The Shadow Gypsy (The Shadow Sisters) Read online

  THE SHADOW GYPSY

  Book II in The Shadow Ryana series

  by

  C. R. Daems & J. R. Tomlin

  The Shadow Gypsy

  Copyright © 2013 by C. R. Daems and J. R. Tomlin

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from C. R. Daems

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Check out our novels at:

  Crdaems.com

  and

  Jrtomlin.com

  or

  http://clemd.home.comcast.net/~clemd/JC/Index.html

  Visit J. R. Tomlin's Blog:

  http://jeannetomlin.blogspot.com

  Or follow us on Twitter:

  @JRTomlinAuthor

  Map of HESLAND

  CHAPTER ONE

  DAZEL: Tarion - The Tobar Clan

  CHAPTER TWO

  DAZEL: Tarion - King Stepan

  CHAPTER THREE

  DAZEL: Tarion - The Magic Balls

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ARABY: Scio - Lady wu'Lichak

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CALION: Zeles – Gods and more Gods

  CHAPTER SIX

  CALION: Zeles - Lady Roshan

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TUSKA: Kaslos - The yellow robes

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TUSKA: Lampo - Vengeance

  CHAPTER NINE

  SAXIS: Adak - A clan reunion

  CHAPTER TEN

  SAXIS: Sebec - A Shadow Sisters reunion

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SAXIS: Sebec - Some fortunes are better than others

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TUSKA: The God drink

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  TUSKA: Flight to safety

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ZUNJI: Near Bywick - Jelena

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CALION: Slicci - More robed ones and more questions.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CALION: Zeles – Lady Roshan

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CALION: Zeles – Secrets

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CALION: Ashtol - Memories of the past

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ARABY: Scio: Lady wu'Lichak

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DAZEL: White-robes

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DAZEL: Tarion – The King

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  DAZEL: Assur Mountains - The Sanctuaries

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  DAZEL: Tarion – Revelation

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  DAZEL: Tarion – Preparing for war.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  DAZEL: Zunji – Storms of war

  Novels by C.R. Daems & J.R. Tomlin

  CHAPTER ONE

  DAZEL: Tarion - The Tobar Clan

  "I'm scared, mother," I whispered.

  "I know, Ryana. Most women about to be married are fearful. They’re beginning a new life with a new clan and don’t know what to expect. But most don’t doubt themselves. They know it’s the life they want." Stela's smile was sad. "You doubt yourself. You saved a kingdom but lost yourself in the process. You doubt you’ll make a good wife, mother, and member of your new clan." Her eyes shone with tears as she tilted my head away and worked more flowers into my hair.

  How can someone who no longer knows who she is make a good wife and mother or member of a clan? If I weren't being selfish, I'd leave. My chin trembled.

  "We all love what you have done for us: the gypsies, Shadows, Earth Wizards, Zunji, and the king, yet you hate yourself for what you had to do for us. We all agree your actions were good and necessary, yet you believe your actions evil." She turned me around so I faced her and wiped tears from my cheeks. "It’s our turn to look after you, my daughter. To help you heal."

  She helped me off the floor, and turned me slowly around so I could see myself in the mirror. My visual-self looked... beautiful. My shoulder-length, black hair had yellow, purple, and red flowers woven into it. Around my head, a black head-band with ten gold coins hanging from it—a dowry from my adopted parents. I wore a white blouse with red trim at the V-neck and at the edge of the elbow-length sleeves, and a skirt with red, yellow, and black layers. My shadow-self saw a Shadow Sister dressed in black, her face covered by a black scarf that revealed only her eyes. I shuddered.

  "Thank you, mother. The dress is beautiful," I said, determined to look... to be the happy bride for Luka, my soon to be husband, and Stela and Marku, my adopted parents. I would force the visual-Ryana to focus on the many happy times with the Dorian clan and forget my shadow-self—the Shadow of Death.

