Mr. John had nearly the ideal job if one liked to stretch one's legs as he did. He was tasked but he had almost unlimited autonomy on how it got done, as long as it got done. This had taken him to nearly every continent and from tundra to desert inside of a week at times. He trips back to civilization were, ironically, a vacation from traveling.
The past week had been spent in Paree as there were five people he needed to interact with and they happened to be in the same place at roughly the same time. Even free rein only went so far and budgets weren't infinite so he jumped at the opportunity when it presented itself. Still, one could only work so many hours a day and he spent the rest of the time enjoying himself and catching up on news.
The talk of the town was, of course, the trials and the impending verdicts. And biggest topic of the trials was one Lt. Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, aka Argent Silver. The screaming mobs had less flattering names and 'The Devil of the Rhine' was likely the LEAST insulting. His superiors gave him a curious assignment, so he invited a friend who happened to be one of her guards out for drinks.
Mr. John had LOTS of friends.
It took several rounds of a very bitter ale the man preferred to get him to open up. Naturally, the guards had been warned against talking about their charge but, of course, they were only human. And drunk humans love to talk.
Better than a quiet corner, they shared a table in a noisy bar... much more condusive for clandestine talks. Mr John smiled and pushed the fifth mug toward him. "I hear you have been guarding a very special prisoner."
"Yeah, she..." He almost sobered up then, still afraid of potential punishment.
"Don't worry that you are revealing secrets. I know you are guarding HER." He emphasized the last word and they shared a knowing nod. "What's it like?"
"Everyone talks about what a monster she is but... all I can see is a little girl. You know what she talks about? Not battles, or revenge, or weapons or even the trial. She tells us she wants to visit nice restaurants, read in the Bibliothèque Mazarine, sip coffee in sidewalk cafes, or visit the beaches of Nice. The high point of her day is when her lawyer brings her newspapers and a bit of chocolate to eat." Genuine sadness, bordering on grief lined the man's face. "I once asked her if she wasn't interested in dresses and shoes and other girlish things. Do you know what she said?"
"Go on," Mr. John murmured.
"She just looked at me blankly, as if she were confused by the question. She said she had never owned a dress. Orphans wore shapeless clothes that could be conveniently given to other children as they grew older. After joining the military, all she had were uniforms. Ta... she didn't even understand why she should WANT a dress. What kind of world is it when a young girl doesn't want something nice to wear?"
"The trial must have been a shock to everyone. That one guard..."
"Antoine? Yeah, people are talking like she used him as a shield but let me tell you." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "That bastard abused her more than once. But she always told us not to report it because she didn't want any of us getting into trouble. Including him! And you know what they found on him? 'Free Arene' propaganda. She put up with his shit for weeks and in the end he was trying to kill her like those other assassins. Stupid bastard."
"So what happened then?"
"They changed out almost all her guards so I haven't been able to ask but I think she saw he was about to shoot her and she tried to get the rifle away from him." He motioned bringing his hands together. "Against a longarm, you need to get close to avoid being shot. Clumsy oaf just fell on her."
"Such a radical stance. Did he always seem like this?"
"Even three months ago, I would have said no." He swallowed his drink without tasting it. "Who knows what lies in the hearts of others? I like to think he changed his mind and used his body to protect her. That would make a fine story, eh? Two people who should hate each other finding common ground?"
"A fine story, indeed." He couldn't help but think back to his last conversation with his contact in Intelligence.
John, this will be tough, but we need you to spread some rumors about Degurechaff. Good ones.
He blinked at the man, wondering if he had misheard. "Good ones? Whyever for?"
The contact sighed as if shouldering the weight of the world. "We can't convict her. It would be a sham and everyone would see through it. But we can't acquit her either. She burned down half a city! She's called a Devil across most of the world! So Command decided that rehabilitating her reputation just enough to give them cover is the easiest way."
"You can't do such things overnight, Paul. It's not just hard, it's impossible."
"Doesn't have to be fast, just effective. When we're feeling the heat of the verdict, this will help quench the fires. I won't tell you how to do it, but I can suggest an idea: if she's a victim in all of this, or even marginally sympathetic, then that might be enough. The Crown has opened up the coffers so spend what you need to. We can delay the verdict for two weeks, but it's going to be an acquittal and we need to be ready."
"Give me three weeks."
"I'll try but a good bit of the world wants blood now and they may burn down Paree without the assistance of the Empire's army."
