The rain stopped as swiftly as it started... thirty hours later. After a day and night of rain pounding on their little cocoon, the sudden silence brought Dafi out of sleep with a jolt. The weak light filtering around the edges of the tarp told her she had overslept for her watch. “Dal, you were supposed to wake me at midnight.”
“Nu? Hyu needed de rezt. Not like anyting vaz travelling in dot mess, und our scent treck vaz muddled for everyting bot anodder of de ‘kin after de firzt full day of rain.” Dal shrugged. “Hy got enough schleep de day before vhile hyu vere on vatch, anyvay.”His grin was evident in the low light, and she thought the better of arguing the point with him. What was done was done.
Getting out of the tree was not quite so harrowing for Dafi, as she had other distractions this time. Dal lowered her quickly, and started sending the packs down as she toyed with the idea of a fire, and tea. No, best get back to the trail, as we have lost a day already, she thought to herself. She did have to admit, after stretching out, her leg felt much better. Dal had helped her change the dressing before they left the treetop bivouac, and she could see the rest had done some good. The lost time was worrisome, though.
~=*=~
Dalibor scowled at the raging rapids the mountain stream had developed with the rainstorm. “No way we can cross that here,” Dafi said, resignedly. “Not without a few waterproof map-cases to protect the documents. Even then, I can swim, but trying to ford here would be suicide.”
“Hy can climb, bot schvimming... iz not zo goot for me.” He disliked admitting there was something he had not gotten around to learning, yet. Scanning up and down the river with disgust, he muttered, “Dis *uzed to be* de zafezt plaze to ford for a day’z march in eidder direction. Hy vaz hoping to pass de next duchy by on de zouthern border, bot it lookz like ve follow de schtream north.” Dalibor kept his reasons for not wanting to go North to himself. Still, it had been almost a century since he had passed through the duchy, perhaps he could get away without being recognized.
~=*=~
Dafi nodded, turning to the tree-line. “What is the next duchy to the north? I was turned around after the jump.” Was it her imagination, or had Dalibor winced at the thought of crossing the border?
“Ve are headed into de Movila territory. Not vun of de conschpiratorz, bot at de zame time not vun of de Baron’z supporterz.” Dal grimaced again, “My information iz a leettle old on de duchy, bot ve schould reach Lacul Rateu by nightfall.”
Dafi thought a moment before she asked, “I think I might have heard of that one, is that the lake created by a Spark battle a couple hundred years ago?”
Dalibor grunted, “Demfool pet madboy of de eediotz running de duchy getz in a fight vith anodder demfool madboy dot couldn’t bloody aim, und the villagerz paid for it. De hunting lodge vaz a big enough plaze, und de git schtill couldn’t hit it. Bot he did manage to take out part of de ridge to de zouth, und de rock-schlide vaz enough to take vun of de mountainz down to hill schtatuz. Dot much rubble vaz too much to be cleared, zo de river vaz blocked. Dhey only lost de church schteeple und de mill in de attack, bot de valley vaz floodink out.” Then he chuckled. “De madboy ran, und de villagerz made do vith vot vaz left. Hy tink dhey turned de plaze into an inn.”
Dafi winced inwardly, an inn? The story behind the lake matched the one told by one of her classmates, concerning the favored vacation spot for her family. If it was the same place, Dafi hoped she would be able to cover basic soldier’s accommodations for two there. Perhaps Dalibor could convince the kitchen aunties to let them bunk in the cellar overnight. She knew she was not carrying enough for the normal guest fees. Sybaritic and elegant were words often used for the hunting lodge, and a wide range of game available in the area. At that reminder, she began to watch the underbrush a bit more closely as they continued on. “Staying with people, though...” Dafi murmured quietly, “will we not get them into trouble, will we?”
The sergeant grunted, “Not zo hyu’d tink. De Movilaz believed de madboy’z report dot de village vaz deschtroyed, und pretty moch ignored de area ontil de vord got out about de inn. By dhen, de militia had become game-trackerz und zuch, bot dhey hadn’t forgotten how to fight. Vhen de monks backed them op, de greedy baztardz zettled for levying a gouging ‘entertainment’ tax on dheir profitz.” Dalibor’s growling assessment slid into a chuckle, “Zo dot getz pazzed onto the Fifty vhen dhey schtay, vith everyting clearly written out in de bill.” At Dafi’s surprised giggle, he nodded, “De market vorkz both vayz, und it eventually evened out. Juzt de zame, Hy dun’t tink ve had better let on hyu iz a Dama.”
