Deadly Fate [Book 1 of the Teadai Prophecies] Page 3

  Noises of clattering plates and tableware rose and fell during the conversation.

  With her eyes shut, Haranda sighed. “I merely urged you along. Kept you from protesting. Nothing that would harm you.”

  Gypsy workings! Anger swelled, along with a surge of terror, and her heart pounded in her ears. “You…you…how dare you.” Fancies about Gypsies were one thing but this was real. And directed at me.

  Haranda sat up and glared at her. “I simply coaxed you to leave.” She leveled her gaze. Dark, invasive eyes made Saldia feel naked and she fought the desire to cover herself. “Would you rather I had beaten you? Those in Makrilon wouldn’t have objected. I could still do so but we have a long trip to the shore, which will be difficult for you if you can’t sit a horse without weeping.”

  Saldia opened her mouth to protest but thought a heartbeat about that threat. The Gypsy had apologized for hitting her. Why did Haranda now threaten to beat her? Had she only imagined she heard those apologies? Had Haranda made her hear what was never said? No, she didn’t think so.

  The Gypsy sighed again. “I don’t wish to start this trip with bickering. There would’ve been suspicion had I allowed you to retrieve your belongings. You must know that.”

  “Those in Makrilon don’t take kindly to runaways, youngling,” Mistress Lane had appeared in the doorway again without Saldia’s notice. “Which is why Haranda used that excuse. Gets you girls thrown out quickly and usually avoids trouble. Most tavern owners are satisfied with a runaway’s belongings once a family member comes calling.”

  Saldia opened her mouth to object but closed it again. These women were right. And if Saldia truly was Gypsy folk, called by the Goddess Herself, then they had saved her life. Trying to take her belongings would have drawn more unwanted attention. And if anyone suspected her to be a Gypsy, well, she would’ve been killed in Makrilon, but not before enduring public humiliation and torture. Tears threatened as a disturbing memory surfaced and she sniffed them back. She felt pressure on one shoulder and looked up at Mistress Lane.

  “The first days are the hardest, youngling.” The woman misinterpreted Saldia’s moist eyes for frustration. A warm smile appeared on her lips, deepening the creases at her mouth.

  “No, mistress.” Saldia pulled her back straight. She felt nothing but concern from these women now and decided to trust them. Somewhat, anyway. “Thank you. Thank you both. I was in Makrilon last harvest moon.” Makrilonians believed Gypsies got their powers on the night of the harvest moon and then cursed those without. A fact Saldia knew all too well. “I saw what they did to a woman they accused of being Gypsy folk.” The memory of those screams and pleas filled her mind again and she shivered. In the end, the villagers had pulled that poor woman apart. Saldia still had nightmares.

  Haranda turned away and clasped her head as silent sobs racked her body.

  Mistress Lane put thick arms around her. “You did well, Haranda. We can’t save them all, no matter how hard we try.”

  The Gypsy sat up and wiped her face on a crying cloth the old woman offered. “My apologies. I must be overly tired.”

  Saldia watched the exchange with interest. Haranda treated the farmwoman with more respect than what she’d shown Saldia. Much more. But then, tavern wenches didn’t get much respect from anyone, so why should a Gypsy behave any differently? Saldia had lived in many places throughout her life and could settle in quickly. Perhaps the Gypsy was worth studying. She certainly didn’t seem all-powerful just now.

  Haranda clasped the old woman’s hands in her own. “You’ve served us well for many years. I know you’ve suffered losses, given up much.”

  “Nonsense. It’s a privilege to serve the Goddess. I wouldn’t have taken the oaths if I didn’t believe in the Gypsy cause.”

  Haranda smiled warmly. “I’m proud to know you, Mistress Lane.”

  “Well, we’ll see how proud you are when you’re alone with these younglings.”

  Saldia wondered at the term again but the way the two chuckled and eyed her, she had a feeling she’d find out soon enough just where she ranked with these Gypsies. Somewhere near the bottom, no doubt. And Henny had said they were going to the shore. Saldia had never seen the ocean. That interested her. She opened her mouth to inquire about the trip and this mysterious Land of the Goddess Henny had also mentioned.

