“What? Why?”
“As a gift. To remember me. Think of it as a late birthday present.”
“Really?” Djangini looked at the priceless toys. Each one was a work of art. “No, I couldn’t.”
“They aren’t meant to live here, on the walls of my truck. They are meant to be loved and admired. Please, take one.”
“Any of them?”
Thatch nodded.
Djangini was overjoyed, but how could she pick? She knew it had to be an Alice in Wonderland scene. The first time Djangini had seen Alice in Wonderland, she’d fallen in love with the idea of exploring a world of nonsense. Thatch seemed to have captured that idea perfectly in his dioramas. There was Alice, shrunken and crawling through a tiny door, a bottle with the words “Drink Me” on a table. She ran around the dodo in the caucus race. A caterpillar smoked a hookah on a mushroom. The Cheshire Cat grinned in a tree. Alice ate from a box with the words “Eat Me” and filled the White Rabbit’s house. The Queen played croquet. But the Mad Hatter embodied nonsense more than any other character.
She lifted the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party from the shelf. “This one?” Djangini asked in a small voice.
“Good choice, one of my favorites.” Thatch fished a small metal key out of a wooden box. He took the diorama and showed her how to wind it up.
Djangini followed Thatch’s instructions and flicked the switch to activate it. A music box played “The Unbirthday Song” while the characters moved from chair to chair and the teapot lids danced. Djangini giggled with pure joy.
Ruby squeezed Thatch’s hand. He smiled at her.
“I ought to be getting ready.” Thatch picked up a large green duffel bag and tossed it down to the ground. Then, he pulled a long, thin sword from a closet and dropped it into the bag.
“Where are you going?” Djangini asked.
“To get ready for the performance.” Thatch nodded toward the tent. “See you inside?”
“Absolutely.” Ruby nudged Djangini.
“Thank you for the present!” Djangini shouted.
“You’re very welcome.” Thatch pulled Djangini in for a hug before hopping out of the truck. Hoisting the duffel bag over his shoulder, he waved and jogged toward the tent.
“What’d you think of him?” Ruby asked.
Djangini shrugged. “He seemed cool.”
Ruby turned off the lights, and the Lilliputian creations stopped their merry movements.
“Did Thatch really make all those?”
“He did. I have no idea how he does it, but he’s always been good with machines.” Ruby shook her head. “It’s people he has trouble with.”
Djangini stored the diorama in the hatchback before crossing the meadow to the tent. The white canvas glowed with yellow light, and a delirious mix of music and conversation spilled into the air. Inside, flags in every color hung from a long rope that wrapped around the ceiling of the tent.
A five-piece band composed of an accordion, two clarinets, a double bass, and a guitar played live Gypsy folk music in the back. They provided accompaniment for a beautiful dark-haired woman.
Off to one side, a group of women in white aprons set platters of aromatic food onto long tables. Romani food was the little-known soul food of Europe, and here in New Zealand it was downright exotic. Djangini’s mouth watered at the sight of janij, a tomato-based beef and vegetable stew. There were sarma rolls stuffed with meat and tomatoes, and a pile of fresh-baked rolls and flatbreads.
Before Djangini could pick up a plate, an elderly couple approached.
“Ruby, it’s good to see you.” The little old woman set her plate down on a nearby table and hugged Djangini’s mom.
“Djangini”—Ruby took Djangini’s hand—“I’d like you to meet some old friends of our family. This is Abigail and Seth Sanford; they’re the parents of the bride, Nadya.”
Djangini smiled and nodded at the short couple. Seth had a scarce amount of hair on his head, and his green velvet suit was straight out of the 1960s. Abigail’s dark-brown hair hung in tight ringlets around her face, and she wore a gorgeous white dress with emerald embroidery. Her eyes crinkled behind her Coke-bottle glasses as she smiled.
“Welcome.” Abigail opened her arms and embraced Djangini. Though Djangini was only eleven, the two of them were the same height. “It’s good to see you again.” Abigail stepped back and looked Djangini over. “My, you’ve gotten so big. I remember when you were this tall.” She held her hand near her knee. “Do you remember?”
