The Gypsy Queen (19 page)

  “Haha!”
Volga
laughed, and reached out, squeezing her backside.
Yana
let out a yelp and jumped.

  “You got a live one, don’t ya?”
he said to Bastion. “Gypsy, right?”

  “Yep. Damn gypsies are always the most trouble, but the most fun, too.”

  “It’s harder to break them, but worth it, just like the price,”
Volga
agreed. He looked around at his men, as they drank and danced and shout
ed
, and tried to size up this new acquaintance. He was young, so he must come from money,
Volga
figured. Most slave owners he sold to were older.

  “Pints of ale!” Bastion shouted at the barkeep.
Volga
was watching the girls again, so Bastion let it seem that he was watching them as well. The ale came quickly, along with a loaf of rye.

  “Do you want some bread, wench?” Bastion asked
Yana
. She nodded her head as though she was ashamed to admit it but could not deny it. Bastion tore off a piece, and tossed it on the dirty floor.
Yana
scrambled to get it, and bit into it eagerly. Yana gained
Volga
’s attention, smiling at him while she ate. He kept trying to watch the dancing girls, but instead found himself more and more lustful of the gypsy girl.

  “What did you say your name was?” 
Volga
asked.

  “Jidet,” Bastion replied.

  “Where are you from?”
Volga
asked, growing curious.

  “Originally from Sardica, but I have a ranch down in Nikomedia,” Bastion replied.

  Volga nodded, unable to keep his eyes off of
Yana
. She looked alluring and strong. She also seemed familiar.

  “Maybe we can make a trade,”
Volga
said.

  “A trade?”

  “Maybe I could trade you for another slave girl,” said
Volga
.

  Bastion laughed. “I doubt you’ve got any that I would trade away this one for,” he said.

 
Volga
was immediately frustrated. He wanted her. “Maybe I could trade you two girls for th
e one,” he offered. He
would not
normally
jump to making such a concession so quickly.

  “Two?” Bastion said. “Still not very likely.”

 
Volga
tried not to appear too eager. “Well, why don’t you come have a look? I have some very good gypsy girls just in from the Lower Reach. Got some of them around
Jedikai
.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll come by sometime before the auction, and have a look,” Bastion said.

  That was no good for
Volga
. “Let’s go tonight! My camp is not far from here, just down near the docks. My other ship might already be in port.”

  “Tonight? I think we best get along to the
Inn
where we are staying.”

  “I have some fine rum back at camp. I want to repay your generosity for the ale, at least!”
Volga
said.

  Bastion knew it would be an insult to refuse, and
Volga
’s camp was exactly where he wanted to go.

  “Very good then,” Bastion said. “We’ll come have a look at your stock. Then we’ll be off.”

  “Unless you find something you like?”
Volga
prodded him.

  Bastion laughed. “Sure,
Volga
. Never hurts to look.” Bastion paid their tab and headed for the door, slave girl in tow.
Volga
reached out to pinch her backside again, getting the same reaction.

  Outside,
Volga
took the lead. “It’s down this way,” he said, heading downhill on a dark street towards the shore. Bastion followed him. When they got a block or two away from the Tarsus Cantina, Bastion pulled out a dagger he had hidden in his clothes, and clubbed
Volga
in the head with the butt of it, knocking him down.

  “Whaaa...?” the fat old trader moaned.

  Bastion kicked him hard, and then kicked him again, setting down his knee onto
Volga
’s neck.

  “You’re going to show us your camp, and then you’re going to be out of business,” Bastion said. He was ready to end this man immediately, not just for being a slave trader who had dragged them out so far, but also for the way he touched
Yana
.

  “Don’t- don’t kill me,”
Volga
pleaded. He was not above groveling. “I’ll give you whatever you want.” He was not above bribery either.

  “That’s right, you will,” Bastion said.

  “Promise you won’t kill me,”
Volga
asked. Bastion was not about to make any such promise. He stepped back to let
Volga
get up off the dark street in the shadows of Kaffa.

 
Yana
screamed. Bastion turned to look behind him. Two men had snuck up behind the
m, and one had a knife pressed o
nto
Yana
’s throat.

  “Drop that blade,” the man holding
Yana
demanded.

  Bastion turned to
Volga
again, who was chuckling as he got up.

  “You think I’d be fool enough to let some boy steal from me?”
Volga
said. “Drop that dagger or you’ll see your little slave girl die just before you do.”

  Bastion dropped it, knowing that the life of a gypsy slave was utterly worthless to these men. He was surprised they had not just killed her already. The blade clunked on the ground, and
Volga
punched him hard in the stomach, dropping Bastion to the ground. Bastion fought to catch his breath, realizing that more men had gathered.

 
Volga
had seven men, at Bastion’s count. There would be nothing he could do. One of the men took Bastion at k
nife point, shoving the tip at
his back.

  “Let’s move,”
Volga
said. “Maybe we’ll have two more slaves to sell at auction. Or at least the one.”