* * *
A struggling playwright and an equally struggling performing troupe suddenly burst onto the art world soon after this conversation. The play they put on was novel and took the theaters of Paree by storm. Many glowing reviews by top critics pushed it into center stage with alacrity and by the end of its first week, tickets were impossible to find.
It told of a young woman, Tatiana, and aman, Anthony, that could have been friends but were forced by circumstances to be on opposite sides. Set in an older age, their weapons were swords and daggers but were no less deadly for that. The man's family had been killed by her rebel troops and he had vowed bloody revenge. When they were finally captured, she accepted all the blame so that her clan wouldn't be destroyed. He became one of the prison guards to complete his revenge but discovered a lonely woman rather than a monster. In the final, and most moving scene, he protected her with his own body from the blades of assassins when it looked like she might be set free.
Few people dared state, for the record, that this was about Tanya and Antoine but it was talked about in parlors and cafes and bars far beyond the boundaries of any single theater.
* * *
"I know I said the coffers were open but this is still..."
"Look, Paul. It takes money to put on a show, to pay the performers, rent the halls and whatall. I rode that playwright for three straight days until he had something decent to show me. And do you know how much it costs to bribe that many critics?" He smirked, "Actually, you shouldn't complain so much. The money is earmarked as an investment in the company, not as a donation. You might get a bit more back than you put into it in the end."
"The hell you say. Is it doing that well?"
"Far better than we had any right to expect. Rusted Silver's private life and past are a mystery and curiousity is driving a lot of people to the show. It paints the Empire as right bastards but you probably don't mind that." Mr. John shook his head. "It's actually not far from the truth, most of it. Oh, that guard was almost certainly about to shoot her, so that part is fiction but it makes their local boy into a sympathetic figure so that actually helps."
"Still not sure how you pulled this one off, but good job."
Years later they would bitterly rue ever having anything to do with "Tatiana and Anthony" but for now they were satisfied.
Chapter 08 - Bravery under fire
For the next week, a shadowy war was played out in the streets of Paree. Their weapons were not bullets, but brushes. The sounds weren't explosions but music. Duelling bands of vandals defaced buildings and monuments alike. "Free Arene" faced off against "Free Tanya" in nearly every alleyway. The Republic's national anthem had its lyrics changed to extoll the virtues and sacrifices of those in Arene while the less-well-known Germanian anthem highlighted Tanya's pure heart and bravery. Neither version was sung aloud, of course, but there was a noticeable increase in the number of people humming patriotic tunes.
To call her a modern day Jeanne D'Arc would not be a stretch for her supporters. She only lacked a tragic death to complete the picture. Free Arene had their own martyrs, of course, and with the advantage of actually having died for the cause. The two surviving assassins were even in the same facility as she, La Santé, so all eyes were on the prison.
Eyes... and other things.
* * *
Some instinct, undulled by her time in prison, caused Tanya to duck and dive for cover as a bullet passed through the spot where her head used to be. She crawled, knees and elbows, to confuse the sniper as to her location while more bullets raced to her previous position. Her mind reached for her orb by reflex but didn't find anything so she spent her mental energy cursing the inefficiency of the Francois military that they couldn't stop people from smuggling rifles into the most heavily guarded prison in the Republic.
Couldn't stop... or maybe didn't want to.
Her guards, to their credit, did their best to spot the attacker and return fire but whoever they were, they were thoroughly professional and extremely dangerous. Jean, one of the newer guards was hit in the thigh and collapsed near to where she was hiding. Risking gunfire, she dragged him to safety and started giving him first aid.
"Merde," he said weakly, "So much blood." He didn't seem battle-hardened like most of the others so she figured him for a homeguard unit that hadn't seen much action. Or maybe an actual jailer rather than a re-purposed soldier. "I-is this it for me?"
"Nonsense!" she barked. "I've seen men take half a dozen bullets like this and go drinking the next day." She grabbed his bayonet and fashioned a quick tourniquet after cutting off the sleeves of her prison gear. Two, three, four twists of the bayonet and the blood slowed to a trickle. She tied it down with her other sleeve. "How's that feel?"
"Th-the pain. It's not so bad now." His complexion became better as the fear receded slightly.
"Good man! You better pick up your rifle because I think there might be more of them."
"You should use it, you're ten times the soldier I am. I can't do this!"
