Tanya had specified a female piano instructor for a very specific reason... despite growing (a bit), her hands were still woefully small compared to the average man. Concert capable pianos had become the standard and because of the needs of volume, they were necessarily larger to accommodate the mechanisms. An instructor for 'young ladies' would have access to a smaller piano that she could work with.
The middle-aged woman was thin and had numerous lines on her face... older ones from laughter, newer ones from less pleasant reasons. Still, she was thoroughly professional and said, "I understand you have very little time to learn. I hope you do not expect to become proficient in a few days. If so, I'll have to direct you to another teacher."
Frau Seidel had seen better days but said this despite her circumstances. Her clothing was trending toward threadbare, though still clean and neat, and some heirlooms and 'unnecessary' furniture had already been sold making the room noticeably emptier. In rough times, money for luxuries like piano lessons was hard to find. Other than jewelry from her mother and her wedding ring, her last thing of value was the piano which she was going to hold onto until the end. As long as she had that, she would remain a teacher.
"I understand entirely. Please do what you can with the time we have."
"Indeed."
Tanya adjusted the bench and sat at the piano. Her posture was near perfect and she let her fingers range over the keys briefly, measuring them against her handspan. She easily made a 10th... very nice.
Seidel's eyebrows raised. "Do you have any experience?"
"There was a piano at the orphanage that the nuns would play sometimes." I almost broke cover when I asked for a 3-mark tuning tool so that the sounds wouldn't grate on the nerves. Fortunately, they turned me down.
"As a musician, I'm sure you can read music, so we can skip that. Let's go through some basic drills and lay a foundation, ja?"
Four hours later, the teacher was staring with disbelief. It was obvious, it was painfully obvious, that she had never played before. There were muscles required, necessary habits that had to be practiced. At first, she played like someone who had merely SEEN people playing pianos before. She emulated the posture, the movements, and so on but she really didn't know how to play. By the end however, Seidel sat in shock. Genius. It's nothing short of genius. She absorbs lessons like a rain-parched land after a spring rain.
Under Tanya's hands, Beethoven flowed out with only tiny mistakes. Moreover, there was a powerful presence under hands. She went from single notes with one hand, to two hands to full chords as if it were only natural. She dominated the keyboard, she owned it and her playing grew smoother and smoother. There was a smile on her face that could only be called joyous. When she got to the end, she put her hands back to rest and let out a deep sigh. "My apologies, Frau Seidel for such a poor performance after your excellent teaching."
"No, no, no!" She clasped the young woman's hands between hers. "You have a true gift. It has been a pleasure!"
Tanya regretted internally. Ah, this poor woman. She forced herself to suck up to untalented students in order to make money. This excessive bravado can only be from long practice to keep tiny fees flowing. Despite that, she seems quite skilled. Let's make a pitch. "I realize this is very short notice, but would you be open to an extended engagement?"
The older woman looked startled as if any possible doubts were unthinkable. "Naturally! But, you are leaving so soon."
Degurechaff grinned, "And so are you, if you wish. Do you have any issues with sea travel?"
* * *
Years later, people would ask Frau Seidel about teaching Degurechaff the piano. Every time, she would gently correct them. "I showed her how to play. She taught herself."
* * *
Kristoff, now in a position of significant power in the rail department of the Francois Republic, kept a map of the progress of the tracks moving toward 'his' country. Even at the scale he was using, you could see the line extend from day to day.
"Sir, the director has arrived before the meeting."
"Oh, please send him in."
The director was an older Francois gentleman, very hands off in day-to-day affairs. However, he always kept his eye on the big picture. His thin mustache was grey these days and he moved slowly with the occasional help of a cane but he always did it with style. He sat down like he owned the place (and, in a certain sense, he did). "Kristoff. Speak."
Well used to the old man's habits, he started without preamble. "TvD has offered to repair the rail lines through Arene but I think we should let them take the tracks all the way to Parisee. Moreover, I think we should adopt their standards through the entire country."
"Explain."
"The reason I think we should adopt it for the whole country is because there are currently seven different 'standards' now depending on the track maker. This means there's a necessary expense when switching between tracks that is entirely avoidable."
The director nodded but said nothing.
"They are offering a huge discount on their reclamation services for the devastated lands but only if they can use their own equipment which is sized to their standard track. Since much of the rail on that route no longer exists, there's no real loss. Not only that, though, their machines and men can lay rail at a rate roughly three times what local firms can do... at half the cost."
"Half, you say?"
"It's been verified. Their costs for steel and labor are frankly ridiculous. I'm not sure how they manage it, but they opened their books and we confirmed it. Plus there's a hidden advantage, particularly for the Republic. We can be the start of all travel on the continent. Ispagna will be irrelevant if we establish ourselves first. If ships can dock HERE, and transfer cargo and passengers to our trains, they can travel through all Europa without hindrance! Dacia, Ildoa and Waldstatte already have plans to convert." He lowered his voice and spoke passionately, "We can bypass the Commonwealth as a trading nation. Why take one of their ships around the coast if you can't just drop it off on our shores and then head back out for another run?"
The old man closed his eyes for so long that the uninformed would think he was sleeping. Kristoff knew better and just remained silent.
