Chapter 18: Leaving Childhood

“I set up for myself the rule that whenever I discern a sounder opinion in any matter whatsoever, I gladly and humbly abandon the earlier one. For I know that those things I have learned are but the least in comparison with what I do not know.” — Jan Hus

The Mountain of Lost Children


After that unnerving experience Zere’maya was glad to get to winter camp -- wherever that might be. She was surprised when they came to a stop less than a half-day's walk.

"Welcome," said a very cheery Zassh, "to our mountain!"

Zere’maya climbed out of the vardo and looked around with astonishment.

There was no sign of the outdoors, but the caverns were flooded with light. High above light streamed in -- but outside it had been murky, even grim.

"Let me take you on a tour." said Zassh. The young woman took Zere’maya's hand and walked her around.

"The generation before us wanted something safe after we were burned out of the last village." said Zassh. "We had planned to build this for generations, and would have built it at the last village, but instead we're practically on top of them and they don't even know!" To Zassh this was a great joke.

"We built this. All of this. It's all on top of the mountain that used to be here mostly, some of it going into the mountains where we mined the materials. Clay is easy to get, and so's everything else we need so the locals never came here. We built the frames from the same iron we build the vardos from. We' switched to iron frames in Baba Faa's time because we found the mine and unfound a good source for wood. It was natural, use what you have." Zassh swung her arms around like a tour guide.

"And each group who comes here adds some. While Karl is here we can do a lot of ironwork, and the other two work to fill in between and plaster. Our clay tents are climbing into and up the mountain, away from the community, up along the river mostly. Deep in the mountains we keep our meats cold.

"How do you keep it all dry?" asked Zere’maya.

"We grease and wax the wool we gather, and the plants and trees root on it. We add some dirt, but you know we're not farmers. Since we're on the away-sun side no one comes to look, and I don’t imagine they have ways of declaring war on a mountain. It's such a maze inside even if someone did get in to create trouble we could continue to move around, almost like we do when we're among them." said Zassh.

"You know how afraid I was of the cold -- how in the world did you keep all this secret?" asked Zere’maya.

Zassh was serious. "We were busy being out, and had all the time to do that. When we thought of talking about it we went back to the present, especially in front of you, so you could be easy and happy and *be* with us. You're diddakai, not all of us, so you have a way to understand but not everything. And it's not enough to have a gypsy mother. You didn't have your tribe. You needed to be a part of a tribe to really be a gypsy."

Zere’maya thought back, deep into a kernel of hurt. "I wonder if my mother had a mountain deep in my world to hide from me."

Zassh again sounded serious, also like she had said what she was about to say as often as anyone would hum a familiar tune to herself, without thinking, simply being there in the singing again. "You had six mothers, and a Gorgio father far away but close enough to hurt your mind and teach you that you only had her. It's completely possible that none of the women was the one who you came through the legs. She may have remembered you, but such things can slip a woman's mind so easily when she is all alone in the Georgio world. So -- she slipped away back to herself.

“When you came to find her, you wanted to slip back to her, slip back in. You had a whole caravan's worth of women and all you had to do is pick one, and the others would have been aunts. And so you still didn't understand, and some of the magic in the world died. You were born of rebellion, love with hands reaching out, knocked aside."

Zere’maya looked around, looking at the ends of the caves, made by children's hands -- Zere’maya could see the little handprints in the plaster. Most were women's size but some would have to have been the little children, playing and building sometimes with their mothers, but always tightly, packed in with other people.

She was sure that if she looked long enough she would find handprints bigger than any Rom's handprints -- handprints that belonged to Karl. On adolescence, Zere’maya knew now, the boys were given little knives to wear as pendants on their necks. Zere’maya had not known that three months ago, but suddenly, she knew -- knew, mind you -- that the Rom still saw Karl as a boy rather than a man.

"So it never freezes here?" asked Zere’maya. Zassh smiled with accomplishment.

"Never worse than a crisp fall day. Never will your eyes freeze shut here," said Zassh. She had said what she had said so often it passed right through her mouth without impacting her mind, thought Zere’maya. I know I've heard the words, but why don't I remember hearing them? I mean, I might have, but I don't remember. She shivered again and turned to Zassh.

"The light comes in from mirrors we have installed in a nearby glacier, and which are charmed to stay aligned. Not our year, but the year after or two years before us has another diddakai with magic. She had the mirrors made, then we put them where she said to. The light shining off the mountains doesn't attract any interest I suppose. Because of the mirrors we have better than just the reflections off of the glaciers. We have about as much light as we can have, morning to night and She was cheered by us. She married in, became a full Rom with a very nice man. She has found herself, where she could not out with the Georgios. The one parent who is of the people nourished her and fed her more than the rest."