  I squeezed Stela’s hand as we climbed out of her and Marku's wagon, and we walked hand-in-hand to join the crowd gathered inside the ring of wagons belonging to the Dorian and Tobar clans. At least twenty couples were twirling around each other like flowers caught in a whirlwind.

  "You look stunning, Ryana," Marku said, as we reached the bottom of the wagon's steps. He pulled me into a fierce hug and then held me at arm's length. "Luka is a lucky man."

  Yoan, Ilka, and Alida came running as soon as they saw me. Ilka grabbed one of my arms and Alida the other.

  "Now we know why Luka has never been caught by the clan's eligible women. He's been waiting for you," Alida said and pulled me toward the firepit in the middle.

  "He needed a strong woman." Ilka laughed, helping to pull me along.

  Yoan grinned. "If I were Luka, I certainly wouldn't get her mad. She's the best knife thrower in the clans. I should know."

  The Sisters had taught me the basic weapons, and I had excelled at knife throwing. But Yoan's coaching had made me an expert even by Sister Hajna's high standards. Enough that Yoan had trusted me to develop a comical skit where I threw very sharp knives finger-widths from his body. I couldn't help but relax with them surrounding me. They had become like real sisters and a brother.

  As they dragged be into the circle of dancing gypsies, Luka stepped through the crowd. His dark eyes were wide and staring as he stumbled. My shadowy thoughts evaporated when a smile lit his face.

  "Ryana, you’re... beautiful." He reached for me. Before he could touch me, Yoan grabbed his arm and shoved him toward Marku and a broad shouldered man, a few years older judging by the graying hair and deep wrinkles on his square face. They stood next to a small table, dressed in their flashiest clothes: silk pants tucked into snake-skin boots, sashes around their waists, and ruffled shirts.

  Ilka and Alida steered me to the table while Yoan and Petre, a friend of Luka, guided Luka by his elbow. As they did, the dancing stopped and everyone gathered around us.

  Marku looked around the crowd until there was silence. "I, Marku, head of the Dorian clan, do attest that Ryana is a blood member of the Dorian clan, and that she’s the daughter of Matteo and Ginevra of the Assur Mountains, and that her ancestry can be traced back generations to the peoples of that region." He turned to the man next to him who nodded briefly.

  "I, Santo, head of the Tobar clan, do attest that Luka is a blood member of the Tobar clan and that he is the son of Dani and Lujza, and that his ancestry can be traced back generations to the gypsy clans and, therefore, not related in any way to the peoples of the Assur Mountains." He reached down and picked up a gold ring with an intricate pattern of interlocking lines and knots. "Ryana, by accepting this rin
g, you agree to become a blood member of the Tobar clan, to abide by the rules and customs of the clan, and to be a faithful wife and life companion to Luka."

  "I accept it," I said, knowing those three words would forever change my life and Luka’s. My stomach roiled as I wondered if Luka would live to regret it.

  Santo handed the ring to Marku who spread it open as Ilka jabbed my ear with a long needle. Marku inserted the ring, closed it, and Alida sealed it. Santo picked up an identical gold ring. "Luka, by accepting this ring, you agree to become a faithful husband and life companion to Ryana, previously of the Dorian clan."

  "I accept it," he said with a big grin. Ilka squealed and jumped up and down. Laughter and cheering rang from our clans as the ring was push through the lobe of Luka’s ear. Luka swept me up into his arms and kissed me long and tender, as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck to keep from falling into an abyss.

  He held me wrapped in his arms. Behind my eyelids, stars danced.

  When I opened my eyes, Alida and Pali had stepped up to the table. Pali had proposed to Alida when the Tobar and Dorian clans crossed paths in Kaslos, though he’d had to earn a wagon so the marriage took a while to happen. I glanced to see Alida glowing with joy before Luka kissed me again hard, and I found myself in a space where there was only the two of us.

