Revenge of the Rose by Michael Moorcock

place offered.
                 “Greetings
to you, gentlemen. My lady.” One of them doffed a hat so trimmed in feathers,
ribbons, jewels and other finery its outline was completely lost. All these
folk were festooned in lace, velvet, satin, in the most vivid array, with caps
and hats and helmets of every fanciful style, their dark curls oiled to mingle
with the blue-black beards of the men or fall upon the olive shoulders of the
women. All were armed to the teeth and clearly ready to address any argument
with steel. “Have you traveled far?”
                 “Far
enough for a day,” said Elric, stripping off his gloves and cloak and taking
them up to the fire. “And you, my friends. Do you come far?”
                 “Why,”
says one of the women, “we are the Companions of the Endless Way . We are travelers, always. Pledged to it.
We follow the road. We are the free auxiliaries of the Gypsy Nation. Pure-bred
Romans of the Southern Desert, with ancestors who traveled the world before
there were nations of any sort!”
                 “Then
I’m delighted to meet you, madam!” Wheldrake shook his hat into the fire,
causing it to hiss and spit. “For it’s the Gypsy Nation we seek.”
                 “The
Gypsy Nation requires no seeking,” said the tallest man, in red and white
velvet. “The gypsies will always come to you. All you must do is wait. Put a
sign upon your door and wait. The season is near-ended. Soon begin the seasons
of our passing. Then you shall see the crossing of the Treaty Bridge , by which we keep to our old trail, though
the land has long since fallen away.”
                 “The
bridge is yours? And the road?” Wheldrake was puzzled. “Can gypsies own such
things and still be gypsies?”
                 “I
smell walkerspew!” One of the women rose, a threatening fist upon her dagger’s
hilt. “I smell the droppings of a professor-bird. There’s nonsense in the air
and the place for nonsense isn’t here.”
                 It
was Elric who broke that specific tension, by moving easily between the two. “We
are come to parley and perhaps to trade,” he said, for he could think of no
other excuse they might accept.
                 “Trade?”
This caused a general grinning and muttering amongst the gypsies. “Well,
gentlemen, everyone’s welcome in the Gypsy Nation. Everyone who has the taste
for wandering.”
                 “You’ll
take us there?”
                 Again
they seemed to find this amusing and Elric guessed few residents of this plane
volunteered to travel with the gypsies.
                 It
was clear to Elric that the Rose was deeply suspicious of this cutthroat
half-dozen and not at all sure she wished to go with them, yet again she was
determined to find the three sisters and would risk any danger to follow them.
                 “There
are friends of ours gone ahead,” said Wheldrake, ever the quickest wit in such
situations. “Three young ladies, all very alike? Would you have made their
acquaintance?”
                 “We
are Romans of the Southern Desert and do not as a rule make small-talk with the diddicoyim. ”
                 “Ha!”
exclaims Wheldrake. “Gypsy snobs! The multiverse reveals nothing but
repetitions! And we continue to be surprised by them …”
                 “This
is no time for social observation, Master Wheldrake,” says the Rose severely.
                 “Madam,
it is always time for that. Or what are we else, but beasts?” He’s offended. He
winks at the tall gypsy and raises his tiny voice in song. “ I’d rather go with the Gypsy Wild; And bear
a Gypsy’s nut-brown child! ” He hums the air. “Are you familiar with the
ballad, good friends?”
                 And
he charms them enough to make them ease their bodies more