were directed at the men. They scurried forward, picked up the knocked-out man, and carried him off. I smiled at those looking at me.
"I predict my friend is going to have a wicked headache in the morning." I turned and went back into the tent, straightened the table and chair, and sat. Eventually, a man entered, and I remained busy for the rest of the night.
* * *
"What happened, Ryana? You look like you hurt your side," Lujza asked, as I entered the circle for dinner.
"The avenger upended the table on me when he pulled his knife. I think the table hit a rib." Expecting to be questioned about the incident, I produced the crystal ball and let it roll around my arm, over my neck, and into the other hand. "Fortunately, I saw a crystal ball in my future."
"You were lucky, Ryana. We were lucky. I'm concerned about those yellow-robes. They could be trouble for all the clans, and we can't avoid Tuska unless we avoid Saxis. And that would significantly impact all the clans. We would be visiting each town too often to draw large crowds. In fact, over time our acts could become a thing of the past. We may become a thing of the past," Santo said, his normally bronze face had turned several shades lighter and the lines deeper.
"We could avoid Tuska if that became necessary," I said, feeling the collective pain around the circle.
"How?" Petre, Luka's friend, asked.
"The Zunji land is now a province, which ironically borders all the other provinces. So, Tuska could be cut out of the loop by going through Zunji province."
"But the Zunji land is desert. How would we cross it?" Arkady asked, to nodding heads.
"And the Zunji are barbarians, we wouldn't be safe crossing their land." Roza said, to more nodding heads. The mere mention of the Zunji brought back fond memories. Interesting, thinking of them as barbarians, when it was the civilized Heslanders who fought each other over the years for land and power. The Zunji made war on no one, and although their land was poor, they coveted no one's. Better to call the Heslanders barbarians.
"During the time of the attempted overthrow of the king, I lived with the Zunji for a while. I believe Sizwe, now first lord, would allow you access, and his sons’ tribes might enjoy our performances. I think we should consider visiting the Zunji province even if we don't avoid Tuska," I said, laughing to myself at the looks around the fire.
"Is that were you were when you left us, outside of Windon?" Alida asked, pointing an accusing finger at me. I nodded. "Another one of her crazy ideas, although it did work out well."
That generated a lot of questions about the Zunji people, land, and customs which lasted for hours. By the time we broke up, everyone seemed interested in exploring the idea when we returned to Tarion.
"You know a lot about the Zunji, hon," Luka said, back in the wagon as he got ready for bed.
"Yes, the Sister I met after leaving the Dorian clan elicited their help in ending the road block and neutralizing the armies of Calion and Tuska. I believe they would welcome the gypsies as fellow outcasts. Especially if that Sister would put in a good word for us."
CHAPTER NINE
SAXIS: Adak - A clan reunion
Although there was no more trouble in Lampo, everyone was still glad to leave. When we arrived in Adak, a day's ride inside Saxis province, we found the Dorian clan in the campground. They were just returning from Sebec and Miffin. The clans usually didn’t perform in Adak or Miffin until they returned from Sebec, which was the last town in Saxis province. So the Dorian clan would be performing. We wouldn't perform there until our return from Sebec.
Sebec was only a six day ride into the mountains to Ahasha valley, and where I, a new and inexperienced Shadow Sister, had left the comfort of the nest—a young hawk learning to fly in a sky of hungry vultures. An innocent young woman desperately wanting to help stop the killing of her Sisters. And I had, but the cost had been far beyond anything I could have imagined. I had lost that sweet, young girl who wouldn't kill a rabbit when she was starving and replaced her with a woman whose first option was to kill.
"Ryana, it's wonderful to see you," Ilka screamed, shaking me out of my musing, as she and Yoan came running towards our wagon even before it stopped. "You too, Luka."
As I stepped down, Ilka picked me off the ground and whirled me around. "In case you haven't heard, Yoan and I are married. We managed to buy a wagon in Bywick. I wish you and Alida had been there for the ceremony. I miss you two. And Yoan misses your skit."
Yoan gave me a hug and a brotherly kiss on the cheek. "Ilka's right. I do miss our skit. I think it was the best skit
the clans have ever produced. And it is going to be hard to replace. I wouldn't trust anyone else to throw knives at me though." He grinned. "Actually, I’m not sure why I let you." We all laughed. He was right. It was a very dangerous act. By now everyone had begun to collect in groups, renewing old friendships. As the four of us walked towards the Dorian camp, Marku and Stela joined us.
"Stela, Marku, it's good to see you," I said, and received a warm hug from Stela.
"Well, Luka, how's married life with my wild daughter?"
"Wonderful and exciting. The heart stopping kind of excitement." He laughed, and Stela and Marku seemed to stop breathing. "Well there was Lady wu'Lichak... " He went on to explain my fortunetelling sessions with the two women, and our encounter in Kaslos with the yellow-robes, and finally the attempt on my life. By the time he was telling about the yellow-robes everyone had gathered around the Dorian's firepit, and it produced a lively discussion. The Dorian clan hadn't been bothered on the way to Adak but now was concerned about the return trip. That led to a discussion of the Zunji. It was late when the talks finally broke up.
Stela found me later that night, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, a few minutes walk from the wagons.
"I see you haven't changed. Does Luka mind?" she asked as she sat, giving me a kiss on my forehead.
"I don't think so. He needs his sleep and reconciled to the fact I am a... night person."
"I think Luka is perfect for you. He loves you unconditionally, enough to accept you the way you are and not wanting to change you. What now, Ryana?"
"I wish I could settle down with Luka, have children, and enjoy the love of clan and adopted family."
"But?"
"Something is wrong. My intuition feels it, although logically I can't explain what it is."
"The yellow-robes?"
"Yes and no. Those are the signs but not the problem. Maybe Morag will know. I hope I'm wrong. It could destroy me." I felt a tear slide down my cheek and was relieved when Stela pulled me close to her. I desperately needed the love of Luka, Stela, and clan to heal—to find that little girl in the mountains.