"If I grabbed your weapon, I'd be shot for 'trying to escape'. But, Jean, you underestimate yourself. You have the makings of a fine soldier, no a fine WARRIOR. You're already stared death in the face and are still here, right? I wasn't born White Silver, it happened because I had no choice. True bravery is acting when you HAVE a choice and in spite of fear."
His expression calmed and steely glint entered his eyes. "I understand. Help me over to my weapon." He picked it up and propped himself painfully against a wall to give support as he scanned for the enemy.
I almost lost one of my shields... and I don't have any to spare!
She empowered her voice and shouted, "Stay low, I'm out of their line of sight! Marcus and Emile, go left and concentrate your fire on the east tower. Give cover to the others! Florian, Gaston... take that time to come to my position. Move!"
Though they didn't move with the precision of the 203rd, they obeyed with alacrity. Even through her still-clumsy Francois, they could feel the voice of command and responded to her will. Within a minute, they were sufficiently protected and could concentrate their fire at the tower. Suddenly there was a cry from above and body fell five stories to the ground below. The gunfire stilled and the only sound was harsh breathing by her guards and shouts of approaching troops.
To their surprise, the fighting was done before they arrived. One gunman was found dead in the tower from bullet wounds, the other dead on the ground presumably from the fall. The only other casualty, and a non-fatal one at that, was Jean. They found Tanya bandaging his wound and making sure that the tourniquet didn't cause more harm than good. A trigger happy soldier actually raised his rifle toward her after seeing the blood on her hands and clothes before it was slapped away by someone with more sense.
"That should keep you going until a real doctor gets here. How do you feel?"
"Alive," he said gratefully.
She chuckled and slapped his shoulder. "Good soldier! Remember that feeling... nothing is sweeter than that when the alternative was inches away. Ah, your taxi has arrived."
The wounded man was carefully put on a stretcher with a doctor next to them to make sure he didn't die on the way to the infirmary. Jean grabbed her bare arm as they were going, "Tanya, thank you."
She shook her head. "We are comrades, even if only for a few minutes. You have nothing to thank me for."
They took him away quickly and a squad of nearly twenty returned her to her cell.
* * *
The chancellor of the Francois Republic had had better days... almost all of them, in fact. He was arguing with their judge on the tribunal until he was red in the face. "I understand that you hate her. I hate her, too! But look at the situation, man! She is rapidly becoming a hero... in our own country! Those snipers were supposedly prisoners and armed with our own guard's weapons. Do you know how that makes us look?"
"But we can't just acquit her for that. She's guilty, guilty!"
"Of course she's guilty. Legalities aside, her actions were horrific in Arene, in the Rhine... everywhere! But politics says we need to do what is practical. And right now, she's a terrible liability for us. Send her back, send her back as soon as you can."
"The lives, chancellor, what of them?" The man alternated between rage and something beyond mere anger.
"Do you know there's a cry to award her with the Croix de Guerre for the fight in the prison? If we take too long, she may get it! The Devil of the Rhine getting a goddamned medal for bravery WHILE OUR PRISONER. From us! If you thought the situation couldn't get worse, it just has!"
"We have to save face, somehow. I can't just let her go free," he mumbled.
"There's a plan for that. There's a clause in the articles of surrender to deal with her. Nothing permanent, alas, but enough. Enough for now." He patted the tired man's shoulder. "I understand. Look, you can abstain. I've been assured by Judge Edwards that Albion can push through an acquittal as long as we don't oppose it. You have sufficient grounds of course. Just give a high-minded dissenting opinion but say that you feel you cannot give a fair judgment."
"That's barely better than voting for her."
"Barely better is the best we can hope for, I'm afraid."
Chap 09 - the caged bird
It happened so subtly that no one noticed it at first. Most never did, truth be told. Like a minute change in the weather: incremental, quiet, but powerful. A tiny grain of sand that tips a scale left rather than right. One too many snowflakes causing the whole mass to slide of the roof onto an unsuspecting pedestrian. Or, in this case, the sound of a voice...
Due to the sheer number of people interested in the tribunal, the Francois Republic had arranged for the testimonies to be broadcast over the radio... a first for the country and the world! Through use of specialized magic orbs and cutting edge technology, their voices could be captured, edited for clarity and delivered to all interested parties. But the people of Paree were able to hear it live and uncensored. Meeting places, schools, pubs, cafes... any place that could afford a radio receiver would tune in to the trials. As fast as they could build them, they were purchased and tuned on to the only broadcast available.
