Strahd's Narrative Continues The music and dance finally ended, and I could assume whatever spell they had woven was in place to their satisfaction. Certainly it was not anything that could be construed as a protection against me, for I walked unimpeded within their circle of wagons.

The Vistani were, of course, aware of me. I had been fairly well ignored while they had made their camp, but never entirely dismissed. Now they reacted to my presence: mothers called for their children, clutching them protectively close to their skirts; the men, young and old, stood to face me. No one reached for any kind of weapon, but they were on guard all the same. Perhaps they thought I had come to play the landlord at last and demand the rent. Unless I got some satisfactory answers to my questions that would be the smallest of their worries.

They parted for Bartolome when he approached. He stepped forward, a tense smile on his devil-handsome face, and made a sweeping bow.

"Welcome to our camp. Lord Strahd. Madam Eva is expecting you," he said, putting a tone of respect into each syllable.

I nodded at him and with a grand gesture, he led off, escorting me to her vardo.

She was well-to-do in Vistani terms. The wagon was very elaborate with colorful paint, carvings, gilt trim, and even boasted several small windows. Each diamond-shaped pane had a flower etched into it. I could see candlelight flickering garishly through the red curtains inside.

The rest of the camp followed us here, making a half-circle around the vardo.

They stood at a deferential distance, but looked on with concentrated interest as I approached the back of the conveyance. Bartolome knocked on the door there.

It opened and a woman emerged, the small wide figure who had appeared before to me, only this time the concealing shadows were gone. Bartolome and another man hastened forward to help her down the steps. She turned to face me, a no-nonsense expression stamped on her wrinkled features, the look in her dark eyes sharp enough to draw blood.

"Madam Eva, this is Lord Strahd von Zarovich," said Bartolome.

"I know who he is, child," she murmured with her blurred and raspy voice. Her face was round and wrinkled like a peeled apple left to dry by a fire. She treated me to a top-to-toe appraisal as she pulled her faded shawl about her shoulders. Her manner of dress was the same as the other women with its layers and varied hues of red and yellow, but overall it had more black to it.

Conscious that showing respect for the aged of the tribes, particularly for the women, would achieve more for me here than imperious demands, I chose to give her a deep, courtly bow.

"Welcome to Barovia, Madam Eva."

She laughed once. No one joined her. Fortunate, that, for I was not in a mood for levity. I wondered where this was going to lead. It was not as though she could invite me to sit down to tea.

A chuckle this time, which gave me to think that like others of her tribe she might possess a gift for hearing the thoughts of others. I would have to guard myself against this one.

"Come." She snapped out the command as only one of the sergeants in my army of old could do and made to climb the narrow steps back into the vardo. Again Bartolome and his friend helped, then stood out of the way as I followed her.

Within, the walls slanted out slightly from the floor, giving a bare illusion of space, but it was still very small and cramped to me. Madam Eva could comfortably stand up in it, but I could not and remained stooped over to keep from banging my head on the crossbeams. She indicated a low cushioned stool for me. I waited until she seated herself in a chair, all but lost in pillows and coverlets, then pulled the ends of my cloak close and perched on the cushion. My knees stuck out a bit, but it was unavoidable.

Two fat candles with broad holders to catch the wax were set in wall sconces on either side of her chair. Dangerous to have open flames here in this unsteady structure; it creaked and shifted with our every move, but she must have been used to taking care with them. The wavering light played over her ancient features, carving deeper shadows into her sagging skin. I could not guess how old she must be, but I had the feeling that were my true age to suddenly catch up with me, then I might have the same look about me and certainly the same sense of power. She fairly glowed with it, though she must have taken some effort to keep it restrained, else there would not have been room for the both of us in here.

The place smelled of magic, though I saw nothing overt, no obvious equipage such as I employed myself. Dangling from the crossbeams by different colored threads were bunches of drying herbs, some of the healing variety. I recognized many, observing one notable gap in the inventory.

"No garlic?" I asked, raising one eyebrow.

She bestowed an approving smile on me. "I wish my guests to be at ease."

She was a clever one, though she had underestimated me. While others who shared my nature might be weakened by the stench of garlic, I was immune to it. How good to know Eva could make an error.

"Tell me," she continued, "do they still call you 'the devil Strahd' hereabouts?"

"A man in my position is always the target of a certain amount of censure. I usually ignore it."

