by Duncan Pile
“Alright - get in position,” Jonn instructed. The second Taurnil had his feet set, Jonn rapped his staff against Taurnil’s wrist, making him drop the staff and jump back holding his arm, a look of injured pride on his face. Gaspi laughed out loud until Emea pinched him hard on the arm, and gave him a look that shut him up.
“Don’t look hurt, Taurnil,” Jonn said. “An enemy won’t ask permission or tell you what they’re going to do. This is your first lesson. Always guard your hands. An experienced opponent will go for them every time. Okay - let’s try again.” Taurnil took his position more warily this time, not taking his eyes off Jonn, a look of mild resentment still smouldering in his eyes. Jonn sprang into motion, going for the wrist again, and Taurnil managed to get one clumsy block in before another painful tap sent his staff to the floor, and left Taurnil nursing his (now bruised) wrist.
Jonn smiled tightly. “Okay, Taurn, I’ll leave your wrist alone for a bit. Let’s work on a few basic blocks.” Gaspi and Emea watched as Jonn taught Taurnil the movement and contours of basic staff technique, showing him how to use his weapon to turn blades away from the body, to open the enemy’s torso to a blow, and to keep an attacker off-balance. Taurnil seemed to be learning pretty well and, as Jonn was leaving his wrists alone, the two watchers became bored and wondered off a little way into the copse.
The sun had almost completely set now, but the light of the fire filtered through the branches enough to colour Emea’s face in warm tones. Gaspi wanted to kiss her again as he had the night of the dance, but what if she didn’t want him to? Neither of them said a word, and the silence threatened to stretch into awkwardness. She was certainly looking at him as if she wanted him to kiss her. She looked sweet and vulnerable and passionate all at the same time, and she kept looking at his mouth.
Just do it, Gaspi thought to himself, and made himself lean towards her. When she didn‘t pull back he kissed her gently and withdrew, searching her eyes for any sign of alarm. Her eyes were wide, and for a moment he wondered if he‘d done the wrong thing, but then she put a soft hand against his face and returned a longer kiss. Gaspi stopped worrying and let himself thrill in the moment, his right hand tingling painfully with happiness.
Since they’d first kissed at the Feast-Day dance they’d not had time to talk about what had happened, and Gaspi realised he had been a bit uncertain about Emea‘s feelings; that is, until now. The moment felt like it would last forever, but far too soon the sounds of Taurnil’s practice bout stopped and they could hear Jonn calling their names. Releasing Emmy’s hand, Gaspi walked by her side back to the clearing, where Jonn was plucking the bird Gaspi had downed earlier. Looking up at them he caught Gaspi’s eye and smiled ever so slightly, perhaps a little wistfully, before carrying on with what he was doing.
As Jonn cooked the bird, the smell of roasting meat set Gaspi’s taste-buds tingling. The plump creature yielded a surprising amount of meat, and combined with hunks of soft bread it made a filling meal. They settled back as darkness fell, and talked comfortably in the flickering firelight. Gaspi found himself holding hands with Emea as Jonn told them stories of soldiering and travel. Unlike Taurnil, he was barely aware of the details of the stories, revelling in the simple pleasure of Emea’s touch. After a while his palm became sweaty, and self-consciousness made him pull his hand back. Emea looked at him uncertainly until he flashed his warmest smile at her, and she relaxed again.
They slept early that night, and woke even earlier in the morning, getting a good start on the day’s travel. Jonn set a strong pace for them, and the morning hours passed quickly as they journeyed onwards through the forest. Towards the end of the morning the trees began to thin out, beyond which Jonn said they would meet the Great South Road.
Chapter 6
Well before they saw the highway, Gaspi could hear the low rumbling of wagon wheels on hard stone, the cracking of whips and occasional shouts of the wagon drivers jostling against each other in a bid to make good time on the route to Helioport. For the merchants attempting the run, every hour counted if they were to steal a march on their competitors, which meant that courtesy took a back seat in the rush to make a profit.