Worried about disruptions in civil order, the authorities suggested banning the practice but were met with such overwhelming disapproval, they quickly relented. And, weeks later, they eventually got to hear HER.
As the chief counsel for her defense, the chief witness and also the sole suspect, she was heard more than any other person. Tanya questioning, Tanya explaining, Tanya exhorting, Tanya overcoming! Her voice carried power and conviction as much as her arguments carried logic. To most it was like a subtle melody that worked its way into your mind before you knew it. For some, a hammer blow that stupefied with a single strike.
She was hated by many but ignored by none.
* * *
Though in deliberations, the judges still had to answer to interested parties, i.e. Everyone. Any world government that was involved in the war had a stake in the case and they let their displeasure be known. Though for different reasons, all were unhappy with the tribunal and pressure was mounting.
And now there was a petition by Gladieau to move her out of La Santé as it was 'profoundly unsafe'. The suggestion was to relocate her to a secret venue out of the city while the deliberations continued. It was damnably hard to turn down the request as evidence was clearly on her side.
The Federation judge slapped his copy of the petition and, feeling this was insufficient, tore it to pieces. "How can we accede to this? She's a blatant criminal and now she was a paid vacation in the countryside?! Perhaps a chef and maid would be pleasant as well!"
The Dacian judge mused, "Even if we agree, there is the question of location. How can we be sure that it is safe?" Of all the judges, he was surprisingly the most sympathetic to Degurechaff's fate. Though their defeat by the Empire was embarassing, it was over so quickly that they had suffered little while under imperial rule. Truth be told, Dancians had learned a lot during that time and their country was rapidly modernizing with the help of Germanian engineers and construction teams that could not find work in their home country.
The rulers of Dacia had been taken down half a dozen notches and he, privately, thought that was a fine thing. "There's no reason why she couldn't be just as secure elsewhere. No vacation, mind, but it would avoid having bloody battles in the middle of a 'secure' prison."
"She might escape, though! Do not underestimate her cunning!" The increasingly frenzied Federation judge argued. Bozhe moi, if she gets away, Loria will have me executed as soon as I step off the train!
Brittania mediated. "I don't think there's much fear of that. Where would she run to at any rate? Without weapons, an orb or friends, even the dreaded White Silver is a defanged tiger. And I'm sure we can find loyal guards that aren't in Free Arene's pocket. Those ones that defended her have the right stuff, I gather."
The vote was less close that one might expect and the decision was made.
* * *
Gladieau felt that his supply of handkerchiefs was woefully insufficient. What lasted for days wouldn't last even an hour now. He contemplated ordering a bulk purchase and having the laundress come twice a week. Handkerchiefs weren't the only thing soaked with sweat. And the cologne expense! I could up the billable hours a bit... certainly no one could say that I haven't suffered -- I mean WORKED -- on this assignment!
He was escorted down the very familiar route to Tanya's cell by alert guards. By now, he could navigate the path in the dark... probably in his sleep. Something unfamiliar caused him to pause.
"Maitre? Is something amiss?" The guards naturally stopped at the same time as him. The change of routine put them on alert but, since it was Gladieau, they didn't take it too seriously.
"Oh, ah, my apologies. I just thought I heard singing."
The guard smiled. "You might have a bit of a surprise waiting for you, then."
The sound of music got louder until there was no doubting the source: Tanya herself. Oddly, her voice, objectively, wasn't very special. It had been roughened by years of shouting orders (though it had healed in the last half year) and there was still a slight burr that an aficionado would find unpleasant. And yet, and yet... there was something undeniably hauntingly unique about it. Something beyond purity of tones, talent or experience.
She stopped when they entered the cell and the guards on duty frowned but remained too disciplined to say anything.
"Ah, von Degurechaff, I did not know you sang." Ordering her men to lay waste to entire armies, yes, singing no.
She shrugged. "My options for entertainment are quite limited and, newspapers aside, my choices of reading material are minimal." There was a chessboard in the cell but the guards weren't allowed to 'entertain' prisoners and Gladieau was about as much challenge as a newborn kitten facing a rotweiller.
The guards withdrew to give the two privacy. "I bring good news!"
"My acquittal? So soon?"
"Ah, no, no not that."
"Gladieau..." she menaced him, all the glamour of her singing now gone.
"Wait wait! They will be moving you to a secluded location in the country for security reasons. I argued quite convincingly that La Santé isn't nearly safe enough and they agreed!"
