The Itheryn Chronicles

Chapter IV - Gypsies

Chapter 4

Gypsies

The caravan traveled for some months through the north-west tip of the continent, along the northern parts of Dunnelum Woods and the Hullem coast. They finally swung around at Jeihasp and went through the southern range of the plains of Gurwyn. While at a small town by the name of Fairgreen Aure at the edge of The Plains in Daitwell, they met up with a troupe of performers soon to be adding to the festivities at the town’s yearly fair.
Carrick and Gabrel, the chief juggler’s son, became fast friends. Karrelt decided to stay at Fairgreen Aure for a spell, and on the bright, clear morning in august, the fair was soon to begin!


“Gabrel!” His strawberry blond head turned, aquiline nose scrunched up as he heaved a box from the back of a wagon.
“Yeah?”
“Great! I found you.” Carrick ran up and patted Gabrel on the back, causing him to grunt.
“Oh. Let me help.” Gabrel nodded his thanks as Carrick grabbed one end of the box.
“What did you want to see me about?”
“The blacksmith” At this, Gabrel’s face grew stony.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because, well, I thought that there might be something between you and his daughter Hali.”
Mouth tight, Gabrel just placed one foot in front of the other and continued on towards a big red and white tent.
“Now, come on! Tell me! Do you like her? I know she’s pretty and all, but she’s so quiet!”
“Girls don’t have to be loud, or obviously hunting for a husband to be noticed, or likeable!” Gabrel insisted, defending Hali.
“Yes, well…” Carrick gave a half smile. He preferred the loud types. They were never boring, and always had a good time.
Gabrel just glared at him, so he dropped the subject.
“We’re leaving the day after the festival.”
“So that would mean…5 days?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmmm. Do you think we could stand each other that long?”
Carrick laughed, his pleasant tenor tones causing Gabrel to smile.
“I hope so!”
Gabrel and Carrick deposited their load with the tent master and returned to the Oalramin Wagon.
“Now! Do you want to try juggling again”
Carrick answered Gabrel’s question by grabbing five smooth mahogany pins from a trunk tied to the back of the wagon.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Please do!” So saying, Carrick’s hands bent, fingers constantly shifting at lighting speed, the pins they held only briefly flitting in a blur through the air.
“Bravo!” Gabrel laughed, and slapped his high.
“I’ve never seen anyone catch on that fast! In just two days you’ve mastered what I had to practice weeks to do!”
Carrick’s lopsided grin surfaced at this remark as he fingered the pins red and white banded handles.
“Gabrel!” A gruff, yet sharp voice barked.
“Yes father?” Gabrel instantly straitened his face into a mask of soldier-like quality.
“Time to practice.” Hilfroam Oalramin clacked his whip against a nearby table.
“The ring is open.” Sir Oalramin was the youngest son of a Cyllion noble, and still ran his household as if it was a nobleman’s castle. He was also,  in addition to being the head juggler and acrobat, a lion trainer, and helped out in the ring before shows.
Gabrel, in Response to his father’s command, entered the wagon. Minutes later he was headed to the tent, breeches replaced by tights, tan, baggy shirt by a flowing back, purple, red, and white silk shirt, and long wavy blond hair tied back by a black ribbon.
Carrick followed him. He had never seen Gabrel perform other than at the market square a few days before, and that being only a few flips and the juggling of three pins.
The lights were dim, sending the center of the massive, open air tent into blackness.
As Carrick sat on a box of rope as flaming brands were lit with a 'Whoosh’
What followed next amazed him. His eyes wide he watched as the 6 acrobats seemed to float around the ring and mold themselves into giant structures.
At the end of the practice session, Gabrel came to sit by Carrick, who was mapping out the sequences that had just been done by the acrobats.
“What are you doing.”
“Well, I missed a few of the moves that you and the others did, and I’m trying to make sense of it all. I want to remember what you did.”
Gabrel’s face wrinkled in amusement.
“Now come on. You can do that later.” Carrick signed but raised himself from his knees, dusted himself off, and put his arm around Gabrel’s shoulders.
“What are we to do then?”
“How about a drink?”
“Right”
Off the two ambled, finding themselves at the Star Chaser Inn. Its dilapidated sign swung feebly, the paint of the hawk and star chipped as to be almost indiscernible.
They entered through the rough hewn door directly underneath the squeaking sign. The smoky interior made it close to impossible to navigate through the throng of people.
“All here for the fair I ‘spect.” mused Gabrel. Carrick just wrinkled his nose as the acrid smell of the smoky fire and clustered sweaty bodies enveloped him.
“What’ll it be sirs?” Mr. Perali the Innkeeper asked, his gravely voice interrupting the boys silence.
Carrick looked at Gabrel.
“What’s good?”
“I would have to say…”
“The punch we haves now is quite a tasty drink. I knows it! I made it.” The Innkeeper’s voice again interrupted, causing Gabrel to narrow his eyes.
“We’ll try that then.” Carrick nodded his consent.