"It is what we called you those years ago before we left."

"Indeed."

"You know why we left, too."

"One of your men broke my laws."

"He was a foolish youth."

"Surely a redundancy of statement, madam. But it happened, as you said, years ago."

"Vistani have long memories, and to imprison one - "

"Rightfully imprisoned," I broke in, forgetting my manners. "The whelp was a spy and guilty of trespass and theft. I will not tolerate such in my land - then, now, or ever. It is my law."

That stopped conversation for a time as she digested this. Vistani, with their communal lives, have a decided difficulty in respecting the concept of private ownership of property. In their own minds they see themselves as only 'borrowing' any given item that catches the eye, something they practice on a daily basis within their tribes. They do not generally understand why other people make such a fuss when something of theirs goes missing.

"So if one of my people should again break this law... ?"

"Then he or she will be punished for it. I strongly suggest that to avoid any unpleasantries you make this very clear to your people."

"I will speak to them of it, but I can promise nothing."

"Assure them that I take my duties very seriously. If Vistani memories are so long, then the whelp who escaped might have shared some recounting of his experiences in my dungeon."

"It is a song we sing around the fire after the children are asleep. The adults find it dark enough."

"If you think that dark, then let me remind you that the prisoner got away before his punishment had even begun."

"Aye, he got away." Her eyes glinted with amusement.

I fixed her with a look. "It will not happen again. I am not so careless as I once was."

She glowered, gave a snort, and nodded. "So the Vistani do not borrow in Barovia, in exchange for... ?"

"Oh, I see - I am to pay you not to steal?" I let the sarcasm sink in for a few seconds. "Unacceptable, madam."

"All right. If we do not steal, we ask only to be able to wander free and unmolested while we are here. We have things to sell, amusements to offer your people they can get from no one else."

"And money to collect from it."

"That is the usual custom of things."

"My people do not have much in the way of coin, and you are inviting me to let you carry what there is of it away with you."

"Only a few coppers here and there - "

"Which add up. What you offer in the way of entertainment and goods is subject to taxation here."

"Taxation!" she nearly shouted.

"Only a few coppers here and there."

"We are a free people, we never pay taxes!"

"Until now. That is the price for using my roads and camping on my land. That is my law. In my land the law is obeyed. Those who break it must answer to my justice."

"You mean death?" she said wryly.

"Such is the penalty in my land."

"Except for Strahd von Zarovich."

"Indeed. I am the exception. Here I am the law. I am the land. Think on that before you make demands on my patience."

"We yet could leave as we came. You could not stop us."

"Probably not, but my guess is that you came here for a reason, a very strong one, that makes staying here a necessity. Else why come in the harsh winter?"

She settled back, the appraising expression back on her face. I had struck a resounding chord with her and we both knew it.

"From what do you run that makes Barovia seem such a haven?"

She lifted her hands and let them drop in her lap. "From what do we always run? The hatred of outsiders and their cruelties. Since hate and cruelty are everywhere, we must keep moving, ever moving."

"How?"

"In our vardos, as you see."

"I mean how do you travel the Mists?"

A slow smile crept over her features. "You would like to know that, would you not?"

"You would not find me ungrateful, either in the way of favors or money."

"Some things have no price. You must be born with the knowledge."

"So the secret of crossing the Mists is to be a Vistana?"

"In part. If you desire to leave Barovia using that road, then I cannot help you. It is barred, and you must find another path. We could not take you even if we wanted to do so."

I chose to ignore that last statement. "If you can cross the Mists, there must be a way to - "

"There is none, not for you. Accept it."

She had just overstepped herself. My temper flared bright at this insufferable command, and I let my undiminished gaze burn on her for a full minute. She withstood it, but I could scent the first tendril of fear invading the thick atmosphere of the vardo and heard her heart pounding very fast.

"No," I finally whispered.

She cringed and flinched as though I had bellowed the word, holding her hands tightly together. They still trembled.

I pulled back some of what I had released. It was the raw power of the darkness within me. Keeping it in check was nearly second nature now, but once loosed, control was a bit harder to maintain.

When I thought her able to listen again, I said, "You may be as certain of this as the sun sets. My remaining forever in Barovia is something I will never accept."

She gulped and nodded.

"Now... will you help me?"