Djangini smiled and shook her head. “No, sorry.”
“Ah, I wouldn’t expect you to. You were a toddler, after all.” Abigail winked and turned to face Ruby. “I’m so glad you made it. Where have you been all these years?”
“Trying to find out where I fit in and being a mother. Now, I’m trying to introduce Djangini to our culture. I just hope it’s not too late.” Ruby shrugged. “But it’s a different world from when I was a kid.” She smiled. “Gypsies are cool now.”
Djangini crossed her arms. No, not cool. Whenever the bullies found out, they called her names. Though, to be fair, they called everybody names.
“Well, we have a beautiful celebration planned tonight,” Seth spoke in a deep and musical voice.
“Thank you so much for having us. Is there anything we can do to help?” Ruby asked.
“No,” Abigail said in a firm tone. “Everything’s taken care of. You two enjoy yourselves. Grab some food and drink, then find us.” She motioned toward the stage at the rear of the tent.
“We’ll do that.” Ruby moved toward the food table.
Djangini filled her plate and poured some punch while her hips swayed to the music. At the center of the tent, two teenage boys unfolded and positioned wooden chairs onto stadium steps of an indoor amphitheater. The steps led down to a hole in the wooden floor where something dark glinted from the torches that lit the tent.
“Mom, what’s that down there?” Djangini asked.
“Hmm, I don’t know. Let’s take a closer look.”
Careful not to spill their plates and cups, Djangini and Ruby climbed down the steps and peered into the hole. A large obsidian-like bowl rested on the ground underneath the floor. It felt significant, like a henge or a fairy ring, timeworn and formidable.
A sudden chill made Djangini shiver. “What is it?” Djangini felt the urge to rub her arms, but her hands were full.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.” Ruby gave herself a small shake, chuckled, and nudged Djangini with her elbow. “C’mon, let’s find a seat.”
They found Seth and Abigail sitting on a plush rug near the dance floor. On the stage, soft lantern light illuminated the colorful clothing and bright jewelry of the performers. The female lead looked at the guitarist and bobbed her head three times before starting her next song.
I’m a Romano Rai, just an old didikai,
I build all my temples beneath the blue sky,
I live in a tent, and I don’t pay no rent,
and that’s why they call me the Romano Rai.
The wood floor creaked and bounced as people danced. Djangini watched women in colorful dresses whirl about. Men stomped their boots in time to the beat. As the music picked up, hips swayed, and the men leaped about. By the time the song ended, Djangini was scraping the last remnants of her stew from her bowl with a piece of flatbread.
The next song started, and Djangini watched Ruby moving her feet in rhythm with the music. “Mom, do you know this dance?”
“I used to. Let’s see.” Ruby stood up and tried a few steps. She found the rhythm and pulled Djangini up. The music infected Djangini like a fever, and she picked up the steps in no time.
As the singer called out commands, groups of people danced together as one. Everything was a haze of clapping and stomping. Faces glowed orange and red from the lantern light, and everyone laughed in merriment.
When the song came to an end, Djangini clapped her hands and jumped with joy. She gazed up
at her mom. “That was so much fun!”
As Djangini made her way back to her seat, she felt dizzy. She swayed backward, feeling as if a bottomless pit opened up behind her. “Mom, did you feel that?”
“What?” Ruby asked.
Djangini stared back at the amphitheater and the obsidian bowl. “Nothing, I just got a bit dizzy.” The sweat from dancing had grown cold on her skin.
“Have some water,” Ruby replied, grabbing Djangini a glass as they worked their way back to their seats.
Two young men in purple satin pants and white silk blouses took the stage next. They bowed to the audience, then gathered a set of three clubs. Their shirts billowed as they juggled in arcs above their heads and to each other. Their movements and skill were hypnotizing. Next, they dipped their clubs into a bucket and swung them through the flame of a torch. The clubs caught fire, and the crowd whooped in appreciation as a flaming infinity symbol formed in the air. The jugglers twisted, cartwheeled, and flipped before dousing the clubs and bowing to the audience.
