Chapter 10
Extending a Hand
The Road to Sainte-Camieux, Aregonde County, Republic of Artagna
It was easy for Colonel de Villein to throw his weight around in a tiny village like Meridot, but it would not be so easy here in the capital. He was outside his jurisdiction and would have to coordinate with the county prefect, the division commander, and the city's commissaire de police. He could imagine all three of them refusing to cooperate, possibly even going so far as to sending him and his men back to where they came from under armed escort, along with a formal complaint filed with his own county prefect and division commander.
Based on Lieutenant Galon's calculations, they had a day or two before Chasseur Weissman would arrive in Sainte-Camieux, provided he had not gotten waylaid. Might he try to lay low somewhere? He had spent several days in Meridot, after all, but that was apparently for the sake of the woman he was travelling with.
None of it made any sense. Why would a deserter on the run waste valuable time stuck in one place, then burden himself with a travelling companion who would only slow him down and cost him resources that were in precious short supply? He did not seem like that much of a fool or else he would have been caught already.
The Colonel could feel a headache coming on. The more he thought about the problem, the more it hurt. He fancied himself to be a good hunter, but this particular quarry had him doubting himself.
There was no telling how long he might have kept brooding, but the Colonel was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of tinkling bells. A gaudily decorated gypsy caravan pulled by a swaybacked old mule was making its way down the road. It was a little early in the season yet, but it was common for the gypsies to leave their wanderings to winter in the bigger cities. Though it was possible they might find legitimate gainful employment during that time, that was not their reputation. The children old enough to walk would be sent pickpocketing and the women would be put to work on the street corners as whores while the men drank and gambled away their ill-gotten gains.
Naturally, such people would do their best to avoid the authorities, so it came as quite a surprise when the caravan came to a halt alongside the Colonel's horseless carriage.
"Greetin's to you, sir," the driver said.
"On your way," the Colonel said gruffly, "before I have my men use that circus wagon for target practice."
"You look sore vexed, sir," the driver replied, not showing the slightest sign of fear at the Colonel's threat. "Care to have your fortune told?" He nodded to the veiled girl sitting next to him. "My daughter here is quite good at what she does."
Having your fortune told? Was that what they were calling it these days? The little bitch probably had more venereal diseases than a stray dog had fleas.
"I told you to move on," the Colonel said, "or perhaps instead of that wagon, it'll be you and your little whore we use for target practice."
The man stirred at this, enough to prompt the Colonel's hand to move to his sidearm, but the girl touched the man's arm to stop him. Tramps and thieves though they were, the gypsies did have some sense of honor after their own fashion, even if it amounted to little more than an excuse to get into brawls.
"You are looking for someone," the girl said. "A man, one of yours. He is headed westward, travelling with a woman. You mean to catch him here."
The girl's words gave the Colonel pause. He was not the sort who believed in fortunetelling, but in a world where the Gift exists, he could not deny the possibility that such an ability could be real. Still, they did not need to know that he thought so.
"Any carnival trickster could guess as much," he said dismissively. He took out a single clovin coin and tossed it at the gypsies. "There. For being fit for a carnival. Now be off with you."
"If you want to catch your man, you'll not be wanting to be rid of us so easily, sir," the man said. "By the third eye that grants sight beyond sight, my daughter will find the man you seek."
He held up the silver piece.
"The price I ask is paid in a different sort of coin, though."
"What do you mean?" the Colonel asked.
"You take your man. Give us the woman."
So that was it. The woman with Chasseur Weissman was a runaway and this gypsy wanted her back. It was true that by travelling with the woman, it could prove more difficult to pick Weissman out of a crowd, but if there was someone who knew what the woman looked like...
"Very well," the Colonel said. "You find them and the woman's yours. I'll take no responsibility for your food and lodgings, though, and if I catch you thieving, I'll cut off your hands, gouge out your eyes, and feed them back to you."
"You are rightly called 'Le Boucher', sir," the man said with a bob of his head.
The Colonel certainly had not introduced himself as such and he doubted his reputation had spread so far. It was possible the gypsy had spent time in Egidienne and learned about him there, but it was also possible that this was meant to be further demonstration of supernatural ability. He was, of course, more inclined to believe the former than the latter.
"Are you sure this is wise, sir?" Lieutenant Galon asked as the gypsies moved on to find a place to park their caravan.
"An extra set of eyes can't hurt," the Colonel replied, "especially if they know the woman Chasseur Weissman is travelling with. Set a couple men to watch them. If they try anything funny, I'll be making good on my threat."
"Very well, sir."
"We'll see if that girl actually has a third eye or if we need to go digging around to find it."