Zere’maya nodded, walking along. The whole place had the feel of a huge series of circus tents, brilliantly decorated and full of the sounds of children laughing and playing. Most of the people were children. It would seem that the Romany had a good, safe place here.

Soon Zere’maya had to do what all people do every three or four hours. The bathrooms were holes in the floor, as you might imagine, but there was running water and all she could ever want. According to Zassh the solids went to a huge worm generating project, where they made castings and worms for the Georgio. The liquids went to a huge pond deeper in the mountain where none of the Rom went. They heard that the Georgio picked mushrooms there. Zere’maya knew from the description that there was more than enough processing so that the Giorgio would not be hurt. The Rom were very careful about cleanliness, especially cleanliness that matters.

The bathing rooms were a Turkish delight -- separate for the men and women, of course -- but all the soap, hot water, and all of the rest there could possibly be, could possibly imagine with experience in bathing that extended to hundreds of planets. She knew for a certainty at this point, as certain as seeing an Amish child carrying a plastic lunchbox, that somehow, some way these Gypsies were in contact with the thousand worlds -- maybe even further than Zere’maya had gone.

Zere’maya looked with longing. Zassh was practically bouncing on the tips of her toes ready to lead her on. Zere’maya could deny her nothing.

"I'm sure you expected chickens and the like, but we have none of that here. We have the stable for the horses and the place for the dogs, but I just know that you're going to love this!" Zassh took her up several flights of stairs and a long ramp. Halfway up the ramp Zere’maya's nose, then mouth, then very skin radiated with the scent of bees.

True, there was no livestock here besides the horses and the dogs, but to Zere’maya's delight -- there were bees. Lots and lots of bees. In fact, the gypsies brought fresh bees to Mary-sue the farmers outside each year since the hard winters made keeping bees alive outdoors so impossible.

"So the farmers where we stayed were just giving you some of our own back," said Zassh happily. "Those few who know us and love us and shelter us. Some of them have actually been in the mountain, which hardly ever happens at all."

"I’ve seen who we stay with. The sort of person I trust," said Zere’maya.

Zassh nodded. "And we hold that trust. They try to keep the bees alive, but the winter, it's so brutal here. We always re-queen them, and take them bees as the best, bringing back. We have people who do mostly that, now, carrying the hives around. During the winter when the Gorgio's bees were dying in the cold the gypsie's bees were making splits, raising queens

"We young women make the queens -- here." Said Zassh. Zere’maya had done the task since childhood. Now was early in the season. Later the gypsies -- mostly young girls and women -- would begin the careful work of making queens, scooping out the individual larvae into queen cups, making nucs, preparing for their journeys around and back again.

"We let the bees out during the summer, but we don’t get much honey, but it's wildflower honey -- very valuable. There is a fairly minimal production of honey during the summer months, with the bees leaving their caves through a door in the rocks, but during winter they gorge on the sugar and supplements bring back with them -- but most of the money is in the bees themselves. The caves with the bees have floors made up of wildflowers, mostly dandelions, to fortify the bees eating the pollen substitutes."

"Next you'll tell me that this world is dotted all over with caves!"

Zassh laughed. "There are", Zassh explained, "two other winter camping spots so that everyone could have a longer traveling circuit. One of them was a cave system, one was at the other end where the weather was already warm enough for comfortable life. This cave system, though, was by far and away the oldest and largest." Zassh was proud to tell Zere’maya that Mother Faa had had a lot to do with the building of it.

Every three years Mother Faa's caravans came here, leaf springs down to the bottom hauling in preserved meat and cheese, charcoal, and sugar. Every spring the gypsies left bringing out everything they had made during the hard four winter months. A few people stayed behind to guard their home and maintain the bees, a job looked on as a near punishment and rotated away with great gladness.

Thanks to the emptying out of the shelter for most of the year there were no serious pest problems, because different people lived here between years there were no serious 'turf' problems, and because children enjoy playing with mud and pouring, the natural growth of the caverns from year to year further up into the mountains and further away from the nearest Gorgio settlement was, frankly, child's play. To build the caverns was like building a basket with slender iron straps and sealing it off with native clays.

The result of the protected winter quarters was that the gypsy population was growing quickly, and with it the amount of territory the individual bands could cover.

