Book of Heroes: George of Sedona I - 26. The Rom

Chapter 26: The Rom

“You’ll be going east?” Alvie asked.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “In a day or two—when the weather clears.” Rain had fallen steadily for three days. The courtyard of the inn, the streets, and the public square presented an unbroken morass of gray mud. The boys had carefully cleaned their boots, clothes, and mud-spattered faces and hands before entering the inn. Not all patrons had been as diligent, and Gary made a face as he brushed a lump of mud from the bench. The smallest trace of boy magic was enough to keep his hand clean.

The potboy, unasked, brought small beer from a kettle warming over the fire. He winked at Gary. “Chess at nones?” he asked. Gary agreed after receiving a nod from Arthur.

“Don’t be late for supper,” Arthur said, reinforcing the unspoken assumption that Gary and the potboy would spend the afternoon at chess—and sex.

“The reason I asked,” Alvie said, “was that a Rom family is camped by my father’s farm, just east of town.” He lowered his voice. “It’s not widely known, but one is my cousin. He went off with them years ago, heart-bound and betrothed to one of their women. They’ve adopted him into the Dan; he has two sons, too. Anyway, if I were to ask, they might invite you to travel with them.

“They are good people, and between here and Morin, you need good people, and more than four of you, with three being boys.”

Prince Aladil and I spent a month with a Dan of elven Rom, Arthur thought. I learned their language from the prince. When the prince received their fealty, I swore amity with them. They’re thought of as thieves, but they’re no worse than the Thieves Guild—maybe better, since they usually bring entertainment with them. These thoughts took but an instant. Arthur replied, “Yes, thank you, Alvie. We would like that.”

The next day was overcast, but the rain had stopped, and a dry wind from the west had made the streets passable. Alvie came to the inn for breakfast, and told the companions that a brother would arrive at mid-morning to take them all to his father’s farm. “I have no horse, but Arah will bring one. My cousin visited last night, and agreed that you might travel with him. You should be prepared to leave—if this is not too sudden?”

*****

The Rom chieftain and Arthur spoke quietly to one another; Arthur’s companions and the others of the Dan were watching from a distance. “My daughter’s betrothed and the father of my grandsons, a man thereby my brother in spirit and in custom, has asked that you might travel with us,” the Rom chieftain said. “Of course, you may. We ask that you swear friendship and loyalty while you remain with us. I will swear the same for my people.”

My Lord, Arthur began in the language of the Rom. Long ago, I swore eternal amity with the Rom. The oath was before the Dan of Clearsea in Elvenhold. Today, I renew that oath for my sworn companions and myself.

The chieftain smiled. I know of this Dan, and I see the truth of your words. I swear for myself and my family and fellow travelers eternal amity with you and yours. Be welcome.

With those words, the chieftain rose, took Arthur’s hand in his own, and led the boy toward the assembled people. “This is Arthur. He and his sworn companions are our friends and guests. Make them welcome.”

One of the Rom tweens pushed forward until he was a few steps from Arthur. He addressed the chieftain, and he spoke in the language of the Rom as he pointed to Arthur. “Father, that one is beautiful. May I ask him to share boy magic?”

The chieftain frowned. It was a rudeness to use the language of the Rom in front of one who should be presumed not to know it. Then he smiled. A lesson, he thought, but not a hard one.

“Arthur,” he said in that language, “My son, Ambie, whom I love, wears his heart on his sleeve. You would do my family great honor if you would accept his offer.”

Before the startled boy could react, Arthur addressed Ambie. “You honor me, Prince. I would gladly share boy magic with you. My companions, who are boys, may likewise share with your family.”

George, Larry, and Gary found themselves the center of attention of at least a score of Rom boys. Somehow, things sorted themselves out, and each had a partner for the evening. In the shadows of an oak tree, under a canopy stretched from one of the wagons, Arthur and Ambie lay.

“Arthur,” Ambie said. “I’m sorry I spoke of you in our language. You know that I thought you didn’t know it, and that I was rude.”

“You mean…you mean that you don’t think I’m beautiful?” Arthur teased.

Ambie smiled. “Oh, no. You are beautiful.”

