The fire snapped and sparked in the dark. Jason sat on a log, Elena on his left; Tasha sat on his right, staring into the fire. The Gypsies spoke around them in their own language, some glancing at them and then looking away.
Then someone brought out a guitar, and a woman with a tambourine joined him. The others clapped out a rhythm as several men and women stepped out in the clearing near the fire to dance, the long skirts of the women twirling in bright flashes of color. Jason wished he could join them, but his injured leg kept him from moving, and he'd probably have looked like a fool anyway beside their elaborate steps and expert flourishes.
Little Zara dashed up to him. "Do you want to dance?" she asked.
"I can't," said Jason. "Sorry, Zara."
"Oh. Do you want to dance?" she asked Tasha.
"I'm not exactly in the mood for dancing," said Tasha.
Zara turned her imploring face to Elena, large eyes dark in the firelight. Elena leaped to her feet. "I will dance with you," she said. And Zara took her hand, and, a glance at Jason, Elena joined the others.
At first she danced with Zara, twirling her around as Zara giggled. Then she lifted her up and kissed her cheek, set her down and danced with quick, light steps, her green skirt flowing around her ankles, her body twisting, turning to the beat of the music. The clapping got louder and louder; she spun faster and faster and then flipped into the air; she landed on her feet, and took a bow.
Face flushed, she sat back down beside Jason. His own heart was drumming to the beat of the tambourines. Her hair had loosened from her braid, curling over her forehead. He longed to loosen it completely, to see what she looked like with it tumbling about her shoulders like a river of gold….
Tasha cleared her throat. "Where did you learn to dance like that?"
Elena smiled. "We Muldavians are all dancers to one degree or another. But no one can dance like a Gypsy."
"You were…incredible," said Jason.
"Thank you. Maybe…we can dance together sometime. When your leg is better of course."
A harsh, indecipherable noise from Tasha's direction.
"Maybe so," said Jason. "But first we have to get out of this mess."
"I hope it is not too long before the revolution, so I can come back. I don't think my heart could stand it, being far away from my country for so long."
"I…have come to love your country too, Elena. I wish I could make up somehow for what I did."
"You did it for us. Even though it might not have been the…most prudent thing to do, you did it to help one of us, and that is something I will never forget." She slipped her hand into Jason's own. Her hand was soft, pliant, yet there was strength in it too. A lot like Elena herself. She seemed unassuming, demure, but he suspected there was an untapped strength to her that even she hadn't realized. He found himself drawn to her, wishing he could get closer to her, get to know everything about her.
Her lips were slightly parted like an unfolding rose, and he lowered his own lips toward hers—
"That was quite the dance," said a voice behind them. Jason jumped. A huge figure stood there, his bearded face illuminated in firelight. Jason recognized him as Rovann, the leader; he was even larger than he looked from far away.
"T-thank you," said Elena.
"Perhaps you would like to travel with us," said Rovann.
"Oh—well, I would like to, but if I stayed here, I would probably endanger you."
Rovann rubbed his beard. "You are probably right." He looked at Jason and Tasha in turn and said, "I sincerely would keep you here if I thought it would do any good. But if you stay with us, we will all be in danger. It's best this way. However, if you find James, that is, Roderick James the First, tell him he should return. In the twenty or so years that he lived with us, no one was captured, no one was killed. Now that he's gone, well—I'm sure you have heard about my son."
"He's in the prison camp?" said Jason.
"Zohr." He spat the word. "If James comes back, perhaps my son would come back too. But perhaps that's just the wish of a superstitious old man. Then again, maybe James could actually do something."
"What could he do?" said Elena. "The heir would be killed before he could get very far, wouldn't he?"
"Maybe. But not if he gathered support first."
"Is there very much support for him?" said Jason, rather doubtfully, after what he'd seen in the capital.
"Oh, yes. Maybe not in the capital. Von Warberg has closed his iron fist pretty tight around that place. But out here, you can see stirrings of revolution. As we travel, we take the pulse of the countryside. And even in Rakima, I suspect there's more support than you have seen…by its very nature, it has to be hidden."
Jason recalled the prisoners in Aleem Center, some of them still hanging onto defiance. They had been taken out of the picture, but maybe others would be willing to rally behind the King if he returned…
Rovann gave a bitter laugh. "But even if James did decide to come back to us, I doubt it would be in time to save my son from the guards of Zohr." He looked away, sadness written in the lines on his face. He strode away, and Zara and little Stefan ran up to him, and he lifted both his grandchildren up into his arms, and they laughed.
They set out early the next morning. Cold nipped at Jason's skin. Marija held little Stefan, Zara at her side; Nikola shook each of their hands, and his wife Sofia gave them some food to take with them. Then Tasha slipped into the driver's seat. Elena insisted on taking the back seat, until Jason told her that with his injured leg, he'd be more comfortable there anyway. They waved goodbye, and sped off in the little blue car. The last thing Jason saw out the back window was Rovann standing beside his trailer, his giant form receding into the early morning mist until he was nothing more than a faint silhouette, and then he was gone.
Tasha gripped the steering wheel, rounding a corner on the dusty road. She had made sure to take a back road, because the main roads were likely to be roadblocked; still, on the gravel, it was hard to drive as fast as she would have liked. The sooner they got to the border, the better. Her sole mission now was to salvage the rest of the operation by getting them out of this country with their intel intact.