  There was no occasion to ask questions because Mistress Lane announced that night meal was ready. They gathered around a table filled with delicious-smelling food and the scrapings of chairs on the wooden floor actually helped soothe Saldia’s nerves. The sulky Eletha claimed she wasn’t hungry and started from the table.

  Mistress Lane leaned across. “You’ll eat all right, youngling. Or I’ll feed you with my own hands. If you think I’m not strong enough, just you try me.”

  Eletha stared at the old woman with daggers in her gaze. Saldia wondered if there was about to be a brawl and she poised herself, ready to save the goose if need be. But the little fiery-haired girl flopped back into her chair, managing to look even more sullen than before.

  They ate quickly and there wasn’t much time to chat, but Saldia managed to learn that Eletha was a woman of nineteen, a whole year beyond marriage age! She wondered just what she’d fallen into here. She never refused a meal, so she downed her food then politely asked for seconds, which seemed to please Haranda and Mistress Lane equally.

  This was going to be an interesting journey, to say the least. Especially with the insufferable looks two of the highborn girls aimed at her.

  Yes, interesting, indeed.

  Chapter 3

  The waning moon kept the forest in shadows, and the younger girls stumbled and complained along the rough path. Haranda grumbled as she studied Mistress Lane’s map in the lantern light. Saldia had attempted to help but the tavern girl wasn’t much for reading maps. Fostering younglings, many who were already marriage age or beyond, proved no easy task for any Gypsy. Haranda had heard that warning so many times from her former clan mother, Gypsy Wren Dinsen, yet she had foolishly believed otherwise. She sighed quietly.

  “Ow,” Henny uttered, again, and she rubbed at her knees.

  Haranda eyed her briefly. At fifteen, Henny was the youngest, a pampered child, raised with money and servants, and she acted just that as she dusted off her skirts.

  “You wouldn’t fall so much,” Haranda said, somewhat distracted with her map in the cold night breeze, “if you watched where you stepped, youngling.”

  Injuries posed another concern for her, as she didn’t have healing Energy. The Goddess had decided that wasn’t to be. Hopefully, none of the girls would need more than she could provide with her herb knowledge. All Gypsies were well-trained in herbal medicine and injury care. Sparking Energy, which every Gypsy harnessed, could sear an open wound and stop blood flow, but that didn’t quell Haranda’s worries. She shifted her pack that held food, water, herbs, rags, and an extra set of underbreeches and stockings given her by Mistress Lane.

  “But I heard something in the trees, Mistress.” Henny pulled her cloak tighter. “I know there’s something out there just waiting to eat us.” She leaned toward Haranda. “I can feel them. Monsters.” Her bottom lip began to quiver.

  Adelsik Nunsey and Maesa Reman, both from prominent families in the Cragrilon Prefecture, whimpered and hugged each other at the youngest girl’s words. They were seventeen and eighteen, respectively, and Adelsik nearly as tall as Haranda, but neither acted any older than Henny. The youngest couldn’t feel any of what she claimed. None of these girls had been through the calling, yet. And monsters of the type Henny spoke about didn’t exist.

  Haranda pulled the Energy from the earth below and allowed it to fill her, sending awareness through her senses, along with a good amount of calm to her nerves. A few critters roamed nearby and plenty of insects filled the area, but the wolves that frequented this vicinity were distant enough not to be a threat. At least, for now. Wolves created such a strong heat and wild force against h
er senses that they were the first animals she had learned to distinguish from the rest. There was no immediate danger and she released the Energy. She had held it long enough today. Sleep would replenish her, and she desired to get her brood to Master Flindering’s place as soon as possible.

  “I don’t wish to go to the Land of the Goddess,” Adelsik said. Her skinny frame, flaxen hair and soft features made her look as much a doll as those large, brown eyes that were set a slightly apart. “It’s too dangerous out here. We should return to Mistress Lane’s farm and travel in the morning.”

  Adelsik hailed from the same place as Haranda, Bedlon in the Cragrilon Prefecture. Girls from that area were raised for marriage and babies, and many learned how to manipulate men at an early age. But Haranda’s ties with that place had been severed long ago and now she must provide proper Gypsy training for these girls. Adelsik’s innocent eyes widened. That look had probably won many adults over, but the girl’s attempts wouldn’t work now.