"I see." He got to his feet and walked out of the office as he arrived, elegantly and on his own terms.
The meeting afterwards was less to 'meet' and more to accept their marching orders. Kristoff wasn't surprised at the decision; it did make sense after all. He wasn't sure why Argent wanted the rail standardization so much but he worked to make it happen and then they would see what came of it.
* * *
The chief steward was planning out the position of his passengers using a very simple algorithm: put the big rocks in the jar first, fill in the rest later. Currently, he was figuring out where to put a massive boulder. "TvD needs these four suites and the adjoining hall and six minor cabins on the next level down."
His assistant pointed out, "There's not enough room for what they paid for."
"Oh, bollocks! Why on Earth do they need a room big enough for TWO pianos?!" He opened up a bottle of whiskey that he used for thought lubrication and drank straight from the bottle so that 'thoughts wouldn't escape'. After a few minutes he said, "Okay, let's just give them the small ballroom and the nearest cabin."
"Bloody hell, sir, that's a lot MORE than they paid for."
"Look here, we have a bona fide musical star on board, right? All we have to do is tell them that we don't have a suite big enough but they can use half of the ballroom as long as they understand we might use the other bit for dinner and whatall. That still leaves plenty of separation, we can put up the folding screens to make it more private."
"Oh. Oh! Private from sight but..."
"But not from sounds, eh? Even people who don't like her are curious, right? Say that seating in the small ballroom are only available by invitation OR if they've paid extra for special cabins. This trip we are only 70% full but I think we can get to 100 plus if we play this right."
"What if people pull out?"
"You think that's likely? If so, let them, give them a full refund. We'll sell their spots for double afterward. In fact, let's tell everyone that, because Degurechaff is aboard that we have to start a waiting list. Dole out the berths in dribs and drabs."
"You sure about this?"
"We're not losing anything right? People will still get their spot... just at a premium price, right? Oh, don't raise prices on anyone who already has bought their tickets. That would be unethical."
His assistant nodded, feeling uncomfortable, but not able to put his finger on exactly why.
* * *
The Political Office was, temporarily, quiet after the chaos of the last months. The primary reason? The ones with the biggest problems, the ones causing the biggest problems, were gainfully employed now... mostly with TvD. Though the Office appreciated the respite, it was a bitter rather than a blessed peace.
The director glanced moodily at the calendar. Only a few days before Rusted Silver left the continent. It has been weeks since she had caused any chaos for him but he had been afraid of taking any action for fear that it provoke a response that would leave him worse off yet again!
Even more galling, her businesses were generating foreign currency and she was meticulous about paying her taxes early each month so that they could be used for reparation payments. Universally hated in this building, she was becoming increasingly popular in the Bundestag and even the Bundesrat. People who were all in favor of selling her to the Federation were conspicuously silent these days or had reversed their opinions almost overnight.
He should be happy. He should be very, very happy. But he felt like someone who jumped out of a burning airship. The beautiful free fall seemed liberating but the clouds he was falling through hid the ultimate end. He avoided being burned alive but the momentary reprieve would soon end with the approaching ground.
He mumbled to himself. "Is the firing squad better with the blindfold or without?"
* * *
Helen Schwab looked over the plans for her upcoming birthday. She knew people who subscribed to the theory that others should throw one's birthday but she believed it should be done right so she was supervising the event. Flowers, musicians, caterers... there were so many details before one even came close to thinking about the guests.
Of course the guest list was thoroughly under her control.
"Dhalia, is the venue ready?"
"Yes, ma'am. There were some concerns but they prioritized getting their finest ballroom done first. Especially after I pointed out who was invited."
"In this case it was appropriate." In essence, she was saying that her name alone should be enough to overcome objections and clear paths. But not this time. This time, there were... circumstances.
"And the RSVPs?"
"All but a few have been returned as accepted. There are a few not coming to physical incapacity but still there are a few rejections."
"Ah, vanity. There are always a few that think they are above their station. We'll be ostracizing more people this season, I see. Did Lolita Armour accept?" Her voice indicated she suspected not.
"No, no she didn't."
"It appears foolishness is inherited. Well, it won't take long for both of them. It's amazing when people reject good advice, they raise themselves onto an imaginary pedestal of virtue to justify it."
"Of course, is there anything else?"
"Put on Silver's new recording, would you? It seems more than appropriate."
Helen closed her eyes and leaned back, letting the smooth sounds of "Chicago Morning" flow over her like the slow movement of the sun near dusk, soft and warm.
...You got to learn the game,
Oh, you got to know the beat,
From the highest of the high,
Down to the rules of the street...
She didn't bother to drink from the glass of wine near her... she didn't need it when listening to Tanya sing.
Are you ready to shoot?
You better not fake it.
Cos she sure ain't no pushover,
Are you sure you can take it?
Chicago morning...
How far can you see?
You better know now
Ain't nothing here for free, oh no...
Chapter 57 - Stormfront
Oskar, who apparently knew little about the ambassador, was undergoing a crash course in his new boss. To say he was miffed at being sent on a wife-hunting mission would not be a mischaracterization. To be subordinate to a literal girl, still a few years from adulthood, was galling to a former prince and military Colonel.
