Adversity (3 page)

Perhaps
the length of the journey tired her into confusion, or the heat
addled her brain, but she sensed malevolence in the air, as if many
terrible things had happened on the dried dirt paths upon which
they walked. She felt she could never escape what her father had
done to bring her into the world.

The
atmosphere changed; she could sense Drina’s apprehension of her
sudden shift in mood. Her own sister didn’t trust her, not really,
of that Kali was certain, and she wished she could have gone to the
village alone. But Drina was well known. She could round up the
right people and entice the believers into passing over
payment.

Jaelle
had huge, black eyes that overshadowed her heart-shaped face. Her
dark curls, her lips that smiled more often than not, and her
ingrained need to please, made her a gift of a different kind. She
had the sort of face people liked to see, a face that people
rewarded. Drina and Jaelle were of much greater value than Kali
because they brought home more, but Jaelle was growing swiftly,
losing that baby adorableness that the gaje seemed to go weak
for.

As she
and her sister approached the village, Kali’s nervousness grew ever
stronger. Something tried to push her away, to refuse her passage,
but she ignored it. Her instincts warned her to avoid the village,
but she needed her sister. She also needed to be useful enough to
win a place at her camp. She would push past imagined dark omens in
order to please her sister.

“
Wait.” Drina pinched her daughter’s cheeks, flooding the
sallow skin with red. “It’s time, baby. Time to smile for the
people.”

“
This is so wrong.”

“
But necessary,” Drina said firmly before pinching Kali’s
cheeks as well. “It’s a strange village, sister. The people are
overly familiar one day and cruel the next. Be aware, and watch
your tongue. Keep yourself out of trouble, and give them what they
want.”

She gazed
into Kali’s eyes. “Stay with me.” The words held weight, and the
meaning held depth. Kali knew she couldn’t refuse her
sister.

They
strolled in, side by side. A few watched their entrance with
interest, but many cold stares fell upon Kali, chilling
her.

“
Most of the homes are on the outskirts and beyond the village.
There are some grain farms and orchards, but most of the men work
on farms belonging to another. Being mostly poor, they hate anyone
who owns anything. Many of the women gather in the centre of the
village to buy and sell goods; others come to gossip only.
They
are the ones to
watch.”

Drina
herself was charming, and she managed to find a couple of older
ladies eager to hear their fortunes before the midday sun did its
worst. The younger ones, girls closer to Kali’s age mostly, tended
to be secretive about their desire and curiosity. Drina had learned
a lot about the villagers in the months she had lived at the camp,
and she knew enough to forewarn her younger sister. Kali didn’t
often need her warnings, though, for she knew enough—too much,
really—whether she wanted to or not.

The
Ukrainian summer was sticky and humid that year. Kali had been all
over Europe, particularly Eastern Europe, for the last two years.
She was tired of moving, though the nomadic lifestyle was in her
blood. Her people were driven to wander, but an unspoken desire to
settle down had been stirring within her of late. She wanted to get
used to a place before she moved on to the next one. Life without
her sisters had been lonely, and she’d hoped her father would
finally leave her in a camp one of her sisters belonged to. As long
as she got away from him, she didn’t care which one, but if she had
the chance to pick a sister, she’d choose Drina without
hesitation.

Kali told
fortunes while Drina sold pieces of cheap jewellery, and as
outsiders, she and Kali had to set up their wares far from the
village centre, where ruddy-faced women haggled over prices.
Slowly, ever so slowly, however, the curious made their way over to
Drina and Kali, and most of them made a show of cooing over Jaelle
before they finally succumbed to their curiosity about their
futures.

The
fortune telling went as usual. Some wanted cards; others requested
palms. Kali disliked reading palms, because the act was too
personal, too many dizzying images flashed at once. With the tarot
cards, she could take her time and make up a pretty story to shroud
the truth. Her dream was to scry into a crystal ball. She wanted
her own home to gaze in. The women would come to her for a change,
and that would be her money-maker. People always asked about the
crystal balls, but there was no beauty in scrying on the side of a
dusty track.

Her own
people took little interest in the future, but the gaje women went
wild for it. They begged for more tidbits, over and over again,
until eventually they were unable to make a decision without
consulting her first. They would follow her to the camp to ask more
questions, personal questions about themselves, which always
disturbed Kali. Finally, the women would become obsessed with her
and grow dependent on her words.

The
darkness in her blood called to them, enticed and tempted them,
lured them in with false promises. She could feel the temptation in
her fingertips ensnare the questioning women, making them want
more, which gave Kali far too many premonitions to sort
through.

The
premonitions themselves gave her headaches. Some were vague and
easy to deal with, but occasionally, the glimpse of the person’s
future—and past—was too much to handle and weakened her, drawing
from her strength. She had no idea how to control the suffocating
imagery, the intensity of emotions, the longing and desperation
that crawled under her skin. She would do anything to reject her
gift and pass on the burden to another.

She saw
plenty of wrongdoing, and though some of it was harmless, she felt
forced to distance people from herself, for her own peace of mind.
Her father’s blows were more than the infliction of physical pain;
he intended her to see his past and the things he had done—the
reasons she shouldn’t exist. He wanted her to suffer the guilt of
his sins.

The visions had started early for Kali; far too early for her
young mind to process properly, she had discovered the innermost
thoughts and desires of those old enough to be corrupted. She had
come to the conclusion that most people were like her father, who
was after the most gain from the least work
.
Some, though, managed to surprise
her. Drina’s purity sometimes caught Kali’s breath.

