Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Flight or Fight, Chapter 10

Dalibor found Dafi’s calm reassurances touching, and closed his eyes to concentrate on getting himself under control. The thought at the back of his mind, that she *was* calm when he was angry, curled up with his desire to protect her, and made it all very easy slow his breathing. Restraining himself from changing their cramped position into a cuddle, he murmured, “Ja, ve vill make sure zumting iz done.”

He was beginning to worry that the monks intended to keep them in the bin until they crossed the border, when someone tapped, very gently, on the side of the bin. “Commander? Can you pass the key out to us now?” That was when he realized they had been holding the keys together all this time. Unlacing his fingers from hers, Dal worried that he might have bruised her hand when he had been angry. Her fingers moved well enough, and he had not heard any crunching, so fractures were mostly ruled out.

Then seeing Professor Monk’s black eye distracted him from checking Dafi’s hand. His rage resurfaced when he realized the monks had been beaten, even though they had not defended themselves. All were marked with bruises, and the youngest one was holding himself very straight, as if any movement of his torso was painful. The roaring in his ears was cut across with a sharp order, “Sergeant! We are NOT permitted to hunt!”

He looked down at the Commander, snarling, and her calm expression was marred only by the anger and frustration reflected in her eyes. “We do not have the luxury of indulging in a personal vendetta against sovereign entities.” Almost a direct quote from the regulations, and the strain in her voice bit into his anger.

Slowing his breathing again, he nodded tightly, “Yes, understood.”

~=*=~

Dafi was shocked that Dalibor’s accent was completely gone for his capitulation, and had she not been staring him down at that point, she might have thought it was one of the others speaking. But was he losing his accent, or was her understanding of him growing? She distracted herself by checking on Lucian and the others. It seems most of the delay was spent in treating each other, while the train passed around the next ridge.

“Not a bad stop really,” the youngest said. His back was turned, so he missed their shocked reaction. “No property damage this time, and just minor injuries,” and then he winced as he reached out to steady himself.

Dafi asked before Dalibor could react, “This happens a lot when you are stopped?” She placed her hand on the sergeant's shoulder, ostensibly to steady herself while standing, but also restraining him from standing up. She was afraid he might still leap off the train to beat the patrol senseless. It was what she would have liked to do, at this point, but it would have only gotten her killed and him delayed.

Lucian answered, “The surprise inspections in the countryside are the worst ones. When we have a passenger car in the train, they usually limit themselves to verbal abuse.” Lucian’s lip had been split, and he moved cautiously. However, Dafi noted their sturdy and practical uniforms could hide a good bit of physical damage, and wondered if they were also lightly armored. Though she might hope so, she doubted it. Lucian continued, “The cargo trains have the added incentive to loot, and fewer witnesses.”

“Not to worry, though,” the conductor added. “The border crossing area is also a switching yard, so more witnesses, and less violence.”

“Switching yard... will you be reassigned there?” Dafi asked, finally sitting next to Dalibor. She was unaware that she still had her hand on his shoulder until he patted her fingertips.

“More like we will collect the passenger cars from the Capitol line, and be due at Tânărăjugul station by... late afternoon-ish,” the conductor said, rocking his hand back and forth to indicate an estimation. “It will depend on how many cars they add to us for the ridge crossing, and if they add enough engines.”

She frowned at Dalibor’s growl, then realized it was his stomach when hers answered in kind. He shrugged and gave a weak smile. She fished out the key to the bin with their packs, and unloaded one of the packages of cheese and cold cuts the aunties had hidden on her that morning, along with one of the less-crusty loaves of bread. The flagman chuckled and checked on the stew-pot clamped to the top of the stove.

~=*=~

Dafi was reading another of those books after luncheon. It annoyed Dalibor that she seemed to be studying the blasted things. He kept his mind off the stupid stories by watching the landscape. It seemed that there were a few more farms in this section than the last time he had passed through.

Many were planted with wheat varieties, though it was late in the season. This was a new innovation for the district, and it seemed the southern slopes were either being terraced for grain, or were covered with orchards and vineyards. So the area should be prosperous.

Why then, were the farmers he saw dressed in old, faded colours? It could be that wearing bright colours had gone out of fashion. It made sense that when someone was spending the day in the fields, they did not wear their best clothes. But the women’s head scarves were either many-years faded or un-dyed linens, and none of the men had bright kerchiefs at their necks. It bothered him to the point he go out his own spyglass and watched for people in the fields.

~=*=~

When Dafi finished Third Son and the Brass Spectre, she looked up to see Dalibor scowling through his spyglass. “What is it?”

He was clearly angry when he handed the spyglass to her, but in control. Pointing to a knot of farmers working in an orchard, he asked, “Do dhey look normal to hyu?”

It took her a few seconds to focus, and then she saw the group clearly. “They seem rather... drab. The villagers near the … near home usually have some cheerful colours, even in the fields... oh, I see. They seem to be in... their oldest clothes, some of them be wearing several layers.” She handed the spyglass back to Dalibor, but now she was frowning as well.