His batman laid out his suit for the day. The older man, after being saved by a younger Oskar in a battle years before the Great War, had sworn to serve him. It was odd seeing an Anglishman following a Germanian officer into battle, but most grew used to before long. "Another day at the office, sir?" His accent came through clearly despite his fluent Germanian.
"What else, Wilson?" he said shortly.
"If I may say, sir, you seem displeased with your position. It's an honorable post, worthy of your background."
"It's the circumstances, the circumstances!"
"By circumstances, perhaps you mean a certain young lady?"
"I can hardly hide anything from you, can I?"
"Naturally not, sir." He didn't bother to deny it. "Is it her age that annoys you? Her gender? Her common origins?"
"Haaaaaaa..." He let out a long breath. "Do I have to answer that?"
"If not to me, sir, at least to yourself." He tied Oskar's tie for him and then moved on to his vest, leaving the tie just irregular enough. "The man who walks out that door should know who he is."
"Okay, from the top then. Commoner in the past, perhaps, but she earned her 'von' did she not?"
"Sir, aren't you too old to play games like this?"
"Oh, fine, Wilson." He closed his eyes and sighed before opening them again. "Yes, I'm little put out by that. An orphan of unknown background suddenly becoming a noble in a handful of years. Others have made the jump but after a nearly lifetime of service."
"Do you suspect she did not earn it then? Just an artifact for the propagandists to work with?"
"No. If anything they would be more likely to vote against her. The college board is notoriously hard-nosed about being intellectual elitists. The only thing that excites them is excellence."
"She is only 16. How can she handle this post?" He easily took the position of questioner and forced his master into the Devil's advocate position.
Oskar spoke more thoughtfully, less glibly. "If it were someone older, I'd have fewer doubts. Her war record, as far as father can discover, is entirely legitimate. That shows she's a capable commander and is fearless even in the worst situations. Her post-war record is even rosier. With no backing we know of and almost no resources of note, she has made a company, no a conglomerate that has shocked Germania."
"Shocked you say?" He arranged the suit jacket and tidied up the corners.
"Must you be so pedantic? Fine. It has shocked those who dislike her, but the people that use her products, shop at her stores, they don't care. She has a nose for business. No doubt."
"Oh, then is it because she is a she, hmmm?" He pulled out the selected pair of shoes, inspected them closely and flicked off a bit of dust that had landed there.
"That's ridicu..." he stopped when he saw the older man's expression. "Okay, that is part of it too, damnit. How can she demand the attention an ambassador needs? Women have no power in this world and less respect. Can she even do the job?"
"And yet, for someone who was hated so much by the Political Office, she was granted this august position. Diplomacy is always about carrots and sticks, whether physically or socially. Who can say which she used, hmm?" He knelt down with the shoes and tied them after Oskar put them on. "But you seem a bit more ardent when I asked that question."
He sighed and then swore. "Scheisse. You are relentless! Okay, I'm upset that my father sent me here hunting after an underaged girl as a marriage partner. And I have to take her seriously! She could be a trumped up propaganda doll with fake medals and a forged wartime 'record' to match!"
Wilson switched to Anglish. "'Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit.'"
Oskar completed the next line. "'A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit.' So I should look and see, you say?"
"Oh no, sir. I said nothing." He brushed off every bit of lint he could find and stepped back. "There you go. Now you are a proper gentleman, ready to face the world."
* * *
These days, when Tanya asked Visha to do or find out something for her, the tasks frequently went to Visha's subordinates. As the face of TvD, Frau Serebryakov was growing into her role as a leader. Only the utterly foolish failed to look past her age, gender or attractiveness. The old Visha, the original Visha, only came out when she was alone with Tanya.
Today, they were spending a quiet evening together as the day of departure was imminent. All work items except for a very few, had been handled or delegated. Dinner had been made by a chef that would be traveling to the Unified States with Tanya. The Zwetschgenknoedel were superb and were paired well with the coffee. The drink, however, was made by the vice-president, of course.
"This is so delicious! How can plums taste so good?!" Visha put a hand over her mouth as if not believing what she just ate.
"Mmmmmm... this is truly worthy. The combination of soft cheese and the slightly tart plums in the pastry is genius. I think alternating that with Lebkuchen brings out the best taste."
"The Pfeffernusse was tasty, too, but not with coffee; it might work with just milk though. The spices of that cookie compete with the bitter flavor. I think we can pair coffee with the Kirschmichel, though, especially with that nice vanilla cream sauce."
There were plates scattered around the room. One of the the last tasks they had set for themselves was choosing a menu for the Germanian restaurant soon to be opened in the Unified States. "Even with the tiny portions, I'm absolutely stuffed. But I can guarantee the diners will fall in love with what's been chosen."
They retired to the parlor to sip coffee and digest. "What else is left to decide?"
Visha shook her head. "That's it. Everything else is delegated or done."
"Impressive. Since there aren't enough hours in the day, I assume that you have more delegated than done."
"Enough, enough." She laughed and nibbled on a Pfeffernusse. "Some of the requests even went overseas. I have to ask why you wanted to know so much about minutia of the Unified States. Weather reports? Unemployment figures? Dossiers of senators?" She giggled a little more. "After all that, the list of the most popular Anglish songs for the past ten years was positively normal."