  Bastion and
Yana
marched down the street, blades pressing into their skin, hoping it would not be long.

  It wasn’t.

  A hand grabbed the arm that held the knife to
Yana
’s neck, and the black riders emerged from the shadows. Yana tumbled to the ground, and
Volga
’s first reaction was to club Bastion on the back of the head. Bastion collapsed to the ground, and the riders of
Jedikai
engaged the traders. Metal clashed against metal, whipping and punching sounds punctuating the night.

  “Stop!”
Volga
shouted. “I have your man!”
Volga
was perched atop the unconscious Bastion, a blade ready to drive into his back. He squinted to see who was who, as the fighters all froze.
Yana
was crouched in a corner, after having dodged one of the men initially. Two of
Volga
’s men were on the ground. One of the riders was too, laying still.

  “Drop your weapons, or your man is finished,”
Volga
said.

  The men dropped their weapons, following the protocols that they were sworn to. Protect the Prince.

  Volga looked over at
Yana
with a sneer. “You, slave girl,” he called. “Come here.”

  No way,
Yana
thought.

  She ran.

  “You want us to try to catch her?” one of
Volga
’s men asked.

  “No, she is not broken,
way too strong. She is gone.” he replied. “We got something better here anyway. This young man will fetch quite a ransom, I think, and if not, he and his men will fetch a good price in the open markets. Get the shackles.”

  Already the thick jingle of iron could be heard, as one of the men produced several sets. The men gathered up the weapons of the black riders, and shackled Bastion and the others.

  “Get up,”
Volga
barked, kicking Bastion. One of the traders yanked him upward. Bastion struggled to get his balance, and clear his head.

  “What about these three?” one of the traders asked.

  “Bring our two men down to the camp. We’ll bury them at sea. Leave the other one here. The dogs might want to clean up our scraps.”

  Yana flew through the
old
city streets in terror, to escape Volga and his men. She ran in fluid motion, as fast as her frame could carry her, not stopping until she realized she felt very, very lost. She stopped and tried to remember her route. After catching her breath, she began heading directly back to the fight. There was no way she could allow herself to be caught or beaten or raped by the likes of
Volga
and his ilk, but everything about the situation was unacceptable.

  She could not be a slave, but also, she could not allow for Bastion to be hurt or captured. She had given the King her word, and while she was a gypsy, prone to break promises or even steal for the sake of convenience, Bastion was no inconvenience. She loved Bastion. Her heart ached as she thought of Bastion being accosted and beat up. One thing she knew for certain about slave traders- they were very good at breaking people, both body and spirit.
Yana
could not allow that.

 
Yana
approached the scene of the fight, and spied on the dark street carefully. There was one man on the ground, and though it was dark, it appeared t
o be one of Bastion’s men. The
rest of them had cleared out.
Yana
got closer, carefully. Finally assured that she could move in safely, she approached the man on the ground.
Yana
touched him and leaned closer.

  He was alive.

  “Wake up!”
Yana
urged him, slapping him lightly on the face.

  “Help me up,” he responded, startling her.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, trying to help him sit up.

  “Unnnhhh
,
” he groaned, having to lay back down.
Yana
looked him over in the dark. He was bleeding on the side of his torso.

  “Lay still. Lay still,” she urged him. She tugged on the hem of her skirt, ripping away some of the rough fabric. She tore it again, getting two thinner strips, and tied them together. She reached underneath him to get it around him, prompting more painful grunts from him.

  “What is your name?” she asked him as she worked.

  “Tuvia,” he replied. She had met Bastion’s men, certainly, but they had not been much for talking.

  “Tuvia, we have to get back to where we set our supplies,” she said, pulling his tourniquet tight. “Can you make it?”

  “I will make it,” he answered. “Help me up.”

 
Yana
pulled him up again, this time, getting him to sit up. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, and
Yana
helped him to his feet.

  “What are we going to do?”
Yana
asked.

  “We have to get them out,” he said. “Do you know where they went?”

  “Looks like they are down by that shipyard,” she pointed into the sparse lights that still burned in the late hours of the night, as they limped off the streets onto a winding pathway that would lead to their gear.

  “Get me that stick there,” he pointed.
Yana
leaned over, trying not to let him fall, and grabbed the thick limb. Tuvia took it as a walking staff, and they made their way back. Tuvia half-collapsed when they arrived, trying to rest.
Yana
started sorting through their weapons, and put on the additional clothes she brought, including her black cloak.

  “We have to go get them free,”
Yana
said.

  “That is not your job,” Tuvia said. “I have to do it.”

  “Like hell it’s not my job,” she said, slinging her bow across
her back, and a quiver of thin
, sleek arrows.

  “You’re in no position to go attack their camp,” Tuvia warned.

  “Well, I’d say my ‘position’ is a lot better than yours right now,”
Yana
replied, touching his side lightly, making him wince.