Voyages of Fortune: Voyages of Fortune

By Andrew Anzur Clement

The complete time travel adventure. Divergent times. Distant lands. Different missions. One gambit.
In Austro-Hungary, 1898: a sickly girl discovers a bundle of instructions addressed to her by a legendary nobleman, who lived centuries ago. He entrusts her with a powerful ring and mission to protect the world from the ambitions of both factions of a mystical power struggle. It will require her to embark on a quest that will cause her own culture to reject her; the girl knows she has to accept. Now an outcast, she must outwit the Society's and the Urumi's evil designs as she attempts to alter a series of magical devices that can give anyone the power to control the world. 
In Thailand, 2004: Mei Hua and Mark, two unvalued interns, are swept out to sea by a giant wall of water. They are rescued by a space-folding sailing ship, crewed by a gang of pirates. To survive, Mark and Mei are required to join forces with the mercenaries and fight to retrieve another powerful object that -- known only to the ship's enigmatic captain -- can make the world descend into chaos. Trapped on the strange ship, Mei and Mark must find it within themselves to keep this artifact from falling into the wrong hands – assuming they can determine whose hands those are.
In Russia, 1889: Natalia, the untested heir of her gypsy camp, finds herself in charge when her grandmother is abducted by an enemy her troop is not prepared to fight. The situation seems hopeless; from a secret buried deep in her past, Natalia knows it is her fault. Then a mysterious note from a sender she does not know offers an impossible way out – one that will doom her troop to slavery, or worse, if it fails. Natalia must find her inner courage and overcome the demons of her past if she is to lead her troop to salvation.
These are the Voyagers. Each believes they are working for their own ends. They are dead wrong. They have unknowingly become pawns in a centuries-spanning gambit to control time and the world itself. Their paths are about to cross. 
All that remains to be seen is: who is really about to take over?

The Voyages of Fortune trilogy is an eons-spanning, time travel adventure, set in the Keepers of the Stone historical fantasy universe. Its expansive story connects the royalty of the European Middle Ages with a pirate ship, sailing the high seas of the twenty-first century Indian Ocean. A thrilling adventure of self-discovery where nothing is as it seems. When nothing is certain, the only one you can rely on is yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Anzur Clement
• Release date: Jun 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393807582

Book preview

Free Offer!

Dear Reader,

Welcome, or welcome back, to the Keepers of the Stone/Voyages of Fortune universe. Before you dive into Voyages of Fortune Book One, I just wanted to let you know that you can get the prequel novella, Voyages of Fortune Book Zero: Discoveries, completely for FREE Here!

Thanks and Happy Reading,

Andrew Anzur Clement

Embarkation

Celje, Austro-Hungarian Empire

January 1898

The girl ran, snow crunching under her boots. Ruined walls passed beside her. Through them, she could see glimpses of the town where she had grown up. A river curved to the left past the town’s center. Beside it, a smaller tributary flowed. The mountains to the northwest sat covered with snow. Hurriedly, the girl moved on; she limped slightly. Time was running out. She had to find a place to hide.

As she moved, the youth looked for some outcropping or crumbling emplacement where she could conceal herself. Her shoulder-length brown hair moved about her long face, framing it. At about eight years of age, her body was still relatively compact. There were many options. But none of them were good.

She heard a voice yell from behind her. Time’s almost up.

It was one of her friends. Bored, they’d come up to the ruined castle to play that Sunday afternoon. The girl who now looked for a hiding place was frustrated. Somehow they always seemed to find her. She was sick of it.

Her brown eyes looked up towards the fortress’s stone tower. She’d always associated it with two things: the stories she’d heard in her younger years about the nobility who used to live in this fortress, and the fact that her mother had forbidden her to enter it. Now almost at the end of the nineteenth century, the tower was in poor repair.

As she looked at the crumbling stone structure, it occurred to the girl that she could use this to her advantage. The others were under similar restrictions from their parents. Maybe they would not think to look for her there, if she hid inside.

Changing course, she ran for its main opening. The girl entered it. She turned to the left to look up towards its roofless top. She’d always wondered what it had been like for the man from the stories – the one who’d been imprisoned here by his own father.

The girl noticed an outcropping near one corner of the tower. She moved towards it and heard something breaking under her weight. Then she felt herself falling. Her body landed at the bottom of a hole roughly a meter deep, along with what appeared to be the remains of a rotted trap door. Her head knocked against the stone wall that formed the tower’s foundation. A few loose stones fell, landing on her. Although they did little more than scrape her, she cried out at the pain.

After a few seconds, another object fell into her lap. It appeared to be a package that had been hidden behind the stones. She yelped again, more in surprise than in any discomfort. Her hands moved to pick up the bundle. She turned it over, examining it. It was a package of papers, quite a thick one. From one end, a small golden ring tumbled into her hand. Intrigued, she slipped both objects into her coat pocket just as her friends – who’d heard her cry out – came to stand over the hole.

Are you okay? one of them asked in their native German.

The girl responded in the affirmative.

Do you want to play some more?

No. I think I just want to go home, she responded, both shaken by the fall and intensely curious about what she’d found.

They pulled her out. The girl departed.

Later that night, once her parents had gone to sleep, that same individual lay on her bed. She examined each of the papers that comprised the bundle’s contents. Only a single candle, which sat on her nightstand, illuminated the room.

It was not even paper, but what appeared to be some sort of ancient vellum. A number of the sheets contained blocks of text. They were in spidery alphabets, the characters of many different languages that the girl could not read. Others contained hand-drawn maps. With no scale or context, they were of places that she did not recognize. Finally, there were images of places, events, and people. One page held the drawing of a crudely sketched boy with what appeared to be a cut on the left side of his face. Her eyebrows rose when she saw the image of a dragon strangling itself with its own tail, drawn with what appeared to be some form of charcoal. Then she saw the form of a dark figure with what appeared to be a large stone or jewel of some kind. And what looked like the ring that was now in her possession, placed in some type of cubical stone contraption that was marked with natively formed dials. Another set of writings – in Latin – followed the renderings.