  Wrapped in Luka’s arms, I hardly noticed the ceremony for the two until Luka stepped back. He kept an arm around my shoulder as he cheered. I shook my head at getting so distracted that I’d missed the ceremony and clapped. The dancing, eating, and drinking began, and I was swept up into the exuberant chaos that followed any excuse to celebrate. Luka pulled me into a circle of dancers, and we spun until I was dizzy.

  Sometime later, while the men danced, squatting, leaping, and kicking to show off their strength, Ilka came and sat next to Alida and me. She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I'm going to miss you two, as will Yoan. He's already trying to come up with another skit that doesn’t involve someone throwing knives at him. I wish Yoan and I could join the Tobar clan. Of course, that's not practical. The Dorian clan can't afford to lose four of its members." I too wished she and Yoan could join us. The four of us had become very close, closer because of the turmoil we experienced reaching Tarion. We lapsed into a comfortable silence, each immersed in our own thoughts of the new lives tomorrow would bring.

  Luka, Yoan, and Pali's return brought us back to the here and now. The celebration didn’t break up until the pewter light of dawn began to brighten the eastern sky. Luka scooped me up and carried me to his... our home and laid me gently on the bed. He knelt by the side of the bed, kissing my lips, eyes, neck, arms, chest... as he slowly undressed me. It felt wonderful, and I never wanted it to stop. I couldn’t help feeling a bit shy as I ran my hand down his bare chest. Luka was the only man I’d ever let get close and my heart was pounding. He bent to press his mouth close to my ear. "We’ve waited so long," he murmured as he softly stroked me. My heart was thundering in my chest. Afterward, I fell asleep in Luka’s arms, content.

  * * *

  The camp was coming alive as we rose and dressed. I needed to work with Yoan in preparation for tonight's performance in front of the king. The Dorian clan would perform tonight and leave tomorrow on their circuit north to Saxis province. The Tobar clan had only just arrived and wasn’t scheduled to perform for the king for a sixday. Most of the preparation was loading the props for tonight and discussing our skit, since we hadn't performed it for several sixdays.

  Yoan hugged me when he joined me at the stage. "I'm going to miss you, Ryana. Besides missing the skit, you've become like a sister to me. But I'm glad you decided to marry Luka and join the clans. At least Ilka and I will be able to see you now and then." I kissed him on the cheek.

  "I'll miss you and Ilka," I said, and left to dress for tonight's performance.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DAZEL: Tarion - King Stepan

  We arrived early to set up props, as usual when performing for nobles, and retired to a modest room to wait while they ate. Everyone was a bit nervous, having never performed for the king. When the king had asked the Shadow of Death what she wanted for avoiding a war, I had asked that the gypsies be placed under the protection of the king and allowed to perform for him when they were in Tarion. If it had not been for them, the Shadow of Death would never have reached Tarion, prevented the war, or identified those responsible. Unfortunately, most of those who supported the leaders of the revolt could not be separated from those who were just obeying orders and, therefore, would never be held accountable.

  Several hours later, we followed a servant to the entrance to the hall. I cartwheeled into the room with the rest of the tumbling act. Stela then performed acts of magic, sleight of hand. Baldi balanced on a tight rope strung forty feet off the ground and over the dining tables; Pilipe juggled fire sticks and knives. Finally, it was Yoan and my turn with our skit. We had decided to use the Adami and Kati knife-throwing routine since it was the easiest for a large, seated group to see.

  Yoan swaggered onto the stage. I followed, pretending to scan the audience and waving to men as if I was interested.

  "Are you ready for the show, Kati?" Yoan asked.

  "Of course, Adami. Just make sure you stand still," I scolded. "No scratching or making faces to throw me off."

  Yoan went to the wall and assumed a position inside the outline drawn there, legs spread and arms extended straight out from his sides. "Ready."

  I stood twenty paces back, knife in hand staring at him. I whipped back my hand as if to throw. The knife slipped out behind my back, clattering to the floor.

  "Damn, Kati. You said you practiced."