"The end result," said Karl, happily, "is that you'll not be seeing much of me these next four months. There aren't many friends of The People who are fireproof. I can work the iron with my bare hands and do other tasks dangerous to others. Because of me we can build much faster."

Zassh looked very proud. "Yes, the first fireproof Rom, our husband is." Zere’maya looked around. She could imagine how the basic tent structure could be used to make the underground rooms, and how freshly made stone insulation could be carried around in Karl's arms.

Zere’maya looked at Zassh, finally understanding. "You and Mother Faa, you think of different things, don't you?" Zere’maya asked. Both Karl and Zassh nodded.

"You two remember, he isn't my husband -- yet. But you're hoping I can do some sort of healer magic so he can be?" Karl and Zassh nodded.

"Do you want Zassh?" asked Zere’maya. Karl looked shamefaced.

Zassh laughed. "He knows it's best to let me have my way." said Zassh.

Zere’maya chuckled. "Sorry. I forgot that I'm not in a society of love matches. I have to know -- how long before I came along did you two have this thought out?" said Zere’maya.

"Mother Faa can't possibly boot out Zassh, and the whole community likes me. They just have to find some way to put me under the rules of the Rom, which isn't too terribly easy." said Karl.

"With a spirit of evil as your friend, a woman of rebellion, if there is a way she may find it." said Zere’maya.

"Well, the first thing to do is to act like a man and not a boy in the mountain." said Zassh. Karl agreed.

“The Mountain of Happy Lost Children has its own rules, unlike any other place where the People find themselves -------“ Karl’s voice trailed off.

“Honestly, you look like you are going to be sick, right here. What in the world is wrong with you?” asked Karl.

Zassh looked serious. Zere’maya was more green than pale. “In my world, the world where I was a child the Mountain of Happy Lost Children was another sort of place.”

“Sh-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch.” comforted Zassh. “Another world. Another place. Maybe the same place but not the same world.” Zere’maya was shaking, began to cry. Zassh held her, kissed her head.

“What is wrong with her?” asked Karl, exasperated.

“Shut up, Karl. This isn’t about you.” Said Zassh. “This is woman’s work.”

Karl walked off, grumbling. Zassh held on to Zere’maya as if she were a child.

“I feel like I’m in the mountain, I really do. This whole world, it’s like being a child again, powerless, irrelevant.” She held Zassh’s face between her two hands.

“Dead. This is like being dead, it’s crazy to be in a place named for what happens to children who die, forever left to play until their mothers show up. I can’t do magic, I can’t fix this, I can’t really marry Karl, I know you will and you should – I want to make an ending of this and I can’t. It’s like once being famous, once being young ----“

“Sh-ch-ch-ch-ch” Zassh comforted her. ”Some of us are children. Older. I can’t imagine what it’s like to not be able to do what you once did, to remember what you once were and not be able to move on –“

“Good.” said Zere’maya rasping. “I would not want you to know, to even have a hint of it. No friend would want another to have such knowledge.” She kissed Zassh roughly on the lips.

“Never my lover, never my child, I’m just holding your place, because I have to, to continue to live. I’m bound to try – every moment winding down, just a little bit smaller. I don’t know how to hold on, Zassh.”

“People don’t die of heartbreak, not directly. What you are hinting at – I’ve seen you think about – you’re not a malformed one, holding the healthy ones back. You’re not in pain – though you’re broken inside and anyone can see that something inside you is getting worse. All you have to do is not bring dying to do, to wait –“

“Praise God you don’t know what you’re asking me!” broke in Zere’maya.

“I’m going to get some medicine from mother Faa. Then you can be unconscious for a while. At least I can get you so you won’t feel.”

Zassh left Zere’maya sedated in her vardo. She walked past Karl.

“What are you about now?” asked Karl.

“Power. I need lots of raw power.” Said Zassh grimly. I just gave enough painkiller to put someone covered with burns unconscious who doesn’t have a scratch on her, not physical.”

Karl frowned. “I don’t like it. You’re losing your childhood. This isn’t right for you, or for you and me.”

Zassh turned. “Shut up. Shut up already and leave me to something I understand. Go away and be bothersome somewhere else. I don’t want my childhood any more. It’s a tattered, outgrown thing. I’m going to bury it in the garden and let the worms break it down. Childhood is not for me. Not any more.

“I don’t understand you any more.” Grumbled Karl. Zassh laughed.

“You finally say something that makes sense. You lie beside her, you lie in her and you don’t know anything about her. You keep her body alive, but you don’t know the woman. I -----“ Zash stopped.