When she arrived at the final page in the bundle, the girl gasped at the first thing she noticed: an ancient wax seal comprised of three stars, accompanied by the signature of the man she’d heard about all of her life. The one imprisoned in the tower. It appeared to be some kind of letter.

She read it from the bottom upwards. One sentence at a time. It was a set of instructions. Warnings and descriptions of fantastical things and objects. Of the dark beings, of the Urumi, and of the Society’s mystical powers. Then – closer to the top – an explanation. The intended recipient of this letter was being entrusted with a great responsibility. The same mission embarked upon by its author and his own beloved: a quest whose purpose was to thwart the supernatural forces of those organizations. Above all, it implored that they could not gain possession of the ring that had been a part of this package.

By this point, the girl was beginning to wonder: Had this man simply gone mad, imprisoned alone in the tower? These had to be the scribblings of one driven to insanity by his isolation and longing. By the time she was almost finished with the letter, the girl had convinced herself; this must be the only explanation. At least she had the ring. She smiled at the idea of how jealous it would make her friends.

Then all such thoughts left her mind – forever. Her eyes widened as they settled on the letter’s first line. She did not know how it was possible. It should not have been. But it was there. The eight-year-old girl stared for a couple of moments at the short string of words she knew had changed her life:

Her name. It was her full name. The letter – written by a man who had lived centuries ago – was addressed to her.

One

Koh Pi Pi, Thailand

December 2004

You know, Mei, Mark Fletcher said to the girl he was supposed to be minding, your father is going to kill me when he sees this.

Fine. Then they’d take him to prison. Sure would make my life a whole lot easier.

Seriously, Mei. He’s not going to be happy.

Mark pointed at the black metal bar that jutted across the upper rim of the girl’s left ear, easily its fourth or fifth piercing.

Yeah. He told me. It’s not like he’s actually going to do anything. He never does, besides the yelling.

The Chinese-Khmer shrugged her compact frame. She’d spent the past five years living with only her father, a Han Chinese banker living in Phnom Penh. Her mother had left them as soon as she was able to qualify for a Chinese passport.

Right. But this could be the thing that gets me fired.

Mark did not want to think about that possibility. His own father had encouraged him to apply for this internship even though it took place over his winter break from the University of Birmingham. The man believed ‘industriousness’ to be the hallmark of any proud Briton; if asked, Mark would have said he agreed with his father. He tried to live up to the man’s expectations. At the age of three, Mark had lost his mother to breast cancer. Now, his father was all he had.

The reality of his latest internship, however, hadn’t turned out better than any of his previous ones. Mark had only been with the Cambodian NGO for a couple of weeks. He was already counting the days until he could return home to England. He checked the date on his watch: December 26th. Another reminder of how annoyed he’d become with the entire situation.

When Mei’s father, a major donor to the Green Rural Development Organization, had asked to tour some of the NGO’s field sites, the organization’s owner had decided that the Han Chinese businessman should be taken all the way from Phnom Penh to the sponsor villages in Krabi, Thailand. The real purpose was to encourage the man to increase his donations. When Mei’s father had also asked that the GRDO offer an internship to his fifteen-year-old daughter for the duration of the trip, they hadn’t been in a position to refuse. The problem was that she didn’t want to be there. With Mark unable to spontaneously find other potential sponsors, minding Mei became his main assignment.

On this particular day, they were supposed to be attending discussions between Mei’s father and the heads of the GRDO. But, for whatever reason, Mei had insisted on leaving the island’s largest city, renting bikes, and going to the uninhabited area near its southwestern end. The Han Chinese banking executive had frowned at his daughter when they’d left. Beside the GRDO’s founder stood his own daughter, Sovanna Lim, smiling victoriously.

Hey! A gypsy boat! Mei exclaimed, running toward a wooden craft moored close to the rocky coast.

The problem student of an international school, her voice carried a North American accent; the Chinese-Khmer wore her long black hair with bangs that came down to her eyebrows. Bands of hot pink highlights streaked through her locks. Piercings dotted her ears and nose. If she removed her black leather jacket, the tattoos that covered both of her arms would have been visible.

Mei! That’s someone else’s boat! Mark yelled, starting after her.

He sighed. This was ridiculous. He wanted to be back in England doing.... I don’t know what, but anything has to be better than ringing in 2005 by trying to keep some spoiled brat out of trouble.

The fair-skinned young man checked his watch again. He exhaled in disappointment. Not even past ten in the morning. This is going to be a long day.

Mei climbed into the boat.

Hey! Pretty Flower! What do you think you’re doing?

His reference to the literal meaning of her given name – Mei Hua – finally earned him a response.

I told you to stop calling me that.

Get out and I just might think about it.

Why don’t you come in and get me?

Mark hunched his shoulders. He didn’t want to enable Mei further, but he couldn’t see any choice. The young man had to get her out before the boat’s owners – he figured they were spearfishing or the like – returned.

Reluctantly, Mark descended the steep rocky incline, intending to drag the Asian girl out by the nape of her jacket if necessary.

No sooner had he entered than Mei Hua lunged past him. He didn’t have time to react before she pulled the rope that tied the traditional wooden boat to one of the rocks. It came loose. They now floated freely.

Mei, what in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?

Isn’t it obvious? We’re going on a ride.

Do you even know how to sail this kind of thing? It doesn’t have a real motor.

Mei Hua looked around the boat’s compartment, seeming to realize this for the first time.

Oh, uh, didn’t notice, I guess.

"You didn’t notice? What in the name of perdition are we going to do now?"

I don’t know. She shrugged as if this weren’t her problem. Then her mind hit on a prospect that seemed to strike her fancy. Swim to shore?

Mark sighed in exasperation. He looked around. They’d floated out to sea shockingly fast. Both of them could now see the island’s main city, Ton Sai, through the cove in which it was situated. Mark squinted his green eyes. There was something off about the view. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Do you have any idea how far out...?

He paused in mid-sentence as it struck him: the seabed around the island was visible.

What happened to the water? Mei asked.

I have no idea.

They watched with morbid fascination as the water receded further.

Then the boat’s hull bucked. A wave only a meter and a half tall passed under it. Mark and Mei looked up from where they had begun to right themselves on the bottom of the hull. Their mouths dropped open.