~=*=~
They reached the top of the centuries-old shifted ridge as the sun just touched the mountains to the west. The forest had taken over the rubble, softening the edges. Dalibor breathed deeply, scent triggering memories of the previous times he had been here. Prior to the battle, the wide valley had been good for limited farming, and the hillsides supported goat herds. Now the valley was under water. The old hunting lodge had been about 600 verst up the trail, and the lake had risen to within a couple dozen sazhen of the lodge. He paused to convert the old measurements to the new ones the Heterodyne Boys had encouraged and the Baron enforced - the town square was likely 500 meters under the water’s surface. Far off in the distance he could just make out the reflection of the sunlight on the rails of the Corbettite line just up the shore from lake, with the rail-bridge crossing the rambunctious mountain river that filled the lake.
The monks had waited to see how stable the lake was before laying out the final route for their railway. The station was new since his list trip through the area, though. While he had been lost in memories, his companion had been scanning the area with the eyes of both a Dama and a soldier. Her quiet comment, “Not much activity about tonight” brought him out of his reverie.
“Ja, Hy tink it iz cloze to de lazt of dheir evening chorez, goot timing for uz.” He sniffed the wind for clues, “Might be getting zupper ready for de schtaff, it schmellz more like traditional cooking dhan dot fanzy new schtuff.”
Dafi nodded, “Think we can convince someone to let us bunk in the stable?”
Dalibor chuckled and clapped her shoulder, “Juzt leave dot to me, Kommender.” Rather than following his nose to the kitchen, he led her to the front doors, calling, “HO! der Haus!” as they mounted the stairs.
A youngster poked their head out of a window to the side of the entry, and waved, “Ho! Welcome Travellers! Imma get the keeper!” and the child shut the window, but not before they heard the shout of, “Get Granfa! We got live’uns!”
Within moments, one of the grand doors opened, with two stocky men warily scanning the area. When the older of the two spotted Dalibor, he laughed, “Ha! Figured it was about time to see you again, Corporal!” Dalibor recognized the facial structures related to the past innkeeper, but counted back years to guess the name of the current one.
“Toma?” At the man’s nod, he laughed, “Ja, been a vhile, lazt time Hy vaz here hyu vere schtill hall-boy. Ve all change, Hy made Zarchent a vhile beck.” Friendly greetings taken care of, he turned to bring Dafi forward. “Kommender und Hy vere looking to find a plaze to bivouac.”
“Ho, no problem, we can put you up for the night!” The innkeeper greeted their request with a grin, beckoning them inside the great hall. “We’re getting ready to close up for winter, but the bath house is open all year round, what with the hot spring.”
“Hot spring?” Dafi asked. Dalibor chuckled inwardly at her hopeful tone. She went on, “If it is no trouble, could we add use of the bath house to our bill?”
“Pfft, your sergeant dinna tell you? Your money’s no good here.” Toma chuckled with a small bow. “Soldiers what protect us in this world and priests that armor us for the next we take care of. Fair exchange, my great-great-grandfa thought when he set up the policy.”
“That... could be a problem for you, could it not?” she asked doubtfully.
The innkeeper chuckled as he showed them to their rooms, “Ah, but we are isolated enough the trouble-makers rarely find us. Besides, we don’t spread it about, ye ken?” he said, scratching the side of his nose.
She nodded solemnly, “You have my pledge that my hands will protect your information as well as your housen.”
Dalibor raised an eyebrow at her phrasing, wondering if it was rooted in a traditional house greeting for her county. Then he was distracted by the arrival of a mob of the old aunties, who had been young brides in his last visit. They clucked and fussed over the room, depositing linens, laying a fire in the fireplace and making a big fuss about how he only visited once a generation. Then Toma ushered the aunties out, mentioning “The bath house is in the same place, and that basket has soap under the towels. You can take your time, we have about another hour before dinner.”
~=*=~
Master Toma had barely shown them the room, Dafi guessed it was a suite from the door beside the fireplace, when they were overrun by the old women, who scolded and petted the sergeant by turns as they bustled about. Dafi was unable to get a clear count of them because they seemed to be everywhere at once, with armloads of linens and baskets of apples for the table with a vase of late roses appearing on the mantle. Then Master Toma was herding the aunties out, giving them a chance to breathe. Dafi stared at the closed door a few moments before murmuring, “So, your intelligence from this area is a bit stale, is it?”
He chuckled, “Ja, Hy tought it had been longer zinze Hy lazt pazzed t’rough here.” He dropped his packs with a double thump, and began rummaging in his patrol pack. Dafi followed suit, picking out unworn patrol uniform pieces and spare delicates.
