Chapter One

Madalina was surprised by the brightness. France seemed to be another world, so completely different was it from her homeland. Everything was so open, so full of air and life. They seemed to be worlds away from the land of forests, of wolves, of darkness. All around them were rolling hills with long grasses that billowed gently in the wind. The crystal sky of pure azure stretched endlessly above them, spotted here and there with ivory clouds. Their dream and come true.

The leader of their tribe, Dragomir, led the way to a secluded spot in a clump of trees nearby that would be their shelter. As they had traveled farther and farther west, they had begun walking at night and sleeping in the day, lest they should be spotted and reported as truants.

"We are looked upon little better than at home," Dragomir had warned them, "but . . ." The chief had not finished; there was no need. They all knew that they were better off in France than in Romania.

When the tribe was gathered in the small, wooded area, they all scattered to do their part in setting up what would be their camp for the next several hours while they rested. Madalina's four-year-old sister, Jaelle, continued to cling to her hand, her large, black eyes forever wide with fear. Madalina knew she should help her clan set up camp, but there was no chance of Jaelle releasing her any time soon.

A good distance away was a woman, a baby swaddled in bright fabric and tied against her back. The beautiful, dark-skinned baby girl was fast asleep, her dark eyes closed and her round cheek resting on her mother's shoulder blade. Still holding onto Jaelle, Madalina weaved her way through the people to where their mother stood.

"Mamă," she said, brushing a strand of black hair from her face, "I am going to rinse Jaelle off in the stream over there." She gestured to what was little more than a creek about a hundred paces to the west.

Her mother, Alina, looked hesitant. On one hand, she knew that her daughter was likely to just want some time alone, away from their clan, to have a chance to relax. On the other, she also knew that her younger daughter, Jaelle, would benefit from a break after all the walking they had done. Even after being carried a good distance, her small feet were swollen and bleeding. She, more than anyone, would benefit from a long rest. At last, Alina nodded.

"Don't wander off too far," she warned. "Stay where I can see you."

"For God's sake, Alina, Madalina is an adult," came her husband's voice, scathing and derisive. "Or at least she was—"

Before her father had a chance to finish his scorn, Madalina led her sister away. She didn't meet Violeta's eyes as she passed her and her family. Ever since her identical twin sister had married and started a family, they had grown further and further apart. But the last thing Madalina wanted to think about was her past. Along with her homeland, all of her memories there would be cast aside, as well. This was the perfect fresh start for her. At sixteen, it was what she needed more than anything.

Jaelle winced as her older sister gently placed her feet in the water, but she said nothing. She rarely spoke these days, unless it was to Madalina or their mother. No one was sure if it was her long illness that had affected her or merely the long travel. Either way, she was not the same little girl that she had been two months ago.

"Why is Tati always angry?" came a small whisper after a few moments of silence.

Madalina was startled by the quiet voice that she so rarely heard. She turned to glance at their father, who was arguing with Violeta's husband about something. Again. She hated to lie to her sister, but how could she tell the truth? She knew exactly why their father was always angry, but Jaelle was far too young to understand.

"I don't know, pireni," Madalina lied with a soft sigh. "Some people just aren't happy a lot."

Jaelle tilted her head back to study her big sister, her lower lip jutting out at she thought.

"Are you happy, soră?" she asked, using the special 'nickname' that she reserved only for Madalina, though she had three sisters.

Madalina did not let herself pause to think about the question. She merely smiled and pulled the little girl close in a quick embrace before bending down to rinse her swollen feet in the cool water.

"I am when I'm with you," she replied at last, not looking at her. At least it wasn't a complete lie. The closest semblance that Madalina felt to happiness only occurred when she was with the little, innocent girl.


Madalina woke when all was dark. The others in her clan were moving as silently as shadows around her, quickly removing any trace that they had been there. As she lay curled on the ground, her body cushioned by the dead leaves that had fallen from the surrounding trees, she felt Jaelle stir. The young girl was curled against her, her arms locked around her knees. It was as she, too, had been woken by the darkness that had seemed to suddenly descend upon them like a black veil. Not even the moon peeked through the trees.