A wall of water smashed into the city. It swept the entire settlement off its narrow isthmus. The flotsam reversed direction.

The young Englishman let out a confused whimper of disbelief. His body collapsed back onto the boat’s hull. Mei looked away from the obliterated city where her father had been, out to the vast horizon. Then she allowed herself to fall onto the deck beside her minder.

The backwash pushed Mark Fletcher and Wong Mei Hua out to sea. The sun’s burning rays beat down upon them. Time passed. Eventually, exposure prevailed; unconsciousness welcomed them into its numbing embrace.

Two

Near Katowice, German Empire

November 1889

She didn’t have to die.

Henry voiced the realization as he hunched in front of a small fire. Natalia, the Roma girl who had been his closest friend over the last two-plus years, sat across from him. On most nights, they had been able to chat almost jovially. This evening, they both sat in silence. The gypsy girl glared down at one of the books she’d recently gotten from the mystic forum of the Invisible Circus. Like the others in her collection, it was printed in English and from a date far in the future. Her violin rested beside her.

"Henry, what are you, like, talking about? Natalia’s voice was tired.

She knew exactly what he meant. Henry had lamented Malka’s death many times over the period that separated him from her demise.

You know who I’m talking about, the brown haired boy replied softly.

You’re right. She kidnapped you after your parents were killed. I still don’t get why you felt such loyalty towards her.

Normally Natalia met Henry’s occasional bouts of remorse regarding Malka with compassion and sympathy. Tonight, however, was different. She’d never told Henry the exact date. But exactly eight years ago on this day, her parents had been murdered – beaten to death in front of her eyes.

She rescued me back in California. You know that, the blue-eyed boy grated.

Yeah, I know. She abducted you out of what you thought was such a bad situation. In the end, she did what she had to. Will you, like, move on already?

Hey, um, why are you talking like this, all of a sudden?

Because this is your life now.

The brown-eyed young woman raised her arms to indicate the gypsy camp around her and then let them flop by her side.

Why can’t you just, like, accept it and move on?

I know it is. It’s just, well, what if Malka didn’t have to sacrifice herself?

Henry raised his head, eyeing the darker skinned Roma. Unlike her usual garish attire, she was clothed in rather subdued fabrics. There was a far-off look in her eyes. She reached for her violin, which sat in the case to her left, and began to pluck it.

So what? That’s in the past. It’s not like you can undo it, or anything.

Henry raised his eyebrows and simultaneously kept thinking out loud. Right, but if we’d trusted Bozhena even though she was an Urumi, tried to bring her into in the fold, she may not have gone through with...

Natalia didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. The memory of her parents’ death – of her grandfather, the man who had been there, presiding over it all – rushed back to her mind. She fixed her gaze on Henry and began to yell, caught in a remorseful recollection even as she attempted to force it away.

Yeah, woulda, shoulda, coulda. Like, hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that....

Natalia, what’s eating at you?

Eating at me? What’s pissing me off is that your abductor sacrificed herself to save you. And now you won’t accept your situation.

She saved all of us.

Whatever. Like, good for her, Natalia continued in a smaller voice.

She went back to plucking her violin.

"What’s gotten into you?

She looked up at him. You know what Henry? How about you just mind your own...

A plump figure pushed its way into the midst of the argument. Natalia snapped her head around as if she hoped for some miraculous reprieve from the unpleasant discussion and painful memories.

It was Masha. She was out of breath. Straggling behind her were the older members of a raiding party she had led. They all headed directly for an ostentatious tent on the far end of the gypsies’ camp. Natalia could see that the Sălaşa grew more agitated at the premature return of one of its largest theft squads.

Masha, what happened? she asked in Romanian, a note of fear in her voice.

Like nearly all members of the camp, Masha could not speak English. Natalia’s switch to her first language caused her to omit any filler words.

In response, the plump girl gasped for air. Also in her teens, Masha was a couple of years younger than Natalia. Both girls had been tutored in the art of theft by Natalia’s grandmother, the gypsy queen known as Golden Fingers. Masha had proven herself to be a much more eager pupil. She was also the daughter of the Sălaşa matriarch’s chief advisor.

Finally regaining her breath, Masha spoke.

It’s the Grigorites. They’re coming after us.

What? Natalia shuddered. After a few seconds, her eyes grew even more haunted as she uttered what she knew to be a lie. After all this time? It can’t be.

Masha shook her head.

It’s true. An advance party from their Sălaşa roughed us up today. Masha pointed to the dirt and bloody scrapes on the right side of her forehead. They did this to me not fifteen minutes ago. Told us there would be more to follow. Your grandfather is finally coming for us. Masha seemed unperturbed as she described the experience.

Natalia put down her violin. She crossed her arms over her knees and allowed her head to hang in the space between. My God! she whispered to herself. Did it have to be today?

I’m sorry, Natalia, the plump younger girl said.

Natalia continued to let her head hang between her knees, still unable to admit to anyone what her grandfather had told her the night he’d ordered her parents killed.

She started, noticing Henry was staring at her expectantly. His blue eyes demanded answers even before he opened his mouth.

Natalia? What’s going on? Who are the Grigorites?

The brown-eyed gypsy glowered at him. It’s nothing.

‘Nothing’ doesn’t get the entire camp riled up like this. What?

"If this is real, you really don’t want to find out. Believe me."

Abruptly, Natalia got up and began to walk towards her grandmother’s tent, leaving her violin behind.

Natalia, what is it? Why won’t you tell me....

Just shut up, Henry! Natalia quickened her pace.

The American-born boy remained seated by the fire, pondering how the end of his adventures with Malka might have turned out differently and what new threat menaced the camp that had since become his home.

Three

Indian Ocean

December 2004

A feral roar permeated her consciousness.

Mei Hua opened her eyes to find herself staring down the gullet of a large wildcat. She fell back, crashing into the prone form of Mark, who until then had been totally oblivious to the world.

Her breath came in small gasps. The pink-highlighted girl scrambled over the writhing form of her minder. Mei skittered backward until the back of her head clanged against something unexpected: a metal railing. Her parched lips swore softly in pain. She looked down past the barrier. Below, water flowed by at an incredibly fast pace.

