Flight or Fight, Chapter 16

Dafi stilled in Dalibor’s arms at his apology. He was not afraid that she would go into loud hysterics and give away their position, but he did not wish her to turn cold to him. “I have had this parachute sixteen years. It took me time to find someone to teach me to jump.”

He gave her no pretense now, the speech patterns of his youth coming to the surface. “I was there as part of the escort for your family, but your father thought we might frighten you, so we were not introduced. When the pirates struck, I was sent to find you and your mother as your father fought alongside my blade-brothers.” His arms tightened around her fractionally. “You did not remember, and I... could no longer see the little girl who danced and laughed with abandon.”

~=*=~

She felt the tears start again, but the mourning was quieter. She remembered the week surrounding the death of her mother, but until now, had blocked the airship trip. She had hazy memories of the memorial service, and of the Jägers who had been there, quietly standing in the back of the chapel, with crepe-wrapped hats and mourning bands.

 She dimly remembered being at play as a child, but after her mother’s death, it was not as important to her. Her father’s wish that she follow him in holding the fortress was not all that shaped her into the soldier she was now. There had been the need to protect everyone from smelly men who threatened mothers and little children.

Her whispered response was, “She started training that year.” Then, though it was not nearly enough, she stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

 She felt his lips touch her temple, when there was a flurry of activity in the courier’s crew. Listening for a few moments, Dalibor moved his mouth to her ear to murmur, “We are coming into the main hangar of Castle Wulfenbach, by the sound of it. I... Hy schould get beck to bein’ a schtupid Jäger, ja?”

“My sergeant is not stupid.”

 His chuckle quieted as the courier’s engines cut out, but he nuzzled the top of her ear before carefully settling in for the landing.

From the noise, the hangar was not quite as busy as the flight-yard at the base had been. Dafi heard comments from the crew that they were lucky to get in before the mid-watch came on. There was a shudder and a metallic clack as the cradle latched on to the gondola, and the courier crew began offloading the mail bags from the bins on either side of them. There were a great number of orders shouted that did not make sense to her, but Dalibor seemed relaxed, so she supposed they were normal. She spent the time drying her face and generally pulling herself together for the forthcoming debriefing.

 A debriefing that did not seem to be in the immediate future as the crew of the courier was dismissed, but the captain remained, speaking at length with the maintenance officer, scheduling a number of minor repairs, including a “broken” remote release cable for the drop hatch on the center mail bin. As the two officers were standing right there pointing everything out, Dafi and Dal were not going to pull the release to leave in front of the maintenance officer.

Finally, the maintenance officer left with his list of Things To Do. Dal held her hand, giving the patrol signal for “wait”.

Finally, the captain murmured, “Sit tight, I’m letting you out topside.” A few moments later, the top of the bin was unlocked, and the airship captain chuckled, “Would be nice to put a couple of the rowdier special couriers in your seat for their runs. Your handler should arrive soon, since this deck is closed for the next shift.” The captain pulled his duffel out of the overhead, and gave a saluting wave, “Good hunting to you both,” and left.

~=*=~

 

Peering out of the airship from their place in the shadows, Dalibor noted the flight deck was darker than he remembered. Perhaps he was getting tired of shadows and would prefer a good fight without worrying. Maybe it was the problem of watching every shadow for knife glints had him on edge. Or it really was just that dark.

She murmured, “Minimum lights for off-duty?”

Dalibor nodded, and grunted softly when he spotted movement near the maintenance officer’s desk. Maneuvering Dafi so she could use him as a shield but could still see to shoot, he kept still, watching the man of average height and build in a grubby mechanic’s coverall walk down the flightline to the Meltem. Something about the man’s stride was familiar, but it took the flash of the screwdriver being twirled in his fingers like a baton to give him the last clue. Dalibor gave what was termed a “Jäger-friendly” chuckle when the man came to the door. “Figg’rd hyu for admin, Nistor.”