  Haranda held the map up to compare the drawing with the stone markers they were to follow. “We have to get as far from Makrilon as we can tonight.” The girls were frightened, but this wasn’t the occasion to coddle these Gypsy-children, these younglings, her younglings.

  Goddess help me! What have I gotten myself into?

  “But I never said I wanted to be Gypsy folk,” Maesa spouted. Her dark eyes and hair, along with those sharp features, made her appear much like a hawk. A young hawk, but observant just the same, and Haranda doubted the girl missed much when it came to people. She pointed an accusatory finger at Haranda. “You took me without my permission.” There seemed to be a perpetual pout on Maesa’s full lips, which made Haranda want to shake her. This one came from Parlon, an adjacent village to Bedlon, the same place Henny hailed from.

  Haranda eyed the hawk-faced girl. Was I ever as annoying as these girls at their age? Certainly not. They had been with her long enough to realize they wouldn’t be welcome in their villages once they got the calling, the Goddess summons.

  Haranda focused on Maesa, ready to put a stop to this foolishness, when Eletha stepped from the rear and held a lantern up to Maesa’s face. “Yes, you did,” Eletha said. The small girl’s voice was as fiery as her hair. “You’ve been talking about Gypsies since you got to Mistress Lane’s farm. That’s all you prattled about, Maesa Reman.” She brushed stray hairs from her face and pursed her lips.

  At nineteen, Eletha Lavine stood shorter than Henny, but she would say the sky wasn’t overhead just to argue with someone. Probably had something to do with her root village of Agnar. Though Agnar was within the Cragrilon Prefecture, it was much closer to Makrilon. Agnarians could be a stubborn and agitated lot, quick to mistrust and quicker to start a fight. Eletha wore a tunic over breeches, and her wild hair always seemed to whip about, even when the air was still. In those clothes, she looked more like a boy than a woman of marriageable age. She still didn’t seem convinced she was destined for Gypsy life, and Haranda silently invoked the Goddess that she would survive the headaches she could already see coming with this lot in her care.

  “You shut it, Eletha Lavine.” Maesa swung her lantern for emphasis.

  Eletha shook a fist until the other girl stepped back. Maesa was marriage age, Eletha a year beyond. Younglings!

  “I want to go home.” Adelsik tugged at her pack and cloak.

  Haranda’s nerves began to fray and she decided to end the arguments for good. She stood with her back pulled straight, eyes hard, and faced her small brood. The three youngest would have been raised by nurses, so she said, “The next one of you who complains or talks of monsters is going to have trouble sitting a horse tomorrow.”

  Three formerly pampered girls gaped at her, mouths dropped and eyes wide. Eletha and Saldia simply watched them.

  “Good. Now, I’m taking you to the shore if I have to tie you to a saddle and gag you all the way there.”

  “And I’ll help her.” Saldia slapped a stick against her skirts for emphasis.

  Saldia had finally relaxed and had been very helpful after night meal. Haranda was glad she’d gotten her out of Makrilon. With the strength Saldia would possess, that one definitely needed restraint. But, despite her years, the girl was still a youngling. Strict discipline would soon become a regular part of her training. For their own safety, younglings had few rights among the Gypsy caste, and these girls needed to learn their places.

  “You’ll help only if I give you permission, Saldia Trich. Do you understand?” Saldia narrowed eyes on her but didn’t respond. She’d seen the girl squirm under her gaze back at Mistress Lane’s place so she held her eyes steady. No youngling could hold a Gypsy gaze for long, even in dim light. Haranda remembered the intimidating power from her own clan mother’s eyes years ago. “I said, do you understand?”

  Saldia frowned and mumbled something she couldn’t make out, but she wagered it was a curse. Probably a very colorful one, given the girl’s background.

  Letting things get out of hand, especially this early in their training, would be a great mistake and Haranda took in a breath. She then harnessed the Energy, pushed a tiny blue spark into her hand, took aim with her palm, and let the spark fly to Saldia’s leg. Of course, none of the younglings would see the spark because they hadn’t yet been through the calling, but she hoped Saldia’s reaction would convince them who was in charge just now.

  As the spark snapped against its target, the tavern girl yelped, cursed again, and rubbed at her thigh. A perfect example to the others, just as Haranda had hoped.

