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  In spite of what old Kalia said, his father was not a vampire. He had always been a good man, a voyvode, a leader of their horde, a kind father and a faithful husband, a Rom with the highest regard for Gypsy traditions and their common welfare.

  Why did such a horrible tradition as this have to be carried into the modern world of 2040? It was something one could expect of Romany tribes in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. But not in the twenty-first!

  Just because little dark-eyed Tshaya, daughter of Stevo, had been found dead in the nearby forest with her throat torn open, leaders of the kumpania had met and decreed that Laetshi, dead a little more than ninety days, was a vampire and had come up out of his grave to drink her life-fluid. And now he, Alexandru, son of Laetshi and only fourteen years old, had been told what he must do to lift the curse of vampirism from the kumpania and from himself.

  Only by descending into the grave and driving the iron stake through his father's heart, then cutting off his father's head with the spade, could he still forever the vampire his father had become. Then he would have to put the head in the canvas bag and that evening throw the severed head on the fire in the center of the encampment. Only in this way could the kumpania be sure that the vampire would never rise again. And equally important—that he, Alexandru, son of a vampire, would not become a vampire himself.

  The boy looked around. The whole tribe had gathered in a circle fully twenty paces away to give him privacy for his ghastly deed. He was completely alone. He shivered with dread.

  He had loved his father with all the love a Gypsy boy could give to the man who had taught him the joy of Romany life. From his father, Dru had inherited a driving need for freedom and a love of the open road. From his father, Dru had learned Gypsy lore. From him, he had learned the songs that his father's fathers had sung in their youth. And he had learned the ways to avoid the Caje, the strange, cruel, non-Romany people who hounded them from place to place.

  No, Alexandru thought to himself, he could not do it. He looked over at old Kalia, who was motioning impatiently for him to descend into the grave.

  The ground on top of the wooden coffin had been removed, and the coffin's lid loosened but not taken off. Soil at the side of the coffin had been shoveled away and a short ladder put down.

  Half in a daze, the young lad awkwardly made his way down the five rungs of the ladder. It was cramped at the bottom. There was just enough room for him to stand next to the coffin.

  Slowly he pulled up the lid, just enough to peer within. It was too dark to see his father's features. Nor did he want to. More than anything else he wanted to remember his father as a laughing, hearty man with bold, flashing eyes, a handsome man, a born leader, a boro rye, a tatcho Rom.

  Dru started to close the lid. The mere thought of driving the spike into his father's body made him shudder with horror. Then he stopped. . . .

  What was this just under the lid? His mother's triple string of gold pieces! The envy of the whole tribe.

  Slowly he pulled out the heavy chain of golden coins and looked at them through unshed tears. His mother must have slipped them into the coffin as her last tribute to her dead husband. And then, only two days later, in deepest grief, she had taken her own life, unwilling to face the future without her mate.

  For a long moment Dru stared at the golden hoard. A fortune! And in that instant an idea came to him.

  Yes, he would pretend to carry out old Kalia's orders. Then, that night, he would leave the camp. With both mother and father gone, there was nothing to hold him. With the ari, the gold wealth, he would make his way in the Gorgio world of non-Gypsies.

  He hid the gold pieces in his jacket. Quickly he filled the canvas bag with chunks of soil. Then he used the mallet to pound tight the coffin lid.

  He knew he would be allowed to carry the bag into the camp. Later that evening, with all assembled, he would be expected to take his father's severed head out of the bag and hurl it into the fire. But before that moment arrived, he would have slipped away.

  That part was easy. The next part would be much more difficult. Where could he go?

  Not to another Gypsy group. They would only turn him back. That left only a life among the Gorgios. Could he live among them, hide among them?

  Young Alexandru, dark-haired, dark-skinned, had lived all his fourteen years as a Romany boy. The thought of trying not only to live in the world of the Gorgios, with its hateful restrictions, but to hide among them, was frightening.