Mission-wise, if they were unable to escape, it would be better if they were killed; capture meant interrogation. Tasha hoped she'd be able to withstand any amount of pressure, but she couldn't speak for the other members of her party. Jason was a trained agent, but could he hold out under torture? He was impulsive to a fault, but she'd also seen courage in him, and she acknowledged admiration for him, even though she disapproved of his actions. Would he be strong enough to hold out under immense physical pressure? She hoped it would never come to that. Elena, though—Tasha doubted that slip of a girl could hold out under much of anything. Good thing she didn't know much more than the security forces did already, only that they were NSA agents.
Tasha glanced back at Jason. He looked like he was asleep, stretched out in the back seat with his injured leg lying awkwardly against the floor. Her heart went out to him; the situation was bad enough as it was, but to be injured, unable to run if it ever came down to that, was not an enviable position. Tasha had assumed responsibility of the mission by default after Jason's actions and injury; anything that happened to the others was her burden too. For a while, during Jason's fever, Tasha hadn't been sure he'd survive. It hadn't been easy seeing him like that, tossing and turning, crying out in fear and pain, drenched in sweat. She had barely slept herself during those nights of watching over him. She probably wouldn't have slept at all if it hadn't been for Elena, who had taken shifts with him, swathing his brow with damp cloths.
I suppose I should be grateful to her, thought Tasha. But all she felt was a simmering jealousy. She tried to suppress it as much as she could; it wouldn't help the mission, and it certainly wouldn't help her. That door was closed to her; it was just her silly emotions, pulling her where she didn't want to go.
She glanced at Elena. The girl (she thought of her as a girl, though she was probably 21 or 22) was looking out the window at the vast brownish-green plain dotted with scattered trees. Tasha, in the interest of rapport-building, had tried to initiate conversation; it had gone well as long as they talked about Elena's life in the capital, but then Elena, her face lighting up, had gushed about Jason being 'extraordinary'. Ever since then, they'd travelled in silence—probably for the best, considering how much Jason needed sleep.
Tasha didn't just feel uncomfortable with the developments between Jason and Elena because of her own feelings; it was how unabashed Elena was becoming about hers. They didn't need a complication like this; they could be found and shot at any time and Elena was acting like this "adventure" was just an excuse to get closer to Jason. At first, Tasha had thought Elena's feelings were one-sided, but after last night, it was pretty clear that Jason felt the same too. It made her feel sick to think about it.
I'll just have to distract myself with the mission as much as possible, she thought. Right now, though, it isn't being all that distracting….
As if on cue, the car shuddered over a bump and grumbled to a stop. It sighed, and was still.
"What happened!?" said Elena.
Tasha leaned her head on the steering wheel for a moment. We don't need this.
"Are you all right?" said Jason from behind her.
"Yeah," said Tasha. "You?"
"Wasn't fun going over that bump, but…."
"Your leg!" said Elena. "Is it okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine." He sounded out of breath. Tasha looked back at him; his face was pale, etched with pain. She wished she could do something for him, but they had bigger problems at the moment.
Tasha didn't know a lot about cars, just the basics, but she climbed out and popped the hood. Steam rolled off the engine; it smelled like sulfur. She stepped back, away from its heat, contrasting with the biting cold air.
Elena helped Jason out of the car, and he hobbled outside on his crutches. "Let me see if there's something I can do," he said. Tasha stepped back, brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. As Jason fiddled around with the engine, Tasha surveyed the area. She couldn't see anyone coming down the gravel road or across the plain. On the horizon, a town crouched, its buildings eating the edge of the plain like a dark fungus. At least the car had stopped near some bushes, which would help shield them from observation.
"I think I found out what's wrong," said Jason, standing straight. "The good news is that it's a simple problem. The bad news is that we don't have any way to fix it."
"What is it?" said Tasha.
"I'm pretty sure it's the battery." He pointed to it. "See the corrosion there?
"I don't think Nikola would have given it to us if he'd have known— it's probably hard to buy a new battery when you're trying to keep a distance from patrols."
Tasha nodded. "Could you fix it if I could find a battery?"
Jason looked at her. "I don't really have the tools here, either."
"But could you?"
"If I had the right tools, yes."
"I'm going to go to the next town and find what you need."
"Even if you could find one, how would you get it back?"
"I'll find a way. What other options do we have? You can't walk in your condition."
Jason sighed. "I suppose…I just wish I could go with you."
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I could go with you," said Elena.
"I can probably get there faster on my own. You'd better—stay here and keep Jason company." Tasha almost choked out the words. It flashed into her mind how close they might get without her in the way.
Tasha got Elena to help her roll the car off of the road. It slid sideways onto the grass and Jason joined them, helping them push it further into the bushes, despite his injured leg.
Then Tasha dragged out the pack that Sofia had given them, and took out all but the most basic supplies. Jason and Elena would need them more than she did, and the lighter the pack, the faster she could move.
From the back seat, Jason took the camera-gun and handed it to her.
"You'd better take this," he said.
"No, you keep it," said Tasha. "You're stranded here—you'll need some protection."
"But where you're going is more dangerous. We're concealed here. Besides, if you don't come back, we'll still be stranded."
"You may have a point." She took the camera-gun. "But make sure you stay in the car. Don't get out unless it's absolutely necessary. You never know who might see you."
"We'll be careful," said Elena. She took Jason's hand.
Tasha turned away, unable to look at them, and unable to stand her own idiotic feelings—which were only getting worse despite her efforts to shut them down.
"You be careful too," said Jason.
"You know me," said Tasha. "I will." And she strode off toward the town in the distance, over the broad open plain.