The King didn’t look appeased by this.
There was one person who’d been remarkably silent, especially since I should have heard a be quiet, Sam by now. I turned to Morgan, ready to be scolded for actively derailing the conversation yet again. Anything I was about to say died in my mouth as Morgan stood with his eyes closed, taking deep, slow breaths. His hands were fists at his sides, and he looked paler than I’d ever seen him before. I frowned as I took a step toward him. “Morgan?”
He opened his eyes, and there was something there, something I couldn’t quite make out. It looked painful, whatever it was, like the thoughts in his head were physically hurting him. It was gone before I could nail it down. But his words were hushed when he spoke. “What did she say to you?”
The room fell quiet.
This wasn’t my friend speaking. This was Morgan of Shadows, my mentor.
I thought on it, wanting to get as close as possible. “Sneaking with your sneaks. Dilo. And here of all places. Like your dook could touch me, chava. She said that we weren’t what she expected, and that it was a good thing. And that she was sorry for what was to come.”
He surprised me then, by turning toward my parents. “Is it she?”
My mother’s shoulders sagged as my father wrapped an arm around her. “It would seem so.”
“We didn’t know,” Dad said. “She hasn’t… contacted us. Not since….”
“Uh, guys?”
They all turned to look at me.
“What are you talking about?”
My mother sighed. “Dilo means fool. Dook is magic. Chava means boy. It’s from the old tongue.”
“Gypsies,” I breathed. “You—you know who it is?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, like she couldn’t find the words. She glanced at my father, who gave her a resigned nod. She looked back at me and said, “Vadoma Tshilaba. Mamia.”
A memory then. From the day in the alley so very long ago:
And you, dearie? Surely you haven’t always been Rosemary Haversford.
It is a name I adopted when I chose to leave the clan and marry my love. I was born Dika Tshilaba.
Ah. I see. Your mamia was Vadoma, then.
Yes, my lord. You’ve heard of her?
Perhaps.
“Mamia,” I said faintly.
“Yes,” Mom said. “The elder of my clan. The phuro. My… mother. Your grandmother, Sam. She’s finally come for—”
The door to the offices burst open. Ryan whirled around, pulling his sword, but it was just Pete, who only had eyes for the King. “Word has been sent from the gates,” he said, sounding rather breathless. “There are gypsies here, requesting an audience with the King and his wizard. And they asked for Sam specifically.”
Well shit.
Chapter 4: The Wolf of Bari Lavuta
WHEN ONE’S long-lost grandmother pops out of the blue demanding an audience after essentially assaulting one in front of one’s boyfriend before sending one on a mind-bending trip to face a dragon believed to be only legend, it’s probably understandable if one is slightly wary at the prospect.
The problem with that?
One has really stupid friends.
“A real live gypsy,” Gary said as we made our way down to the throne room. “Can you imagine it? Oh my gods, what will she be wearing? What will I wear? I’m not even ready for this right now. Sam, Sam. Look at me. You look at me right now!”