*****

The Rom caravan painted a rainbow of color amid the gray-green of the conifers and the black of the leaf-bare oaks. The score of horse-drawn wagons and nearly that many mounted men and boys were followed by two strings of spare horses. The horses’ harnesses and reins were studded with bells: small spheres of silver and steel in which a brass marble jiggled and tinkled with each step. George rode near the front of the caravan, beside a Rom boy with whom he’d spent the night. Larry and Gary, similarly accompanied, were behind him. Arthur rode alone behind the boys, keeping an eye on them.

Ambie, who had overseen the strings of spare horses, trotted up the side of the column, flashing Arthur a smile as he fell in to Arthur’s left. They rode for a while in companionable silence before Arthur spoke. “I was surprised to see Rom on this road. I understand that this was not your first visit to Lollypine.”

Ambie looked at Arthur, and then shrugged. “Father said you and he had sworn amity. As for me, I think you are really Rom, although I’ve never known one of us with silver hair and green eyes.”

“As for me, I think you’re an elf, although I’ve never known one with black hair and eyes,” Arthur said.

Ambie answered Arthur’s original question. “There are Rom in Eblis—over the mountains. We meet every year to trade…”

Smugglers, Arthur thought. Although they must be particular about what they smuggle; there’s no hint of Evil about them. Aloud, he said, “We met two men from Eblis in Gateway, some time ago. They tried to sell us zwill.” Arthur carefully gauged Ambie’ reaction and response.

“Zwill? Nasty stuff! I hope you’re not carrying any. Father would not allow it.”

“Actually,” Arthur said. “Actually, when we refused to buy it, they tried to addict us to it. We killed them. George and I did.”

Ambie was silent while his face went through several expressions including one that meant what do I say, now?

Arthur spared the boy the trouble. “Ambie, I know your father to be Good, and he knows that of me. Does it trouble you that I have killed?”

Ambie was quiet for a long time, and then he said, “No. It does not. I know my father has killed. I have never had to do so. I’m…surprised…I guess, that George has killed. He’s so young!”

“You should know that both Larry and Gary have killed, too. In every case, the boys were defending themselves or each other from attack, and from Evil,” Arthur said.

Ambie looked sharply at Arthur. “Gary? But he’s no more than a child!”

“Do not let his size, or his sweetness, fool you,” Arthur said. “He’s more than twice as old as George.” And his shyness is an act, Arthur thought. He knows it, and I know it, and he knows I know it. But it gives him an excuse to hold my hand, and it gives me an excuse to hug him, and we both like that very much.

*****

Ambie was supervising the boys who led the strings of spare horses. George dropped back to ride beside Arthur. “Aren’t you worried that, well, we’re putting the Rom in danger?” the boy asked. “Shouldn’t you tell them, like you told Gary’s father and James’ father? Not about where I’m from, I mean, but about attracting danger?”

“Actually,” Arthur replied. “Actually, that did occur to me. But, I’m reasonably sure that we’re not being followed and that whoever is behind those attacks on us doesn’t know where we are.”

“But they knew when we were in Gateway,” George protested.

“I’ve been thinking about that. Now, I’m reasonably sure that was a fluke,” Arthur said. “I suspect—and it makes sense—that while those two zwillnicks may have been looking for us, that their attack was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Looking for us?” George asked.

“We were in Mountainmass for a long time,” Arthur said. “And in Adelaide a long time before that. If someone were scrying for us, staying in one place that long would have made his job easier. If he saw us in both places, it would be smart for him to put spies in Gateway. I think that’s what those two men were.

“When they spotted us, their master directed the attack—using what tools he had: the two drug addicts. Thanks to you and Larry, the attack failed.”

“Do you think he’s still following us?” George asked. “And why do you say he and not they?”

“Looking for us, yes; following us, no,” Arthur said. “We’ve moved pretty quickly since Gateway. He probably knows we’re following the South Mountain Road, and he’ll be looking and scrying. And that’s another reason for traveling with the Rom: they use so much magic that it will help mask us. At least, I hope we’ll be lost in the noise.”

“Yeah,” George said. “Now that you mention it, the background noise is pretty loud; I realized it, saw that it was coming from them, and suppressed it like you showed me. I should have said something about it, though.”

Arthur shrugged. “As to why I think one person rather than more than one? It’s something I glimpsed out of the corner of my eye when I destroyed the elf who had your underpants. I glimpsed it, again when the zwillnicks attacked. I’m pretty sure it’s a gnome, and that it was the same gnome both times.”