She tried to resume her original composure, but it was too late for that. I had seen her fear. Her voice shook as she answered. "I would if I could, Lord Strahd, but it is beyond my power or that of any Vistana."

"Then I see no point in continuing this conversation." I made to leave. "I will see to it that an officer of the exchequer is sent to determine your tax - "

"Wait, Lord Strahd!" She put up her hand, a reaching gesture, almost pleading.

"There are other ways we might benefit one another."

I sank back on the cushioned stool. "What ways?"

"We are a poor people, and when money is scarce, then do we trade. Instead of paying taxes while here, we could be in your service."

"A vague term, madam." Having her whole tribe up to the castle twice a week to clean the place was something I categorically refused to visualize. "What do you have in mind?"

"You cannot be everywhere in Barovia at once. Let us be your eyes and ears. We can let you know all that goes on in your land, day and night. No stranger will pass your borders unmarked ever again."

My turn to think things over. I already had a network of eyes and ears in place throughout the land, but their primary duty was to keep me abreast of the politickings and feuds between the various boyars and burgomasters. It would be convenient to have other kinds of informants available, particularly in regard to finding fresh interlopers in the country. "How am I to trust your people to diligently carry out such a task?"

"Given the choice of doing this service and paying taxes, we would gladly prefer to be your most willing servants."

"It is not unknown for a Vistana to change the truth to his or her advantage. I would need accurate reports, anything less than absolute truth, and the person delivering the news would be... most unhappy."

She chuckled. "They would always tell the truth to you; they would not dare otherwise, I can promise this."

"You would have to set up a means of getting information to me."

"Messengers can run to your castle if it's important."

"They will not be able to enter."

"Yes, I was told of the wall of poison fog. Have you a way past it for us?"

"And leave myself vulnerable to attack? I think not."

"You have nothing to fear from the Vistani. You are Strahd. You are the land.

Destroy you and the land dies, or so goes the old saying. Is it not true?"

I wasn't all that certain myself and had little intent at the moment to debate the point. "It is true."

"Destroy you and we destroy ourselves as well. Besides, our magic may be strong, but it's not the kind that can fight one such as yourself. That is for others to try."

"What others?"

"You have many enemies, Lord Strahd, but none here now who can defeat you."

None here... now. "If I give you an antidote to the fog, will you promise to keep the secret of it?"

"Yes, but not for long. I am old. I would have to pass it on to others, but Vistani only. We would never share the making of it with outsiders."

"A time might come when your people would give the antidote to my enemies."

She laughed softly. "We might sell it to fools - but only after warning you first.

You would never be caught unaware."

It was a balance of risks. Should they pass the antidote to someone who could kill me while I lay vulnerable during the day, all was lost. However, I had sufficient guards and traps throughout the castle to keep even the most determined interloper busy for hours until sunset. Place that against the information the Vistani could bring me, and the risk might be justified. Reason said no, but instinct said yes.

I finally nodded. "But be warned yourself: if the Vistani ever betray me, I can change the poison of the fog so the antidote no longer works. I can also summon the new poison to flood right into your camp and kill the lot of you. None would escape. No one, not one child, not even the vista-chiri birds."

Her old eyes went wide.

"That is my promise to you and yours, Madam Eva. Are you willing to trust your people with such a responsibility? The least of them could bring death to you all."

A lengthy silence. Her heartbeat was steady now, calmer. "You will ever be safe then, Lord Strahd - at least so far as we Vistani are concerned."

I held her gaze once more, sensing no lie in her words. Her words. Whether her promise applied to all her people remained to be seen. For the moment I could dismiss the possibility of betrayal, but not forever.

"Very well. I have one other task for all the Vistani to seek to accomplish."

"Escape." She spoke it as a statement, not a question, again evidence of her ability to hear my thoughts. "Your escape from the Mists."

"Just so," I said. "Others who are not of Vistani blood have made their way through the Mists into Barovia. By accident it would seem, but I do not believe in accidents any more."

"Neither do I. All things have a purpose."

"The Vistani - so long as they roam and no matter what lands they roam, mine or elsewhere beyond the Mists - have but one purpose for me and must not rest until it is fulfilled. Should any Vistana discover a way out of Barovia that I might use, I want to know of it."

She readily nodded. "You have my word."

"Too easily given, madam. It is a great task I have set before you."

"Often the greater the task, the easier it is to give promise. If we find such a path as you hope for, then we have nothing to lose by informing you of it and much to gain."

