Byzantine Purple

The Past Written VIII: Through The Eyes of The Basilisk

"You'll find a way to remedy the scratch," she said matter-of-factly. He nodded - neither shocked nor pleased.

"My conditions stay in power, Lady Galbur." His thin lips quivered. "You have a week."

She did not reply. Leudora slid beneath the Veil swiftly, quickening her pace and taking her time to breathe. They would meet again, she knew. 

She almost reached a wide paved road, when two preventive braceter shots jolted her to a halt.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?" The voice did not sound familiar. She sensed a time-master and two energy-twisters approaching, their braceters aimed at her back. The time-master cursed loudly and shouted something to the Byzantine Bloods. Leudora smiled with relief, recognizing her Hungarian accent: she was Margit Varga, a distant relative and a good friend of Szemere. The intricate floral tattoos on her hands discerned her from everyone else.

"I saw her in my vision," Margit shouted to her companions, "Do you remember what I told you yesterday?"

Leudora turned to face them. Two confused men in stained clothes greeted her.

"You are a Keeper of the Fasma, aren't you?" They lowered their weapons, closing in. "It is hard to tell without the robes."

"I occasionally wear colors other than purple, gold and silver," Leudora confirmed, "A change of clothes was necessary. If you lead me to my cousins, I will share the details."

"Why should we lead you anywhere?" Deep suspicion sneaked into the man's voice, and Margit Varga did nothing to dissipate his doubts. "You Fasma people don't help us, you don't care. Do you even know how long we have been holding this territory? Lord Predrag has lost a son to those monsters. Lady Tijana Galbur is injured. And you, you are that Lascari girl! We'll just send you back to your Fasma folk. The purple-wearers are useless!"

Leudora only raised an eyebrow, her posture becoming stiff.

"Now... whoever you are, seasoned war hero. Frankly, right now I don't give a damn who you are. But you will listen to me because you have no choice." She folded her sleeve and showed him her shoulder covered with stitches. "A very harmless scratch, wouldn't you say? I received it after murdering forty people yesterday." She paused, allowing the information to sink in. "If you do not think I have the skill and determination to stop you, you are welcome to try your luck. And if you do not think I have the incentive to talk to my relatives, you are welcome to question it. Do it at your own peril." Her dark-grey eyes were set to kill, and her mind lay splayed open for her kin to test the veracity of her words. "Tell Tijana Galbur that her cousin Leudora is here to see her and Lord Predrag. I bring very urgent news."

"What's the news?" The man frowned, but the time-master stepped forward.

"Ask Lady Tijana to come!" Margit Varga ordered and spun on her left heel.

Leudora had to wait more than an hour in a 'secret camp' that occupied three old barns with agricultural equipment on the side of a hill tall enough to be considered a small mountain. Pressing her lips tightly together, she desperately tried to remember all she could about her distant relatives: Predrag Galbur was a cousin of her father and uncle, and Tijana was his daughter. There was very little Leudora could recall apart from their respect for Svetozar and their deceased cousin Milica Asenova. 

Tijana, a tall dark-haired woman with a noticeable scar on her forehead, swept into the barn scattering rusty spades and ploughs. Leudora remained seated, sipping water from a bottle courteously offered to her by Margit Varga. She barely raised an eyebrow, feigning the confidence she did not feel and watching almost fifteen Psychics flock to Tijana's side. Among them she recognized Predrag Galbur and Lord Bučan.