That evening, Ambie monopolized Gary; George found his way to Arthur. They lay together in the darkness. “You’re not sleepy, are you?” Arthur whispered to the boy.

“No,” George said. “I’m thinking about people following us…won’t they figure out that we’re hiding in this noise when they can’t find us elsewhere?”

“A possibility, George,” Arthur answered. “And a very astute observation on your part. But I cannot see anyone following.”

“How do you see that?” George asked. “Show me? Please?”

Arthur held George closely. A hand on the boy’s forehead would have worked, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as nice. “Close your eyes and shut your ears as I showed you—to magical and mundane sound. The Rom and the boys around us will alert us to any danger, but they will not know we have departed.”

Arthur slowly, gently inserted a thought into George’s mind. Watch, George, watch with your mind. Opening his own mind to the boy, Arthur pushed his perception—and George’s perception—away from the Rom encampment. Those bright specs? That’s the Rom encampment. See the ones around it? They are the sentries.

Now, we move higher, and look for people and the matrix. Look for the matrix, George. Just like when you’re awake. Lines of magic appeared, misty and flowing around the hills. The lines became golden as they swept to the north; dull and reddish near the peaks of the mountains to the south. There’s Lollypine, Arthur thought to George.

What are we looking for, George thought.

I would see it like a purple-gray, a blob pushing aside the lines, Arthur said. I don’t know how you would see it…you might even hear it. It’s different with everyone. But I see nothing…let’s go back, now.

Look, there are Gary and Ambie. And Larry and the cute boy with the auburn hair. And there you are, George, beside me.

When Arthur opened his eyes, he realized that George was sobbing, quietly but deeply. The boy’s salty tears fell on Arthur’s cheek.

“What’s wrong, George?” Arthur asked in alarm. “Did you see something?”

George fought to control his tears. It took several minutes during which Arthur held him tightly. “Nothing is wrong! Everything is so right! When you saw Gary, and Larry, and me, I felt what you were feeling! I love you so much!”

*****

The next morning, the road wound closer to the mountains. “These mountains are bigger than even the Aristas,” George said.

Arthur agreed. “The Iron Mountains are perhaps the youngest on this continent. The Aristas, that form the backbone, are second youngest.” At this place, the Southern Mountain Road had been carved into the side of the Iron Mountains, perhaps by dwarven magic, perhaps by humans using magic of a kind no longer known to them. The road hugged the near-vertical walls of the mountains while skirting a rushing river. At places, buttressed walls of stone rose from the banks of the river to support the road. Ahead, a bridge carried the road over a large gully that rose steeply into the hills.

“That’s funny,” Ambie said. “It’s been raining…and that gully is usually flowing year-round, anyway. Why do you suppose it’s dry, now?”

Arthur tuned his senses to the magical field and began to search. Before he’d looked more than a hundred yards away, he felt a surge in the field. It came from the mountain above the gully. “It’s a trap!” he said. “Get them off the bridge!” He pointed to the next to last wagon in the caravan. The lead horses had just stepped onto the bridge.

Ambie wasted no time in questions. He spurred his horse and rode ahead. “Halt!” and “An attack” he cried as he passed the boys leading the horses. He called the same as he passed the last wagon. When he reached the next to last wagon, he called “Gallop!” and then rode forward to warn the others. When the wall of water that had been impounded uphill of the bridge hit the bridge, the bridge was empty. The water washed trees and boulders as it surged down the hill. One boulder struck the eastern support of the bridge, and a section of the bridge collapsed into the flood.

Arthur assessed the situation. He, George, and one wagon of Rom, as well as several mounted boys leading the strings of horses were on the western side of the bridge. They were cut off from the rest of the Rom. Larry and Gary were on the east side. Brigands—the ones who had prepared the ambush, were running down the mountain…on the west side. They wanted the horses, Arthur thought. Had I not sensed something, and had Ambie not reacted so quickly, the horses and a few boys would have been isolated and nearly defenseless.

Two Rom men, armed with bows, had taken up positions at the rear of the single wagon on the west side of the bridge. The boys leading the horses dismounted, and held tightly the reins of the lead horse in each string. That was all they could do; they hoped it would be enough. Arthur gestured to George. They rode to the back of the column of horses. Arthur dismounted; George was quick to copy him. They drew their swords and prepared to meet the brigands.