As Jonn led them out of the last stand of trees, three sets of eyes widened in amazement at the sight spread before them. A road so wide and flat that four wagons could pass abreast curved broadly in front of them, filled with a steady stream of traffic in both directions. Gaspi had never seen so many people in one place. Brightly coloured wagons driven by equally brightly clothed men and women rolled alongside hard looking mercenaries. Farmers with wagonloads of produce travelled next to parents taking their children on an exciting trip to the big city, and the whole fluid crowd was sprinkled with stranger people still, who didn’t fit into any obvious category.
Jonn addressed his amazed charges: “A major road like this has a certain amount of danger for us. Soldiers patrol it regularly, but there are too many people for them to be able to keep an eye on everybody, so I don’t want you wandering off. Stick with me until I say otherwise.” Looking searchingly into their, and seeing no sign of rebellion, he nodded and led them on towards the road. They travelled the last few hundred yards to the road and joined the ever-moving crowd, swallowed up in the greater flow of people.
Setting their pace according to the traffic around them, they turned their eyes to stare at the sights around them in continual amazement. Raggedly dressed children darted in and out of the throng, ducking beneath high-axled wagons, chasing each other and shouting in an endless game of ‘Tag’. A bored-looking farmer sat atop his wagon, nudging a duo of shire horses forward as they dragged his load of beets to market. A small man in patched hose and tunic slumped in an afternoon doze in the back of the wagon closest to them, skinny elbows sticking out at funny angles like sticks. As if sensing their scrutiny, he lifted his head and turned to look at them from his perch. His nut brown-face was so wreathed with wrinkles and burnt by the sun, it looked as if his skin must feel like a leather shoe. Peering beadily into their eyes, a sudden grin turned the wrinkles into canyons, his eyes all but disappearing in the mass of deep lines surrounding them. Producing a large copper coin from his pockets, he began to roll it across his knuckles, making it disappear and reappear again with deft movements of his slender fingers.
The three youngsters stared goggle-eyed at this strange little man and his clever trick, and then gasped as one when a small, brown monkey leapt onto his shoulder from somewhere in the recesses of the wagon, and proceeded to stare at them with little black eyes. It had a pale, hand-sized patch over the top of its head, unhealthily luminous as if bleached by acid. Gaspi had never seen a monkey before, though he’d seen drawings of them in school, but it wasn’t just the novelty that held his attention. As the monkey gripped the small man’s shoulder, the gold coin slipped from the back of the small man’s hand to the ground, and his face slackened, looking suddenly empty and unsure, even afraid.
The monkey seemed to be staring at Gaspi, leaning forward in intense scrutiny. One yellow-nailed hand clamped onto the man’s face to get a better grip and he just sat there unmoving, even though a hard little hairy finger was curling right into his mouth. After a few moments of staring at Gaspi intently, the unnerving creature looked away, its interest passing to the crowd of travellers, seemingly scanning people face by face.
Gaspi continued to watch the monkey, discomforted both by its unusual behaviour and the incomprehensible reaction of the strange little man it clung to. Its little hairy face twitched slightly as its gaze moved from group to group, and then all of a sudden it tensed, its tail standing up rigidly above it as all the hair on its body stood on end. It was staring at a colourfully dressed gypsy girl who sat cross-legged in the back of one of her family’s painted wagons, three cards turned down on the wagon bed before her. She was turning them over one by one, a far-off look in her eye, and talking in a hushed, sincere manner to the man walking alongside.
The little monkey stretched out a finger
towards her and let out a hissing screech, lips pulled back tightly over bared, sharp teeth and bright red gums. And then it leaped to the ground, skittering through the crowd at frightening speed before springing up onto the back of the girl’s wagon. The young girl started fearfully, and then, realising it was just a little monkey, began to smile; a smile which froze as the creature lashed out at her face. Emea shrieked as the monkey attacked the young gypsy girl, but instead of clawing or biting her it just slapped its palm across her cheek, and bounced off as quickly as it had arrived, shrieking excitedly until it disappeared among the wagons.
Emea recovered from her shock first and quickly made her way over to the girl, who was clearly unnerved, holding a hand to her cheek. Gaspi and Taurnil followed along behind her. “Are you alright?” Emea asked, full of concern.
“I’m fine…I think,” the girl mumbled, still staring into space, in a lingering state of shock. Shaking herself out of it, she recovered a remarkable semblance of poise, and smiled warmly at Emea. Gaspi couldn’t help noticing she was really very pretty when she smiled, her dark gypsy complexion so different from the paler girls he had grown up around. Taurnil was staring too, his jaw hanging open and eyes a little too wide. Gaspi snapped his own teeth shut self-consciously, hoping Emea hadn’t noticed his reaction.