No words needed to be exchanged among the tribe. Dragomir led the way once everyone was ready, glancing around furtively before leaving the sheltering protection of the woods and creeping down a long hill. His wife, Nicoleta, walked just behind him, holding the hand of their eight-year-old son. Madalina knew without being reminded that they would be arriving in Paris that night. After two-and-a-half months of traveling from Transylvania, they would finally arrive and their horrific journey would end. Arrangements had been made to meet with a Parisian gypsy on the northern outskirts of the city where there was no wall to block them. Hopefully, after almost three months with no communication, the gypsy would keep his promise and be there waiting for them.

When they at last came over the final hill, Madalina saw nothing. In her dreams and fantasies, she had pictured her first sight of Paris. She had imagined the walls, the many buildings, the people. But she could see nothing in the darkness. The only indication she had that they had made it was Dragomir's quick whisper that they had done so. Though they were so close, Madalina felt no release of anxiety. She knew she wouldn't until she was safe and out of harm's way once and for all.

They continued to walk for what felt like hours, no sound to be heard but an occasional footstep and the whisper of wind. Then, all of a sudden, Madalina saw a large, lone tower rising above them. Her heart thudded with anticipation, and she felt Jaelle squeeze her hand anxiously. A quick signal from Dragomir told the clan to halt, and she watched her uncle creep towards the tower, flanked by his eldest son, Radu, and his brother, Vladimir.

"Where is bunic?" Madalina heard her twin sister's young son whisper. He was asking of his grandfather, Vladimir.

"Shh!" Violeta hissed, her voice barely audible to anyone but her son.

It seemed like a lifetime before the men returned. When they finally did, they were accompanied by someone Madalina had never seen. In the darkness, she could only make out his silhouette and the occasional glimmer of his eyes. When he spoke, he did so with an accent she had never heard before.

"I am told you are the group from Romania," he said, his voice barely louder than his own breathing. "We have waited for you every night for almost a month. I am Clopin, and I will take you to the Court. We must do this quickly and quietly, and we cannot all go together. I will take the women and children with me first. Your leader tells me there are not many. When I return, I will take another group."

Where he would be taking them, Madalina didn't know. Nevertheless, she hoisted Jaelle into her arms and prepared to place her life in this mysterious man's hands. She gathered before him with her mother, sisters, her aunt and two cousins, and the small number of other women and the only other child. The man surveyed them for a moment before nodding quickly.

"You must remain absolutely silent," he warned. "If a baby cries, you must do your best to silence it. Not only do the gadje not appreciate the Rom being out this late, but they have a general curfew for all Parisians. Also, they will not want to sneak even more gypsies into the city."

His words were met with silence. Clopin nodded once before setting off, not giving the two groups of people a chance to say goodbye to one another, lest something bad should happen. As they walked, Jaelle clung fearfully to her sister's neck, her face burrowed in Madalina's shoulder. Most fortunately, not a single child made a sound. Catherine, Madalina's baby sister, slept soundly in her mother's swaddled fabric. Violeta's baby looked around curiously but made not a peep.

The only thing Madalina could see of the famous Paris as they approached were dark shapes of buildings. The man leading them kept them pressed against buildings and walls, rarely walking out in the open. He stopped at every corner, turning his head in every direction to make sure no one was coming. Where could he be taking them? What was "the Court"? Where was it that the Rom of Paris congregated that was safe from prying eyes?

They walked slowly for at least an hour before Clopin finally stopped. It was only as he began weaving his way through tombstones that Madalina realized they had entered a graveyard and that looming above them was the sharp outline of a deserted church. The man seemed to know exactly where he was going. He stopped at a large, raised tomb with some sort of engraving on the stone, not hesitating before heaving the great lid off and onto the ground with a muffled thump.

