As it turned out, it would have to wait longer than that. He was severely delayed in returning to the library. Dafi considered returning to the hospital wing on her own, but with the arrival of several airships with multiple groups of passengers, he had asked her to wait until she had back-up to go anywhere on the ship. When he did finally return, he hustled her out with the barest of greetings to Herr Ples.
In hushed tones, he briefed her in the maintenance corridor. “We finally have confirmation that the Duke and his friends have agreed to have the signing aboard the Castle. Your ‘frail mental state’ helped push that, but for now, we need to keep you in the hospital room. The bulk of the Duke’s official retinue will be here tomorrow, but we’re getting too many solicitous inquiries about you for my boss to feel comfortable about you going walkabout.” He motioned for quiet when they got to the hospital area.
Sneaking into her hospital room was complicated by Dr Shriram bustling down the hall, and shoving Dafi into a broom closet. Her terse explanation of, “Unknown faces showed up for work, sit tight” was all Dafi got before a loud disturbance in another section pulled the doctor and the quester away.
Dafi was glad that the military regulations for stowing cleaning implements required that they also be clean when stored were observed in the hospital. The faint odors of vinegar and balsam were soothing, while she waited, and thought. She would need to consult with a legal expert for the next bit. If Hasdeu was not versed in the specialty, perhaps there could be someone else involved. She was still puzzling over it when the door opened.
“You!” Hasdeu growled, then as he leaned in and smudged her face quickly, he muttered, “Apprentice hiding, right?” He hauled her out by her collar, further obscuring her face from the witnesses down the hall.
Dafi squealed, pitching her voice at what she hoped was a piping tenor, “Oi! Oi! Zorry mazt’r! I’z nut hidin’ frum hyu!”
“Na, lazy hup! Jus’ hidin’ frum work!” He hauled her along roughly, but he could see a twinkle in his eye as they headed out.
Dafi made further protestations as she had remembered the complaints from the scullery girls at the school. “I’za gut vorker! I’z hid from Ygan, he in me bunk!”
As he pushed her out of the hospital section into an empty hall, he dove for a maintenance hatch and they both disappeared though it. Then he giggled quietly, “Thank the lightning you understood, Dama.” He nodded down the corridor, away from the hatch, Keeping his voice low, he asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She chuckled, “Tch, take more than that to hurt me, Quester.” Dafi also kept her voice low, knowing that voices carried in caverns, and this was naught but a huge man-made cave. “What happened?”
“Someone stole an orderly uniform, and was searching for your room. He had just found your uniform when they found him, so we’re going to have to manufacture a reason for you to have gone missing.”
Dafi subconsciously fiddled in her pocket, reassuring herself that the stray button was still there. “Find me a place to wash up and an invalid’s gown, and I can say I was hiding from the one I was not properly introduced to?”
“That might work. Trouble is, where would have you gone if you were a frightened noble lady?”
“Home. But what I would call home, especially here, isn’t what the fragile flower would run to,” Dafi grunted in an unladylike fashion. “Ergh, this much duplicity makes my head hurt. She would probably seek out protectors amongst ‘her own kind’.”
“And without an introduction, that usually means at least gentry. Even the fragile flower might head for officer country, which means it’s time for you to meet my boss.” Hasdeu swung around a ladder and began to climb up.
~=*=~
Dalibor was in the midst of trying to wear himself out enough to sleep when the tone of alarmed voices reached his ears. Before he could disengage from the wrestling match, his captain tapped out his opponent and leapt for a grapple. Once pinned, Fejes muttered in his ear, “Sche’s safe.”
A quick flip out of the hold, and turning the tables on his superior by shifting from Greek to Mongol style, Dal hissed in Fejes’s ear, “Vot heppen?”
“Caught oot ov bet.” The change in style only gained Dalibor a momentary advantage, as Fejes slammed Dal with an uchimata. “Der schrawny keed say sche’s hokay.”
Dal relaxed, and grinned, then flipped again for a piledriver. “Hokay. Ve nut on call?”
“Na,” and the captain pulled the klimakismou as the final move, “Hyu schleep nao?”
Dal twisted, unable to break the anchein his captain held on him, and acquiesced, “Ja, schure. Hy schleep,” Tucking under and rolling, he pinned the captain’s shoulders to the mat, though it did not break the choke hold Fejes had on him. “Chust nut here.”
Fejes gave Dal a good-natured swat across the back of his head as they rolled to opposite sides of the ring. “Time ta go ta bed, hyu!”
“Ja, ja, mamă - Hy go nao.” Dalibor chuckled and headed for his bunk.
~=*=~
Officer country at Adreev was high up enough to see most of the mountain pass, the walls of the fortress, or most of the above ground public areas, depending on which windows you had. Here, it was apparently the center of the ship, from what Dafi could suss out from the maintenance corridor diagrams they passed.
When they got to a certain level, Hasdeu handed Dafi a clipboard and tapped a set of dials. “Wait here, look busy, gotta check for a clear path,” and he ducked out of the hatch, whistling.