  If it were only possible to go to another world! He knew from the talk around the campfires that the galaxy he lived in was large, had many worlds. Men of his kumpania had actually seen the long, slender, silvery spaceships that made their fabulous journeys to these far-off places. The Gypsy spirit in him had always thrilled at the thought of challenging the skies as his father and his father's fathers had challenged the roads of Earth. If only he could be the first Gypsy to travel to the stars . . . the first . . . the first. . . .

  Before climbing back up the ladder, he looked at the open sky above him. His father had always told him to follow the Romany ways and to obey the Romany laws. What he was doing now was in violation of those ways and laws.

  He was disobeying Kalia's instructions. He knew what that meant. Under Gypsy tradition, he would be followed wherever he went on Earth. There never would be a truly safe hiding place for him.

  What was it old Kalia had said—-that he, Alexandru, as son of a vampire, would himself become a vampire if he didn't carry out the ritual ! Well, he didn't believe his father had been a vampire.

  As he climbed the few steps to the surface, he shuddered at the thought of challenging fate. If what old Kalia said was true, he might one day turn into a creature whose thirst could only be satisfied by sinking his teeth into a human throat and sucking warm, human blood. . . .

  As he sat waiting for night to come, Dru looked down at the canvas bag that was supposed to be holding his father's severed head.

  The tiknos, the noisy small boys who had been begging him to open the bag and let them take a "look," had run off when the big central fire was started. For the moment he was alone.

  Swinging the bag over his shoulder, he strolled as casually as he could toward the horseyard. With a twist of his wrist, he tossed the bag into a bush.

  Crouching low, he worked his way between the animals until he reached the farthest edge of the horseyard. There, like Kalia himself, stood Kalia's black grast, calm and aloof.

  The horse knew Alexandru and made no objection when he untied the halter. In the dark he led the animal back out to the lane that led away from the encampment.

  Leaping up on the horse's smooth back, he nudged him gently with his knees. He would need bacht for the flight, luck. Luck and his best Romany cunning to escape the wrathful Kalia. He knew he must leave no vurma, no trail marks, behind him.

  He must not be caught. He dreaded to think what his punishment for not following Kalia's orders would be. His only hope was to reach the boro-gavaste—the big, sprawling city of the Caje. There, perhaps, he could find safety.

  The kumpania had made camp deep in the forest, far away from the city that now promised escape. He had a long journey ahead. Once away from the sounds of the encampment, he let the horse have its head.

  Stealing a horse was a great crime. Stealing Kalia's horse—well, he couldn't think of anything worse. But this stallion was the only one that could keep him ahead of the pursuit that was inevitable.

  It was after midnight when he reached the edge of the city. At an open spot, he slipped off the horse and tied its halter to a fence. The pursuers, when they came, would certainly see the animal there. Perhaps Kalia's anger would be lessened at regaining his prized stallion.

  Dru then doubled around to the center of the city through back allicoves and narrow passageways. The buildings grew taller and more crowded together. Looking at where these people lived and worked, he knew he could never accept such confinement. Even now, in the hour of daw
n, with only a few solitary figures shuffling along to their tasks, he felt pressed down by all the massive, overwhelming structures around him. The very air had a nauseous, rank smell to it that all but gagged him. It was utterly different from the open road of his Romany ways. Too different. He knew that he could never adjust to this kind of life.

  By the time daybreak came, he had found what he was looking for—a small shop that had all kinds of merchandise for resale, including old, used clothing.

  Hiding behind a crate in an allicove, he waited for the store to open. With one gold piece concealed in his hand, he entered the shop and picked out a pair of trousers and a jacket such as city boys wore, a plain white shirt, a boy's cap, a pair of hard shoes, and a small traveling bag. In addition he picked out a girl's drab, blue, wrap-around garment and a scarf, "for his sister," he said. The wizened, bent-over proprietor held the gold piece for some time. Dru could feel the sharp, old eyes peering over at him.