"Despite their incidental efforts in the Great War, they are likely the most powerful nation on Earth. Anything that affects them affects us and I intend to make them one of our biggest trade partners in the future."
"Those reports along with the others should be sent to the Consulate and be ready by the time you arrive."
"Ah, Visha, I will truly miss you in Chicago. It already feels like a limb is being amputated."
"Surely not THAT bad." She squeezed Tanya's hand. "If I can handle it, you certainly can to. While you're gallivanting around and becoming an international woman of influence, I have to keep the lights on back home and the marks flowing!"
"There is that, I suppose. Oh, that reminds me!" She pulled out a map of the world (from a supply they always kept on hand) and a red ballpoint. "If we have spare mages, have the orb guys make a special line and send them to these locations...
Visha listened carefully and made notes, all thoughts of desserts driven from her mind.
* * *
One of TvD's top machinists was scratching his head as he looked a set of blueprints. He was considering swearing out loud but decided that more of a 4 o'clock response and it was only 10AM.
Robert's colleague came over and looked at the design and said slowly. "That.... if I'm reading the scale right, will never work. The tolerances are too fine and trying to weld at that scale would just leave you with a blob of metal."
"You think I don't know that, Uwe? Theoretically, it will work fine if it can be built!"
"Why are you chasing such an impractical design, anyway?" It was mostly a rhetorical question. The engineers, machinists, and scientists of TvD were allowed – no encouraged – to pursue their own projects either alone or collaboratively.
"The President once said something and I've been thinking about it. She said, 'The future is in the small, not the big. Why use an entire chicken when a feather will do?'"
"She said that?"
"I'm paraphrasing a little. But if we can make sealed mini-controllers like this, it would radically reduce the weight of many devices. And if we can seal it in a vacuum, perhaps, it would also be able to resist corrosion, dust and so on."
"It seems like you are focused on portable things, like orbs."
"Well, naturally! But really anything where mass isn't strictly necessary, shouldn't it be eliminated like any other waste?"
"I take back what I was thinking, this is a good project!"
"Of course it is!" He brooded some more and sighed. "I can't really see how tools can be made small enough to make these parts and still assemble the device."
Uwe rubbed his chin. "I heard something else that might help, possibly."
"Oh?"
"One of the girls in division 4 was practicing magic the other day and it really impressed me. She had split a hair quite neatly."
"How is that impressive?"
"Mila split it lengthwise using nothing more than a sample orb. The President has been encouraging anyone with even a trace of magical talent to see what they can do with it. The army had always picked those who can handle high levels of mana and had enough control to do things like shoot and fly. But she said that everyone is different and has different strengths."
Uwe looked surprised and, after some thought, shocked. So many emotions crossed his face in the span of fifteen seconds, that an observer might think he was suffering from an affliction. "This. Is. Brilliant! We've only been viewing mages as the end users, never as the producers. With special orbs, we can have mages make the next generation of products and orbs."
"We still couldn't make a production line out of them."
He waved that argument away. "Orbs, other than the new modular ones, have always been hand-crafted. And I disagree that magically assisted production lines are impossible. There may be untapped legions of mages that can't be warriors but could work quite effectively in a factory. Are machinists such as ourselves not also just skilled laborers and artisans?"
"Hmmmm... I think she can actually manipulate things INSIDE other things with magic. Wouldn't that help this project?"
He stood up abruptly. "Let's go find Mila now!"
* * *
The young woman waited until the young family of four left in their Sunday best. She broke open the door before realizing that it hadn't been locked in the first place. With practiced motions, she grabbed the parts of the dinner that were ready and shoved it in her mouth, chewing rapidly. The first time she had done this, weeks ago, she felt a lot of guilt. Recently, it had become easier.
Remember, this is for our mission. Our holy mission. This always helped and soon, she felt better.
While eating, she looked around the house. Kitchen, living room with comfortable furniture, three bedrooms: master, a kid's room with two beds, and one with an adult-sized bed. She chewed on a slice of pie while she looked through the last. The room had a painful neatness of a place little used but carefully preserved. Pictures of a young man in military gear told the whole story. On a wall was a display case filled with a carefully folded flag, some decorations and a damaged orb.
She stared at the orb for fifteen minutes and then smashed the case. She ignored the shards of glass in her fist and fished out the orb. It had been heavily damaged but, but, but... it wasn't destroyed. She still had a repair kit issued to all mages. She couldn't get it to full capability but she could make it work well enough. The weapon on the wall was in better shape and she stripped it down to parts in a few minutes.
One more piece of pie and she walked out of the ruined door. The pieces of the rifle, along with some clothes, were in a duffel she found in the same bedroom. She saw her path ahead of her clearer than ever. "Mission from God, mission from God..." she muttered near constantly as she trudged eastward.
Chapter 58 - Anchors Away!
The luxury liner, Kalipso, was finished with its pre-journey preparations. The captain, unusually, was half owner of the ship and was delighted at the schemes of his chief steward. Every extra mark became 50 pfennigs in his pocket (not that he accepted marks anymore) and that's how he liked it. Half-Francois, quarter-Afrikan and quarter-Dacian, he owed allegiance to no one but himself, his crew, and the shareholders who collectively owned the other half of his enterprise.