The wildcat paced back and forth in front of them. Crouching defensively behind Mark, Mei refused to believe that this was how her existence would end.

Hey, Mark, she whispered, shaking him.

The young man groaned.

Mark!

Wha...?

The sandy-haired youth’s head jerked up. His green eyes took in the image of the animal that paced before them. Long and lanky, its fur sported a background of almond-like yellow, overlaid with multiple black, oblong spots. The animal’s ribs could be seen through its skin. The lean frame indicated peak athletic prowess, not deprivation.

Mark’s eyes darted about. He and Mei lay on some type of wooden surface bordered by a light metal railing. Craning his neck, he noticed they were on the water. This was a ship. It was moving, and quickly, too.

He turned his head forward. Two tall wooden masts rose from a platform situated one level of lumber decking higher than the one he sat on. The masts held the necessary sheets and canvas for sailing. But, despite the incredibly fast speed of the ship, not one of the sails was unfurled.

Mark looked back to the big, lanky cat that paced before him. Mei’s breathing grew ragged in his left ear.

Mark, what should we do?

How in bloody hell should I know? You’re the one who got us into this cockup, he hissed at her.

Seeing no alternative, Mark drew towards the small Chinese-Khmer. The two of them shrunk against the railing at their backs. The knife-like point of the wooden hull sliced through the water below.

Mark looked up. His green eyes searched for any weapon he could find. Except for a knife, sheathed in a scabbard on the wildcat’s torso, there was none. Mei cowered behind him, clinging to his left arm. He could hear her almost silent sobs of what he assumed was mortal terror. The animal paused to look at them with its brown irises.

The beast cocked its head. It continued to stare quizzically at them for a moment. The whiskers on the animal’s blunt snout twitched.

It lunged.

The creature came toward them at an unbelievably fast pace, pressing over Mark and diving for Mei’s hunched figure. The big cat made the same guttural roar as it had when it awoke the girl. It mashed its fangs together, centimeters from her face.

She shook. Again, Mei refused to believe that this was happening to her. The situation seemed too farfetched, surreal, and not at all what she’d expected when she’d flung herself into the gypsy boat back in Thailand.

Mark? she yelped softly.

Once a fashion statement, Mei’s ensemble of mostly black clothing had become ripped in many places. Having spent an indeterminate amount of time in the sea nomad’s boat, part of her hair was matted with salt. Sores had begun to form on what she could see of Mark’s exposed forearms.

What? What in bloody hell is going on? Let me up!

The animal’s body pinned down Mark’s arms and the main part of his torso. Mei’s minder from the GRDO could not come to her rescue. The cat growled in a lower register. Ready, she assumed, for the kill. Its fangs came closer.

Mei’s instincts took over, urging her to act on impulse. She thought about flinging herself over the side of the hull. But as the black-haired girl made the attempt, she realized that she and Mark were tied to the railing by some sort of rope.

She allowed herself to slump against the railing. The beast edged its teeth closer to her neck. Mei felt herself growing frightened. Not for her life, but for a deeper reason she would not allow herself to fathom. The mocha-skinned girl could feel its humid breath as the wildcat’s fangs neared her neck. A warm sensation oozed near her jugular.

At least, she reflected, this would finally bring an end to the expectations of a future that had been foisted upon her for her entire life.

Four

Indian Ocean

December 2004

Kali! The unknown voice carried a thick accent. But its tone of feminine annoyance transcended all barriers to communication. Will you quit doing that!

Suddenly, the big cat was no longer in Mei Hua’s face. In one motion, it leaped backward, allowing Mark to begin sitting up. The quadruped turned and jumped onto the upper level of deck, which sat recessed a couple of meters from the railing to which Mei and Mark were tied.

The yellow and black wildcat stuck its landing on the elevated deck. It switched back and leaped onto the top of the railing. The creature’s brown eyes stared down at the two of them. It stood perched like that for a moment, flanks heaving slightly.

Mark’s and Mei’s eyes fixed on the beast that had been on the brink of assaulting them only a few seconds ago. It was only then that Mei noticed a twenty-something-year-old woman, who she was sure hadn’t been there before, standing on the upper deck to the wildcat’s left.

With skin at least as dark as Mei’s, the new arrival wore her voluminous brown hair as if it were a statement of pride. Thin, with what Mark would have considered a pleasing figure if he were not so terrified, she was dressed in modest clothes that stretched from her neck to her wrists and ankles.

When she spoke again, it was with what Mark could discern as a very thick francophone accent. Her tone carried an air of aggrieved disbelief.

"Do you not learn? Others do not find that a divertissement."

The big cat turned concertedly to look at her. Mei reluctantly brought her hand to where she thought the animal had bitten her throat. It came away dampened, but there was no blood.

Mark’s sudden gasp made her look back up at the feline. Where the large yellow and black wildcat had sat, an almost black-skinned young man balanced, his knees dangling over the railing. Bare-chested, he was clearly in peak physical condition. His body sported a number of textured tattoos made from the infliction of mild incisions that caused scarring. He sported a bone carving that jutted out from his left nostril. A knife was sheathed by his left hip.

Mark...did that...? Mei whispered.

No. Of course not.

Unlike Mei, Mark had witnessed the fearsome wildcat transform into the figure that now sat on the deck railing above him, smiling. Yet, he refused to believe what his senses told him. There was never any wildcat. This has to be a trick of the imagination. A product of exposure to the elements.

Then why is my neck wet?

Mark had been about to respond to that – he hadn’t been sure with what – when a voice they had not yet heard interrupted them.

"Yeah. You mean you didn’t find it funny, Myriam. I’ll bet she found it hilarious," the almost-black skinned youth said.

Hilarious? You were pretending to attack them.

Hey, I just licked her.

Eww.... Mark heard Mei groan behind him.

You see? The young woman’s brown eyes flashed. I am surprised that she did not react as strongly as I did when you did the same to me, after I was first brought on board.

Mark finally interrupted. What is going on here?

The two individuals turned to look at Mark and Mei as if remembering they were there.

What is going on, is that Kali is trying to play an idiotic trick.