The newcomer chuckled, “Next step, old man. The hornet’s nest you stirred up by stealing the knight from the board means you get me instead of the three layers under me.” He bowed to Dafi. “Quester Hasdeu, Dama Hynter. We have much to discuss.” He then produced the identifying sigil from his pocket, the gold glinting in the limited light.

~=*=~

 Dafi took the proffered badge, the three sapphire crystals set in the rank band catching the light from the hangar. She turned it over to note the number etched on the reverse before handing it back. Raising her eyebrow, she spoke in what she hoped was an even tone. “Discussion would be welcome, especially if it leads to action.”

“It may not seem to be immediate, but trust me, it will occur.” Quester Hasdeu scanned the flight line, while murmuring, “However, I’d like to take this to a more secure location. Preferably meeting the fewest people possible along the way.” He alighted from the courier, and led them to the airbag pumping station. The door next to the pressure gauge panel seemed to be slightly dusty and out of use, but swung out without a sound. Behind the door, the maintenance corridor from their position stretched as far as could be seen in the dim light.

Their hike through the Castle was both awe-inspiring and a trifle unnerving. Dafi was uncomfortably aware that though it was gigantic enough to be stable, this was still an airship, and required great engineering and massive maintenance efforts to stay aloft. These corridors were chilly, but not horribly so, much like the deep storage cellars at the fortress. Seeing the checklists that different hands had initialed along their route gave her some appreciation for the safety, but she was not entirely calm.

~=*=~

 Dalibor kept an eye on Dafi, irrationally proud of her ability to  keep her nervousness at being in the air under control. Still, the sooner he could get her back on the ground, and back in control of her fortress, the better for her state of mind. It remained to be seen if he would need to ask permission to assist in retaking the fortress, or forgiveness for doing it anyway.  

 

This would never be his home, but it was familiar ground for Dalibor. He knew these corridors as well as any of the other security forces on the ship, possibly better than three-quarters of the residents aboard. They headed from the lower aft airship docks to about midships, near the sick bay, but not quite to the Jägerbarracks. What surprised Dal was that Hasdeu led from the maintenance corridors to an office inside the hospital section. “Hrrr..."

 

Hasdeu’s voice was quiet in answer to the growl. “Not for you, old man. No worries. But we have a bit of a problem brewing around Dama Hynter.” He motioned for them to sit. “First, we do have reports that the fortress is occupied by inimical forces, but that the village is still autonomous, under the village aldermen’s control. It seems the occupiers are trying very hard to make it look as if everything is normal at Adreev. I am authorized to tell you there will be forces to assist you in retaking the fortress. Beyond that, there is not much more that I know, either in the forces assigned or the timeframe. In fact, you’ll likely be briefed by the Baron before I am told anything else.” He chuckled, then sobered with his next statement. “I should let you in on the news that you have become a person of interest to the court gossips. In fact there are some theories and queries floating about that are... curious. Dama, were there any formal contracts for your betrothal signed by you?”

Dafi shook her head, “Father had said there were initial inquiries from some of the neighboring duchies, but none had gotten to the point of a preliminary meeting.”

 “That makes things interesting, then. There have been several people who should not know about the attack on Adreev that are making what seem to be making ‘sympathetic overtures’, inquiring about your health, and so on.” Hasdeu took a list from his pocket, “Were any of the inquiries by the house of Movila?”

Dalibor managed to keep from growling, but Dafi openly scoffed. “Not before the attack, no - but apparently the attempted kidnapping in Tânărăjugul was an overture.”

 “That was not in the constabulary report, though we only had the helio short form.” The quester shook his head, “We should start from the beginning.”

As Dafi gave her report, beginning with the odd happenings along the trade circle road over the summer, Dal kept his counsel. Her report was succinct, and given with suppositions and theories clearly separated from documented occurrences. When she got to the attack, her voice thickened, but she kept up the report. He had not heard this part, as she had not discussed it on the trail. Finding out her seconds had practically thrown her onto her horse with the documents they had liberated from one of the attacking locotenents, Dal twitched. Her responses on the train when he had attempted to defy her orders made much more sense, now. She had already had her fill of subordinates putting themselves in danger for her.