The
swiftly growing line of giggling women moved quickly as Kali got
down to work. Sweat trickled down her back as she sat on a stool
without shelter from the sun while Drina drifted back and forth
with Jaelle in her arms, sometimes cajoling villagers into making a
purchase. Kali sat far away from the disapproving older men of the
village, but close enough for the groups of women to dawdle without
looking as though they were part of the line. The first day the
women would be shy, almost embarrassed by their interest, but by
the time Kali was ready to leave, their cackles would erupt as they
joked together about their fortunes. Kali knew the laughter covered
true desperation, for each woman longed to be told how her heart’s
desire would be handed to her on a golden plate.

Kali was
a hard worker, but telling fortunes physically drained her, and she
was glad when the queue dwindled down to the last few. Drina, her
wares long gone, had wandered off to feed herself and
Jaelle.

Kali
eavesdropped on a couple of women while she pretended to study the
cards. Respond too quickly, and the process lost its magic, at
least in the eyes of her customers. She had learned that the hard
way. If the answers came immediately to Kali, or not at all, the
women wouldn’t know. They wanted the show and their money’s
worth.

The women
were giggling about the last one in the queue, a sour-looking woman
in her thirties. She was plain, and her eyes held bitterness, for
all to see.

“
She would lay with anyone, and still no sign,” one whispered,
her joy in another’s misfortune twisting her face into a picture of
pure ugliness.

“
That poor boy,” another replied, too loudly. “Henpecked by an
old, wrinkled whore. I hope her fortune keeps her warm at
night.”

The lone
woman’s shoulders tensed, and Kali pitied her. When the name-caller
took her turn, Kali delighted in giving her bad news.

“
There is darkness of your own making on the horizon. However
you treat others will be returned to you tenfold,” she said softly,
watching the woman’s hands tighten into claws. “One bad word
from
you will lead to one
terrible year
for
you. But, of course, you would never—”

“
Of course not,” the woman replied huffily, but she left in a
hurry and completely avoided the lone woman.

The
embittered woman sat down, her eyes staring keenly at Kali. “Will I
get the truth?”

“
If that’s what you wish,” Kali replied, liking the woman’s
frank question.

“
Can you tell me my future?”

“
Perhaps.”

The woman
placed a coin on the makeshift table. “Tell me what you see.” She
held out her palm, and Kali took it reluctantly, flinching as the
first wave of emotion hit her. So much pain and bitterness. She
tasted a rancid coating of resentment on the tip of her tongue, and
the thudding began behind her eyes.

Smothering a gasp, Kali nodded slowly. “You’re
unhappy.”

A cold
laugh. “Anyone could tell me that.”

“
Loveless,” Kali said softly. “You don’t love your
husband.”

“
He loves me less,” she said. “Forced into marrying an old,
barren woman when he should be running around after all of the
young fruit who cry out for a man.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I
already know my present. What’s in my future? Is there… is there a
child for me? Or is it too late?”

Kali
closed her eyes and breathed deeply. A child. Dark-haired and
dark-eyed. Not this woman’s blood, but a love between them all the
same. Her eyes flew open in confusion. The child resembled Jaelle.
How…?

“
Do you want the truth or a lie?” she asked, deadly
serious.

The woman
leaned over. “I can handle the truth. It’s the false hope that will
kill me.”

“
You won’t bear a child. But you will have a child to
love.”

“
What riddle is this? What does it mean?”

“
It means I see you as a mother, but you’ve a barren
womb.”

“
Perhaps my actions change things. Perhaps you can help me. You
can make fertility potions, can’t you? My cousin, she lives four
villages away, said a gypsy witch gave her a special drink, and she
was pregnant by the next season. Was it you?”

Kali
shook her head, suddenly catching the aroma of a stew in the air.
Her stomach rumbled and her head pounded. She needed to leave, to
eat, and to wash away all of the expectations of the villagers. “It
wasn’t me. All I can tell you is that many women are lucky under
the waning moon. Lay with your husband then.”

Kali
might be gone by the time the woman discovered her infertility
couldn’t be cured by the tides of the moon. Either way, Kali wanted
the needy woman to leave before she drowned in her own pity. Some
of them took the future so seriously, as if they couldn’t enjoy
today without knowing for certain what tomorrow would bring. Their
blindness to the truth disturbed her greatly. They couldn’t see
that their obsession with their future didn’t bring them an ounce
of happiness. Kali often wondered why she had been born with the
gift, when she never wanted to see even an hour ahead.

Drina led
the way home, rubbing her belly and humming to herself, while Kali
carried Jaelle, feeling the full weight of the sleeping child on
her shoulder. Why had she seen the woman with a child like Jaelle?
Was the woman going to steal Drina’s baby? She could warn her
sister, but Drina would not listen to signs of the future. She was
more than happy in the here and now and could forget even her
husband’s fists as soon as they stopped striking her.

“
Why are you so quiet?” Drina inquired.

“
One of the women… I saw her with a child. A child resembling
Jaelle.”

Drina’s
throaty laugh filled the air. “Perhaps she will take a fancy to my
husband.”

“
She’s barren. It wouldn’t matter.”

Drina
shrugged. “Let’s hurry. I’m half-starved. You did well today. Keep
that up, and we could be together again.”

Kali
hoped so, but her father was less hopeful.

“
You barely made more than Drina,” he scolded. His fingers dug
into her shoulders as he shook her. “Did you work at all
today?”

“
I never stopped,” she insisted. “What did
you
do today?”

The slap
to her cheek surprised her, as always, but she didn’t flinch at the
stinging pain or the bad memories dancing around her. She held his
gaze without a tremble, and he turned on his heel in disgust. Only
then did her heart pound and her hands shake. Only then did she let
herself see her mother’s suffering.