caravans camped next to one another, though all mingled freely and shared in the work. I posted myself just within it and watched as they made their preparations for settling in. Older children and youths scattered to pick up fallen wood from the forest and the men somehow managed to get the damp stuff to burn. The women brought forth their cooking pots and for the next hour domestic necessities prevailed as food was prepared and the livestock fed and bedded down.
Despite Bartolome asking permission I knew that his question in regard to their staying had been a formality only. With or without my consent they would have camped here regardless. A few of them shot me dark, uneasy looks that I endured without offense. Let them study and know the rarely seen face of the lord of Barovia; let them all learn my features and beware.
The evening meal done, the men threw more wood on the fires until the flames leapt high. Someone put bow to fiddle and tried a few experimental notes to make sure it was in tune, then struck off with a song I thought I recognized. I have no small amount of musical talent myself, though I had no reason to make music for many decades and was decidedly rusty. The song was almost familiar, but in places the notes were quite different and the rhythm became a constantly changing thing with no apparent pattern to it.
A drum was brought in to aid the fiddle, then more stringed instruments of strange design. Several of the young women stood to dance to the music, long full skirts gilded by the firelight. Their tambourines, streaming bright ribbons, kept time as they were shaken high in the air or slapped against a hand or a rounded hip. But this was no simple dance to entertain; I was conscious that spell work was afoot.
You could see it if you knew where to look. Specks of power swirled around the dancers like cinders rising high from the fires. It was of a quite different kind of magic than I was used to; they seemed to rely less on exotic ingredients and verbal commands than to draw what they needed from themselves and the land about them. Perhaps that was why they needed to move from place to place so often, giving their campsite a chance to lie fallow and replenish itself while they were gone.
I wondered what purpose they had planned for their spell, but nothing obvious revealed itself. Bartolome moved among them, smiling, a word here and there to each, sometimes stopping to listen with serious attention to some child barely old enough to speak. Undistracted, I watched the dance, straining all my senses to fathom out the nature of the magic involved, and its ultimate purpose, but with indifferent success.
'Sometimes no purpose is desired; the weaving of it is all that there is,' a woman said behind me.
I managed not to start and whirl in surprise. Given what I have become, it is nearly impossible for anyone to draw so close to me without my being aware of it, so I was quite unprepared. She must have used some kind of spell to make her way over the unbroken snow in such utter silence. That or I was focused on the dancing to the point of folly.
'You've nothing to fear from us, Lord Strahd,' she said as I turned.
'I am delighted to hear it,' I responded dryly.
'I hope we may think the same of you.'
'One is always allowed to hope.'
She was not very tall, and that was as much of her as I could discern-which was not normal for me. I should have been able to see details of her face and dress, but all were obscured by her cloak and the shadows trapped in its folds. Whatever spellwork she employed was subtle; I had no sense of it, even this close.
'My name is Eva,' she said, her voice dry with the hoarseness of great age.
A strong instinct within told me to be polite with this one, so I acknowledged her with a slight bow from the waist. I did not bother to introduce myself, as she most likely knew as well as had Bartolome.
'We must talk, Lord Strahd. Come to my vardo when the dance is done.'
'Why not now?'
She gestured at the circle of people, and I turned to regard them. 'See how they draw out the power?' Indeed, that had been the object of my intense study. 'Allow them to finish.'
When I turned back to inform her that I was not in the habit of waiting upon others, it was with no small reaction of unsettlement I saw that she was no longer standing there.
I had enough knowledge of Vistani ways to understand that their magic, though different from mine, was no less potent in its force and effect. I would be well advised to go slowly and with great caution until I learned more of what this Eva wanted. She would want something, no doubt of it.
From Azalin's private commentary notebooks, contd. 543 Barovian Calendar, Barovia
Here at least Von Zarovich does not miss the importance of the entry of this Vistani tribe at the exact moment of the winter solstice. The indications are that the Vistani are aware and able to take advantage of the vast shiftings of energy that occur at such times twice yearly. It is clear that they used these forces to make their entry. Von Zarovich had some forewarning of their coming, though, and he has not fully explained that point to my satisfaction. Perhaps it is true he did not understand why he was drawn to that particular spot at that point in time, but to trust his word on this would be foolish. Though for the most part he cleaves to a private code of honor, he lies on occasion, when it suits him to do so, but I can see no advantage for him to lie here about so minor a point. It may then not be so minor as he pretends.
The Vistani, unlike other types of humans, are somehow able to pierce the Mists in a manner that even I have yet to fathom. Von Zarovich has forbidden me from experimenting on them, which severely hampers my researches. He expects results, yet foolishly denies me the tools required, otherwise I might be able to determine what it is about them, either as individuals or as a people, that enables them to transcend the limitations imposed upon all others. This limitation he has imposed has to do with his honor, or so he informs me, but I have another theory to account for it, which I will relate in my final conclusion at the end of this observation.
What I have been able to find out is that Vistani are inherently magical, some possessing more talent than others, while some have no talent at all. The females of the tribes seem to be more powerful than the males and are granted great respect for this. For example, females often exhibit talents in the ways of precognition, but rarely do they pursue the development of their gift in any established and disciplined schooling. It is haphazard at best, and loosely based on a type of apprenticeship training. The pattern repeats for all other talents mental and magical they possess, leaving them at the mercy of outside forces rather than in control of them. This is a major weakness in their culture, which is fortunate. Should they ever organize themselves, they might prove to be a formidable force.
Von Zarovich often complains about their parasitic nature, yet he does nothing about it. He appears to be in awe of them, probably because of their inherent talent for spellwork. This is something that might also be exploited in a minor way. I say minor, for it is unlikely the Vistani as a whole could be corrupted and turned against him. They have little interest in material wealth beyond the needs of the moment. They owe no allegiance to any lord, have no real value for gold except as an adornment, and they are free of any desire for a permanent home (that I am aware of) and the responsibilities involved to maintain it. Wandering from place to place, never stopping more than a night or two in any one spot, makes them difficult to bribe.
One exploitable weakness that they do possess is a strong sense of familial devotion to one another, but as indicated by Von Zarovich, the taking of hostages may not be a viable ploy. The one prisoner whom he had managed to confine later escaped and apparently inspired all the rest of the tribes to vacate Barovia as well, rather than initiate vengeance for their insult. Certainly if a single Vistana is able to free himself from the dungeons of Castle Ravenloft without Von Zarovich being any wiser until after the fact, then any one of their tribes would be powerful enough to invade the place and dispose of their common threat altogether. This may be why Strahd is reluctant to treat them the same as any of his other subjects: he fears them.
End of excerpt.
CHAPTER THREE