When Dafi had finished her report, she started pulling out the documents from all the hiding spaces. Nistor was experienced enough to cover his surprise at the documents they were carrying, until the sheer number of documents overwhelmed even his mask of serene regard. “They were carrying all of this with them?”

“Ho. Nut all of dese come from Adreev.” Dal separated the piles for the different sources. “Hy got deese schoved at me, ven Hy wastoldt to get de Dama haway from de attack on da forst courier.” Even the two separate stacks were impressive in their numbers.

“And how did you get assigned to Dama Hynter’s bodyguard detail, old man?” Nistor raised his eyebrow at Dalibor, in the manner Dal had seen at many a card game.

Dal grinned and shrugged, “Chust lucky, Hy guess!”

~=*=~

She would have liked to know the answer to that as well, but Dafi was not going to berate him in front of someone who was obviously an old friend. Even with her nap on the courier, and the rest of the days previous at the base, she was getting to the end of her reserves. Making sure she did not break down in the middle of the debriefing had taken a lot out of her. Stifling a yawn, she listened attentively as Dalibor gave his version of events, from the time they met on the airship, to his conversation with the innkeeper and his observations concerning the attacks on the rail-monks and in the tavern.

Finally, the quester seemed to be satisfied with the first interview. “Things have gotten complicated. All summer there have been rumblings through the southern duchies, more than what the weather could account for.” He gestured to the papers they had brought in, “These tie quite a few incidents together, I think.” He regarded Dafi with piercing eyes, “However, you also figure into this puzzle, Dama. These three probably think they’ve covered the trail, but the papers you two were carrying are enough to send the cabal to Castle Heterodyne. I think this is part of the reason why you were hunted. The other part is a land-grab.”

“With me surviving the attack, that is a little less likely, I would think.” Dafi said, but she was not sure. There was another way, which the quester confirmed.

“It involves something that the cabal found in an old treaty that Moviloras will come to the aid of Adreev in time of need or some such... looks like they have a pack of lawyers to twist the conditions around to suit them. Apparently, their idea of aiding Adreev is to have the Dama married to their duke”

“Hy t’ink it vould be betta if dey hadn’ been de vuns to attack.”

“True, but they do not know we have proof of that.” Hasdeu patted the documentation. “There’s also the chance we can get them to come here, in a situation that would mean they are cut off from their forces, if the Dama will agree to a little intrigue.”

“I would like to hear the shape of the plan, before I jump in.” Dafi hoped the tremor she felt was not heard by the others in her voice.

“Once the heliograph reports reached here, the Baron had already gotten the paperwork drawn up to have you confirmed as commander of the fortress. Everything has been waiting for you to be found. We’re just lucky you finally reached the Castle Wulfenbach under your own power.” Hasdeu’s grin turned a bit sharp. “One oversight that’s going to trip those idiots is the fact that you actually have been trained to hold and manage the lands yourself. We think, based on the letters and other communications we have intercepted, that their plan is to have their player keep you pregnant and out of the way so they can maneuver the lands to a powerful enough foothold to challenge the Baron. The intel we have indicates they expect the Baron will give control of the fortress and lands over to whoever marries the Dama, because she was not one of the students on Castle Wulfenbach.”

“Tch, I wasn’t here because I was at the academy, and Father was a long-term supporter, dedicated to keeping the peace.”

The quester chuckled, “I don’t think they’ve paid attention to how many schools have Baron Wulfenbach on the board of trustees. He reads most of the reports from the schools, I know - it’s how I got into the track I’m in now.”

“Who ist dey player?”

“Their chosen puppet, Duke Gavril, is controlled by their holding of his gambling debt.”

“Over half of that they managed to create with a shark, according to one of the letters we brought.” Dafi felt the need to point this out, as there were people who believed in him.

“He’s also a confirmed city noble. Though he may have some good ideas for trade and export management, he’s been encouraged to be a wastrel and a dandy. Also rumored to have a gentleman lover, but it seems his handlers don’t care about what he wants, either.” Hasdeu regarded her seriously, “There are some indications they are planning to have you married and buried in a year, if he doesn’t manage to keep you busy with pregnancies. That would be a waste of resources, and you know how the Baron has saving ways.”