The lead brigand intercepted an arrow from one of the Rom. The man fell backwards, and then began to roll down the hill. Dead, Arthur thought. Another arrow, and another man fell. This one was only wounded. The arrow pierced his left biceps. The man broke off the arrow, drew his sword, and continued down the slope toward Arthur.

The attackers were now too close to the horses for arrows. Arthur met the attack of an uninjured brigand. No time for niceties, Arthur thought. He blocked the man’s attack with his dagger. Arthur’s left arm went numb from the force of the blow, but his right arm swung the sword through the man’s neck. Well, almost through it. The head fell backwards, held by a couple of sinews and a flap of skin. The body fell forward. Arthur sidestepped, and found himself facing a very angry man with a sword in one hand and the stub of an arrow in the opposite arm.

Arthur parried. The man pressed the attack. Arthur thought at the sword. The next parry, and the man’s sword was a stub no more than ten inches long. The stub is still sharp, Arthur thought, and cut the man’s hand off at the wrist. The wrist and sword stub fell to the ground. The man groaned and fell to his knees. Arthur stepped over him, and looked for another opponent. He found two.

Did they see what happened? Arthur wondered. The men feinted, but avoided contact with Arthur’s sword. Arthur stepped forward, forcing the men to move back or meet his sword. They did see, he thought. George and one of the Rom men appeared behind the two brigands. Arthur smiled grimly as sword blades projected from the chests of the brigands. They didn’t have enough time to look startled before they fell, dead. One of the Rom opened his mouth, apparently to shout a warning, but Arthur had heard.

He spun, and again faced the man with the arrow in his left biceps and a bloody stump at the end of his right arm. And a dagger in his left hand. He’s not dead? He is now, Arthur thought as his sword swept through the man’s gut.

The battle was over, and the survivors—all of the Rom plus Arthur and George, gathered at the foot of the bridge. “That’s all that came down the hill,” Arthur said “There’s at least one still above us, perhaps more.”

“How do you know?” a Rom asked.

“The water…it was dammed up, and the dam was released…broken…with a spell. Ambie alerted me that something was wrong because there was no water in the ravine. I felt the power of a spell up the hill, and warned Ambie.”

“And well you did,” a Rom said. “Had you not, we’d have been on the other side of the bridge.”

“Or on it,” another said. “And the boys and horses would have been left defenseless. Except for you and George, of course.”

“We could not have done it alone,” Arthur said. “And I hate to rush you, but shouldn’t we be thinking about how to get across?”

The Rom at the front of the caravan had not simply watched the battle; they’d been busy. Men had scaled the steep slope. Tall trees had been felled, dragged down the mountain, and their trunks split in half. Rope was thrown across the 25-foot gap in the bridge. Pulled across with the ropes, the 40-foot trunks, laid side-by side, made a rude but sturdy bridge. The ends were tapered to accommodate the wheels of the wagon. One by one, the horses were blindfolded and led across. The wagon, driven by one man and led by another, was last. The sigh of relief that came from the Dan was almost loud enough to echo from the mountain.

By evening, the road had opened to a meadow, and the Rom caravan had camped. “How did you know?” Ambie asked Arthur. “The men said you felt the spell? And they said your sword cut through the sword of another. You didn’t tell me you were a paladin!”

Arthur hugged the boy. “Ambie, I am so not a paladin—”

“But you’re Good, you’re a powerful warrior, and you’re a magic user,” Ambie declared. “And that makes you a paladin.”

“Ambie,” Arthur said, soberly. “A paladin has to be more than good and powerful; he also has to be nice, and I’m not a nice person. I killed a man in Lollypine. I hacked a man nearly in half in Algoropolis. And I killed two men today.” And I probably destroyed the soul of the merchant, Eisenstein, Arthur thought.

“And…if I understand correctly,” Ambie said. “Each time, you were defending yourself or the boys who love you so much. Each time—”

“Yes,” Arthur said. “But still, I am not a nice person. May we talk about something else?”

*****

The Rom caravan arrived in Morin several days before the spring equinox. They were greeted eagerly by the townspeople. This Dan had been visiting the town at the equinox for more decades than anyone could remember. The Rom and the people of the town had reached an accord. The Rom would not steal too much, and the people would enjoy the entertainment, color, music, and magic they brought to the spring festival.

This year’s festival was to be especially happy. The Prince, Elgin, had died some few months ago, and his son, Auric, had been crowned. The equinox marked the official beginning of the first year of his reign.