"You mean you presented the arguments I crafted."
"Well, yes, but I did present them quite successfully. You and hand selected guards will live there disguised until the verdict is ready."
"That's suprisingly good news. Well done!"
The rare bit of praise felt better to him than passing the bar. "Th-there is one small matter, though."
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you hiding, man. Out with it!"
"I did say 'disguised' and it's quite unusual for a girl to, ummm..."
"You're trying to put me in a dress again!"
"Please! It's quite necessary this time! In the past, perhaps we could have made an allowance but you've been in too many papers! Your image is quite striking and no one would expect a village girl to be the dreaded Devi... errr... White Silver."
Tanya looked at him bemusedly. "Gladieau, have you been eating something different lately? That's twice in one conversation you've impressed me with your intellect. As much as I would like to argue the point, the facts are obvious. When do we leave?"
With little fanfare, a dozen school chums and their old headmaster arrived in a small village for a holiday. It was somewhat distant from Paree and yet also not too far. In the Loire Valley, not far from Montresor, it sat unchanged probably since the last century... and maybe the century before that. It had been too insignificant and out of the way to have played a part in the Great War so what passions existed, ran cool and were more hypothetical than actual. Far from having a radio, there wasn't even a house that had electricity. The mayor (part time... also being a full time rancher) had the only phone that he would charge a small fee for the use of.
The only thing of note about the visitors was the headmaster's daughter, Maria. She was a child with long auburn hair, lovely pale skin and brilliant blue eyes. She wore glasses that accentuated her intelligent appearance and made her look every bit an up-and-coming scholar. While the others goofed off and enjoyed themselves, she was more likely to spend time reading in the shade, going on walks (while properly escorted) or simply sitting on a rocky outcropping overlooking the village and singing.
Tanya had found that her vocal powers were becoming far easier the more she practiced and, to her surprise, when she sang. Never one to waste time, she had been practicing even from her time in prison and saw no reason to stop now. Though she wouldn't admit it, especially to herself, she found herself enjoying making music as well.
Her jailors, while vacationing on the surface, properly did their job and there were never less than four within her immediate vicinity. Still, she didn't mind an audience and they stayed quite a bit closer when she sang. Claude, one of the guards she had known the longest sat nearby and kept an eye on things while listening.
"That song, it was Albish, right? Such a haunting melody but I've never heard it before. Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away..." His voice was actually closer to John Lennon's than hers but his pronounciation was atrocious.
Tanya cursed herself for accidentally singing a song from her old world but then decided that the copyright laws of that Earth didn't apply here. "Oh, just something I made up. Did you like it?"
"I did! You could be a professional, truly." He looked out over the heather away from the village. Nothing but green hills, distant mountains and the occassional tree. "If you could, would you just... go? Leave your old life behind, just be a simple girl or maybe an entertainer? Looking like you do now, with your improved accent, you could pass easily."
She shook her head. "My path was decided long ago. Dresses and fancy shoes and makeup? Not for me!" She leaned back and barely remembered to straighten the damnable skirt to stay presentable. "Besides, I gave my word that I wouldn't try to escape. As both an honest human being and an officer of the Empire, can I do anything else?"
There! Now he'll see me as someone worthy of trust and they'll increase my freedoms until I'm released. If they hear it's a bad verdict, they might even tip me off because they are sympathetic.
"At least this is less stressful, Maria. And the food is certainly better!" Even with no one around, he used her cover name.
"With the money they're paying the madame of the bed and breakfast, I wouldn't be surprised if she indulged her gourmet fantasies. Then again, perhaps she has. Last night's duck was superb and not at all dry. It's a shame I couldn't sample the wine that went with it."
"Ah ha ha! Not for a few years!"
"Of course not... but on that day, I'll drink as much as I want!"
He clinked an imaginary glass with her and then she stood up again. Without preamble, she started singing again. "The hills are alive..." Privately, she though she wasn't a patch on Julie Andrews but she didn't see the look in the eyes of those watching her in the immediate vicinity and farther out as her voice spread like a flock of birds that had crested a tall hill and spread out in the valley just below.
* * *
During dinner, Mme Blanchet commented over the savory pie and steamed carrots she had just served. "I heard you singing today Maria. Lovely! But so many Albish songs, surely you have some favorites in Francois?" The motherly widow puttered around making sure that all the men had plenty to eat.
"Naturally madame, but when I learn a new language, I try to learn its songs, too." She gave them a few lines of a song popular in Paree, before switching to Dacian for a bit and then moving to Albish.
