She sighed and shook her head. Sad, that so much money should be squandered on such bad taste. Perhaps this new trend towards austerity would creep over into the furnishings and decorations in these homes... if it did, for once Padrik's influence would be of excellent benefit.
The wall around the buildings to either side and to the rear of the Cathedral was an impressive one, and quite blank_which was, in itself, interesting. No carvings, which implied that the wall was new_and no entrances. So, the only way into the compound_unless there were gates in the wall on the other side_was through the single gate she had been told about, and through the Cathedral itself.
Well, if I wanted to keep an eye on the comings and goings of my underlings, that's how I would do it, she thought to herself. In the robes that most of these fellows wear, climbing the wall would be a difficult proposition.
Getting in was going to be a difficult proposition as well, unless the Patsonos left the gate open... and unless they were so incredibly stupid that they didn't bother to put a guard on it.
Then again, it's the Patsonos. They may be crooked, but they're also idiots.
Still, even idiots could have a moment or two of shrewdness. Plenty of smart people became dead smart people because they forgot that.
But as she rounded the corner, she was able to breathe easier. The gate stood open wide, with yellow light from the courtyard beyond spilling through it out onto the cobbles.
There wasn't even a token guard at the gate. Not even a child, watching to see who came in.
Oh, aye. It's the Patsonos all right.
She simply sauntered through, and once inside, re-arranged her shawl as a Gypsy would wear it, tucked into her belt. She loosened the strings of her blouse a little, and turned her businesslike stride into a slow, deliberately provocative walk.
She saw to her concealed relief that there were plenty of women here_and that, like her, while they might have adopted the mouse-browns and dust-grays of the townsfolk, they still wore their clothing like Gypsies. The wagons were arranged around the wall, with a communal fire in a great iron dish in the center of the courtyard. The building formed the rear of the courtyard; by the lights it was occupied, and by the size, there was nowhere near enough room in there for every Patsono here. It must be reserved for the elite of the Clan then, the Chief, his family, his advisors, and their families. There were a fair number of people loitering about; in all ways but the lack of color, music, and dancing, this looked like a fairly typical Gypsy camp situation.
Most of those loitering were young, and by their demeanor and lack of gold jewelry, of fairly low ranking in the Clan. It looked as if she had guessed correctly; the higher-ranked members were granted the greater comfort of the building, while the underlings made do with their wagons. On the whole, this lot was cleaner and better kempt than the majority of the Patsonos Robin had ever been forced to deal with. That made her job of fitting in a little easier.
If I don't stay around the younger and unimportant Clan members, I could get in trouble. The Clan Chief might be smart enough to ask about my "father," and I would get tripped up by a Chief. Unless I happened by pure accident to pick someone for my "father" who is dead, or simply isn't here.
She strolled over to a loose gathering beside the fire; someone passed a skin of wine in her direction and she squirted it deftly into her mouth, thus passing the informal "test" that showed she was a Gypsy. No gajin had ever mastered the Gypsy wineskins unless they were particularly deft Free Bards.
She let the fire warm her and tried to examine the faces nearby without really looking at them. Light enough came from the fire to see features clearly. Many seemed familiar; they were, perhaps, the people who were "healed" without any outward evidence of being sick or crippled, other than the canes and crutches. Those were simple deceptions that even a child could perform, and in fact, some children had performed them.
"So who's on duty tomorrow?" asked a young woman with a remarkably large nose and slender build. "Not me, I know that much." It sounded like the resumption of a conversation her arrival had interrupted.
"Little Robere, Bald Robere, Blind Robere, Tammio Blackboard, Mindy, and Berto Lightfingers, that's all I know of," another voice said, from the other side of the fire. "There's a special demon-possession up; Padrik has a point he wants to make and a woman he wants to get back at, and people are getting bored with invisible demons anyway. Should be a good show, and it's going to be an impressive enough thing we don't need a big parade of victims."
"Oh, good," the large-nosed girl said with a grin. "That means I'm off. They keep making me play blind, and my legs are black and blue from stumbling into things."
"The bruises make it look good, dearie," said an old woman, with a cackle. "Now I remember when I played blind _"
"Oh yes, we know all about that, granny," a young man interrupted rudely. "We've heard it all a hundred times, how you broke a leg just to prove you couldn't see a thing. If I hear it again, I'm going to choke."
The grandmother looked mortally offended, and drew herself up with immense, if flawed, dignity. "Well!" she exclaimed. "If me wisdom and experience are going to fall on deaf ears, I will just go elsewhere, that I will!"
She limped off into the darkness, muttering to herself. The thump of her cane on the cobblestones punctuated her grumblings. Several of the younger Gypsies around the fire snickered.
One of the young men looked at Robin curiously for a moment, and she was certain that he was going to ask her who she was. But he only passed her the wineskin, and after she took her mouthful of rather good wine (from the High Bishops cellars, no doubt), she realized why he hadn't confronted her with a demand for her identity.
"Who's special duty?" he asked instead. "Any magic tricks tomorrow besides the new demon?"
"Only the Chief and that Priest he works with. No one else, not even the peacock," the nose-girl said. Robin laughed a little, with a rueful grimace, and he grinned and winced. She passed the skin back to him.
He had seen her_in the Cathedral. And since he was seeing her now, here, he simply assumed that she was one of the other "special helpers." Perhaps there were Patsonos coming and going all the time_Patsono was a small Clan, but she had no idea of the true numbers. Perhaps there was not enough room for all of them here. Perhaps they were still collecting far-flung members as word spread they were needed.