Djangini let out a deep breath, wiped her hands on her dress, and applauded. As the jugglers left, a man in medieval period garb approached the stage. He wore an olive-colored vest over a drab tunic and a pair of dark leather pants.
Djangini gasped. “It’s Thatch.”
Thatch looked across the stage where a woman with long blond hair bent over a basket of baguettes. He turned to the audience and mimed an hourglass with his hands. While staring at her ankles, Thatch approached the lady with his hands held out.
The woman turned in feigned surprise, and a melon fell out of her voluminous white blouse. Her most surprising feature, however, was that she had a full red beard. Thatch stuck out his tongue in disgust. The audience erupted in laughter as the lady stuffed the melon back into her blouse.
Thatch looked back and forth between the woman and the audience. Then, he picked up a giant beer stein and made a show of drinking it all. He stumbled and squinted at the lady and shrugged. Thatch sauntered forward and took the lady’s hand. He leaned in and whispered into the lady’s ear. She turned her head and giggled.
A third actor jumped onto the stage. It was a woman dressed as a man, wearing a black beard and shoulder pads under a black shirt. The man in black pulled off a leather glove, pantomimed that Thatch had besmirched his honor, and slapped him.
The red-bearded lady pulled an enormous paper fan from her blouse and fanned herself. Thatch grabbed a French baguette from the basket and stood en garde. The man in black also grabbed a length of bread and stood ready. Thatch thrust the bread forward, and the other man stepped aside. They swung and dodged as the crowd shouted encouragement.
In no time, the bread turned to crumbs, and the fighters returned to the basket. This time, they pulled out rapiers and faced each other. This was too much for the red-bearded lady, who swooned. Thatch rushed to her side as she collapsed to the stage, but the man in black shoved him off. Their duel renewed.
Djangini’s hands were sweating as the two fighters lunged, dodged, and shuffled their feet in an elegant dance. In the end, the man in black disarmed Thatch. Thatch knelt down, prepared to receive the finishing blow. The man in black knocked him out with a pommel strike to the head. The red-bearded lady jumped up and embraced her hero, then rewarded him with a kiss.
“They’re married,” Ruby whispered to Djangini, indicating the two cross-dressed actors who had portrayed the man in black and the bearded lady.
“Oh.” Djangini nodded, curious how her mom knew all of these people.
The audience cheered and applauded. Thatch stood up and bowed along with the other actors, then hopped off the stage and joined in ushering everyone to the amphitheater.
Djangini approached the center of the tent with a feeling of trepidation. She took nervous glances at the glittering bowl on the ground as she took her seat. Only after she settled down and nestled up to her mom did she notice the musicians at the top of the steps, but her eyes kept returning to the bowl.
A ripple of excitement spread across the room, and the audience looked toward the entrance. “That’s the groom,” Ruby said. “Marco.”
Djangini tore her eyes away from the bowl and looked. A handsome man with dark hair and warm olive skin had entered the tent. He wore a navy jacket and pants and a white shirt, and a tie that glowed emerald in the lantern light.
Marco welcomed guests as he walked down the amphitheater steps. After squeezing shoulders and shaking hands, he stopped at the edge of the opening to the obsidian-like bowl.
The music changed, and everyone stood up and turned toward the entrance. The night sky framed the bride, Nadya, who wore a long white dress with lace sleeves. More lacework bordered her neckline, and an emerald silk scarf draped over her shoulders and down to her waist. An elaborate silver headpiece adorned her head like a crown, and delicate silver chains veiled her eyes and crisscrossed her face.
Ruby sighed. “Oh, she’s beautiful.”
Djangini nodded in agreement.
Seth stepped up to his daughter and smiled. Nadya offered him her arm. Seth took it and escorted her to the groom.
Marco hopped down through the opening and slid on the smooth obsidian-like surface. Once he had his feet, he helped the bride into the bowl. When they stood in the center, the floor of the amphitheater was level to their waists.
The officiant approached the opening. She had dark hair pulled into a complicated bun and wore a gold-embroidered emerald dress. She cradled a plain wooden box in her arms.