Karl circled her. The two scowled at each other

“Little girl.” said Karl.

“I want to have everything Zere’maya has.” said Zassh evenly. “Tonight, late. You.”

“Sounds like a challenge.” said Karl evenly.

“Later. After I’ve found what I can.”

“I’m strong.”

“I’ll bring my magic.” The sound in Zassh’s voice was like a growl.

“Do you want to sit on me or kick my ass?”

“As long as that ass belongs to Zere’maya it surely doesn’t matter, surely not. I’ll find out if you can feel pain tonight. I’m going to need something, I can feel it.“ she scowled.

“What you want, it isn’t gypsy.” sneered Karl.

“Another nonsense. Another bullshit. I’m Gypsy, what I want, makes it Gypsy. Are you man? Or her pillow? What are you, really? A child forever? I’m not a child, not anymore, and you – I don’t care what you’ve done with your body – you’re a child. A big, overgrown, boychild fat around the edges, full of insecurities, you’re no man you’re – a saddle. A saddle for a succubus.” said Zassh.

“Enough.” said Karl. “I agree. Where and when?”

Zassh smiled grimly. “Find me and then you’ll know. Watch over Zere’maya, keep her sedated, or at least as calm as you can. I’m going to do something.“

“I felt that. I felt a shiver deep inside me.” said Karl. Zassh stared into his eyes.

“It’s a start.”

____________________

Karl was waiting for her in his forge. It’s where he felt most at home, where he felt like he belonged. Zassh had always loved the flames, the ripples of heat. Wherever they went next, this felt like where Zassh would meet him.

He heard his childhood friend step in. Somehow, some way, he had never noticed before that barefoot – their heads were level, she was as tall as he was. Somehow he still remembered her as little. How long had it been – suddenly he could not remember. Zere’maya was little, and pudgy. She stood exactly as high as his heart. Zassh looked eye to eye straight at him.

“What in the world have you been doing? I’ve been waiting here for hours – hours!” said Karl. Somehow he was becoming more frightened. She looked at him as a wolf might – staring, dark.

“I’ve been talking with the elders.” she said. He felt his skin shiver.

“Talking? Just talking?”

“The world was made with words, God’s words, Boro dom. Words are more than enough. More than enough.” she said quietly.

“Take off your clothes.” said Zash.

“What! Here?” asked Karl incredulous. Zassh began to undress. Here then. She stood there naked, like a man, like anyone, then kicked her clothing well away.

Karl began to guess, impossibly, improbably. “Oh no ---“ he had heard of Gypsies that would were—mostly wolves, some big cats, some creatures like dragons, improbable though it would be that Zassh –

“Oh no, you’re my best friend I can’t couple with a wolf not even if it’s you Zassh please, oh, please –“ He could hear himself beginning to scream. Zassh put up a hand. He knew that now no one could hear him. He was invulnerable, true, but Zassh, this didn’t even seem like her, he knew there was no point in trying to run from her. There was still the forge. He began slowly to inch around, stripping to save the clothing Zere’maya had gotten him which would burn. He soon had his back to the door.

“Good.” said Zassh. “I want to chase you.” Karl jumped into the fire, looked back.

First her face looked fuzzy. Then abruptly, like a match lighting, Zassh herself became fire. Then Ice, then lightning.



“Boro Dom, thank you it’s all Zere’maya said it would be!”

“You expect with my body I can outdo that?” whimpered Karl.

Zassh smiled. “Let’s find out. You, me, the only fireproof Rom. Come, let’s find out what I can do.” She stepped into the forge, flame mixing into flame.

Naked in the fire, He looked at her. This was Zassh? Made of fire, then ice, then lightning? He saw her smile, even seeing through her.

The first time they kissed, they would always remember, Zassh’s lips were fire. He could do this. He could do this with Zassh.

Only his. Only her. Only he could mount a woman made of fire and ice and lightning.

Far later that night Karl climbed into bed beside Zere’maya, tenderly. She rolled over.


“You smell all smoke and iron-y.” she commented. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re using the talents you have.” She snuggled back up to him and fell asleep again.

He cradled her gently. The first time, he thought, he’d ever met another person who had ever been a dragon – practically the first time he’d met anyone who had ever ~seen~ a real dragon – she had been wearing a dirndl. A real traveler from the other worlds who looked like everyone else – maybe more ordinary than most.

To impress me a perfectly ordinary young woman has become something extraordinary – not because she has to be, but to have him. He’d known she wanted him for years.