Dafi considered the possibility of refusing, as it could get her locked into wedding a man who would be useless in the fortress, and likely refusing to allow her to do her duty. But if they were able to get the organizers of this mess restrained by her being bait, so be it. “As long as I am not required to break my oaths, I think I can agree to bait the trap. I have no wish to be trapped as well, though.”

“Fair enough. We can get started now, before the next shift begins. Think you can manage pretending to be a delicate flower, unable to cope with exhaustion?”

~=*=~

 

Keeping quiet during Dafi’s last decision was difficult for Dal. On the one hand, they did need to get these vipers, but using her as bait still made him nervous.

The quester let them out of the office, to the hall with private patient rooms. Meeting a woman in a dark suit, Hasdeu murmured to her, “We need her under seclusion for nervous breakdown and exhaustion, no visitors unless cleared by me or my boss.”

“Good thing you aren’t using disease quarantine for hiding her, that was getting old.” The woman chuckled, and came to meet Dafi.

“Dama, may I present Dr. Ioana Shriram? Dr. Shriram will be taking care of you, and helping magnify your symptoms to the rumor mill.” He turned to the doctor, “Dama Hynter has nearly nothing with her, but there might be people who think she is carrying something or other.”

“Fair enough. If you will come this way, Dama?” The woman indicated the room nearest them.

As Dalibor made to follow, Nistor restrained him with a hand on his arm, “Sorry, old man. We need to have you fade into the background for now. If you aren’t shadowing her every move, there’s a better chance they won’t see you until it’s too late.” He led the Jäger back to the office.

Once the door was closed, and Dal was seated, Nistor said quietly “I didn’t tell her all the rumors flying about, but one involves her ‘pet monster’, heavy on the innuendo.” He held up his hand at the Dalibor rose out of his chair, “I don’t think anyone that will have contact with her would be crass enough to repeat it in front of her, and it’s popular only with the Normandie set. But the less you are seen with her, the less likely it will get any fuel.”

Dal knew, logically, that there was nothing he could do about the rumors with his fists. But it was very tempting. He took a few moments to calm himself before asking, “Zo. Vat do hyu t’ink hy should be doing?”



Flight or Fight, Chapter 15

Dalibor took the time while Dafi was at the library to read through the book the bookbinder had given her. He knew, within a few pages into the analysis of the first story, that the would-be professor had gotten off lightly with the warning. The story behind the story was only thinly veiled to those who knew the actual history... but then, there were few still around who knew what really happened. Even among the Jägerkin, less than a quarter of the Corps were both around at the time of the story, and bothered to follow politics.

These were the tales that the grannies still told in the mountains, as Bârsănescu had said, and the scholar had managed to get the least embroidered versions of these old tales. In a way, it was good for Dafi to have read the early ones, because it was closer to the true politics of the time.

But it was also dangerous. The tales had started in Movila. Delving into the ancient history of the duchy had never been a healthy pastime, as Bârsănescu had found out. Now, with outsiders possibly manipulating the Grand Duke, it was unlikely anyone in that set would look at someone snooping about with a kindly eye. He would have to warn her when she came back to the Comandor’s suite.

~=*=~

Dafi had not made use of the note-taking materials, hoping that her manner was that of someone bored and looking for anything to read, rather than a serious researcher. It was possibly a good thing she had chosen this as her cover, as it allowed her to look up from time to time, stretching and occasionally yawning.

Still, she had found some likely candidates to follow up in the right time-frame. There were several noble houses in the area, as the duchy was not yet firmly formed from the counties in the area. Some of these had the requisite number of sons gone to war at different battles, but she had not tracked down which family had one out of nine return. It was the time before the Fifty had settled into their current orbits, establishing themselves as the major powers. There were fewer candidates for the creator of the sort of construct that fit the old descriptions of the Third Son. The Heterodyne of the time was at the top of that short list.