The flagman shook his head, “Dyes are expensive, hereabouts. Not many have the extra to spend on things not grown locally, and some don’t have time to gather the natural dye ingredients.” He sighed, “There’s still a market for the kettentilipan pullovers for the tourists, and that’s where the dyed wools go, for the most part.” He shrugged with only a minor wince, “It keeps the taxes paid.”

Dafi watched Dalibor’s face cloud over, and to forestall a thunder-storm, she touched his arm, “We cannot do anything here and now, but we can let someone know.” He still frowned, but nodded, turning his attention back to the fields.

Half an hour later, Lucian grunted. “We are about to crest the ridge into the valley, and it looks like the switching yard is busy today, from the smoke plumes.”

The conductor stood, key in hand, and Dalibor stood at the same time, saying “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘No’, Sergeant?” Dafi stood between him and the door to the rear of the train, but that did not preclude him leaving.

“Hy vill drop off here und meet hyu on de other side of de valley.”

Dafi felt a thrill of anxiety at Dal’s refusal, but she did not have time to reason with him. “Get in the bin, Sergeant.” The conductor had raised the lid, but backed off for the moment.

“It iz bezt for everyone, und Hy can get more information...”

Dafi lost her temper and punched Dal in the arm, hard, before he could finish his sentence, “GET IN THE BIN, NOW.” She held his gaze with her glare, pointing at the cabinet.

Dalibor froze, with his nostrils flaring and an odd feral grin. Then he growled, “Az hyu vish, Kommender,” and gracefully folded himself into the space.

The conductor paused a moment before offering his hand to help Dafi into the bin, “Will you be all right?”

“I had better be, until we get to the other side of the valley,” she murmured. Dafi gingerly lowered herself into the space left by Dalibor. Was it her imagination, or was the space smaller than it was this morning? The previous time in the bin had not been bad, so why should she be so nervous now?

~=*=~

Damn, he had scared her, and she had lashed out. Dalibor tried to slow his breathing but her scent was intoxicating. She had been voluntarily touching him all afternoon, and then that flash of anger when he had suggested running the ridges to the other side of the valley....

He should have started running instead of letting her get him worked up. She was stiff and still in the space he had left for her. It took all his control to keep from nuzzling her ear and telling her.... What could he have said? Nothing that would have helped. Telling her everything would be all right was a fallacy, and admitting that he found her attractive - that usually had the normal girls running for the hills, and in their situation, it might make her panic.

Stupid idiot that he was, he had pushed an issue for her, and didn’t realize it until just that moment. He throttled his baser instincts down, knowing she was still likely balanced on a knife-edge. It had only been a week or so since the attack on her home, and she had been holding up the façade so well he could forget how brittle her control might be.. Of course she would not want to put anyone under her command at unnecessary risk right now - even if he was not officially assigned to her, they had been acting the parts when dealing with others.

After the conductor had passed the key back to them, she cleared her throat and murmured, “I am sorry I lost my temper. We had discussed the problem this morning and I did not want to risk...”

“Ja, ja... Hy know.” His voice was a little rough, but hopefully not in a way she would interpret as angry. “Hy am sorry Hy made hyu opset... Juzt hiding und letting dhem beat de monks, though... Hy don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” she turned in the small space so that she was comfortably fitted against him, “but if we are going to get the papers to...”

He lightly touched her lips with the tips of his fingers in the darkness, “Hy know. It iz duty before pleaschure.” If he kept telling himself that, maybe he could stop scaring her.

She took his hand and twined her fingers with his, and again he felt the keys between their palms. “If there were more of us, yes. We will just have to come back to flog them later.”

He chuckled, and a few moments later, she murmured, “I am sorry for teasing you.” Oh, she was not making it any easier for him. He forced himself to chuckle again, as it it were no matter, and they settled in for braking of the train.

This time it was a more gradual affair, and the sounds of the train yard were less strident than those of the patrol in the wilderness. Then the sounds of the rails changed, and the train came to a halt. There was a lurch, and all was quiet.

The monks muttered among themselves, commenting on the activity in the yard. From their comments, Dal picked up that the yard was at a normal level of busy. Brother Lucian’s comments helped the most, noting how many patrols were in the yard, the evident arms and artillery pieces at hand, and their relative positions to the kabuis. He could feel Dafi mapping out the points of defense, tracing them on his forearm, and squeezed her other hand lightly.

Then he heard three or four pairs of boots on the cinder-gravel of the rail yard, walking toward the kabuis. One set ascended the stairs at the back, and knocked politely at the door. This time there was no roughness on entry. Dalibor waited for the reaction of the inspector.

“Blessings upon you, Captain,” the greeting was given by the professor-monk, who Dafi had said was the time-keeper on the train.

“What happened, Brother Francoi?”, the new voice, allowing a trace of surprised worry show though, had a local accent - and to Dalibor’s ear, the speaker was either upper class or fairly well-educated.