He took Rusted Silver's group when no one else would. By all accounts, she was just another fare, and big one at that. Her wartime record was objectionable to some, but her gold spent just like anyone else's. Better, even, in cash-strapped Germania. His ever-frugal steward had found bargains galore for those who had hard currency.
In addition, they took some of the windfall and upgraded the ship to prepare for their august passenger. He wanted everything to be perfect as he could manage so that they might make the jump to a better tier of luxury liner.
On the dock, Tanya and Visha were riding slowly to the docks in a second-hand luxury automobile they had acquired at a bankruptcy auction. It was meticulously maintained by the former (and current) owner and gleamed in the sunlight.
The reason why they were going slowly were the throngs of cheering people lining the streets nearest the docks. "Visha, there seems to be a lot of people out today."
"Yes, yes there are." She smiled and waved at the crowds on her side, prompting Tanya to do the same. The volume of the people went up remarkably and they waved back even harder and repeatedly shouted her name.
"They also seem to be waving pictures of me."
"The last issue of Die Wahrheit had a full cover picture announcing your departure to become our ambassador. They make remarkably good signs with a little work." She said this without an ounce of shame.
"Full color, too."
"I believe so. Isn't that an amazing picture? You look so dashing!"
Tanya sighed but kept smiling and waving... after all she was a public figure now. "I'll have to talk to the editors about using the press for selfish reasons." Ugh... that dress should be illegal. I look like a high-society refugee rather than a serious businessperson and representative of the Empire.
"What's so selfish? You are very newsworthy! We sold out of that issue three times!"
"Fine, I won't argue. I can see I'm leaving TvD in good hands. Try not to work too hard."
"I could say the same to you. You're supposed to be on a leisurely cruise but you spending the whole time learning to play the piano."
"You say I should get a hobby... this is my hobby. I promise not to reshape the world or start any businesses between here and New York."
"Not that I believe you, but I appreciate that you're willing to say that." She looked pensive for a second. "I'm afraid people are still targeting you and you won't have the help you do in Germania."
"I'm not exactly going unarmed or unwarned." She had a habit of carrying her 'favorite' cane around and most people assumed that she still experienced pain from the assassination attempt in the Republic. Over the past few months, some subtle and deadly enhancements had been added to it when Tanya could spare the time. Perhaps not as wholesome a hobby as the piano but she had enjoyed herself and her talks with the engineers who built it. "While not as deadly as my old SMG, it's not to be discounted either."
Despite reassurance, Visha was still fretting.
I should probably do something here. Not quite sure it was the right thing to do, she squeezed the woman's hand. "Don't worry. My first goal is to come back safely." To Tanya's surprise, this worked remarkably well and Visha visibly relaxed onto her seat with the smile returning to her face.
"Make sure you do, 'daughter'."
Tanya laughed! "Of course, 'mother'."
* * *
Having anticipated the scene, Serebryakov had set up a raised stage with a microphone and amplifiers so that Tanya could address the crowds. Naturally realizing that a speech of some sort was essential, Tanya had already decided on a course of action the night before, inspired by her upcoming journey.
She stepped smartly onto the stage, genuinely smiling as she spotted some acquaintances in the crowd. She was dressed in white capris, blue and white striped blouse with a matching cap. To be honest, she looked like (and was) an incredibly cute girl in a near-sailor's outfit but she had convinced herself it was infinitely more masculine than a dress.
The microphone jewel glowed as she held the base. Her amplified voice rang out over the docks with greatly enhanced volume and fidelity. A small, but rabidly dedicated, portion of the TvD engineers spent a lot of their spare time improving sound and music gear. "Guten Morgen! So many smiling faces... I think I've made all of Germania delighted today. Some are happy that I'm here and the rest are happy that I'm going!"
Her opening joke was better received than she had expected and the crowd roared with laughter. "Before I go, though, I want to leave a message with everyone here. A message of hope. Not long ago, I was a soldier because the Empire needed a warrior. But what we need now is an ambassador of peace. Three years ago, we laid waste to the Rhine and today wildflowers are blooming where only death reigned once. Before I get back from the Unified States, there will be rail laid that stretches from Berun to Parisee, joining two countries so recently at war. In fact, almost every country in Europa will soon be joined by steel. Blood vessels connecting the body of the continent."
She looked out at the crowd... they were quiet, hanging on her every word. "Should Germania rule? No. But can we be the heart. Not separate from Europa. Not standing above our neighbors, but with them. One day, the thought of turning against us will be met with as much horror as ripping open one's own chest. That, believe me, is the true, best hope for our beloved Fatherland."
The silence drew out and then the applause started! It swelled and grew and washed over her. People tired of war and wanting hope, desperately desiring a way out of the misery of today without sacrificing their battered pride. Bloodied, but not beaten. Not inferior, just following the wrong path. They clapped and yelled until their palms were bruised and their voices hoarse.
When she spoke again, they quieted immediately. "I would love to stay longer but that beautiful ship behind me leaves with the tide and so my time is limited." Some of the observers gave good-natured boos to this observation.