Hey! I thought it was pretty amusing. Kali almost laughed at himself.

Mark interceded again. Look, could you two please resolve your personal issues later? Who are you? Where are we? What is going to happen to us?

The two on the upper deck turned from their argument for the second time. The dark-skinned young man clapped his palms and rubbed them together. He continued to sit on the railing.

"I’m Kali if you haven’t gathered. The one there with the trés français stick up her derriere is...."

Kali! How can you...?

Hey...I’m just making introductions.

And you are making a horrible job of it.

The young woman stepped to her right and climbed down a wooden and brass ladder attached to the side of the ship’s upmost deck. She walked toward the two new arrivals and knelt, extending her hand.

I am called Myriam. We retrieved you from the boat that you were found in, on the orders of our second in command. I apologize that Kali tried to wake you by showing you his...his cheetah teeth and then wetting you with his.... The francophone paused, searching for the word. Mouth water.

You mean ‘spit’? Mei asked.

Yes. ‘Spit.’ Thank you, Myriam replied, trying on the new word for size.

Mark shook his head.

Wait. You’re attempting to convince me that the same individual sitting there on the gunnels is the big wildcat that assaulted us? That’s impossible. Nothing in the scientific world....

Myriam sighed, cutting him off with her hand as she began to formulate a response.

Before she was able to speak, the cheetah again stood before Mark’s face. It bared its fangs and roared a louder version of the guttural sound that had originally awoken Mei. The four-legged figure turned and leaped back toward the upper deck. It landed perfectly balanced on the railing. For a second time, the being morphed before Mark’s eyes. A young man with dark skin – looking maybe about seventeen – sat on the rails.

A cheetah-person? Cool, Mei said.

Mark purposefully ignored her. That’s not possible.

"Come on. You still don’t believe?" Kali taunted.

No. I don’t.

Fine, Kali shrugged, go right ahead and be ignorant if you want.

Now it was Myriam’s turn to interrupt the exchange. Kali, you are making a terrible host. We should be showing these individuals to their quarters.

In response, Kali jumped down from the railing. He advanced quickly on Mark and Mei. Both newly arrived youths cowered against the railing; Kali’s hand reached for the knife that he kept on his left hip. He unsheathed the weapon and brandished it above his head.

In one swift motion, he brought the knife down towards them. Mark and Mei Hua screamed as its blade arced closer. Its edge cut the rope that tethered their arms to the railing. Both let out a shallow breath as they realized the stroke had not been intended for either of them.

"Kali. You are horrible! Do you not have any sense of proper etiquette?" Myriam yelled from behind.

What? I’m just cutting the ropes loose. Showing them to quarters would be kind of hard if I didn’t, don’t you think?

"Must you do it like that?"

Yeah, a little warning next time? Mei rolled her eyes.

Why? It was more fun this way.

Myriam simmered. Two seconds ago, they did not even know you.

I know. Exactly.

Kali slipped the knife back into its sheath before offering Mark and Mei a hand. He flashed a genuine smile as he tugged both of them to their feet.

All right guys, come with me. It’s time you got cleaned up before you meet the rest of the crew.

He and Myriam turned, beginning to walk towards the ship’s stern.

Crew? Mei asked, curious.

If you don’t mind, I’d be interested to know something that’s actually relevant to my situation. How long were we out? When are you taking us back to Thailand? Mark demanded.

Hey, speak for yourself, Mei whispered.

Mark let the Chinese-Khmer’s comment fall by the wayside. When will we be let off this ship?

The group entered the interior of the wooden sailing vessel. They descended a couple of decks as Kali responded, That’s up to Jenn and Jad, the two who run this outfit. I should probably give you some fair warning, though: we’re not a ferry service, and I’d be careful what you wish for. You might be put off the ship a lot sooner than you’re expecting.

Brilliant.

Where’s your next port of call? Mei inquired.

Kali hesitated before replying. A hint of sad compassion flashed through his eyes.

Qandala, Somalia.

Where’s that? Mei asked, as if it were all the same to her. Never heard of it.

Mark cocked his head backward, his features darkening with fearful suspicion. What will be done with us there?

Kali stopped, looking at him. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. If Jenn has her way, you’ll never even make it that far. She wants to leave you right back in the middle of the ocean, where we found you.

What? You people rescued us, and now whoever this is wants us cast away again? What kind of decent human being would do that?

Kali and Myriam shook their heads.

"Come, you must perform your toilette," Myriam murmured eventually.

And what then? Mark pressed.

The crew of the ship will meet in two hours, Myriam said. But, until then, I am afraid we do not know exactly what will be decided.

In silence, the two marooned youths followed Kali and Myriam down another steep wooden staircase. It led into a well-lit corridor paneled with rich varnished woods. Brass-fixtured doors lined each side. The party stopped in front of two separate entrances. The two who’d greeted Mark and Mei Hua opened the hatches.

Seeing no alternative, the two of them stepped inside their gilded cells, having no idea what would await when they next emerged.

Five

Podzamcze, Russian Empire

November 1889

Henry approached the campfire where Natalia and Masha sat. It had been a couple of days since the argument he’d had with Natalia. In the aftermath of what Masha’s party revealed, Golden Fingers, the camp’s leader, had ordered that the Sălaşa move north, across the Russian border toward Częstochowa. The intervening time had brought nothing in the way of new attacks.

Still, it was clear that Golden Fingers was flustered by the one incident that had occurred. The old woman had spent most of the time since the attack in council with her advisors. Natalia, her closest descendant and chosen successor, had attended the sessions out of custom. Yet, Henry got the feeling that she’d been using the meetings to avoid him. They were in a period of recess; he deserved some answers.

Natalia heard his footsteps crunch over the thin coating of snow that covered the ground inside the walls of Ogrodzieniec, the ruined castle where they’d camped that evening. She looked up.

Henry.

Natalia’s voice was sullen as she acknowledged his presence. He took a seat beside the fire and started speaking in English.

All right, Natalia. Who are the Grigorites?

Right. So hi, Henry. What’ve you been up to, lately?

He sighed. Mostly, I’ve been wondering what’s going on.

Nothing.

Her brown eyes stared beyond the fire as if she were suddenly transported somewhere else.