She had been unable to concentrate on the history books as much as she would have liked. For one thing, though the library itself was quiet, it was on an outside wall, and the wind was still howling outside. This made listening for others in the library difficult. She settled for seating herself at one of the smaller tables, with a view to all approaches, so she was able to catch the approach of the captain from several shelves away.

Looking up from the book on fifteenth-century diarists, she smiled at the captain, barely catching the hand-signal the helio crews used to call for “quiet in the tower”. The older woman’s demeanor was relaxed, and otherwise open, waiting until she got to the table before asking quietly, “Will you be staying through the luncheon hour?” At the same time, she laid her hand on the table with her palm cupped, allowing a scrap of paper to fall to the table surface. Visible only from Dafi’s position, it held only one word - “watched”.

Dafi shook her head, chuckling. “I am not so involved as all that,” she closed the book she was reading, leaving it near the librarian’s hand. “Do you lock up during lunch?”

The book was picked up with the scrap of paper palmed again. “Normally, no - but my locotenant is down with a chest cold, and her second was caught in town by the storm.”

“Then I should clear out so you can go to luncheon.” Dafi managed to even giggle. “Thank you for not locking me in!” She saluted, and it was returned, before she gathered the clipboard and left the library.

Walking briskly, she managed to swing by the base Comandor’s office just as he was leaving for the noon meal. He caught sight of her, and from the way his eyes flickered back behind her, she thought she was right to detour into a well-traveled area. “So, how did your trip to the library go?” he asked as he fell into step alongside her.

“Eh, it was one way to wait for the weather to blow out.” She gave a diffident shrug. “Captain had said something about wanting to lock up for the luncheon break, so I thought it was time to move on.”

“One thing’s for sure, don’t keep a Heliolux from their tea.” Lungu chuckled as they got to the door of his suite. Once inside, he bolted the door, and motioned for her to move to the fireplace.

Dal was there immediately, positioning himself between the door and Dafi. She was within reach of the fireplace tools, but both waited for Lungu to either explain or act.

When he did, it was well away from the door, and he actually pulled them away from the fireplace as well. “Captain Dytel never closes the library, even if we have no staff. The restricted area gets locked up, but not the main library. What happened?”

“She came to my table, with a note that said ‘watched’, as she told me her locotenent was ill and the second was in town.” Dafi said.

“Did she say what the locotenent had?”

“Chest cold.”

“Damn. Let me think...” Lungu looked considerably worried. “We are going to have to hide you completely, now. There’s new players on the board.”

“Vich airchip ist de vun ve vill be takink to de Castle?” Dalibor asked. “Are de crew stayink aboard or no?”

Lungu nodded slowly, “That’s going to be uncomfortable, but the best way to hide you, I think.” He shrugged, “Won’t be as warm, but it also means they won’t have to wait for you to board when the weather breaks. Pare your gear down to the essentials, and I’ll talk to the airship captain.” Heading for the door, he said, “Bolt the door behind me, and you’ll know it’s me when I return by the knock.”

Dafi shook her head, after following the Comandor’s orders, murmuring “Other than leaving my spare uniform, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with paring down any further.”

“Ve chould be at der Castle by de end of de trip, und ken reshupply, ja?” Dal led the way to the guest room, and began pulling together a smaller pack for himself.

“That’s what I thought the last time I boarded an airship.” Dafi was pulling out everything but the basic survival gear and the documents from her pack.

“Ho. Ja. Hm.” Dal looked their packs over. “Hy vill tek de para-choot. Ve pack vun set of gear in hyur pack.” Taking out the extra clothes, he helped her load the med-kit, one cook-set and the remaining rations in her pack, which was the smaller of the two. When they were done, it was still only half full. Hiding the documents was more difficult in this pack, but he tucked some lighter items such as socks and Dafi’s hygiene case into the corners with the documents.

They nearly missed the knocking of the Comandor, as it was not on the front door, but the quiet tapping in code came from the floor under their feet, muffled by the rug. Flipping back the rug, they found a trap door, latched on their side. Dal motioned for Dafi to open the door as he covered the opening with his sidearm.