  Dru knew this was the critical moment. He sighed inwardly with relief when the old man bit down on the coin, looked it all over again, and dropped it into his tunic pocket.

  Dru hurried out, back to his earlier hiding spot in the allicove. Behind the crate he changed his clothes, stuffing the dress and scarf with his old things into the traveling bag.

  With the cap pulled down over his eyes, he stepped out into the people-crowded thoroughfare. He could see that despite their lure, gold coins were perhaps not going to be the easiest kind of money to use. Taking a chance, he went back to the shop.

  The old man's eyes lit up with surprise.

  "I have another gold piece," Dru said, sensing the other's greed. "I know what you think, sir. But it is not stolen. I need regular money for it."

  As Dru expected, the old man was eager to look over the second gold coin. Without a word, he opened a drawer and counted out a small pile of paper and silver money. Dru knew that it was only about half what the gold was worth. But he took it.

  Once outside, he hurried down a passageway between glass-and-metal buildings toward the intercity transportation station. Dodging around a corner, he was not surprised to see two of the men from his kumpania standing at the side of the loading platform. They were obviously watching for him.

  At that moment the hover train roared in, its air brakes screeching. Dru waited until the last possible instant, just as the automatic doors were closing, and then ran at top speed to slide in.

  Breathless, he found a seat as the car took off on its swift flight. The ticket taker said he should have obtained a ticket before boarding but accepted Dru's money with a shake of his head.

  Dru knew his next problem was to evade capture when the car reached its destination, the great interstellar spaceport. He had never been there, but like every Romany boy, he knew about it and had dreamed and hoped to see it someday.

  Although it had traveled many hundreds of kilometers, the air car hardly reached its top speed before it began to brake. In minutes Dru would have to leave the car. And by now, the men from his camp would have telephoned ahead. Gypsies had friends everywhere. He wondered if the girl's disguise would fool the sharp-eyed men who would undoubtedly be waiting for him.

  Just as the car came to a gentle, if noisy, air-cushioned halt, he rushed to the tiny restroom, slipped the dress over his other clothes, and arranged the scarf to cover his head.

  Then, hurrying out with the exiting passengers, he joined a family group with several children. He grabbed hold of one youngster's hand and helped him onto the platform. Keeping his head down, he moved along with the family to the exit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several men watching closely as the passengers filed out.

  Dru lifted the young one into his arms and told his mother he would carry the child through.

  It worked!

  An hour later, with the girl's dress packed away in the bag, he was at the freight entrance to the spaceport. Behind the high gates stood a row of needle-shaped ships, waiting their turn to take off on unbelievable voyages to the stars.

  Now, the problem was how to get into one of those ships. Dru looked around the spaceport. Tele-communication machines announced ship arrivals and departures. Flashing signs reminded travelers to take nourishment before their long journeys. Dru realized that he hadn't eaten since the day before. He found an automatic food-vending building where the workmen ate.

  The men who loaded the spaceships looked as if they themselves came from many other worlds. They were strange-looking humanoids, powerfully built, ideal for the loading work they were doing. Some had blue-tinged skin, others were orange colored. All were rough, sturdy, well-muscled men.

  Dru listened to their talk, much of which he couldn't understand. One odd-looking creature at the next table was talking loudly and bitterly. "If I only had enough gold to buy passage, I wouldn't hang around in this pesthole another day."

  He was a huge creature, more than a head taller than any Rom, with four long arms and strong, thick legs. His flat face showed little intelligence.

  Dru waited until the man was alone. Then he went over to his table.

  "Sir," he said, "how much gold does it take to buy passage?"

  The man peered down at him. "More than you'll ever see, boy."

  Dru looked around to be sure that no one was listening. "I want to get away too," he said. "If I gave you enough gold to pay your passage away from here, could you get me into one of the ships leaving soon? Even today?"

  The man laughed. "If you have gold, which I doubt, why don't you just buy your own passage?"