You seriously expect me to believe that?

Like I said, you don’t want to know.

Quit telling me that. You don’t get to be the supreme arbiter of what I should and shouldn’t be made aware of. Like you said a couple of days ago, this is my home now. I think I deserve to find out after more than two years here.

Masha’s head swiveled back and forth between the two individuals, not understanding their conversation. Enough with the English, you two. What are you talking about? In Romanian.

Before Natalia could respond, Henry summarized the points of the altercation while the dark-skinned gypsy simmered and stared at the ground.

Masha directed her gaze to Golden Fingers’s granddaughter. Natalia, you’ve got to tell him.

No.

Give me one good reason why not?

Because...because I’m Golden Fingers’s granddaughter, and what I say goes.

Not if my father gets his way. The daughter of the gypsy queen’s chief advisor reminded her. You tell him. Or I will.

Fine, Natalia snapped.

She jerked her head up. The sequins affixed to both sides of her babushka clinked softly together. Her brown eyes glared at Masha. She turned her gaze to the left, where Henry sat. The young woman sighed, hoping to get this over with as fast as possible.

I kind of already told you the story when we first met, in Krakow. We really did leave Walachia after the revolution in 1848. But before then, our troop was larger. More than twice the size it is now. Its Başbulibaşa was a man named Ion Grigorescu. He was – or rather he is – my grandfather; Golden Fingers was his wife.

Natalia paused. She continued to look Henry directly in his blue eyes for a moment. Then she cast her gaze downward.

"Before the revolution, my grandfather and many in our troop worked with the revolutionary supporters. They learned things like arson, sabotage, and assassination. After 1848, we found out that we’d still be sharecroppers on the boyars’ lands. Grandma told me Ion felt betrayed by the movement; it changed him. After the revolution, he planned to have the entire Sălaşa use the skills they’d learned to punish the society we had to live in, even though we’d left Walachia by that point. Anyone who stood in his way risked reprisal. Finally, it was Golden Fingers who took a stand against her own husband, advocating a relatively more benign path: using the sleight-of-hand methods she’d perfected for theft.

"Matters descended from there; one night, shortly after the troop made camp near Oradea, Golden Fingers awoke to see her husband standing over her with a knife. Grandma ran, calling for help from the rest of the camp. Many came to defend her. But Grigorescu and his supporters were ready. More than half of them were intent on grandma’s demise. The two factions came to blows.

Before it was over, Golden Fingers and her son – their only child – escaped with her supporters. We were forced to flee northwards. And that’s it.

That’s it, except now, they’re coming after us, Masha finished after Natalia fell into silence.

She turned to Masha. We still don’t know that it’s them for sure.

Natalia, you’ve got to at least admit to the possibility....

Henry interrupted them. Hold on a minute. How come I’ve literally never heard about this from anyone in two years? His blue eyes narrowed. Why have you been keeping this from me?

Natalia glared at both of them.

Masha hunched her shoulders. Who knows? To be fair, Henry, Golden Fingers developed her own share of issues surrounding what happened. Talking about it has been forbidden ever since I can remember. I even heard that she came up with the name ‘Golden Fingers’ so she wouldn’t have to keep using her real one, after what happened.

Henry had been about to respond when the flaps of the gypsy matron’s tent parted. Golden Fingers exited, as if somehow aware of the subject they were discussing. She beckoned in their direction, holding up three fingers. The session was resuming. She wanted all three of them to join.

Henry sighed. Something was in the works. Though, from what he’d just been told, it sounded like the old woman was simply paranoid. The split had occurred over forty years ago, and there wasn’t much evidence linking those past events with what happened to Masha’s raiding party, other than who the attackers merely claimed to be. He started in the direction of the tent along with the two gypsies.

Natalia’s right. He felt himself relaxing slightly. Something happened to Golden Fingers a long time ago, and now she’s blowing this all out of proportion.

All three of them reached the tent and entered.

None of them noticed the two eyes – one brown and one bright blue – that watched, hidden in the frigid darkness, atop the ruins of a buttress near the tent. The eyes’ owner had already heard what the old woman she did not like to think of as Golden Fingers was about to order. The two eyes narrowed; she smiled with a sharpness that could have cut iron. The future of her enemies’ camp belonged to her.

Six

Indian Ocean

December 2004

I’m lying here, staring at the ceiling, and I don’t even know which way is up. It’s impossible to believe what’s happened over...however long it’s been since the tsunami sucked me and that girl out into the middle of this stupid ocean.

Yes. That’s it. What I’ve seen since I woke up here has got to be an effect of the elements. The two...individuals...I met above deck can’t be real. What I saw that black fellow do not two hours ago is proof enough. It’s bloody impossible. People can’t change shape. Ships don’t move as fast as the one my mind tells me I’m on, especially if they were built when the Empire still ran things in these parts. There’s no way any vessel could fail to generate even a semblance of motion as it sails. Yet, it feels like I’m back in my father’s quite-stationary house in Edgbaston. I wish I were still there now.

I’ve got to be in the gypsy boat, delirious. This is all her fault. That idiot girl I was supposed to be watching. If it weren’t for Mei, I’d be back in Cambodia now, doing...well, who knows what I’d be doing, but it would at least be better than this exposure-induced delusion. The assignment I would have had otherwise, back at the GRDO, would have allowed me to get what my father hoped I would out of this experience...

He sent me on this internship. Well, he suggested that I apply, so I know that must have been the right thing to do, even though it means I have to be away from home during the winter break. I get that it wasn’t going all that well. But I’d have been able to turn this one around if it weren’t for Mei and her stunts. It’s the path I’ve been on my entire life: go to uni, get through a few of these low-level positions. And then my future becomes assured. That’s what I’d be working at now if I hadn’t wound up here, locked in a cabin on a wooden sailing ship....

Wait. Don’t even think it. This is just a trick of my mind. Eventually, I’ll wake up back in the wooden hull of that Thai boat with Mei staring at me and demanding I save her somehow. That I be the one to solve her problems, like she did when that cheetah....

No. Quit it. No matter how real any of this seems, it can’t be. What I need is to keep on the path that was meant for me: industriousness, morality, motivation. More than anything now, I’ve got to uphold what my father taught me.