"I am thinking you believe it to be impossible, therefore you agree so swiftly."

"What does it matter to you how quickly I agree, so long as I choose to agree?"

"Madam, you have no choice in the matter. Your people finding a path out for me is conditional to their freedom within my lands. All who enter must know this and treat it as they would all my other laws. Can you guarantee that?"

"It will become the same to us as the air we breathe - for one small boon."

Bargaining, always bargaining for one thing or another, it was as much a part of them as their own skin. "What boon?"

"I ask only that the Lord Strahd does not... harm the Vistani."

I began to frown. She knew far too much.

She made a deprecatory gesture. "Our blood is rich with our past, but there is not enough of it. Our people are few, and our children too precious to lose.

Death is too common a companion on our road."

"Your point?"

"Have you not other springs to drink from? The more of us you allow to live, the more eyes and ears you have searching for your escape."

Again I looked hard upon her, for the sating of my appetite was no light matter to me. "So long as my laws are obeyed."

"It shall be so."

I eased my gaze. "So be it, then."

"It is done." She fell silent, waiting, apparently the bargaining was concluded.

For her.

"I now have a question. What was the purpose of the dance? You asked me to wait until it was done, so do not dismiss it as unimportant."

"It is part of Vistani magic and very important. When we were clear of the Mists, we knew Barovia could trap us, as you are trapped. We sensed the danger of forgetting ourselves and the lives and lands we've known outside your borders; it is part of the nature of this land for people to lose the past they once had."

"So I have noticed."

As the years passed and new generations appeared to supplant the old, I observed that the very memories of my people altered. Before they had gradually died off, the old soldiers who had served with me knew that they had come in as part of a conquering army, but were vague on exactly where they had originated from and what it had been like. Their descendants listened to their war stories and knew that a larger world lay beyond the Mists, but they were singularly incurious about it. For them, all that was the whole world was Barovia and nothing else. I was the only one who now saw clearly - much too clearly at times - and remembered what had once been.

I had always harbored a determination on finding a way out, of discovering a passage through the Mists as had these Vistani. By doing so perhaps then I could completely break the land free of the imprisoning spell, or at the very least break free of the spell myself. Certainly over time I had applied every scrap of knowledge and skill in the magical arts that I knew to achieve this, reaping only failure again and again.

This might have now begun to change though. The arrival of Madam Eva and her little train of vagabonds seemed an unlikely source of freshened hope for me, but after so many years of a stalemate I would welcome them and allow them unheard of freedoms - so long as they could provide knowledge in turn.

"Such forgetting does not happen with you," she said. "You remember things your people do not. Your memory is protected. We would create that protection for ourselves."

"It sounds a most difficult task."

Madam Eva shook her head. "Pah, 'tis already done."

"I should like to know how."

"It is in our songs, in our dances and music. It fills us through and through, strengthening us."

"You drew the power from the land itself, did you not? What is the construction behind that?"

She shrugged. "It is what we do, like walking. Do you explain to a child how to place his feet? No. He does it himself with some guidance."

"And one must be Vistani to accomplish this casting?"

"So far as I know."

I had a strong feeling that the gleaning of knowledge would not at all be an easy thing. "Another question: why did you come here at this of all times?"

"We always travel, no matter the season."

"Madam Eva, I believe you understand my meaning. Answer me."

She said nothing for quite a long while. I could hear the very burning of the candles flames as they consumed the wax. "You may not believe."

"I have learned to believe in many things of late."

Another shrug. "Very well. We had to come at this turning of the wheel, to give warning that important changes are afoot, Strahd of Barovia."

"What changes?"

"For you, for Barovia, other places."

"What changes?"

"I can only tell you what the cards have told me." Tied to her belt was a small silk bag, which she now opened. She drew out a deck of cards, the like of which I had not seen before, but instantly recognized.

"A tarokka deck," I said.

I'd heard all kinds of rumors about their power of foretelling the future. It was said that only the bravest dared to ask for a reading from them. Sometimes they gave only hints on several possible futures, other times they told of exact and unchangeable events. It takes courage - or blind foolishness - to dare to see what lies ahead on one's path.

Each card had a picture on it, symbolizing many different aspects of life and death. The decks were such that only the person who had made them could use them. Flashing brilliant colors in the candlelight -  green, gold, blue, red - they seemed to spark with light of their own as Madam Eva nervously shuffled them.