She turned at the crinkle of paper, and saw he was removing the documents from his pack and shuffling them out of sight in his bath bundle. “You think they will go through our packs?” Dafi asked him in a harsh whisper.
He nodded, and murmured back, “Hy know dhey vill, bot only to take our clothez to de laundry. Hy tried hiding my packz de lazt few timez Hy vaz here, de auntiez schtill found dhem.” Then he chuckled, “Eidder my schtuff schtank dot much, or mamaz get Jäger nozez for dirty clothez. Schtill, ve dun’t vant dhem zeeing zumting dot might put dhem at rizk later.”
A moment of hesitation, and then Dafi started going through her pack as well. “Flip you for first bath?” She said when she had gotten all of her papers hidden in her change of clothes.
“Nah, hyu schouldn’t schtrezz you leg dot much, hyu can go forzt.” Dalibor laughed, and Dafi giggled to join in on the joke. “Hy vill schtand guard outzide. No vorriez dot anybody vill take notize, dot’z been schtandard for any group Hy’ve been vith here.”
She frowned doubtfully as they left the room, and Dal led the way through the halls. “They do not feel insulted by a watch on the door?” They had been welcomed so warmly, Dafi did not want to find they offended their hosts so soon.
“Pfft, nah - juzt common zenze. De bath houze iz a leettle vay op de hill, vith de laundry, bot schtill far enough avay dot critterz zumtimez get curiouz.” He opened a door to a walled garden, and led her past the raised beds of ornamental flowers, cold frames latched over some of the more tender plants already. He pointed up the mountain-side to the cluster of buildings a couple hundred meters away. “Dhey pipe vater in for zum of de roomz, bot it izn’t az hot. Bezidez, zum pipple like de privacy.” Dafi was glad he was leading, and could not see her blush.
Hiking up in silence, he stopped her at the door, “Leave you bootz out here, no need to track dort und make mud on de inzide of de bath-houze.” Dafi nodded, and wobbled a bit trying to get her boots off by herself. Dal snorted and pushed her gently to the bench by the door, and removed her boots. Handing her the basket, he casually took the sheaf of papers out, putting them under his clean clothes on the bench.
Dafi wished she did not feel so much like a young child being sent off to bathe. “Thank you, I will try to be quick.”
“Na, hyu might vant to zoak de leg a bit, ‘z allright.” Dalibor said as he shooed her into the bath-house.
~=*=~
Soon as Dafi had pulled the door shut, Dal lifted the seat of the bench to look in the bin. As he had remembered, the brushes and boot polish were still kept there. He got to work with the mud-scrapers on Dafi’s boots first. They would likely have to go through mud at least once more before getting to the Castle, but it would not hurt to polish up a bit, at any rate.
He had just settled in to the task when a pair of giggling girls left the inn with their arms full of laundry. Dalibor sighed, waving to them when they sighted him, thinking the aunties likely had waited just out of sight of their door, and raided their packs for their laundry. He hoped they hadn’t gotten the parachute out - that was new gear since his last visit. Come to think about that, the great hall might be big enough to properly repack it, if there was enough light available.
His hands busy with the task of cleaning boots, he kept a watchful eye out for things out of the ordinary. It was early autumn, so it was unlikely that there would be anything out there willing to risk the inn grounds for hunting yet. At least nothing normal. That left any number of escaped things that could be on the loose, the sort of things that the bourgeoisie paid good money to hunt.
Not to mention the things out there that could be hunting for the two of them and the papers they carried. It had taken them three days to cover forty kilometers, and over 200 more to Tânărăjugul, all in three days if they were to rendezvous with the Baron’s main forces in time. Finished with the mud from both pairs of boots, Dalibor got to work polishing Dafi’s boots. No brilliant ideas were coming to him, and the faint splashing sounds coming from inside the bathhouse were not helping his concentration.
There had not been that many times that he had been at ease while bathing, but he could distantly remember how it felt to handle soft curves made slick with soapy water. Remembering more recently the tracing of scars on Dafi’s calves, and the feel of her skin under his hands, Dalibor just managed to finish polishing her boots when the sounds inside indicated she was out of the bath, and his imagination switched to toweling her off. He had made a half-hearted attempt at polishing his own boots when she opened the door, saying “All yours!”
He managed to catch himself before his instincts could take her up on her unintended “offer”, and ducked into the bath-house himself with a grunt of thanks. Not that he needed the hot springs at this point.