Dad is right. No matter what’s happened, I’ve got to keep working towards the goal that’s ahead of me. That is, if I can make it out of this alive. Hopefully, this hallucination will end soon. Then I’ll be able to...what? Ugh, this whole thing is beyond....

***

The sound of the cabin door swinging open launched Mark from his reverie into orbit. He rocketed up from where he’d been lying on the bed in anticipation of whatever was about to enter through the threshold.

Seeing what greeted him, Mark’s features relaxed and fell at the same time.

Oh. He let out a huff, sat back down, and flopped onto the pillow. It’s just you.

What? Mei responded. She shut the door behind her. You do know the doors aren’t actually locked, right?

Mark’s brow furrowed momentarily. The green-eyed youth assumed that once he’d been ushered into this cabin by his captors, the door would have been locked. He hadn’t tried the egress. Not only because of that assumption but also because he wasn’t certain that it was much of a good idea to go roaming about a strange ship, populated with a crew whose intentions were unknown – and possibly hostile. Mark wasn’t convinced that what he was experiencing was real. But it certainly felt concrete. His confusion lasted for only a few seconds before his eyes narrowed on Mei Hua.

She was dressed in a light green version of the same garment that Mark had seen worn back in Britain by recent immigrants from South Asia: a long flowing shirt combined with baggy pants. The girl’s ear and nose piercings contrasted sharply with her rather plain clothing. Mei wore the outfit with its long sleeves rolled up to the shoulders. He could make out some of the larger tattoos on Mei’s arms: a brightly colored dragon ran up her left forearm; on the other, the silhouette of a canine – some kind of stylized wolf? – appeared to leap forward. His erstwhile charge’s pink-highlighted hair lay in its customary flat style, except the sides of her head were now shaved from the temples back to her earlobes. Apparently, Mei Hua had decided to deal with where the seawater had matted her coiffure by shaving it off.

You could have knocked, Mark accused.

He was attired in long pants and a lightly patterned shirt that were a size too small for him. They were the only clothes he’d found in the cabin.

Whatever, Mei shrugged. She smirked, pointing to the now hairless portion of her scalp. What do you think?

You know what? I don’t give damn. Now, what are you doing in here?

At the surprisingly direct statement from her former minder, Mei appeared slightly taken aback. She recovered her confidence quickly.

Nothing. Just bored.

There was a second or two of awkward silence.

She allowed a small smile to play across her face. Want to go exploring?

No.

Why not? Mei demanded.

Because. Mark huffed out the word. An edge crept into his voice as he spoke rapidly. "It’s ridiculous. I can’t believe you. We’re apparently standing here on a strange ship. The only two...people, he hesitated before emphasizing the word, that we’ve seen have less than sterling credentials, and their disposition regarding us appears worrisome at best. Before that, we saw an entire town get wiped into the sea by a giant wall of water. Your father could be dead right now. That’s why not."

I know. I know. Mei rolled her eyes. During most of Mark’s tirade, she’d maintained an impression of noncommittal ennui on her features. Good thing I got us into that boat when I did, right?

Mark let out a groan.

"Oh please, Mei. There is no way you knew about the tsunami. Quit trying to justify it after it’s landed us wherever here really is."

Mark gestured around the cabin before letting his hands fall to his sides.

We’re better off than if we’d been in Ton Sai at that boring meeting. Mei’s response carried a sardonic lilt. Then it changed to include more of a whine. Come on. Let’s go.

She stepped forward, grabbing Mark by the arm, as if to pull him off of the bed. The sandy-haired young man shook her off, harshly. He stood under his own power.

You want to go? Go.

Hey! Why are you acting this way? Come on.

Or what? Mark practically cut off her last demand. Your actions got us into this mess. All you’ve done since then is yell for me. But, I don’t have to listen anymore. It’s not like you can complain about how I’m treating you to my supervisor at the GRDO or to your dad. Mark delivered the words in a raised tone. His timbre carried a sense of exasperation – even release.

He turned away from her to stare out of the cabin’s only porthole.

You’re on your own, Mei.

As he spoke, Mark noticed that most of the cabin’s wooden surfaces had been retrofitted with modern conveniences – electric lighting, bathroom fixtures, and the like. The lumber of the interior walls looked much newer than that of the hull itself. It gave the place an oddly cobbled together appearance.

After a beat, he heard Mei again. Then what am I supposed to do?

The almost disbelieving naivety of her reaction piqued Mark’s annoyance. He turned back to her and spoke with a condescending air.

Go back to your cabin. Explore this bloody ship if you really want to that badly. Just go away from....

There was a banging sound on the door. It startled them both.

Come on in.

Mark noticed how Mei’s voice seemed to change instantly to exude a casual confidence. For his part, Mark steeled himself for the arrival of the visitor who bothered to knock.

***

The door opened inward to reveal the same bare-chested African, whom Mark still refused to believe he’d seen morph into the form of a cheetah.

Hey again. From the sounds of things, I’m guessing you two don’t get along that well.

Mei shrugged. I get along with him fine. He just has problems getting along with me.

Mark replied with a more aggrieved statement of his own. How long were you out there?

Kali shrugged easily. A gesture meant to convey admission but not guilt.

Just a few minutes. You were entertaining. He gestured for them to follow. Come on, the meeting is going to start soon.

Kali turned to pad down the hallway. Casting sidelong looks at each other, Mei Hua and Mark followed.

What’s going to happen to us? Mark asked as they exited into the corridor.

We’ll figure that out at the meeting. Relax, The general mood is overwhelmingly in your favor.

What’s that supposed to mean? pressed Mark.

You’ll become part of the crew during this mission. When we finally reach some sufficiently stable port of call, you can go about your way.

Part of the crew? Mission? I want to go home. Not start a life as a sailor. Who are you people, and what exactly do you do, anyway?

I think those questions are better answered by either Jenn or Jad.

Kali kept walking, without turning his head. Mark got the impression that he was under marching orders not to reveal more.

Jad? Mei asked before Mark could cut loose with another barrage of questions. What kind of a name is that?