She kept her nose pointed at the dials, listening for footsteps, cutting her eyes down the corridors, and briefly wondered what the instruments before her were actually measuring.
Moments later, the quester returned, just sticking his head in the hatch. “Good timing, he’s had his tea already.” Hasdeu motioned for her to stow the clipboard and follow. This hallway was much smaller than the grand promenades, but no less elegant. “Just in case, unless he says different, you two have not met this morning.” Escorting her through the empty outer office, he tapped lightly on the door before opening it. “Sir? Here she is.”
Behind the desk, sat a middling-tall man, whose build was average among the non-military types... save for the extra pair of arms. Dafi snapped to attention when faced with the Executive Secretary and second-in-command to Baron Wulfenbach, Boris Vasily Konstantin Andrei Myshkin Dolokhov. The man was rumored to remember everything.
“Ah, Dama Hynter.” He stood, and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “My apologies for not meeting with you sooner. You still have a way of generating reports wherever you go.”
Dafi swore to herself internally, realizing that if he did remember everything, at least she was in the clear, as the the attack on the fortress, like the incident when she was going home from the academy, was not her making. “Sometimes it is difficult to leave proper documentation with the correct authorities.”
“In this case, you have managed to kick over a beehive, and lead the swarm astray. It has taken some careful maneuvering, but we have managed to collect the honey without many stings.” He steepled his fingers, peering over his glasses. “You have been busy in the library. Would you care to share your findings at this time?”
Dafi mentally settled herself before withdrawing her notes on the treaties, and handing them over. “I could argue that a single boilerplate treaty, offered over two centuries ago, without any continuing contact would not have the force of some of our more current negotiations. However, that is tugging on the laws until a loophole appears. Their offer of ‘aid’ is... not quite what I would consider helpful.” She paused, and quietly added, “If it is helpful to the Baron’s plans, however, I can follow through.” She did not hide the fact that the idea did not make her happy, though.
Herr Dolokhov nodded, reading through her notes. “Yes, I see the loopholes to which you are referring. It would take less tugging and just a hint of a suggestion, depending on your interpretation.” While one set of hands sorted the notes, his other hands were making up a cup of tea (white, no sugar, just as she took it during the officer’s tea six years ago) and handed it to her. “However, we do need some more time to insert some key personnel. If you are open to further negotiations, I will let the Baron know. However, at this time, we specifically need you to be,” he looked over his glasses at her again, “a wounded bird.”
“I can draw their attention away from my nest, sir.” Dafi nodded. He may not hold a title, but he was the one who had the Baron’s ear, and that was deserving of respect.
Hasdeu coughed lightly, “We may need to lead them part of the way this morning, sir.”
“Yes, the false orderly. The closest place for her to hide would have been the Jägerbarracks, but that is not the direction we wish them to go.” Herr Dolokhov considered the schematic of the hospital section of the ship before pointing to a section not far from the doctors’ offices, but in the opposite direction from the Jägermonster’s digs. “There. Take her to Doamnă Coșlar-Aed. She will be able to help with the feint.” Then speaking to Dafi, “Tell her as little as you can about the past month, but you do have similar backgrounds. I will arrange for you to be ‘found’ in an hour or so.”
~=*=~
In spite of Herr Dolokhov’s reassurances, Dafi found herself dreading meeting this doamnă. There were few of that social strata that were the sort to approve of “girl generals”, in spite of the tradition of the elite troops such as the Devil Dolls, the Šárka Mead Maidens or the Lipizzaner Cancan Corps. She was tentatively relieved when the first person they met at the doamnă’s quarters was a straight-spined elderly woman, dressed plainly, but better than the average maid. The woman had a firm handshake.
“Aye, I be Doamnă Coșlar-Aed when the mood takes me. Call me Amelia, and if we’re quick, we can get you settled before too many of the staff are awake.” She turned to the young woman just entering the sitting room, “Liesel, this young lady needs to be artfully disheveled, but not wild,” handing over the invalid’s gown to Dafi, “Then we’ll need to pretend to be ladies.”
“Yes, Bunică! This way, please Dama?” The woman showed Dafi to the en suite. Liesel certainly was a younger version of the Doamnă, with the same high cheekbones and a fencer’s posture. “I will leave you to change, and then we’ll do something about your hair.” Liesel winked and grinned, as her hair was covered by a kerchief similar to Dafi’s.
Quickly changing into her gown and washing her face and hands, Dafi was at a loss for how to hide her notes on the legendary hero. She settled for folding them into the boiler suit, and was digging out the spare button just as Liesel knocked on the door. “Ready?”
Dafi opened the door for her, “As much as I can be. I am not sure what to do with my hair...” Her voice stalled out as she saw the young woman again, dressed in an elegant morning receiving gown such as they advertised in the newspapers. Liesel’s hair was no longer in the sensible braid down her back, but piled up in a complicated set of ringlets.
Dafi’s stony expression must have conveyed some of her distress, as Liesel began to giggle. “Na, it’s a wig, I’m not that fast. Let’s take your hair down quick, and see if I can make you look distressed, but still ladylike.”