  Dru thought for a moment. He knew that friends of Kalia would be watching for him at the passenger terminal.

  "I have no papers," he said.

  "You don't need papers to leave. Only when you arrive. What are you trying to put over on me, boy? Running from the law?"

  The man started to stand up. Dru pulled out a gold piece and slid it across the table. The giant's eyes lighted up.

  "I know where there are more gold coins like this," Dru said. "Lots more."

  The man glared fiercely at him. "Come with me, boy. The police will want to know about this."

  Dru pulled out a second gold piece. "Don't you want to hear why I want to leave? And where the rest of the gold is?"

  The man sank back into his chair.

  Dru would have preferred to make up a story. But he had no time to think of one that might be plausible. It had to be the truth. With fervor and obvious conviction, he told what had happened and why he was escaping the anger of his Gypsy leader.

  The man grinned. "You almost make me believe you." "Can you get me aboard one of the ships?"

  The man thought awhile and then his stolid face broke into a smile. "There's a ship leaving tonight. I could carry you on in a bag. First let me see the rest of the gold."

  Dru pulled out two of the three strings that had been his mother's proudest possession, the result of generations of her family's hoarding of gold pieces. He pushed them across the table.

  "Yes, boy," the giant said as he scooped up the coins and hurriedly dropped them out of sight into a pocket.

  He led Dru to a loading spot. Behind some bales, he slipped a heavy bag over the lad's body. The next thing Dru knew he was being toted on the big man's shoulder up a long ramp. Then he was dumped roughly on top of what felt like a pile of other bundles.

  The blast-off when it came was more than Dru could stand. A crewman found him unconscious on the floor of the storage compartment and took him to the captain.

  Although the captain raged at him, both knew there was no turning back. Begrudgingly, he was accepted. In the days and weeks and months that followed, he gladly, even eagerly, performed the menial chores given to him. He was on his way.

  He had done it! He was truly free from the punishment old Kalia had said would be his . . . free of the long Romany arm of vengeance that would have followed and found him wherever he went on Earth.

  But he was not on Earth! He was on Xylon, a planet many ligh
t years away from Earth. It had been colonized only recently by people from Earth, Dr. Zeller had told him. In six months Dru had traveled farther than any Gypsy who had ever lived, perhaps as far as all the Gypsies who had ever wandered the Romany drom, the open road.

  And now, only a month after landing on this heavily forested planet, he had grown to appreciate its natural beauty. The air was cleaner, purer than on Earth. The gravity was slightly less, giving his young muscles a sense of buoyancy he had never experienced before. The colonists had welcomed him in spite of the way he had come to them. Even the natives were a delight—friendly, eager to do anything asked of them.

  But somehow, he sensed things were not right!

  The colonists seemed to be afraid of something.

  They used the natives to help build their new homes, to cut down trees, to lay out paths, to plant seeds, to work on the dam. But at night, after the natives had gone back to their secret habitations in the forest, a fear seemed to settle over the Earth people.

  "Why?" Dru asked Dr. Zeller one morning. "What's wrong? From what I've seen of them, the natives seem harmless. In fact, they seem like friends. Why are the people afraid of them?"

  Dr. Zeller looked down at the lad who had been put under his charge. A young man himself, only in his late twenties, he had grown fond of the boy. He smiled. "I'm not sure our people are afraid of the natives. It could be something else. I'm not sure what it is."

  He paused as he packed his medical bag. "We may know more this morning. I've just had a new call. It might be a good idea, Dru, if you came along with me. Maybe you can help. If you are to be my assistant, you'll have to see this sooner or later."

  Of all the Gorgios Dru had ever had contact with, Dr. Zeller was one in whom he felt he could have utmost confidence and trust. He nodded eagerly as he followed him out of the colony's tiny infirmary.

  "What you are going to see this morning," the doctor said as they hurried along, "is quite mystifying. It's something that has happened four times in the last month since the ship arrived. Do you know what mystifying means, Dru?"