"My word, what variety! So many languages at such a young age! Your father must be very proud."
Indeed, Gladieau looked proud as if Tanya actually had been his child.
"Well, in an academic family, it's natural to be academic, yes?"
"Do you know any others, dear?"
"I... do. But some are less popular than others. I don't sing those very often, you understand."
"I suppose, I suppose. But the war is won, so let's leave all that unpleasantness behind. Things will be back to normal any day now. Once that dreaful trial is over, that's the end." She nodded sagely. "It's obvious that poor girl couldn't have done all those terrible things. Imagine!"
"Is that so?" Gladieau said noncomittally.
"Certainly! A soldier the age of my grandchild? Preposterous. And a girl at that!" She tapped the side of her nose with a forefinger. "Probably just some waif they used for the newsreels and then everyone needs someone to blame and there you go. I just want to tell everyone to go back home and mind their own business, I do!"
Jean pounded the sturdy wooden table, "Hear hear! Now that makes more sense than anything out of those politicals types!"
Tanya pushed her glasses up her nose a bit. "Truer than you know. Excessive punishments lead to resentment and then to further conflict. History showed this time and again. Sometimes moving forward requires... stepping back." In this rare instance, Tanya spoke her true thoughts unfiltered. As long as it didn't personally affect her future, she had no desire for revenge, no grand scheme to 'get even', no drive to reconquer Europe. She viewed such things as pointless wastes of resources but on a catastrophic scale. No sane person would desire a return to the war just ended!
Alas, there were too many not sane people out there.
Well, maybe I'd make an exception made for commies. Those bastards are dangerous! If the free market grows quickly enough, they should collapse of their own stupidity before they infect more countries. Without realizing it, she had begun planning the downfall of a huge nation using nothing but market forces... just in case.
* * *
Two days later, Tanya and some guards were strolling around the village when one of the local boys approached her with a innocent grin. "I heard you singing! It was 'mazing!"
She just nodded and said a brief 'Thank you', uncertain on how to handle the praise. It was nothing the military, or even her former life, had prepared her for. The boy seemed expectant so she continued, "Can I help you?"
"Did you want to go play?" He was maybe 11, her exact apparent age. She was still shorter and thinner than her nearly 15 years would lead one to believe. And since she rejected makeup forcefully, even violently, there are few who wouldn't make the wrong assumption.
"Sorry, I have to get back to villa after lunch."
"You should come to my place, then! My parents are bakers but they serve other stuff too."
"I don't know..."
"Like pastries." He lowered his voice dramatically. "CHOCOLATE pastries."
All of them ended up in the bakery eating lunch after that.
The youngster, Etienne, chattered non-stop, testing their cover stories to the limit. Fortunately, the 'class' they pretended to share was soccer so they didn't have to fake being experts at anything. That said, he spent most of the time asking Maria about her pretended life. Tanya used the background they made up and avoided elaborating excessively as she had no desire to remember a bunch of fictions.
"So where are you going to go next, Maria? I bet you've been to all sorts of 'mazing places! Have you been to Paree? I hear it's super 'mazing!"
"We're going there next." She used the excuse of putting a chocolate croissant into her mouth to keep her comments short. Honestly, though, it was well worth eating and not a chore at all. She licked some stray chocolate off of her fingers justifying by thinking that her cover identity would do the same thing. A sip of passably decent coffee made the experience nearly perfect.
Her guards felt the image of the Devil of the Rhine recede even further away. Though she never denied anything she had done, even testified to most of it, those were like a fantasy story compared to the girl in front of them that couldn't let a bit of chocolate escape.
Etienne had been unusually quiet for an entire minute and then finally said. "Why not just stay here? We could get married and you could sing every day."
Only inhuman self control kept her from spitting coffee over everyone around. "What?! That's quite impossible and will never happen!" Tanya thought it quite the feat that she hadn't hit him reflexively.
The boy was just a touch to young to feel embarassed by his suggestion. "Why not? We're the same age and you're awfully pretty. I'm going to become a baker like my parents and you enjoy the food, right? You're smart like a teacher and could do that."
"Etienne," she said with renewed calmness. "I have things I must do that I can't do here. Commitments and promises that I cannot break. Someday, years and years from now when I'm an old... person... I'll retire somewhere peaceful."
"Where's that?" His proposal of marriage was forgotten almost immediately.