  "I did. Well, sort of. It’s so boring. Anyway, the knife slipped out because my fingers are greasy from the chicken. I’ll be fine." I wiped my hands on my shirt as the audience snickered. "Quit fussing!" My next knife flew and hit with a thud, hilt first, and dropped to the floor.

  Yoan glared.

  "Don’t give me that look. I didn’t hit you, did I?" I said.

  Laughter was rolling from the audience.

  "I think that’s enough," Yoan said, stepping away from the board.

  I held my knife, with the blade pointing toward him. "Get back, you worm, or I’ll skin you like a chicken."

  Yoan stepped back. The second he was against the board, my knife struck, vibrating a hand's width above his head. I put my hands on my hips.

  "That was good, Kati," he said, smiling.

  "Well, sort of. I aimed for the outside of your hand."

  Everyone was shouting for Kati to throw another knife and for Adami to be ready to dodge. The next knife went between his legs a hand’s width from his crotch. That got gasps and chants from the women to throw another knife. Now the audience was well into the skit, feeling like it was real. The next knife went wild, hitting the floor first.

  "That one doesn’t count, Adami. I was looking at the king. He’s so handsome." I beamed a smile and pushed my chest forwards, which wasn’t much of an improvement, but it was the idea that counted.

  "Pay attention to me, not him!"

  The next knife stuck a three finger-width below Yoan’s crotch.

  "But he’s… majestic." I smiled and twirled around making my skirt rise almost to my knees, stopped, and threw again. This time, a two finger-width above his right wrist. "I got it, Adami!" I jumped up and down, clapping.

  "What?" Yoan said with a grimace.

  "If I aim for your arm, I miss. Watch." The audience gasped as I threw. A knife thudded below the right wrist, then one above and below the left wrist. Then in rapid succession, one after another struck two finger-widths next to this right shoulder, right ear, left ear, and finally the left shoulder.

  The room was silent, and then clapping and stomping and laughter erupted throughout the great hall. When the noise stopped the king motioned us over to the table where he, his wife, and a few high ranking nobles sat. Ten guards stood spread out behind and to the side of him
. We stopped at the foot of the raised platform, some five steps from the table, and went down on a knee.

  "Rise. I don’t assume your names are Adami and Kati," he said smiling down at us.

  "No, Your Majesty. Yoan and Ryana," Yoan replied as we stood.

  "Yoan, you are a very brave man; those knives are very sharp and the blades long. You must love her a great deal," the queen said, looking at her husband. A small smile touched her lips.

  I smiled. "No, Your Majesty. If he did, he’d have more to fear from his soon to be wife than me. She wouldn’t miss." A murmur of comments came from the guest and a chuckle from the queen.

  "Ryana…" the king said, his forehead wrinkled in a frown. "Are you the fortuneteller who tells fortunes for province leaders and wizards?"

  Damn. Triple damn! Luka’s face went pale. I couldn’t blame him. If I angered the king with a fortune, he’d be sleeping alone or accompanying me to a dungeon. "Yes, Your Majesty. For their amusement," I added in desperation. If I sounded like I was a fake, it would be bad. If I said nothing, it would be very bad.

  "Well, tell me mine, for my amusement," he said.

  My mind whirled in chaos.

  "Your Majesty, I would beg you not."

  "Why? It seems whether you can really tell the future or not, it would make you famous. The woman who told the king his future."

  "That’s the problem, sire. I once told a province leader’s fortune, and later someone tried to beat me to learn what I had said."

  "What did you tell him?" he asked, leaning forward.

  "Nothing. A noble stopped him."

  "What would you have told him if a noble hadn’t stopped him?"

  "Nothing, Your Majesty. Right or wrong, what I tell the lowest commoner for a copper or the highest noble for gold is for that person alone. If I did, I would be a fake," I said, knowing I stood in a pit of vipers.

  "You claim to see the future?"

  "Sire, there are many futures, I can only tell the one I see most clearly. It is for that person to decide whether the one I see is correct."