Five minutes later, Dafi’s crown braid was down, brushed out, and loosely plaited in a French style that was wildly impractical - which was the whole point. During the hairdressing, Dafi tucked the button into her sleeve. Presented to the Doamnă, the older woman nodded, “Yes, that will work well. Please, come sit.”
Hasdeu had stood when the younger ladies entered the sitting room, and smiled at the change in Dafi. “I think this will be a good time for you to make your semi-public appearance.” He took the bundle from Dafi, and chuckled. “I’ll make sure they bring robes and a chair for you, and I shall see you once I get properly cleaned up.” He bowed in respect to all three ladies before leaving.
Doamnă Amelia was similarly transformed, though her hairstyle was not greatly changed. A tea service had been added to the table, with a selection of dainty breakfast pastries. “Come, sit. I doubt you’ve had much to eat, and we will need to take care of that before you are... rescued.” Amelia’s chuckle after her dramatic intonation showed her humor.
“I am sorry to impose on you like this...” Dafi allowed Liesel to steer her to the divan, and the young woman tucked a quilted coverlet around her legs.
“Psh, psh - I’m glad for it. Not likely we would have met until much later, and I do enjoy meeting other alumni.” Amelia made sure Dafi had a good grip on the cup and saucer before releasing it. “Though when my family sent me to Mustafa-Svilin, I was supposed to keep my brother out of trouble and get myself a husband, in that order. They didn’t figure on me paying attention to the lectures.”
Dafi chuckled, and turned to Liesel, “Did you attend as well? I would have thought we were in the same classes if you did.”
Liesel shook her head, “I ended up going to Université Diderot. After generations of... fighters, it figures someone had to be a medic.” She grinned, and Dafi did not comment on the small hesitation.
“So!” Amelia passed the plate of poale’n brâu, “Are they still teaching Roman historical tactics exclusively from Trajan's letters?”
In the hour that followed, the three discussed the different lectures each had attended, with the topics changing to those of fashion, art and music when the doamnă’s airship-assigned staff arrived to find a timid visitor in house. Much fluttering fuss was made to send someone to the hospital section, when one of the hospital staff arrived to inquire if they had seen a misplaced patient.
Dafi was not all that sure of her acting ability, so she did not attempt the twittery tones that Amelia and Liesel seemed to pull off without a blush. She instead opted for slightly confused and shy as her major outward displays.
A very precisely pressed and polished gentleman arrived with the hospital staff, making Dafi wary of the group. However, when he got close enough to greet her properly with a short bow, she realized this was Hasdeu in his “regional representative” role. It shocked her that he could change his look so completely without resorting to an elaborate disguise. Gone was the rumpled and slouching mechanic’s mate, replaced with another sort that faded into the background - a mid-level bureaucrat. She hoped her shock might be interpreted as another bit of “frail mental state” evidence, as they wheeled her back to the hospital section.
The grand procession of hospital staff deposited her in her new accommodation, closer to the nurse’s station. The new room was much larger, including a dressing room in the ensuite, and a sitting area near the windows. Dr Shriram carefully introduced the day staff to Dafi, including the two burly porter-attendants that were in obvious guard positions at her door when they arrived.
Once the parade of staff finished, Dr Shriram and Hasdeu were left alone with her. The doctor looked a trifle frayed around the edges, but seemed mostly just tired. “From now on, all staff changes are to be cleared with the director of the sick bay, and you get to meet them before they go on duty. That being said, there’s not going to be any staffing changes if I have anything to say about it.”
“Unfortunately, this change of room to protect you will also mean no further field trips until you are cleared for discharge.” Hasdeu nodded. “I think I might be able to get books to you if you need further research, but for now, it may be best if you stay put until after we sort out who is where on the Castle.”
Dafi looked at them doubtfully. “I hope all of this is worth it. Right now, I am too tired to be sneaky any longer.” She paused, then asked Hasdeu, “Would it be possible for you to bring the notes I had made last night the next time you visit?”
“It will not take even that long.” Hasdeu smiled, and put a heavy cardstock folio in her hands. “Just so you know, researching folk tales is a very ladylike past-time.”
“I shall try to keep up the illusions,” Dafi quietly chuckled, then yawned suddenly. “Oh! I do beg your pardon....”
“Time for you to rest, Dama.” Dr Shriram guided Hasdeu to the door. “I gave orders for your meals to be tea, water, toast and broth for today, but you need sleep more.”
Dafi nodded sadly. “Much as I do not care for the dreams, I do need the rest.”
Hasdeu paused at the door, when the doctor asked, “Would you like something to help you sleep without dreams?”
She thought about it a moment before slowly shaking her head. “No... other than the fact I am wary of being incapacitated with the events progressing this quickly,” Dafi sighed, “even if I dislike the dreams, I need to process them.”
Hasdeu slipped out, and Dafi could hear him murmuring to the orderlies. Dr Shriram nodded. “I will let you sleep, and perhaps we should talk about these dreams you have had, when I return this evening.”
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