“Thanks for asking after me,” she said. “I must admit I was a bit scared for a moment there. That nasty little creature and its horrible scream! But of course it’s nothing to worry about, really. I was just being silly.” Though she spoke calmly, Gaspi thought he could detect a lingering hint of unease. “I mean, after all, it’s such a small thing,” the gypsy girl continued. “What could it have done to me?”
Emea put her hand on the girl’s arm. “I’m sure you’re right, but I don‘t think you were being silly. Anyone would be a little jumpy after that.”
There was a slight pause as they all stared at each other, reminded suddenly that they were strangers. “I’m Lydia,” the gypsy girl announced confidently, holding her hand out to Emea, who took hold of it warmly.
“I’m Emea, but you can call me Emmy,” she chirped, beaming at Lydia. “And this is Gaspi and Taurnil,” she added, turning towards the boys.
“Hullo,” they both mumbled awkwardly. Gaspi was a little red in the face and Taurnil was staring at his right foot as he toed the ground, earning a puzzled look from Emea.
“It’s good to meet you all,” Lydia said, thankfully dragging Emea‘s attention away from the two boys. “What are you three doing on the Great South Road?”
“We’re going to Helioport,” Emmy responded brightly. “Gaspi is going to train as a Mage,” she announced proudly, beaming with excitement.
“Really?” Lydia responded just as enthusiastically. “That’s fantastic! That’s what I’m doing too. Helioport is the best place in the world to be if you have talent. As it turns out, I have a little myself,” she said, with an air of mystery.
“Really? What kind of talent?” Gaspi jumped in, distracted from his embarrassment by genuine interest.
“My mother says I’m a Seer,” Lydia said.
“What’s a Seer?” Emmy asked.
“It’s someone who has the natural ability to sense patterns in complicated events, to see the truth, if you know what I mean. Seers can even sometimes see glimpses of the future,” Lydia answered. “Among my people, a few women in every generation are born with the ability,” she continued. “That’s what I was doing when that creature attacked me. One of the men in my family wanted a reading, and I was reading the cards to see what I could pick up. It doesn’t seem to work like that though,” she added after a pause, staring into the middle distance, a small frown marring the smooth, dark skin of her forehead. “The talent comes and goes when it wants to, and I can’t just call on it when it suits me.”
Looking back at her three new friends, her expression relaxed, and that lovely smile stretched her features and brought a sparkle to her eyes again. “Eat with me and my family tonight?” she asked.
“Oh, we’d love to!” Emea exclaimed. “But we’ll have to ask Jonn. He’s our guardian,” she added.
“Well, he must come too!” Lydia insisted. “The traffic stops when it gets dark, and we’ll make a circle just off the road on the west side in the lee of these hills,” she said, indicating the raised ground sweeping up from that side of the road.
“What’s a circle?” Emea asked.
“You’ve never met any gypsies before?” Lydia asked, receiving three headshakes in response. “It’s what we do with our wagons when we settle down for the night, or for longer. We form a big circle and have a campfire in the middle. There’ll be music, and dancing, and lots to eat. We love to have guests.”
“Sounds brilliant,” Gaspi said.
“I can‘t wait,” Emea said brightly. “Thanks, Lydia. See you later, then.”
The three friends parted from Lydia and found Jonn, who was walking not far from them, talking to a farmer taking his goods to market to get some news of the road
“Ah, there you are,” he said as his charges appeared. “What’s got you all excited, then?”
“We met Lydia, a gypsy girl,” Emea said enthusiastically. “She’s invited us all to dinner. You too, Jonn.”
“Gypsies, eh?” Jonn asked eyeing Emea theatrically. “Well, we don’t want to be rude now, do we?” he said, after a long pause. Emea gave a squeal of delight, and hugged Jonn. “Okay, okay,” he said gruffly, patting her on the shoulder ineffectually.