“Now. I wanted to ask you about that move in the second sequence, where the big man in the white and red outfit threw the gangly man in the black and red outfit.”
Gabrel cleared his throat. “That was Leyem, and he threw Priem. What about it though?”
“How did Leyem get flipped through the air at the right time to catch and toss Priem after he flipped?”
“Well, now, that’s all a timing issue, and they’ve worked on it for quite some time. But I can’t reveal any secrets of our act to ‘outsiders’ and you fit into that category. Sorry.”
At first Carrick’s face had lit up, but then fell as he tapped his fingers on the smooth surface of their table.
“Why can’t you tell me?”
“We actually take an oath not to. At first it was just common knowledge that you don’t reveal secrets of your trade or group to others, but a few of our people did tell. Then my father made it a rule that you have to take the oath to become part of our troupe.”
“What would I have to do to become an insider?”
Gabrel laughed, teeth shining in the firelight.
“You would have to join the troupe! And as for that happening, I don’t see how.”
The finished the conversation there, as the Innkeeper had returned with two mugs of punch. Once finished, they left to return to the fair grounds.

“Boy!” Karrelt stumped up to Carrick as they entered through the recently erected wooden gates.
“Where have you been? Your mother and I have been waiting for you to bring the horses in from grazing.”
“Sorry Father. I was with Gabrel.”
“Yes, well.” Karrelt eyed Gabrel and grunted.
“Get along with ye.” Karrelt plowed through the crowds of workmen, and away from the boys.
Gabrel turned to Carrick.
“You had better go. I’ll see you later today. I have something for you to try.”
“Alright! See you then.”
And so the boys split ways – Carrick off to tend and round up the horses, and Gabrel to practice his acrobatics and juggling under his father’s hawk-like gaze.

The day of the fair loomed bright and calm, clouds scudding joyfully across a pale blue sky. The sun shone down on all, keeping it’s rays in check so as not to oppress the revelers with their heat.
Carrick and Edric both stood at their makeshift pens as buyers came to look at their stock.
One by one, two by two the animals left, more at the end of the day when the word had spread of their quality and price.
For Karrelt believed in a moderate price, and high quality stock. He would accept no more than they were worth, and he would accept no stock that was in any way defective. Karrelt was also known throughout Mid-and-Northern Itheryn as the “Evenhanded Merchant”.
The brothers were busy all day taking care of the customers as they flocked to view their magnificent horses whose colors were only rivaled by the Desert horses themselves. The cattle were of the hardiest stock, and many a farmer left with one or more, pleased at the thought of fine animals bought at a fine price.

At sunset most shops closed, and the circus opened. Gabrel stood on a raised platform, decked in all his costumed splendor, beckoning the crowds in the tent with his smiling face, excited demeanor, and hilarious antics.
“Come one, come all to the Kleictofihr Circus, where giant cats are tamed, daring feats of height and strength are performed, and where our mighty leader, the Ring Master Gorerum himself—lays it all before you!”
Carrick grinned and waved to Gabrel who’s widely gesturing hands managed to wave back. His face bore a grin to mirror Carrick’s own.
Tandy and Karrelt followed, Edric close behind as the crowds mustered to besiege the tent.
When the family was seated, they discussed the days earnings, and what they thought they might get the next few days.
After many minutes, the perimeter torches were snuffed, and the drums began…

(To be continued...)

-Blair

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