Gypsy Jewel by Patricia McAllister

of the old woman finding the girl. April sprang to life from Tzigane’s dark cards. Now she is a young witch herself, and that wild horse is her familiar.”
    Belita continued like a building storm, until she had carelessly shredded every bit of April’s character, who was not present to defend herself. The language she used was vile, and Damien glanced at Jingo to see the king’s disapproval covering his face like a thundercloud. Such viciousness was unworthy of Rom, a people who needed to band tightly together in a gaje world.
    When she was finally through, her chest heaving proudly from the exertion, Belita shot one last seductive look of smoldering promise toward Damien and then followed her son out of the tent.
    Jingo was inscrutable. “Next,” he said, “we will hear from the other witnesses.” He called out to have them brought in, and three giggly restless girls were thrust before Damien, blushing and stammering out their stories about how they had seen April throwing herself at Nicky, then slashing him with the knife.
    “Do you have any questions for these witnesses?” was all Jingo asked when they were through, as he had with both Nicky and Belita. Damien asked them a few rote questions, still not certain of their credibility, but they seemed too stupid to concoct any fantastic stories that would persist unchanged for so long.
    They had obviously witnessed something in the woods, but what? Had the girl offered herself to Nicabar, or had the horse trader attacked her?
    Damien mulled over the matter while the three girls left, the one called Marya taking a last angry moment to hurl a curse after April’s name. Then the men were secluded for a time as they awaited the defendant.
    Jingo said soberly, “I am sorry that you must see this side of the Lowara. But I am relieved that it will be over soon, and finally put to rest.”
    But would it be? Outside Damien heard muttering in the camp, as the people grew restless and anxious for the decision. Then the voices rose and grew, as the defendant apparently passed toward the king’s tent, and Damien heard Belita’s coarse cry trailing after her.
    Engrossed in his own thoughts, he could neither speak nor breathe when a slim silhouette of a young woman slipped into the tent, and the lamplight gleamed down the length of her rich golden hair.
    Equally startled to see him, April stopped and stared, shaking her head a little in disbelief. Surely the stranger so coldly assessing her now could not be the same man who had leapt naked from a stream, chased, and caught her in the wood.
    April could not bear to feel Damien’s blue eyes taking cool measure of her while she stood there waiting for Jingo to begin the questioning. She was furious, imagining what he might be thinking. She knew what Belita and Nicky must have said about her.
    At Jingo’s order, she related her defense. She had been so sure of herself earlier, calm and poised, ready to defend to the death. But Damien’s presence unnerved her, and April faltered again and again, until a long silence broke in which he finally spoke briskly.
    “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
    He was needling her for having denied it to him earlier, she knew.
    “April,” she said, a brief spark of defiance lighting her green eyes for a moment.
    “That is not a romani name, is it, Vaivoides ?”
    Damien addressed the king with the respect due his station, and Jingo noted the younger man’s curiosity as he replied, “No. April was named for the month in which she was found, a fancy of her foster mother, Tzigane. You may have seen the phuri dai . That is the woman who took April in as a babe, the one that Belita spoke of.”
    So, the girl was not true Rom after all. But the mystery in the woods intrigued Damien more. Had April truly attacked Nicabar? The boy had the scar to show for it, exactly as would have resulted from a woman’s strength used in anger. And as Damien already knew, this proud girl had a temper