They travelled on with the rest of the traffic for the short time the light remained. As dusk fell, travel slowed and then stopped, and the sound of tent posts being hammered into the ground sounded from all around them. Most travellers hauled their wagons off the road and set up camp for the night. Covers were pulled over produce and belongings, and soon the mesmerising sight of hundreds of cook fires spread up and down the road as far as they could see. Led by Emea, they wended their way through groups of travellers, all gathered round a fire, hungry for whatever was cooking over its coals, and the scent of a hundred meals brought a flow of moisture to Gaspi’s mouth. In the darkness between fires they passed a few furtive individuals anxious not to be seen, and not a few couples breathing heavily and grunting in the darkness, but Jonn kept them to the wide pools of flickering light as much as possible, and soon came across the sight of a larger fire reflecting off the lacquered reds and greens of the gypsy caravans.
As Lydia had said, the colourful wagons, remarkable even by firelight, were set up in a wide circle. There were ten in all, and in the middle, lounging round the fire on the ground, were twenty or thirty gypsies, dressed as flamboyantly as their vehicles were painted. Recognising them as they passed into the circle of firelight, Lydia pushed herself gracefully from the ground and came over to greet them. Emea received a warm hug, and Gaspi and Taurnil a flash of that bewitching smile. Gaspi glanced at Taurnil, whose jaw was a little loose. Now that he thought of it, he couldn’t remember Taurnil speaking since they’d met Lydia earlier that afternoon.
One of the men lounging round the fire looked up at the new arrivals, and levered his tall, rangy frame from the ground to come over. Resting his hands on Lydia’s shoulders, he smiled at the strangers. His hair was as dark as Lydia’s, his intent eyes a rich brown. A long moustache hung over a prominent jaw, his well-tanned face framed with strong, clean lines.
“I’m Roland, Lydia’s father,” he greeted, smiling affectionately down at his daughter. “Welcome to our fire, friends. It would be our pleasure if you could join our circle tonight.” His invitation was accompanied by an outstretched hand.
“Thank you, Roland,” Jonn answered, who seemed to be genuinely touched by the warmth of the invite. “I’m Jonn, and these are my charges: Gaspi, Emea and Taurnil. We’d love to join your circle this evening.” Roland’s smile turned into a grin, and throwing an arm round Jonn’s shoulder, he steered him into the camp, gesturing expansively with his free hand and falling into easy b
anter.
This left Lydia with the three friends. Gaspi noticed that her cheek still bore the mark where the monkey had struck her earlier that day. Her skin was pale where it had struck her – pale, like the light patch of fur on its head. Gaspi felt vaguely uneasy, but pushed his worries aside for the moment as Lydia led them into the circle. If Lydia wasn’t bothered by what had happened earlier, then he really didn’t have a reason to be.
There was a scattering of logs around the fire in a rough circle, within the greater circle of wagons. Jonn was already seated among a group of colourfully dressed adults, and Lydia led Emea, Gaspi and Taurnil to another spot on the other side of the fire. They were passed dishes of an unidentified but delicious-smelling stew, a creamy concoction of white meat, onions, and a delicate sauce infused with the invigorating taste of herbs that Gaspi couldn’t identify. Gaspi was thrilled at the subtle but delicious taste, his tongue tingling with satisfaction at each mouthful. A strong wine was poured into goblets and placed in their hands, which Jonn insisted be watered down before they were allowed to touch it. Lydia drank hers un-watered. After they ate, Roland picked up a guitar and began to strum a lilting tune, which rose and fell hypnotically, accompanying the earthy sound of his voice as he sang.
As Roland sang Emea felt herself transported, her mind slowing and warming, thickening like hot treacle as she fell softly into a trance. The music swelled and fell away like breath, natural as the moonlight and gentle as the wind that brushed against her hair and caressed her cheek. She glanced at Gaspi, who was sitting hunched over his knees, staring hypnotically into the fire. His often intense face looked as relaxed as she had seen it since leaving Aemon’s Reach.
Letting her gaze rest on Gaspi, Emea allowed her heart to feel. Somehow he seemed more real in that moment - or maybe it was the moment that felt more real - but whatever the cause, she felt that the ground beneath them was more solid, the fire more comforting, the shadows they cast richer and darker, and her feelings stronger than she had known before. Watching the firelight flicker against Gaspi’s hair, she noticed a furtive movement in the shadows between the wagons behind him.