“Ah, there was a rough patch of rail at Schnitzerwald, that’s all,” the professor monk chuckled, weakly. Dalibor was surprised at Dafi’s grip on their key hands, and he held her closer in response.

“Mmhm, and everybody was unprepared.” A sigh, and quiet murmur, so that Dal had to strain to catch it, “You have to be more careful, Uncle. I can only report so many incidents before they start looking at curtailing the rail access.” A little louder, “You should keep an eye on your tracks, brother.”

The inspection this time was more careful, and more thorough. When the captain got to the bin with the packs, he calmly accepted the reason the key was not available. The same reaction occurred at the bin Dal and Dafi were hiding in, though Dal thought he could hear an exasperated sigh.

“One other thing, there has been a fugitive reported in the area. Have any of you seen this girl?” Muttering amongst the three, and Lucian asked, “What are the charges?”

“Poor girl is mad, and not with the Spark. She wandered away from her keepers. With it getting cold in the evenings, they are worried she might catch her death.” More vague comments from the brothers, but the officer did not seem to press the issue further for an answer.

A muttered warning from the youngest of the monks. “oi! ‘ware m’lord!” before there was a rumbling thunk-clack, and the kabuis was shoved back on the tracks. “Oi’l be checkin’ da glad’ands, beggin’ yer pardon.” Seems the lad was working hard at disguising his accent here.

There was some shuffling as people regained their balance, then the captain said, “All is in order, thank you. You will have three passenger cars, but those have been inspected and cleared before your arrival. Peace be to you.” And with that parting sally, the captain left, and the crunching footsteps receded.

Someone let out a relieved sigh, and the time-keeper muttered,  “Hang on to that a while longer. There is something odd about what he said about the passenger cars. I will let you know when I get back.”

They waited for the better part of an hour before the train started moving again, and yet the time-keeper had not returned. Dafi shifted, possibly trying to get comfortable. When he moved with her, she stopped, but eventually she relaxed, and still they waited.

~=*=~

The flagman seemed to be twitchy as well. His question, “So, we count the confessional as sanctuary, as well?” garnered a chuckle from Lucian.

Dafi feared the officer who inspected the rail-car might have had a portrait of her. She thought it was probably an old miniature or a sketch made by someone who was given a description of her, as she had not sat for a portrait in years. She shied away from the thought of where a miniature could have been be obtained.

The conductor returned, and muttered, “They are sending out some serious hunters, now. There’s a group of Gradinaperete in the middle passenger car. They are in duty uniforms, yet their conversations were about being off to Vienna on leave.”

Lucian spoke after a few moments, “They usually do not send them out on leave in big groups. Not sure as I have seen more than two at a time on a train at once, unless they were rotating out of a duty station.”

“We let them off at the station, they will be seen.” This was from the young flagman, who sounded worried. “No matter how busy the station is, one of the soldiers could spot them. That wouldn’t help at all.”

Lucian again: “They gave us three passenger cars, but no extra engines. I get the feeling we are supposed to be delaying them on their way... only we have to speed another set of travellers ahead of them.”

There was a knock on the cabinet, “Commander?” the flagman asked. “We are out of sight from the switching yard now. Ready for the key?”

Dafi passed it out through the gap, eager to hear the reports. The small voice at the back of her mind said she could hear them well enough from her current spot, but that was being unkind to the sergeant, who might need to stretch out. Her first question, before she got out of the cabinet, “Is it an accurate image?”

Lucian snorted, “I would be hard pressed to say that was a picture of anyone I knew.” He chuckled, “If that picture was supposed to be you, the artist never met you, I’d wager.”

Dafi began to relax, “That bad?”

“This was worse than the portrait they did of our class for the great hall at school,” he laughed. “Besides the fact that I have never seen you in a court gown, and have serious doubts that you are capable of simpering.”

Dafi blinked, and decided to take it as a compliment. The conductor said, “However, if you need to stretch out, I suggest you do so sitting on the floor. The troops on the train are much more disciplined than the rabble we met on the tracks.”

Dalibor nodded, “Vill dhey come beck here, hyu tink?” He had sat up, but made no move to get out, nor did he seem impatient for Dafi to move.

The conductor shrugged. “If they could get away with the curiosity, maybe. That’s why I locked the luggage car doors on both ends. It does not preclude them from climbing over...”

“But there is a good chance they would know we are watching the train, and not try it.” Lucian concluded.

“That still does not get the commander and her sergeant across the border ahead of the Gradinaperete,” The flagman said. Dafi managed to control the flutter in her chest at the mention of Dalibor being her sergeant. It was just a situational assignment, not even official, and that was just until they got to the Baron. That thought deadened any excitement she felt.

The conductor thought a moment, then retrieved a folder from the desk drawer. “I think... yes, we got a report that the Baron’s troops cleared out the bandit nest on Sunshadow Ridge. So we should not have any problems on the switchbacks.”

Lucian chuckled, “Then there is not a problem. Commander can handle a goat track, maybe well enough Sergeant has to work to keep up.”