It’s the nickname Jenn gave him. Short for Jadallah. It’s not like we’re going to start calling him by the other half of his full name. We wouldn’t want him developing a god complex or something. That would be bad.

Mei actually broke into a laugh along with Kali. Mark glared at them. The three ascended one of the narrow wooden stairways they’d climbed down on the way to the cabins.

After a moment or two, Mei broke the silence. What about your name?

Kali stopped, turning. He favored Mei with a broad smile of white teeth.

You mean ‘Kali’? Family name. Passed down by my mother from her father after my family fled northeast Kenya.

Mark interrupted the exchange Right. So, you’re from Kenya. Assuming this is somehow real, don’t we have a rather important staff meeting to get to?

Oh, right. Kali turned and began talking again as they continued up yet another stairway. And, no actually. Like I said, my grandparents and my mom had to flee Kenya during the early sixties. They ended up in Zimbabwe, which was apparently more accepting of people who were involved with colonial governments.

So, your grandpa could turn into a cheetah too? Mei asked.

At least, Mark reflected, they’d reached the main deck and were progressing toward wherever they were going.

Nope. Kali responded as they walked, Shortly after they set out for Zim, the sub-Saharan used a local slang abbreviation for the country he’d been raised in, "my family found an injured man lying on the side of the road. He was in pain but conscious. They gave him medical attention; when my dad fell asleep, he morphed into the form of large leopard-like feline.

My grandpa’s reaction was visceral. He wanted to kill it. But my mother refused to allow him. Kali shrugged. Anyway, they brought my father on with them to Harare, he pronounced the name with special a flourish that emphasized the ‘ra.’ And the rest is history.

Mark’s features narrowed. What are you? All of this really happened?

Kali hunched his bare shoulders. For a second, it seemed like he was going to launch into another lengthy description. Instead, he settled on a simple, Yup.

He turned and started climbing a ladder onto the upper level of the ship’s two exterior decks.

Right.

Mark followed, Mei on his heels.

Kali turned right. He walked back towards where a modern structure sat on the deck’s rear section. Inside its large windows, an old-style wooden rudder’s wheel rose from the deck. Four individuals stood in the space behind the wheel, arguing.

The trio neared the wheelhouse’s entrance. The one leading the new arrivals opened the door.

Wait here. At least, for now.

Mark heard a young woman’s voice through the threshold. Kali. You’re late.

Without further preamble, Kali entered the wheelhouse and shut the door, cutting off all sound from inside.

Sighing, Mei allowed herself to slump against the structure next to the door, her hair flapping in the wind created by the vessel’s rapid motion.

Mark lowered himself onto the deck opposite her, wishing that he’d still somehow wake up to discover this had all been a delusion or a dream. A sinking feeling formed in his stomach: the sudden, impossible certainty that his very real future was being decided within the retrofitted wheelhouse. Mark only wished he could take part in the discussion long enough to tell them there was no discussion to be had.

Seven

Częstochowa, Russian Empire

November 1889

This is boring, Henry thought as he watched Masha and her party relieve an unsuspecting passerby of her purse’s belongings. He sat next to Golden Fingers. It had been a few days since the matron of the Sălaşa had decreed that she, Henry, and Natalia would accompany raiding parties once they’d arrived at Częstochowa.

The blue-eyed youth looked up, taking in the awesome structure that arose to his left beyond the city: the Jasna Góra monastery. The sight of the place caused him to shudder. It had been there that Malka had gone to her death, after she’d partly contained the Fragment behind the icon of the Black Madonna more than two years ago, when Bozhena, a rogue Urumi warrioress, had tried to release its power in a failed bid to control the world.

Henry sat under a disheveled blanket where he and Golden Fingers appeared to be begging on a corner of the Aleja Najświętszej Maryi Panny, one of the busiest streets in the city. Their real purpose was to observe and revise the tactics of the Sălaşa to allow its members to better defend themselves in case of attack. Today they were trying out techniques that could be used by smaller-framed individuals about Masha’s age. It was freezing. In the days since he’d begun to take part in these reconnoiters, very little out of the ordinary had happened.

This is pointless. It was probably nothing. Henry sighed. He looked over at Golden Fingers, deciding it was time to confront her.

Başbulibaşa, I think perhaps you should consider that what happened to Masha’s party a week ago was....

Henry looked up. A black blur descended from the roof of the row house that he and Golden Fingers sat under. It landed directly on top of Masha’s shoulders. Both of them fell to the ground. The dark form picked itself up much more quickly than the girl it had assaulted, ready for the coming confrontation. At the same time, two similar forms landed on the others in the theft party. The attackers moved with shocking speed, accuracy, and agility.

Masha landed a fist into what appeared to be the torso of the form that assaulted her. The girl’s hand impacted with clearly cut lines of black fabric. The robe’s owner repaid her one punch with many more of its own. The other two members of Golden Fingers’s Sălaşa were quickly overpowered; the cloaked figures pinned them to the ground. Henry heard the sound of bone snapping. The attackers started toward him and Golden Fingers.

In that second, Henry was certain he’d been dead wrong. The Grigorites were coming for them. He looked at the old Roma matriarch who attempted to lumber to her feet beside him, as she realized her presence was the likely reason for the attack on this particular raiding party. Henry got up and ran.

He dashed for where Natalia’s party was located a few blocks away. Henry was no fighter and he knew it. But he was aware from firsthand experience that Natalia had developed a keen talent for being able to defend herself.

Henry neared Natalia’s group. He noticed that they were not in similar straits. Hearing more than seeing his approach, Natalia started from where she’d sat ensconced under her own blanket. Henry paused in front of her, breathing raggedly with his hands on his mid-thighs.

Her mouth opened wide. The haunted look came back to her eyes. Henry, what’s going on?

Masha’s party is under attack. It looks like they’re after your grandmother.

Throwing her blanket aside, Natalia leaped to her feet. She broke into a run, charging back down the Aleja. The other two in her party realized something was happening after a moment. They followed.

As Natalia and Henry sprinted, she turned to him. What happened, Henry? Who’s attacking them?

We were just going about our business when these...um, these black-cloaked figures jumped out of the air...

He paused to take