Comandor Lungu was alone, but had a lantern with him. “Good job. Let’s go, there’s a possible break coming at sunset, I want you  in place long before then.”

Dafi shouldered her pack and donned her riding helmet before descending, and Dalibor arranged the rug to fall approximately into place as he closed the door behind them. Lungu slid the latch home before leading them down the tunnel. It was not large, for even Dafi had to walk while stooped over.

“This is another leftover from a few decades back. Most of the base doesn’t know this is still here. The old tunnel system has been bricked up for years, after the Long War finally seemed to be over.” They came to a stone wall. Lungu turned to grin at them and murmured quietly, “Funny thing about brick walls, got to be careful how they’re built.” Then he motioned for silence as he pushed an iron reinforcement aside and the wall pivoted. He led them through, then reset the wall. They were in another stone room, but one in which all three could stand up straight. This looked to be a mechanic’s parts storage, from the crates that were stacked against the walls.

Lungu led them to the stairs, then blew out the lantern once they were safely on them. The weak light from under the door proved to be the light from the hangar above them, in off-duty status. He motioned for them to wait, as he made a lazy circuit of the hangar. He walked openly, poking about, as any inspecting officer would do.

Once he had returned to the cellar door, he nodded, “We’re clear. The Meltem is not going to be the first ship to leave, but it will be the ship going directly to the Castle. It usually does not take passengers,” Lungu shrugged, “except special couriers. Even so, the captain is aware of the need for stealth. You’ll need to stay quiet, because the rest of the crew is not supposed to know about you until after you’re on the Castle. Captain will let you know when it’s clear to exit.”

“Vill ve be able to get out if de ship ist boarded?”

“Should be, but she’s one of the fastest craft we see here. If this courier gets boarded, there’s a new engine-builder out there.” Lungu rolled one of the inspection ladders over to the gondola. “Be better if we can get you both in the middle mail bin. The two outer ones are already full, ready to go.”

“Goot, dat’s de vun mit de drop hetch.” Dal said.

“Drop hatch... urgh.” Dafi shut her eyes a moment as she fought her revulsion for flight, unprotected heights and anything else that required nothing but sky under her feet.

“We’ll disconnect the line for the remote release, making it manual from the inside.” Lungu’s blithe explanation did little to reassure Dafi.

~=*=~

Dalibor showed Dafi the security of the bin by jumping up and down on the secured hatch after they disconnected the remote cable. He was not sure if it actually made her feel better about the trip, considering he had shaken the ship a bit with his jumping. But now they were in place, waiting for the storm to lift.

“Hyu chould sleep, Dafi. Hy kip watch” Even though they had not heard anyone around, he kept his voice low enough that it would barely reach her, crammed together side-by-side as they were. The drop bin was intended to carry four mail sacks and their parachutes. It was a little larger than their accommodations on the train, but they were sharing the space with their packs this time.

She breathed, her voice a tight thread, “Too nervous, still.” In the darkness, the only cues he had to her emotional status were her scent and her voice. Both told him she was keyed up, but under control. “You sleep if you can.”

He grunted, and patted her knee in response. She lightly put her hand on his, the tremor barely detectable.

~=*=~

Dafi listened. There were unfamiliar sounds, such as the small creaks and groans in the airship as it accommodated the lowering temperature. The whistling of the wind around the building was that of an autumn storm blowing itself out, something she had heard for years, but it had a different tenor when the roof was curved metal instead of steeply-pitched slate.

But there was a sound that was becoming familiar and comforting to her: the even, quiet breathing of Dalibor asleep. Just a week ago, she did not know him. Now, she trusted him, as a fellow soldier, as a friend. Yes, she had to admit to herself she found him attractive, but it was a dangerous sort of beauty. One could admire a wolf in the wild... from a distance. But you should not mistake it for the loyal guard dog.

Besides, it was a fantasy to think they would be able to do more than correspond when this mission was over. They both had their duties to uphold. She turned her mind from that well-worn track to new ground.

