Prolouge

Little ten year old Kendra Durriken squirmed on the seat of the vardo, or gypsy wagon, between her father, Gustof, and her much older brother, Vincent. Her mother, Aleera, and her much older sister-in-law, Atalaya, rode inside of the vardo itself. Atalaya was heavy with child and needed as much as possible. "Sit still little one," Vincent said smiling at her, "there is no need for all of that squirming." "But look, Vincent," she delightfully squilled, "look at all the vardos. Have you ever seen so many in one place?" The little girl then turned to her father with the "all-knowing" look that they had come to know so well over her young years, and said, "He's here, papa." "Who's that," Gustof asked with a nervous look. "The one who will pay my bride price, of course," she said smiling. Her father looked at his son. Vincent just shrugged his shoulders as he said, "You know, as well as I, that all of her predictions have come true so far. Why not this one?" Gustof brought the vardo to a halt next to one of the many others. "Alright," he said to his children, "let's get camp ready."

The bride price was the price set on a female by her father, or eldest male member of her family. Those that had special gifts, such a foresight, or could read palms, cards, or the crystal ball, would bring a much higher price because their talents would bring in more money for the family. Others whom didn't have such talents, and wished to do so, would make money by laying with strangers. Those were the ones who usually didn't have their bride price met until they were in their early twenties. The man who did pay it was usually an older man whom had never married or was widowed. They usually didn't care about the woman not being virginal. But those with a high price were always guaranteed to be virginal. It was not only expected, but an unspoken demanded. And Kendra knew that her bride price was high; five hundred gold pieces to be exact. It was a lot more than most of the richer gypsies carried with them. And it was why Gustof was so sure that his daughter's price would never be met. He would keep the price that high until his daughter's gift had made him rich, or his death, which ever came first. And then he would turn charge of her over to her brother Vincent. It would then be he that had to deal with prospective husbands.

Once camp was set, and supper was started, Kendra got permission to explore. She knew that with a gathering this large, some of her friends would be here. It took only a few minutes for her to find her best friend, Verona Nantan. Together they wandered in and out of the vardos and tents. Pulling her friend to a halt, she said, "Look Verona, there he is." Her friend followed her finger to the teenage boy she was pointing at. Verona didn't have to ask who "he" was; she knew all too well. Like her family, her friend knew of her ability to foresee the furture. "Do you see mine anywhere," Verona asked. She looked around the crowd. "Not yet," she answered, "but he will be soon. Maybe not until tonight or tomorrow, but soon." She listened to her friend squill with delight as she stared ahead.

Kendra watched from a distance as the boy helped to unload his parents vardo. She guessed him to be a few years older her, but no more than thirteen. Even at his young age he was tall with signs of muscles starting to form. His shoulders were broader than most boys his age, making him look older than he was. She could tell that his hair was a very dark brown; possibly even black. She smiled and blushed when he looked her way and then waved. She quickly ducked behind the nearest vardo, pulling Verona with her. She looked back around to see that he was again helping his father. She and Verona headed back to their own vardo's for supper. They would explore again later.

It was night time when Phelan Lensar sat down with his father, Silvanus, around the large burning fire. Many of the men from the other Gypsy tribes were gathered there as well. He held the bag of gold coins next to him under his vest, but out of view of the other men. He had scrimped and saved every gold piece he could since he was able to walk. Many of them he found after the strangers that visited their camp would get so drunk that they didn't even know they had lost any coins. Others had come from selling left over items left behind by other tribes when they moved on. A long time he had saved his money. He wanted to be sure that he could meet the bride price of any female that he wished to make his bride. He knew that he had well over five hundred gold pieces, but didn't know exactly how many. He only knew that this was his guarantee.

Phelan had seen the girl that he wished to purchase as his bride earlier that day. He had waved at her and she had waved back. He hoped beyond hope that her bride price had not yet been meet, and that she would be his. He didn't know how he knew that she was to be his; he just did. Her smile had been pleasant, and even though she was still young, around ten at the most, she was very pretty.

Phelan listen to the other men around him as they haggled and bargined for the female of their choice, or that of their sons choice. "When papa," he asked his father. "When do I find out who she belongs too?" "We'll have to ask," his father told him. Then, with a chuckle he added, "Just be patient. If she's as young as you, then more likely as not she hasn't been paid for yet." But before he could ask another question of his father, the girl in question walked to the circle and sat in the lap of one of the men on the other side of the fire. "Her papa, her," he said, elbowing his father in the ribs. "The one that just sat down," his father asked. "Yes, papa," he said excitedly. "The one with the long black braid and wearing the white blouse and teal skirt with the light blue stripe." "I see her. I see her," his father chuckled. But before either could rise to ask, a gentleman called out to the man on whom's lap she sat.

Phelan watched as the middle aged man called out, "Gustof, when will you be setting the bride price for the one on your lap?" "I already have, Jal," the girl's father said smiling, "but it is more than you can afford. She has the gift of foresight. Not once has any of her predictions been wrong." "So what is it," another called out. "Maybe one of us can pay her price," said another. He watched as the eligible men gathered all started grumbling. His heart began to race. Fear of not being able to pay the price, or not being the first to do so, took over. "Five hundred gold pieces," her father called out. "I'm sorry, Phelan," his father said, "but I do not have that kind of money. I doubt any man here does."

Phelan jumped to his feet and called out, "I will meet her bride price." A roar of laughter went up around him as all the men present laughed at him. He felt his father's arm tugging him as he hissed, "What are you doing boy? I told you, I don't have that kind of money." "You may not, papa," he said smiling, "but I do." He walked around the burning fire and threw down the bag of gold coins he had had hidden under his vest at the man's feet. "Five hundred gold coins," he said to the father of the unboughten bride. "You are very amuseing, boy," the older man said, "but only real offers will be accepted." He smiled when the young girl in question said, "He is the one, papa." He watched as the girl picked up the bag. She handed it to her father. "There is more than that in here," she said. "I told you that my price would be meet at this gathering."

Phelan smiled as Kendra sat next to him as the elders of the gathered tribes counted the coins in his bag. "There is over eight hundred pieces here," one said in an atonished voice. They handed the five hundred required coins to Gustof and the rest back to him. "She is paid for," Gustof said, holding out his hand to him. "She will go with you when your family leaves. But I do ask one favor of you young man. One that I must almost demand before I release your hand." "What is it," he asked. The older man leaned down to look him in the eyes and sternly said, "You will not take her until she has reached her eighteenth year. She is only ten years old. Like you, she is much too young to be thinking of such things." He sternly looked back as he answered, "I will wait until then." It was then that the two finished shaking hands. The next day, the tradition ceremony was held joining the two.

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