"I'll leave you two new songs today." This prompted more cheering, again silenced immediately when she started to sing.
If it was good enough for that drink company, it's good enough for this. No doubt, this will cement my public image as an upstanding member of the Empire. Perfect for an ambassador.
I'd like to build the world a home
And furnish it with love
Grow apple trees and honey bees
and snow white turtle doves.
I'd like to teach the world to sing
In perfect harmony...
Though normally a choral number, the aching sweetness of her voice was more than sufficient to carry the message of harmony and peace. The new amplifiers and speakers carried the song to the far corner of the dock, to the piers, and the surrounding neighborhood. People for nearly a mile around stopped what they were doing just to listen. Ones even farther away paused momentarily as if they could almost hear something before continuing their business.
Her music teacher, who had already boarded, listened from up on the deck. How is she singing harmonies by herself? Some new technology? All such analyses were washed away, though, so she could enjoy the song better.
When over, she simply gave a little bow, and walked up the ramp, not bothering to say another word. Finally, one brave child, not more than 10 yelled up to her, "Argent, Argent! You said two songs!"
The crowd took up the cheer, "Zwei Lieder! Zwei Lieder!"
Tanya grinned and, still holding the microphone, immediately started in on a new tune. The melody was both haunting and yet invigorating, reminding one of the endless wonders of the sea.
To sail on a dream on a crystal clear ocean, to ride on the crest of the wild raging storm.
To work in the service of life and the living, in search of the answers to questions unknown.
To be part of the movement and part of the growing, part of beginning to understand.
Aye, Calypso, the places you've been to,
the things that you've shown us, the stories you tell.
Aye, Calypso, I sing to your spirit, the men who have served you so long and so well!
The traces of her voice lingered in their ears long after the ship had set forth.
* * *
Oskar expected to be busy once he had assumed his new post. What he didn't expect was to be worked. The Consulate staff (one might as well called them Degurechaff's employees) assumed that he was capable of any task they threw at him. Not that he could not do those tasks... of course he could complete them! What was maddening was the assumption that he would anything required and that the varieties of tasks varied almost infinitely.
As a military man, he tried to suss out the chain of command once he arrived but even the most tentative chart had to be thrown out immediately. Someone he thought was a maid at first was seen negotiating contracts with food suppliers the next day. The man he thought was the majordomo of the mansion, casually grabbed a shovel to remove debris from the way of truck delivery. Hell, the boys he has assumed were shoeblacks – and they did shine shoes every day! – turned out to be rather competent mages and were frequently on construction sites moving many tons of rubble or building supplies.
Just in his first few days, the only vaguely ambassadorial thing he had done was guide that American officer around the embassy grounds. Other than that he had: made sandwiches for workers, helped decide the color of the drapes for a restaurant, drove children to school, hauled electronic equipment up far too many flights of stairs (the aforementioned shoeblack mages having been judged as too casual for delicate items), learned to make a stew called 'gumbo', and, only after three days, was gratefully allowed to organize a talk with local political leaders with the understanding it would only take place after Degurechaff arrived.
"Can you believe this, Wilson? The only thing they haven't had me to do is the plumbing in the hall bathroom." Semi-exhausted, despite being young and quite fit, he collapsed on a couch and reached for the cool drink his manservant was handing to him. "It's bizarre how they organize things around here!"
"Oh, it doesn't seem so odd to me, sir." He removed Oskar's shoes (a pair of workman's boots as his immaculately polished pair had suffered a terrible horse-related accident and were being cleaned). "As a batman, you see all sorts of things."
Oskar raised an eyebrow. "You've been by my side for many years... what have you seen that I haven't?"
"Nothing at all, sir."
"Oh, bollocks, Wilson, are you getting mysterious on me again?"
"Would I do that, sir? It would hardly be befitting my station." He wheeled dinner out and lifted the lids off that were keeping things warm. Amongst the delicately sauteed baby carrots, freshly baked bread was, as the main course, a steaming bowl of gumbo.
"Wilson, what is this?"
"Oh, a new dish for today. They say it's quite well done."
Oskar sighed and ate the gumbo. It was peasant food, but he'd had worse – much worse – in the war. He had to admit, though, that it was pretty tasty. "Haaaaa... You say I've seen this before..."
He finished his meal, still lost in thought. He happened to walk by the hallway bathroom he had mentioned before dinner. There were numerous repairs required in the house, having been abandoned for a number of years, and this wing was the last slated for repair. Outside of the bathroom was a list on the wall enumerating which tasks were completed and checked off and those that still remained.... including the sink he had intended to use.
Annoyed, he was about to summon someone to complete the repair but he stopped, and then turned back. After about 15 minutes, using the tools that were left there, he had completed the repair and then carefully washed his hands in the now-functional sink. He carefully marked the task off the checklist, thinking even more deeply than before, but this time with a small smile on his face.
* * *
Unnoticed by most, there were a string of robberies and break-ins. Not much was stolen though the amount of damage seemed disproportionate to the level of theft. Had someone been able to plot them out, they would see them moving ever-Eastward. Or, if they were in the right place, perhaps seen a rough beast slouching in the dark to some unknown purpose.