Having the Third Son as a conversational point had kept people from asking about their reasons for travelling together, and had helped their cover that they were between duty stations, rotating back to the Castle Wulfenbach for their new assignments. Yet this deflection required her full concentration, which allowed her some respite from the constant worrying, whether about the condition of her people and the fortress at Adreev, or if the Baron would allow her to return to hold the fortress as her father had, or even if she would need to liberate the fortress on her own.

Mulling over her new distraction, the research she had been able to pull from admittedly random books in the library, she turned again to the mystery surrounding Third Son. She had eleven of what she considered nearly primary sources. The ten tales collected by Scholar Bârsănescu had the same tone and attitude towards the hero that the people of Lacul Rateu gave their tale. Yes, they respected him, but they did not worship him. He was deadly, and more willing to move on rather than take his ease and receive accolades.

There were pieces that Bârsănescu had not linked together in his analysis, perhaps because of the warning he had received. But then, his book was not searching for the man, but tracing the literary trope to its local origins.

As with the tales the babas of her region told by firelight in the long winters, these eleven tales had a rhythm and cadence that tied them to their regional storytelling style. Something the newer tales had dropped, as it was not currently in fashion. Some phrases, such as “he was changed beyond the ken of his kin” had stayed with them, but others, such as the part that preceded that phrase in the older tales, “he walked a lone path, the one of nine who returned, yet spurned by his house” were poetic, but not particularly joyful or gruesome as the groschenroman publishers seemed to favor.

That phrase was what had led her to the genealogies and published diaries in the library. The houses that had the right number of sons in the time-frame Bârsănescu estimated for the origin of Third Son were not particularly of interest to the historians who had documented the local family trees. Very little beyond birth and death dates were noted, when they were actually known. The exception being the ones who had gained the leadership of their houses. First sons were always documented, the spares were usually only written about when they were called to step into the space left by a leader who died without issue. That was as far as she got before she had to seek cover.

The inn village has a clearer tale than any of the others. Yet even their tale did not give Third Son a name. It was quite possible that he had not given it, but why would they know he was a third son... unless they did know, and had kept his name a secret? Or perhaps even the tale spinners were following an edict that his name was not to be spoken? That was common enough when a dishonored son was thrown out, and there seemed to be one in every every house lineage that was stricken from the records in those days. Though the tales did note he was one who acted with honor, the tales were told from the perspective of the peasants, the downtrodden and the powerless.

The mayor's family at the inn could know his name, but it also could have been lost in the years since his assistance. After all, they had not mentioned he had returned, only that they assisted the lone soldiers in his memory. True enough, he likely was no longer around, but it would be nice to know. Dafi had no real reason to ask, other than curiosity. Perhaps she had a wish to honor someone who acted to help instead of shaking their head because the ruling class did not want to be bothered. She could not go back and ask them about it, not until the fortress was secure, and it could be years before she was able to travel at leisure.

The wind had been dying down as she theorized, and Dalibor dozed. He stirred quietly when the doors opened and the crews swarmed the craft. The tone of the voices did not indicate an emergency. The mechanics’ voices were firm and conveyed a desire to get the courier on her way in good form, and the airmen’s voices were sharper, almost like the calls of hunting hawks eager to be loosed on the sky.

~=*=~

Dalibor woke from his sleep, sharply but without outward sign, when the clear weather bell rang in the distance, likely near the barracks. Aware of his surroundings, he also felt Dafi’s hand still on his. The tremor was gone, and he enjoyed the sensation of a woman holding his hand voluntarily. She withdrew into herself when the doors of the hangar opened for the crew, and he put his arm around her, the only comfort he could offer until they were sure they were on their way.

Listening to the voices around them, Dal identified the captain by the responses to orders, and the crew chief for the base. The others moved in and out of range until there was an extended clanging that was the opening of the hangar doors, and the short scrape of the gondola lifting in the cradle as the lifting chambers were brought up to pressure. The chant of the ground crew accompanied the slight sensation of movement as they hauled the Meltem out to the lift-yard. Then the crew chief advised the captain of clearance, and the captain signaled his readiness for flight. The sharp double-clang of the clamps releasing and the cradle landing on its iron wheels followed by the stomach-sinking sensation of rapid ascent was the last he heard from the yard.