"A villa by the beach. Big enough to be strong enough to resist storms, not one of those flimsy stick things. Someplace of my own that I can keep forever. Maybe Nice."
"What, you'd want a whole city?!"
"No foolish boy! A villa IN Nice! Why would I need an entire city? Just someplace big enough for me and my hobbies. Maybe a few dogs."
"Sounds expensive but also 'mazing. Does your father have a lot of money?"
She snorted, "Hardly! I'm trying to find a good job when I, errr, grow up."
He nodded sagely. "Should stick to singing. It's like nothing I've ever heard before."
"So you've heard so many songs, then?"
"I know some!" He started singing a local song, peasant music really, but fun and easy to follow. Soon the guards and Tanya had joined in, learning the simple song quickly. Etienne's parents stopped what they were doing and stood, transfixed by the music... and the lead singer. Patrons were likewise stunned into silence and more and more people from outside quietly crowded into the shop to hear better. Those few who couldn't enter strained to catch a glimpse of the girl even as they fell under the power of her voice.
Afterwards, she segued into a rendition of Do-Re-Mi, translating it on the fly from English to French. Not perfectly, but no one seemed to mind.
* * *
That night, those not in guard in the house, met outside for a smoke and discussion. They were joined by Gladieau as well as he wouldn't dare smoke within fifty feet of Degurechaff.
Claude pulled a drag off of his cigarette. "How goes the tribunal? Heard anything?"
He shook his head. "Still in deliberations. And that... well, that's not very good."
That got all their attention, "What, what do you mean?"
"Long deliberations usually mean they have decided that defendant is guilty and they are deciding HOW guilty." He stared at his own smoke and found it was not as pleasing as usual. No, he saw blue eyes staring at him when he tried to relax with his tobacco. Giving up, he tossed it aside.
"That's, that's not good. Will you hear the verdict before it's announced?"
"No, I'm afraid not. One can GUESS based on how you're ordered to bring her back to Paree. It's quite odd, though! The decision should be easy... there's no grey area at all." Having failed to enjoy his tobacco, he put his mini-humidor away and sighed. "Good night, friends. We should know soon as they've dragged this on for too long."
After the lawyer had trudged back inside, the guards looked at each other. Finally, one broke the silence. "We're going to help her, aren't we?"
They nodded as if speaking in agreement was too REAL. "We have the backup costume and hair dye prepared, though I don't know how well she would pass as a dark-haired boy."
Claude smirked, "Pretty well! She knows Akitsushiman pretty well. Not here in the country, but you see them in the bigger cities. Cut and dye her hair, some makeup for her eyes. Or maybe as a girl from the Unified States. Her accent is closer to theirs than the Commonwealth. I think it might work."
"She'd have to go alone, though. Could she make it?"
"Idiot! Even though she's a little girl, she's still White Silver. Don't underestimate her!"
"Still, alone she'd stand out too much. One of us would need to go with her."
They grew silent again. Letting her escape would set the entire team up for massive reprisals. HELPING her escape... they didn't like to think about the consequences.
Jean stopped leaning on the fence and said firmly. "I'll do it. If it comes to that, I'll do it. Merde, I'd probably already be dead if not for her."
"Okay, I'll tell the others later. They are trustworthy and will agree I'm sure."
* * *
The next day, Gladieau came back from the Mayor's house with a bemused expression.
Tanya sipped her coffee, made sure that the madame was out of the house and barked. "What is it? Out with it, man!"
"There are riots in Paree. Riots over you."
"They are... what? Whatever for?"
"The Free Arene side wants your execution moved up immediately and other, less savory, suggestions. The Free Tanya coalition is suggesting that you've already been killed secretly and the authorities are afraid to admit it. That last attack in the prison, no one is sure what to think. They want you back immediately so you can be seen and heard."
She closed her eyes, steeled herself, and opened them again. Blue eyes were calm and she gave a little smirk. "Well, then we should prepare for departure."
Jean nearly jumped up. "But they might..."
She patted his arm. "Promises have been made and they shall be kept! Everyone, start packing! Gladieau, find our hostess and pay her through the end of the week. As this is quite sudden for her, everyone strip your linens and take them to the laundry as a final gift for the hospitality." Despite being the prisoner, she easily took charge and organized their departure.
All their plans to save her were blown away. Not by the military, the courts, the communists or even Free Arene but instead by the very person they were trying to save.
Chapter 10 - the simple life