"You know how they work?" she asked.

"Yes."

In theory. I had several treatises on them in my library, written by people who had devoted whole lifetimes to their study, but that is not the same as seeing them. I had never tried to create a deck for myself, for the universal warning in each book stated that it was not a job for dilettantes. Though I was hardly inexperienced, my focus was in another direction, so I had left well enough alone.

"You are going to give me a reading?"

"It is something you need to know. Before we even thought of crossing the Mists I had a falling of the cards such as I had never seen. Disaster and doom await all unless... you are the key, Strahd von Zarovich."

"To what?"

"I cannot be over-clear, for it might bring about the disaster you must prevent."

I understood her reasoning, how such things worked. By its nature I had to respect the limits imposed, but it still chafed. "Then what can you tell me?"

"Here - " she placed a small table between us, and gave the cards to me. They felt very heavy and hot in my hands. "Shuffle them, then turn the top card up and place it in the center."

I did so. It was the card known as "The Darklord," showing a twisted bestial figure on a throne. The colors were somber purples, blacks, and greens.

She frowned at it and looked at me. "This represents you, the ruler of Barovia."

"Not very flattering," I commented.

"Shuffle, then turn up the next card, and put it below the Darklord."

This one was "The Beast," with the silhouette of what looked to be a wolf in human garb howling against a bilious full moon.

"Here is your past; it indicates great passion and great violence."

No surprises there. I shuffled and turned up the next card. "The Necromancer?" I asked. The picture fairly leaped out, a figure in magical robes, its face hooded and too dark to see; before it were eight graves whose skeletal occupants were rising up at its command from the clinging earth.

She licked her lips. "This is in your future. In this position to the rest it means someone who will oppose you. Someone with unimagined power and black knowledge, very dangerous. Shuffle again."

The next card was "The Warrior," which she told me to place above the Darklord.

The figure was completely covered in blood red armor and held a silver broadsword before it.

"This is also your future."

An icy claw closed fast around my heart, twisting it. "War," I murmured.

"Such as even you have never known before. The Warrior represents a facet of yourself, your place in what is to come."

I dealt out another card, placing it to the right of the Darklord.

"And these are your allies against the Necromancer."

It was "The Mercenary," showing four soldiers raising their swords in salute to each other over a chest of gold.

"Tell me the meaning of it all."

"It is as you see. There is a dangerous wizard coming who will challenge you, try to destroy you, and you will oppose him with all your might. But it won't be enough, you must seek help from others to survive."

"I fight alone, now."

She sneered. "Turn the next card to see the folly of that."

I did so. It was "The Horseman," showing a robed skeleton, brandishing a scythe raised high, riding a skeletal horse through an endless graveyard. The silvers and blacks were so harsh I could hardly look at them. In no uncertain terms it was a death card.

"Do not let your pride destroy you and everything else," she said.

"What happens if I seek help?"

She gestured, and I turned the top card. It was of a young woman on a horse, nearly obscured by fog. "The Mists, a future which is unknown, but it is yet a futurefar better than the Horseman."

I stared long at the images before me, committing them to memory. Tonight I would find the books on the subject and compare what they had to say with Madam Eva's interpretation. I had a sinking feeling hers was going to be the correct one.

"When is this to happen?"

She spread her hands. "Soon. More than a day, but less than a century."

"You call that soon?"

"As you mark the time. And it could be at any point in between. You must prepare."

"How will I know this necromancer?"

"You will know."

I had other questions, how he would come, where, and again when, but she only shook her head in defeat. The cards could be infuriatingly vague on such points.

"Can you tell me nothing else?"

"Only to ask that you do not ignore this warning." She swept the cards together, shuffled, and breathed upon them, then put them away into the silk bag. She was utterly serious, and that alone was enough to disturb me, let alone the results of the reading. "The others in the camp do not know of this yet, so say nothing of it. I will tell them when the time is right. It will become as much a part of us as our music."

I thought that one over. "And you came from so far way to tell me of this?"

"Upon you all else depends. For the Vistani - for all the people of Barovia - it is better to have 'the devil Strahd' than this necromancer who is death and worse than death. Understand and believe that, and perhaps we may all have a chance to live... even you."

Against that, I could, and would, offer no argument.