Chapter 10
“Speak English, Syeira,” I demanded petulantly. “What are you telling me?”
And then abruptly I could understand her again. “The young sir is not for you, my son. Your future paths will cross, but there will be only sorrow and death at the end of them if you do not let him be.”
I was stunned. This was not the type of reading a gypsy normally gave, and I struggled to free my hand. “You must be mad, old woman!”
Thomas returned just then with a candle stuck in a tin cup. “Here you are, Grandmother.”
“Thank you, young sir.” She held my gaze over the flickering light. “You will recall my words, and return to this place, when the time has ripened. Until then, go with God, my son. Nicolae,” she called. A young gypsy male thrust aside the opening of the tent. He wasn’t as tall as I, but he was brawny, and I backed away from him. “Show these gentlemen from the camp.”
She refused to accept our coins. Thomas bowed politely over her hand, but I could see he was concerned by her action.