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Wy
Two men stood inside the courtyard near the keep's front doors. They talked quietly to each other, while a third led a horse to the side stable and a water trough.
"Are we still going in?" Wy
"Magiere… you know the way," Leesil said.
"No," she replied. "I don't."
He raised an eyebrow.
"This is as far as I've ever come," she said. "I was forbidden to come here… No one from the village ever came here by choice."
"But you spent your whole childhood living nearby," Wy
"I sneaked up here alone a few times," Magiere said, "but never farther than the tree line."
Leesil put his arm around behind Magiere and walked forward slowly. As he and Magiere passed through the doorless gate, the two men near the keep stopped talking. Each guard carried a spear, as well as a long-knife sheathed on his belt, but their clothes were plain and threadbare. They were likely no more than locals engaged by the zupan.
"Can I help you?" the shorter one asked, and his tone suggested that they state their business quickly.
"We need to speak with the zupan," Leesil said.
"Is he expecting you?"
Leesil felt Magiere's hand clench his with a shudder. She let go and stepped forward, her voice polite but cold.
"We arrived only last night. It's important that I see him."
The man shook his head. "Leave your petition with me, and I'll see that he gets it. If you come tomorrow, perhaps he will-"
"Oh, stop with your pretense, Cherock," a deep voice called out. "Father missed lunch, and he's having an early supper. Today's no more exciting than the rest, and he won't mind a few visitors."
Leesil turned, searching for the speaker.
In the keep's open doorway stood a slender man with coal-black hair that hung to his shoulders in a wild, unruly mass. His dusky complexion almost matched Wy
"Come, come," the young man called. "Cherock is doing his little duty, but my father doesn't stand on ceremony. Join us."
Such a relaxed invitation was unexpected, but Leesil and Wy
"I am Jan. Cherock acts as if my father has the schedule of a capital potentate, but we're not quite so overrun. Before we took to the keep, we lived in my father's central village or visited among my mother's people… and I'm dying for any company besides these courtyard hang-abouts."
As Leesil stepped past Jan to the keep's doorway, he noted a series of three silver hoops in the young man's left earlobe.
"And when was the last time he held an audience?"
Jan paused a moment. "Late summer, I think. One village needed coin for a new mule. I don't suppose you need an ass for your labors?" He nodded toward Wy
Wy
"She's not familiar with the local language," Leesil said.
"Ah, lost in foreign lands, are we?" Jan opened his arms in a grand gesture. "My mother's people are well traveled. Vidaty vraveti Belaskina?"
Wy
Jan ushered them through the short entryway into the keep's main hall, chattering at Wy
Stairs circled up along the wall to the left, and matching ones went down below to the right. The timbered ceiling was twice a man's height and less aged than the stone, likely having been expanded well after the structure had been first built. The original fire pit in the hall's center was filled in with newer floor stones, and a hearth large enough to crawl into had been added to the far wall. A fire blazed therein, its smoke drafting up through a mortared chimney. An older man and woman sat at a table eating flatbread and roasted mutton.
"Visitors," Jan a
Jan's father looked up with a chunk of bread halfway into his mouth. Unlike his son, the zupan was a barrel of a man with pale skin, fading freckles, and cropped red hair peppered by gray flecks. He turned a discerning gaze upon Leesil and Magiere before pulling the bread strip from his mouth as he stood up.
"My son's good nature overbears his good ma
The woman stood, offering a smile, and motioned them to sit. Her ma
Wy
"You are mountain nomads… the Tzigan?" she blurted out in Belaskian. "I read a brief mention of your people. What are you doing so far south? What do you eat in those barren mountains? Is it true that you can read future happenings?"
Leesil let out a sigh that turned to groan before he could stop it. He and Magiere had rarely traveled the mountains, but he'd heard enough of the Tzigan to be wary. Not that they were dangerous, but things had a way of turning up missing when these people were about. Both Nadja and Jan blinked in surprise at Wy
"Come sit with me, little one, and I'll tell you all. First, that we prefer the name Mondyalitko. That Belaskian word is… somewhat unflattering."
It certainly was, thought Leesil, but appropriate for vagabond thieves. This situation was getting out of hand, and he turned to Zupan Cadell.
"That isn't why we came. " And he nodded to Magiere. "My companion and I seek information and hoped you could help."
Nadja watched Magiere with open curiosity and held out her hand. "Come, sit. What is it you wish to know?"
"My father," Magiere answered, and shook her head at the offered chair. "I'm looking for some way to trace him. He held this fief twenty-five years ago when I was born, and that is the last I know of his whereabouts. The few villagers who knew of him don't remember his name or won't talk. I hoped you'd have records."
Nadja's olive brow wrinkled as she turned to her husband. Cadell rubbed his wide jaw as he stared down at the table a moment and then shook his head.