  “Guard your tongue, Saldia.” Henny began to cry so Haranda turned on the youngest. “And no sniveling.” Henny’s eyes grew wide as saucers and she clamped a hand over her mouth. “It’s very important we get to Master Flindering’s tonight.”

  “Unless you wish to be tortured and killed.” Saldia had fully composed herself, looking as though nothing odd had happened to her just heartbeats ago. “That’s what they do to Gypsies in Makrilon.” She held a lantern up to her face, which was hard now. “I’ve seen it.” Haranda’s three pampered younglings gasped and visibly tried not to weep. Saldia leaned toward Haranda. “This is going to be a very long trip.”

  Despite the disturbing memory Saldia had brought up, Haranda pinched her lips together to keep from chuckling and held a steady gaze on the girl.

  Saldia squirmed. “I was merely commenting, Mistress Haranda.” Her contrite voice offered no challenge this time, and she adjusted the scarf that tied her light brown hair back.

  This one seemed to catch on quickly. Haranda fought a smile again and studied the map. Once she was certain of their location, she shifted her pack, scooped up her lantern, and led her younglings on with the moonlight to guide them.

  * * * *

  As she followed Haranda, Saldia turned back occasionally to check on Henny. The youngest girl spread her attention between the trees and the Gypsy, probably wondering if Haranda would make good on threats to tie her to a saddle. She studied Haranda. The Gypsy’s long, chestnut hair swayed whenever she moved her head. Curiosity about those invisible Gypsy workings filled her thoughts but she didn’t dare ask anything just now. Whatever workings Haranda had done earlier had stung Saldia’s leg and she didn’t particularly wish to rile the woman’s temper again. Despite her youth, the Gypsy reminded Saldia of an older, formidable cousin she’d once lived with. A woman who could squeeze obedience from the wind, if she so desired.

  A rustling sound came from the trees and Henny squeaked. Saldia thought for a heartbeat the girl would bolt so she gave a brief touch to Haranda’s arm. The Gypsy stopped and twisted around to study Henny, who looked as though she would jump out of her skin when those dark eyes fell on her. Saldia felt quite naked whenever Haranda focused on her, and the feeling became stronger with each shift of the moon across the night sky.

  “Come along, Henny,” Haranda said in the tone of an impatient mother. “Don’t dawdle. We need rest before we ride out in the morning.”


  “Yes, Haranda.” Henny’s voice trembled and she glanced around at the others.

  The Gypsy pressed on and the rest followed again. They had gone only twelve paces when Saldia heard something rustle behind her. She turned to see Henny dust off her skirts. Had she fallen again? The poor girl must be bruised from nose to toe by now.

  “Nice, Henny,” Eletha grumbled from the rear. One shadowy hand brushed against a tree as she passed. “Perhaps we should carry you until you learn to walk.”

  “Enough, Eletha,” Haranda said. “You come up here with me and stop bullying the child.” When the little woman didn’t move, Haranda put hands on her hips, looking very dangerous. “That wasn’t a suggestion.” Eletha grumbled and cursed but obeyed. “And guard your tongue.”

  “Ow.” Eletha grabbed her thigh and gave a sideways look to the Gypsy. “Quick hand, watchful eye, my pride is yours, but only twice,” she chanted.

  Haranda shook her head. “We still have another moon-shift of travel. Saldia, will you take the rear?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” She waited for the others to pass before following.

  She found she liked being last more than leading. This way she could watch the others without any eyes on her. The ground was rough and Henny stumbled on occasion, along with Adelsik and Maesa, but none of them fell. Eletha kept her comments to herself, though that fiery head whipped around at various noises and a slingshot dangled from her left hand.

  Saldia kept count of her steps to quell her own fear. She didn’t like walking in this dark tree-lined area any more than the rest of the girls, but she wouldn’t act a fool and squeal every time she heard a noise. Haranda seemed concerned but didn’t appear frightened and Saldia decided to follow the Gypsy’s example.

  They walked with only moonlight and lanterns lighting their way for what seemed an eternity before Henny began to take careful steps.

  Maesa put an arm in the youngest girl’s to offer support. “It won’t be long now, Henny.” The sharp-featured girl still looked at Saldia like prey but was very protective of Henny. “Then we can rest.” That seemed to be all the youngest needed for tears to flow.