When the engines fired, roaring to life, he murmured in Dafi’s ear, “Dat vas a good, clean lift. Hyu hokay?” He felt the movement of her head nodding in the affirmative, but she did not say anything. Dal guessed she might still be fighting her fears or her stomach. He was glad he had remembered to exchange the strong sausages and cheese for the oat-based ration bars when they repacked. He would miss the delicacies, but it would make the trip more comfortable for her.

“Dey vill belike keep you awake for hours for debrief ven ve get dhere. T’ink hyu can schleep?” After a few moments, came a slow nod, and he settled her on his shoulder.

He leaned his head back against the back of the bin, listening to the crew. The navigator was having to re-chart their course enroute, because instead of a rendezvous at Sibiu, the Castle’s heading from Budapest was more southerly than expected. Frowning in concentration, the coordinates filtered through his memory. The new intersect course would take them to the northeastern corner of the Movila territory, and within a few day’s cruise for the Castle Wulfenbach of the capital city of Moviloraş. Dal resisted the urge to pound his head on the side of the bin. He could not stay out of the duchy, it seemed.

~=*=~

Dafi had not intended to sleep, but the instincts from when she had to switch duty schedules kicked in, with the illusion of safety that Dal provided.

The dream began with the excitement of a new day. Her family was going on a trip! Papa and Mama were invited to visit Papa’s soo-peer-ear officer and they got to go in an airship! They had a room tinier than her bunk-room to share for the trip, but Captain, the officer in charge of the ship only wanted them there to sleep. There were many others on the ship with them, all sorts of soldiers and civvies, all going to the Bear’s birthday party! Once her tummy settled, Trandafira was allowed to play in a little space of the lounge where she whirled and twirled like the Mevlev soldiers, balancing her doll on her head like their swords.

She stumbled when the ship shook all over. Mama grabbed her hand, and started running for their little cubby, but the smelly man was in the way. Mama hid Trandafira’s face in her shoulder, and kept running. There were lots of people screaming and shouting. the ship lurched again and Mama fell! They were sliding, and falling and suddenly, Trandafira looked down at her feet dangling over the clouds. Mama screamed at someone, “Take care of her!” but Mama’s voice was fading quickly. The strong grip on her wrist became a hug, “Hy got hyu, is hokay. Shh...” She couldn’t see anything of the fighting she could hear behind her, only the endless field of fluffy white clouds...

Dafi woke, her face wet again with tears. Dalibor was murmuring in her ear, “Hy got hyu, iatagandraga. Ve is hokay. Shh....”

The similarity shocked her, startling her into whispered speech. “It was when Mama died, when the pirates raided the airship.” She reached up to rub at her eyes and found Dal holding a handkerchief there for her. “I had forgotten, buried it.” Speaking the words did not stop the tears, but at least she understood them now. “They did not take the ship, just my mother...” Dafi buried her head in his shoulder, as best she could at the angle they were sitting, and stifled her sniffles with the handkerchief.

It just kept pouring out, with the realization that with Father gone, she was alone. There was nothing left between her and the world, with only the training her father and commanding officer gave her to guide her, and her position to isolate her further. Her ruthless suppression of her grief was only partly because of the mission. She had no idea how to grieve, because she only remembered numbness in the year after her mother fell from the airship to her death. The only token Father had kept was her ring - it had been flattened slightly, but it had helped identify her, along with her boots and jacket.

She took what comfort she could now, because when the ship landed, there was a good chance she would lose Dal as well. When the greater part of her emotional storm had passed, she attempted to breathe normally, but did not withdraw from him. “There was a Jäger there, he caught me as we fell out of the hole in the hull.”

“Hy know... Hy... I remember.” Dalibor’s voice was quiet, the Mechanicsburg accent dropping away, replaced by cultured cadences. “I am sorry I could not catch you both.”