The Gypsy Queen (22 page)

  “This... this is an act of war! Nobody steals from me! They are going to pay,” he growled with conviction. He looked at the arrow in his hand again, and looked at the man in rags.

  “Tell me,” he said, “who did this.” He already knew the answer.

 
“It was the black riders of
Jedikai
,” the man said.

___________________________

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
, b
ut 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 shar
e 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 wel
l, 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- D
raiman had said nothing of the c
astle 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 until 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 sp
ices, 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!”