It was a no-name village on the outskirts of court...barely a spot in the road, but tonight it was more lively than the King's Palace. The Gypsy caravan had arrived only this afternoon and already they had made themselves at home. The wagons were looped into a ring upon a grassy knoll not far from the main street where the nomads had set up their stage, booths, wares and other services. Those superstitious of the dark magic the Gypsies were said to possess steered clear of the thrall, but those who were curious and wanting nothing more than entertainment were bustling about quite eagerly. This was one of the caravan's annual stops and it brought more revenue to the village a single night than the government could scrounge in a whole year.
While the fortune tellers, palm readers, mystics, magicians, healers, foreign food and entertainers were of interest to the villagers...it was but one act that drew them all to the stage. The wooden podium was strewn with a colorful array of blankets that had been put together to serve as curtains and off to the side of the stage was a three piece band of Abzoruk men and women. A silence hushed the crowds, and their attention was riveted upon the stage as the music began. It was a somber yet seductive melody as only these misunderstood peoples could compose. They felt the music with their very souls and it showed.
Soon, the curtains parted, and an equally vibrant array of skirts began twirling about the wooden planking. The dancer was hypnotic, commanding the attention of every man woman and child...no matter how vulgar the dancer's behavior appeared to be. Every featherlight step drew the soft tinkling of the charms upon her ankle bracelet as well as the chimes strewn about her hips like a belt. Her white blouse was not low cut by any means but the sleeves hung off of her creamy, caramel colored shoulders and revealed far more flesh than any respectable woman would be caught showing. Her thick, glossy sable hair mimicked the flow of her skirts...bouncing and flipping with each twirl and provocative dip.
The Gypsy's eyes were almond shaped and unusually colored...an enchanting violet which gazed upon each spectator as though they were the only person observing her allure, and the full petals of her rose tinted lips teased with a devastating smile. Those lips spirited a secret...a hidden kiss that the young woman had not yet experienced but was branded a harlot for. She was so welcoming...so inviting and yet so mysterious and seemingly untouchable from her perch high above her audience. She was a dark angel. She was the breaker of young men's hearts. She was the woman of a married man's dreams. She was the reason elderly woman craved their youthful days once again, and younger women discovered jealousy. She was the reason wives dragged their husbands away and mothers covered their children's innocent eyes.
The dancer was mesmeric, so much so that hard working men soon found their wages strewn across the stage, and did not even care. When the song had ended, the Gypsy bowed and the simultaneous sound of clacking verberated over the crowd as dropped jaws lifted from their slacked positions and teeth snapped closed. Silence. The Gypsy turned and strode across the stage only to disappear behind the curtains once again, leaving her earnings for a few young Abzoruk children to gather up.