"Charles de Lint - Mulengro" - читать интересную книгу автора (De Lint Charles)

“I have a very low bridal price in mind,” Yojo said. “Not because she is worth so little, but because you
have so little.”

Janfri smiled. Yojo had an answer for everything.

“Do you want to be a vadni ratsa—a wild goose for the rest of your life?” the big man asked. The
conversation continued along the same lines all the way to Big George’s tsera without being resolved.




Everything about Big George Luluvo was larger than life. He weighed 350 lbs. and his mustache was
twice the size of Yojo’s—an impressive sweep of thick hair that touched the tops of his massive
shoulders. It was as much for his sheer bulk as his shrewdness in dealing with the Gaje that he was the
rom baro of the Pataloeshti Kalderash in Ottawa. Janfri always felt like a child when he was around the
big Gypsy leader and even Yojo knew the rare sensation of having another tower over him when he was
in Big George’s presence.

The rom baro’s tsera was a wood frame bungalow in Mechanicsville—a low-rent tenement district east
of a grouping of Federal Government buildings known as Tunney’s Pasture. A number of the Pataloeshti
kumpania lived in and around Mechanicsville, to be close to the baXt, or luck, of Big George that they
all knew to be very strong. A Cadillac sat in the driveway on a makeshift block constructed of two-by-
fours and cinder blocks and a dark-green Lincoln was parked in front of the bungalow. The Rom in
North America had a preference for touring cars which had become the modern equivalent of their horse-
drawn vurdon, or wagons. The vehicles were usually in poor repair—great hulking gas-guzzlers that
appeared to be held together only by their rust.

Inside the tsera itself, all the walls had been removed, leaving only the bare wooden pillars of the
support beams from which hung a motley collection of sacks, cloth bags, wineskins and tools. There
were a number of shabby couches lining the walls and threadbare Oriental carpets on the floor. The
atmosphere inside was oppressive when Janfri and Yojo entered. They were offered guests’ tea, but
neither Big George nor his wife partook of it themselves. Because Romano had been the son of Big
George’s cousin Punka, and because Big George was the rom baro, his family would share Punka’s
grief. They would not wash, nor eat, nor partake of any drink but water until the first three days of

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mourning were over.

Big George nodded gravely to them when they had taken their first sip of tea. He wore a large tweed cap
and a 1930’s style large-lapelled suit that was patched in places and shiny at the elbows. His wife
Tshaya wore a traditional long pleated skirt and a sleeveless blouse that offered a generous view of her
heavy breasts. She sat beside Big George and smoked a meerschaum pipe. Its white clay was heavily
discolored with yellow tobacco stains.

“Droboy tune Romale,” Big George said when Janfri set his tea cup on the floor. “Devlesa avilan.”
Greetings, Gypsy. It is God who brought you.