* * *
Cal, in uniform as he was sort-of on duty, looked with amazement at the construction happening in front of him. He had heard about it but the reality was rather stunning.
"Geeeez... it's like they are building their own city in there!"
A solid wall ringed the entire area... not tall enough to be a fortification, but certainly to prevent casual ingress to people or vehicles. Old, decrepit or just plain ugly buildings had been torn down in record time and new ones were being put up nearly as quickly including the grand hotel which was forty stories high. From what he had been told, it had taken workers, many of them mages, just a month flat to get the vast majority of it done and all the work, now, was on the interior spaces. The main forms of transportation were streetcars and bicycles with the very occasional motor vehicle (mostly trucks transporting supplies).
The rest of the borough was just as busy and, while there were some quieter residential areas, most seemed to be a mix of commercial and entertainment venues. A quick walkthrough revealed clubs, shops, and many, many restaurants. Something bothered him, though, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it... something missing maybe?
One area that wasn't simply awash with construction was the brewery, which puzzled Cal. It was during a shift change and he watched all the workers going in and out.
"Huh, I wonder why so much stuff is happening there?"
His thoughts were interrupted by a polite, lilting voice, "Can I help you, Mr. Soldier?" He turned to see a pretty girl in a female 'business outfit' smiling at him. Her Anglish was decent though with a pronounced Germanian accent.
"Don't call me 'mister'. The name's Cal." He waved at the brewery. "I was just wondering what they were doing in there. With Prohibition in place, you can't have alcohol."
"Oh! You have a mistake. This land is, hmmmm, this land is Germania now. You understand?" She pulled him along. "We are tasting a new batch today. You have some?"
Cal, no fool after all, remembered his briefings and decided she was right. On Imperial soil, which this technically was, their laws applied. All the guards had it pounded into their heads that once they were on Consulate land, they needed to be extremely cautious about their actions. That said, they were all given the mandate to give the place a tour since they had express permission of the Germanian government.
He let himself be dragged to an area with a line of booths that reminded him of a state fair... except here they were offering mostly beer, liquor and various snacks that would go well with the same. "What will this cost, ma'am? I only have a few dollars on me..." He actually had a bit more than that but thought the white lie would allow him to extricate himself when the time came to go.
She shook her head with a laugh. "On tasting day, no fees!" She mock-admonished him, "But you have to give opinion on everything. No cheating!"
Lacking any reason to resist, he joined her. As it turned out, 'tasting day' was a chance for the workers in the borough to try new brews, sample liquors and taste new snacks that were going to be for sale. As she told him, he was required to rate everything and he found the process surprisingly enjoyable.
Not that the presence of a pretty girl affected his mood... of course not!
As a big guy from a family not unfamiliar with drinking, even dozens of the little cups didn't phase him at all. Plus there were snacks to help spread things out a bit. Gisela kept her tasting to the barest sips, however. "I have to save space inside, yes?"
They were getting nearly the end of the row when speakers around the square turned on. "Testing testing testing. Checking zone 17. Checking zone 17. Please report any out of zone speakers or malfunctioning zone 17 speakers. Testing testing testing."
As a music lover, Cal was immediately curious. He also found the fidelity of the speakers to be top-notch which he didn't expect in a random corner of the consulate grounds to have such nice equipment. "Is the entire area set up for sound?"
"Oh my yes! They are," she made spreading motions with her hands. "So you control them different. Ambassador von Degurechaff is a wunderbar singer and we will get to hear her soon!"
"She's going to actually perform?" He wondered about this... it seemed out of place for an ambassador but, then again, it also seemed out of place for a colonel on trial for war crimes and she seemed to handle that well.
"Naturally! Where she goes, she sings, ja?
Chapter 59 - Ghost rider
Tanya had two goals for her trip to the Unified States: learn the piano, and distance herself from TvD and her human resources. Such a terrible sacrifice! she thought as she sipped a very decent but not superb cup of coffee. But they will not grow in independence with me to fall back on with every decision.
But, more to the point, she needed to refocus herself. That bastard, Being X, almost had me when I dropped my guard. He came too damned close! I need to get my defenses back up and keep them up until I can put a bullet in his stinking, evil head!
She sighed before steeling herself. Her short-lived vacation had been the most fun she had had in either of her two lives and Being X chose that moment to attack her. This was intolerable.
She muttered out loud, "Until I develop a final solution for my problem, I'll have to keep my knives sharp and my powder dry." She pictured a gratifyingly graphic explosion of Being X's cranium and worked on getting her 'war senses' back to their proper state.
* * *
Visha, already used to handling much of TvD's day-to-day operations, didn't have many problems taking the whole task on alone. The upper-level managers were all independent, dedicated, and intelligent. The rest of the staff was motivated and loyal to the point where they only needed the vaguest of directions.
Still, she didn't much enjoy it. Her life felt... emptier.
Sometimes, she thought she'd like it better if there WERE problems to be overcome. She knew it was silly, but she felt a bit superfluous without Tanya constantly surprising her with oddball requests or new challenges.
"What are you doing, Viktoriya?!" She clapped her hands on both sides of her face. "What would she think if she saw you dithering because you have too little to do?"
