Read Online Star of Gypsies by Robert Silverberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Silverberg
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the shoulder.
"Come, boy. Let's go inside and see if there's some decent wine left."
As we headed for my ice-bubble I heard the laughter of Rom ghosts on the night wind.
11.
BY THE FOURTH DAY CHORIAN HAD HIS SWEEP ANTENNA tuned to its farthest vector and it was time for him to go. He packed the few belongings he had brought with him into the smallest possible space, and unfurled his journey-helmet, that soft webwork of coppery mesh, no larger than a handkerchief when it is folded for storage, that would protect him during his lonely flight through the interstellar spaces.
Just before he put his helmet on he turned to me and I saw him struggling to say something, but the words wouldn't come for him. That troubled me. One Rom should never be afraid of saying the true things of the heart to another.
I went close to him and put my hands on his shoulders. I had to reach far up, though I am not small.
"What is it, cousin? What do you want to tell me?"
"That… that I'm going to leave now…"
"I know that, cousin," I said, very gently.
"And I wanted to say… just to say…"
He faltered. I let my hands continue to rest on his shoulders and I waited.
"I was trouble for you, wasn't I, Yakoub?"
"Trouble?"
"I came here where you had come to live by yourself, and I bothered you when you had no wish to be bothered. And you put up with me because it is Rom law that guests must not be turned away, but you were angry within that I was here."
"Dinosaur dung," I said, and I said it with vigor, and I said it in Romany, which was not easy, for although there are many words for "dung" in Romany there is not precisely one that means "dinosaur." Nevertheless I said it and he understood what I had said.
"You've been very kind, Yakoub."
"Enough preamble, boy. We are Rom. Tell me what's in your heart."
He looked down and scuffed the tip of his boot against the fresh snow. He was very young and getting younger every minute. Watching him, I tried to understand what it was like to be so young, tried to remember how it had been. My God, it was so long ago! To exist in the moment, not yet wound in layer upon opaque layer of experience. To be transparent, bones visible through the skin, every motivation lying in clear view just below the surface. I hadn't felt that way for a hundred fifty years. Perhaps not ever.
"These past few days-" he began, and faltered again.
"Yes?"
"I never knew my father, Yakoub. I was sold away from my kumpania when I was seven."
"I know, boy. And I know what that's like. I was sold at seven myself, the first time."
"The Lord Sunteil's been something like a father to me, in his way. He's not evil, you know. He's a Gajo and he's the emperor's right hand but he's not evil, and as close as anyone's been a father to me, it's been Lord Sunteil. But it isn't the same. He isn't of the blood."
"I know what you're saying."
"And these past few days… these past few days, Yakoub…"
He turned away and stared off to his left, far across the snow-field, as though thinking that he had to hide from me the tears that were threatening to break through and burst past his eyelids. He pretended to be searching for the sweep aura, but I knew what he was really doing, and I felt sad for him for thinking that he had to conceal his soul from me. This is what comes of growing up among the Gaje, I thought.
"Listening to you as you told me the stories from the Swatura-hearing from your own lips about Romany Star, the Tale of the Swelling Sun-" He took a deep breath and swung around, looking down at me, and, yes, his eyes were moist, and sell me again into slavery if mine weren't getting the same way, just a bit. Then he said, all in a rush, "For a little while these last few days I understood what it must be like to have had a real father, Yakoub."
So he had managed to get it out at last.
There was nothing I needed to say in return. I smiled at him and embraced him and kissed him on the mouth in the old Rom fashion, and gave his
"Come, boy. Let's go inside and see if there's some decent wine left."
As we headed for my ice-bubble I heard the laughter of Rom ghosts on the night wind.
11.
BY THE FOURTH DAY CHORIAN HAD HIS SWEEP ANTENNA tuned to its farthest vector and it was time for him to go. He packed the few belongings he had brought with him into the smallest possible space, and unfurled his journey-helmet, that soft webwork of coppery mesh, no larger than a handkerchief when it is folded for storage, that would protect him during his lonely flight through the interstellar spaces.
Just before he put his helmet on he turned to me and I saw him struggling to say something, but the words wouldn't come for him. That troubled me. One Rom should never be afraid of saying the true things of the heart to another.
I went close to him and put my hands on his shoulders. I had to reach far up, though I am not small.
"What is it, cousin? What do you want to tell me?"
"That… that I'm going to leave now…"
"I know that, cousin," I said, very gently.
"And I wanted to say… just to say…"
He faltered. I let my hands continue to rest on his shoulders and I waited.
"I was trouble for you, wasn't I, Yakoub?"
"Trouble?"
"I came here where you had come to live by yourself, and I bothered you when you had no wish to be bothered. And you put up with me because it is Rom law that guests must not be turned away, but you were angry within that I was here."
"Dinosaur dung," I said, and I said it with vigor, and I said it in Romany, which was not easy, for although there are many words for "dung" in Romany there is not precisely one that means "dinosaur." Nevertheless I said it and he understood what I had said.
"You've been very kind, Yakoub."
"Enough preamble, boy. We are Rom. Tell me what's in your heart."
He looked down and scuffed the tip of his boot against the fresh snow. He was very young and getting younger every minute. Watching him, I tried to understand what it was like to be so young, tried to remember how it had been. My God, it was so long ago! To exist in the moment, not yet wound in layer upon opaque layer of experience. To be transparent, bones visible through the skin, every motivation lying in clear view just below the surface. I hadn't felt that way for a hundred fifty years. Perhaps not ever.
"These past few days-" he began, and faltered again.
"Yes?"
"I never knew my father, Yakoub. I was sold away from my kumpania when I was seven."
"I know, boy. And I know what that's like. I was sold at seven myself, the first time."
"The Lord Sunteil's been something like a father to me, in his way. He's not evil, you know. He's a Gajo and he's the emperor's right hand but he's not evil, and as close as anyone's been a father to me, it's been Lord Sunteil. But it isn't the same. He isn't of the blood."
"I know what you're saying."
"And these past few days… these past few days, Yakoub…"
He turned away and stared off to his left, far across the snow-field, as though thinking that he had to hide from me the tears that were threatening to break through and burst past his eyelids. He pretended to be searching for the sweep aura, but I knew what he was really doing, and I felt sad for him for thinking that he had to conceal his soul from me. This is what comes of growing up among the Gaje, I thought.
"Listening to you as you told me the stories from the Swatura-hearing from your own lips about Romany Star, the Tale of the Swelling Sun-" He took a deep breath and swung around, looking down at me, and, yes, his eyes were moist, and sell me again into slavery if mine weren't getting the same way, just a bit. Then he said, all in a rush, "For a little while these last few days I understood what it must be like to have had a real father, Yakoub."
So he had managed to get it out at last.
There was nothing I needed to say in return. I smiled at him and embraced him and kissed him on the mouth in the old Rom fashion, and gave his
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