Her sister shrugged. “Your wagon is nearer the road than mine.”
“They ask for me by name,” Sarafina countered. “They come to me because I am the most skilled seer in this camp, and because word of my abilities has spread throughout the town. I’ll have still more of them crossing my palm with silver next week. And I predict you’ll have even fewer.”
“Bah! By the week after that, when not one of your false predictions has come to pass, they’ll see that your only talent lies in deception, and they’ll begin seeking my counsel instead.” Katerina tossed her hair. “We both know the truth. Not only am I the more gifted diviner, I am the rightful Shuvani of this tribe, Sarafina.”
Will cringed inwardly when he heard that, knowing there was not much that could make Sarafina angrier. No one got away with calling her gift into question, much less questioning her status as one of the tribe’s two wise women. Most tribes had only one. There was no question that this tribe would have had only one, as well, had Sarafina been firstborn.
“Thanks to your false predictions, the whites will likely brand all Gypsies liars and cheats,” Katerina went on. “And we’ll be forced to move on, because of you, yet again.”
“My predictions are not lies! I am a far better seer than you, and you know it.”
“Not so great a seer, I think. Or you would know the identity of the man who just left my vardo. ”
The words were a blow that knocked the very breath out of Sarafina’s chest. She looked around her sister’s tented wagon, even as Will whispered to her to be calm, to resist rising to her sister’s bait. But he knew she couldn’t hear him. She never could.
The sleeping pallet was untidy, the blankets upon it rumpled and askew. The table in the corner, not a crate like Sarafina’s, but a real table that had belonged to their mother, held no crystal, no cards, but a blazing oil lamp, two tin cups and a wine jug lying, uncorked, on its side.
Katerina’s soft laughter brought her sister’s head around fast.
“He’s far too good for you, you know. But he knows now that a real woman desires him.”
“Are you saying it was Andre I saw creeping away from here as I approached?”
Will thought that if Katerina valued her life, she would deny it.
“Of course it was Andre. He’s the handsomest, the strongest, the wealthiest man in the camp. I couldn’t very well let you have him.”
“ Bi lacho bitch!” Fina shrieked the words even as she lunged forward. She brought her hand across her sister’s face, nails slashing her cheek.
Katerina didn’t even pause to give note to the pain. She lurched forward, eyes blazing, arms flailing. The two collided, tumbled to the floor and rolled in a tangle of skirts and scarves, ring bedecked hands and bangled arms. They hit the table, and it tipped over. The oil lamp shattered, and the oil spread in a pool of blue flame. Panic rose in Will’s chest as they pummeled and bit and clawed each other, both of them shrieking.
Will tried to shout a warning. He focused everything in him on Sarafina and on shouting one word. Fire!
Sarafina shoved her sister off her in one mighty thrust, looking around as if she’d heard something. Will realized, though, that a crowd had gathered outside the tent, probably drawn by the commotion of the fight. They were shouting at her, too. He had no way of knowing which voice she had heard. It didn’t matter-not now. He saw her face change as she realized the entire wagon was ablaze.
“Look what you’ve done!” Katerina screamed. “We’ll burn alive because of you!”
Sarafina looked for a way out, but the fire was licking at the sides of the tent all around them. Then, suddenly, someone plunged in through the flames. A form, swathed in blankets. He dropped his makeshift cloak. It was Andre, his dark eyes blazing.
“Wrap yourselves in blankets,” he ordered. “Quickly!”
Both women hastened to obey, as Andre grabbed the water vessel from near Katerina’s bed and doused them with it. Then he retrieved his own blanket from the floor. “Run, right through here,” he said, pointing. “You must run as fast as you can. If you hesitate, you will die.” He gathered Katerina in his left arm, Sarafina in his right. Will braced himself, all but holding his breath. “Now!” Andre shouted.
Sarafina closed her eyes and plunged into the wall of fire. There was searing heat on her face and on her feet, but only briefly. An instant of torture, and then she was falling to the cool earth.
She landed hard. Wrestling free of the dampened blanket, she sat up, the fire blazing behind her. Will was nearly limp with relief that she was all right.
Most of the tribe surrounded her, looking down at her and her sister, who had landed close beside her, in stark disapproval as the flames lit their soot-streaked faces. Will knew that Sarafina’s dignity was deeply wounded, as was, perhaps, her standing with the tribe.
“It was all her!” Katerina shouted, scrambling to her feet. “She accused me of trying to steal her man and attacked me. By the Gods, all I have is gone!” she cried, waving a helpless arm at the leaping flames.
People gasped, muttered, shook their heads in pity as Katerina’s tent and her every possession burned to cinders before their eyes.
“She lies,” Sarafina said. “It was she who began this. I only finished it.”
Andre bent to help her to her feet, pausing a moment to study her face, then pulling her close to him. His arms went around her, holding her intimately, tightly. Will writhed with jealousy.
“Oh, Sarafina, tell me you don’t believe that I could be tempted to another. It’s you I love. You I’ll take as wife. No one else.”
Sarafina stared at him, and she suddenly understood that her sister had lied to her. Katerina was only trying to plant seeds of doubt that would grow to destroy the love she and Andre shared, she told herself. Someone had crept away from Katerina’s vardo tonight, but it hadn’t been Andre.
Will shook his head slowly, whispering in his mind, in her mind, “Oh, Sarafina, don’t be such a fool.”
Sarafina glared at her sister in triumph, but then she went still at the look Katerina returned. It was cold, steely and deadly.
Before she could begin to understand what that look might mean, there was a horrifying scream that rent the night from somewhere beyond the camp. Everyone went stiff and still for one brief moment, as if the sound had turned them all to stone.
“No. For the love of Devel, not again,” someone whispered. Will thought it was Gervaise, the reigning chieftain of the tribe. He didn’t know what Gervaise meant and wondered if he was about to find out.
But before he could learn anything further, he was shocked out of the fantasy by the sensation of his lungs slowly filling with ice water.
A hand clasped him by his hair and jerked his head out of the tub of frigid water. Will dragged in a desperate, hungry breath, before that hand shoved his head into the tub again, holding him under.
His hands were bound together behind his back, his legs bound at the ankles. His body screamed with pain, pain he had managed to escape only moments before. But all that dulled beside the stabbing need in his lungs as they spasmed in search of air. Small red explosions danced behind his tightly closed eyes. He was going to pass out, and then he would drown.
The hand jerked him out of the water again, and even as Will sucked in greedy, noisy breaths, slammed him down into a small, ladder-back chair.
Water ran from his hair and face, soaking his ragged, filthy shirt.
A