"This will lead to the catacombs," he explained, wiping his brow. "Go down the stairs and walk straight. Do not make a single turn or you will become lost. Continue straight until someone from the Court fetches you. When they do, you must tell them in our language that you are friends. I must now return for the others."

Without waiting for a response or a goodbye, Clopin turned and quickly strode away. The women in the tribe glanced at one another, all clearly hesitant about descending into the catacombs.

"You lead the way, pireni," Madalina heard her mother whisper soothingly, rubbing her arm. "We will follow you."

Madalina froze. They wanted her to lead the way through an underground tomb? She could only assume it was because she was the oldest one still considered an adolescent. All of the other women concerned themselves with their babies and their young children. Nevertheless, despite her fears, she nodded. She climbed onto the walls of the tomb and gingerly began climbing down the steep, short steps. She heard the women follow her, but she didn't turn around. She kept walking, focusing on the pitch blackness that waited at the bottom. How could Clopin expect them to be able to find their way? It was even darker than the moonless night above ground.

The first thing she felt when she reached the bottom was cold. And then wet. It took her moment to realize that she was standing in ankle-deep water, the hem of her skirt now soaked in what was probably sewage. She knew better than to complain, though. None of the others said a word, though. Even Violeta's son kept silent. Holding Jaelle in one arm and her mother's hand with her other, she led the way slowly through the catacombs. In a way, Madalina was glad that it was so dark; this way none of the children could see what was likely surrounding them: skeletons of those who died long ago.

Madalina wasn't sure how long they walked in a straight line. She wondered, for a moment, if they would hear another group from their tribe being led by Clopin, but, hopefully, this was unlikely. Even though Clopin would likely move much more quickly on his way back to the large tower, he still had to come back with them. Such a trip would take at least an hour-and-a-half, and Madalina could only hope they would be out of the sewers by then.

"Do we still have to be quiet?" came a soft whisper from down the line. Violeta's son, Vladmir, always had a problem remaining silent.

His mother answered him with a gentle shush. Madalina wished she could be like Jaelle or Vladimir or one of the other young children who could be carried. Her already aching feet kept stumbling upon rocks underneath the water, scraping her sensitive skin and probably causing even more blood to spill. Soon there would probably be none left.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the group of women and children heard a voice.

"Who are you?" The voice was deep, menacing. Yet Madalina felt relief when she heard it, for they spoke Romani. She knew that they were gypsies from the "Court," wherever that was, come to help them like Clopin said they would.

It was Nicoleta, the wife of their leader, who took her husband's place and spoke for them, her voice loud and confident. "We are friends from Romania," she said, nothing betraying her weariness, "sent by Clopin. We are the women of the tribe of Salazar."

Suddenly, a torch was a lit and the women winced at the sudden brightness. The man holding the torch rose from his crouching position off to the side amid a pile of skulls. Immediately he was flanked by to others, apparently other guards.

"We have been expecting you," the first man said, his strangely accented voice suddenly warmer. He smiled. "Welcome to Paris. I will now take you to the Court of Miracles."

Welcome to Paris. The man's words seemed to echo in Madalina's head. Had they truly made it? But she knew she wouldn't really believe it until she was completely safe, until they had finally stopped traveling. The man turned and led them further down the tunnel. Jaelle buried her face in Madalina's shoulder once more, apparently no longer wanting to see any of the decayed corpses. After a few minutes, Madalina and the others began to notice a spot of light in the distance. As they continued walking, the light grew larger and brighter. They heard voices. Then, suddenly, they were there.

The women found themselves in a vast, endless cavern made of stone. There were torches lit here and there, making everything seem impossibly bright despite the fact that they were underground. Draped everywhere and over everything were clothes and tapestries of every bright color. In spite of the late hour, people laughed and called out to one another. Madalina had never seen so many Rom in one place. It amazed her. When a small group of people nearby saw the man appear with the newcomers, they sent out a cheer of welcome.

"Welcome," said the man, stepping aside, "to the Court of Miracles."