“Good evening.” The officiant looked around the amphitheater. “We have been invited here today to share with Nadya Rose Sanford and Marco Donovan Barrett a crucial moment in their lives.” She looked down at the obsidian bowl. “This location has a feeling of grandeur appropriate for the public affirmation of their love.”
With hands clasped tight, the bride and groom gazed up at their officiant and nodded.
The officiant looked down at the wedding couple. “Do you choose to be married today?”
“We have so chosen,” the couple responded as one.
The officiant continued. She spoke about love and the meaning of marriage and quoted verses in a strange language. She opened the wooden box. “You will need to nurture each other.” She withdrew a silver knife and handed it to the bride.
Nadya took the knife with trembling hands.
Next, the officiant took a small loaf of bread out of the wooden box and gave it to the groom. Marco took the bread and broke it in half.
“You are each other’s support system now; do not take that task lightly.”
With a flash of the blade, Nadya pricked the tip of her ring finger.
“What are they doing?” Djangini asked in a shaky voice.
“It’s a traditional bonding ceremony,” Ruby said.
Bonding. Something about that word seemed significant to Djangini. Especially near this strange bowl.
Djangini watched as the bride squeezed a drop of her blood onto one half of the bread. The groom ate the blood-stained part while looking into her eyes. Nadya exchanged the knife for the bread, and the ritual was repeated.
After the bride and groom exchanged vows, the officiant invited them to wear their rings and complete the ceremony with a kiss.
The audience applauded and cheered, and the musicians started playing. A few seconds into the song, a low-frequency sound hummed from the bowl. Djangini’s heart pounded with an overwhelming feeling that something was wrong. She looked at the opposite side of the tent, behind the last row of the amphitheater. A peculiar non-substance, like fog, was forming out of thin air. As Djangini watched, the mist solidified into a dark shape. It was a ghost, she realized. From here, she could see that it was an older woman, maybe in her late thirties, with dark hair and strange clothes. “Mom.” Djangini tugged at Ruby’s dress. “What is that?”
“Where?” Ruby looked.
“It’s right there, can’t you see it?” Djangini said as she pointed at the ghost acr
oss the tent
“Djangini, what are you pointing at?” Ruby sounded irritated.
“A ghost.”
Nearby, a gray-haired man looked at Djangini, and her face heated up as more people glanced in her direction. She dropped her arm, worried that she was drawing even more attention to herself. Candles and torches flickered along the tentpoles, and the silvery shape had vanished. “Nothing, a funny shadow, I guess.”
Djangini placed her hands in her lap and focused on the wedding couple. The audience grew silent in anticipation as an old Roma woman, bent over with age, approached the officiant. A strange noise buzzed from the old woman’s throat, and she simultaneously sang in a commanding voice. It was the most incredible thing Djangini had ever seen or heard.
The gray-haired man leaned over to Ruby and whispered, “Music activates the senses—”
“Mmm,” Ruby replied.
“Mom, how is she doing that?” Djangini leaned forward, enthralled that a human could create such a sound. The words were arcane, like a magical spell.
“It’s called throat singing.”
The old man nodded, closed his eyes, and listened to the strange song. Three of the musicians circled around the wedding couple and played their fiddles. The sound reverberated off the tent walls and willed Djangini’s heart to match.
She still felt that something was wrong. A danger lurked somewhere in the tent, but she wasn’t sure if it was the obsidian bowl or the shadowy figure. Djangini squirmed in her seat as the wedding couple danced slowly inside the bowl. The audience clapped in time to the musicians and the old woman.
Across the tent, Djangini caught sight of the ghost again. It had moved about halfway around the amphitheater. This time, she wasn’t going to take her eyes off of it. She watched as the ghost drew nearer. It climbed down the stadium steps, passing through a woman’s leg in the process. As it drew nearer, Djangini could see that the ghost’s dark hair was braided, and her clothing looked like something out of a Renaissance fair. To her surprise, the expression on the ghost’s face was one of hope.
The Key of Astrea Page 5