"But, it's so convenient for me. Everyone is so enthusiastic... maybe because we have so many veterans. But they are less than half. Maybe just taking care of people is enough? It has to be more than that." She thought about it explicitly for the first time. Up until now, she had just followed the President's lead but she was in charge now.
"Okay, it's not just that we treat our people right, or just because they are naturally loyal." She looked out the office window at Berun. The setting sun made some things shine while it cloaked the rest in shadows. People below were moving from work to home, not knowing or caring that someone was looking at them from above. "Maybe I'm going about this wrong. Why am I staying here?"
A sudden image of Tanya appeared in her mind's eye. Then it all became clear to her. "Oh, so that's the reason. Well, then it all makes sense. How could I forget that?"
She put a meeting with the main managers on the schedule board and she prepared plans with a grin. This is it! With this, there'll be plenty to do in the near future.
* * *
It's been said that capitalism has the enormous advantage in that it isn't a zero-sum game. When two parties engage in voluntary and informed trade, both benefit in the end. Enough trades and society benefits and with enough international trades, the world benefits.
This does not apply to options trading.
A few judicious options can work like insurance for a company; if your railroad depends on coal, buying coal futures only makes sense. If prices go down, you save money on running your trains. If prices go up, you pocket money to help offset the increased prices. A wise company can take a little loss on options to avoid a catastrophic loss.
But, other than those who wish to hedge their risks, it's pure gambling at a level unheard of even in Monte Carlo. One could easily lose money on scales that beggared the imagination.
This was the situation facing Jacob Floyd. Or rather, many people he had privately informed about TvD's 'unwise' options trading. Every option had a winner and loser and he had clued in a lot of acquaintances about a 'loser' spreading a lot of money around.
He hadn't answered his phone for weeks.
These days, when he came to the office at all, he sneaked in the back way and only arrived in the dark of the morning so he wouldn't be spotted by traders and investors. His hat was pulled down low over his face and he breathed out with relief once he was on the unlit hallway leading to his office.
"What a mess," he muttered. "But it should blow over soon." He hung up his hat as he entered his office and was about to pour himself a stiff drink when he heard an unexpected noise. A slight creaking of leather, unnaturally loud in the darkness.
"I would appreciate that, Jacob, I most certainly would." His tall office chair turned around to reveal a middle aged man. He wore his expensive suit like it was the most natural thing in the world... with no small amount of justification.
"O-Ogden."
"You can imagine my surprise when, in these troubling times, I find ardently presented advice was so catastrophically wrong."
"There was no..."
Ignoring Floyd, he continued. "And, with careful calculation, one might deduce exactly how much money I lost recently. And, if one had sufficient imagination, you might understand exactly the towering level of fury that is enveloping me this very minute."
He stood up, put his hat on and walked close to the shaking man. "I would expect that the author of this disaster would do his best to provide more accurate advice, and quickly. I have so many fewer friends at my age, I'd hate to lose even one more."
"I..." His drink slipped from nerveless fingers and the glass rolled in a gentle arc, leaving a trail of liquor on the floor.
Ogden smiled briefly. "You should watch that drinking. Illegal now, I hear." He left, not bothering to close the door behind him.
* * *
Foreman Keller was supervising the brewery with his usual taciturn expression... he was not a man to smile easily. But there was a spring in his step that was louder than if he was laughing out loud. The brewery was humming like it never had before and certainly better than the post-amendment shutdown.
In lieu of Degurechaff, he was giving an update to Oskar instead who seemed strangely happy despite the rather boring activity. He was fond of drink, but he was even more fond of doing things that suited his position!
"The majority of our current work are upgrades and testing out new products. We're moving from high volume beers and ales to smaller lines and a lot of liquor varieties. Brewers from Germania and out-of-work distiller masters from around the Unified States have poured into set up the alternate production lines." He pointed out the western side of the plant. "We've moved storage to nearby buildings so we can set up more machines. Old warehouses have been refurbished to handle the volume we'll be producing."
The (ex) Prince had seen all the workers going in and out of the factory but he was surprised at the level of activity when, according to common sense, the plant should be shut down. "I saw a lot of trucks coming in. It looks like you are unloading already produced."
Keller cleared his throat, and repeated something he had obviously said many times. "By law, you can't sell alcohol, nor transport or manufacture it but many stockpiles became hers when she took control of those companies about to go bankrupt. They tell me those trucks became diplomatic transport vehicles. The cops were reluctant to bother our trucks and sometimes the brewers and vintners arrived personally with their wares." He stared in the distance at something Oskar couldn't see. "They are safeguarding decades of work."
"Their legacies then?"
"You can call it that. I don't know how long this ban will last but it only takes one generation to lose all that knowledge."
Oskar was rather surprised at the underlying passion the man's voice but he respected it. "So preservation and advancement... I'm surprised you have time for both."
The old brewer almost smiled then. "You aren't the only one. The president is an absolute stickler for precise engineering. Half of the equipment the Germanian brewers brought with them were advanced thermostats, pressure gauges, refractometers and even some specialty orbs."
Oskar blinked. "Orbs?! Those shouldn't even be near here whether American soil or embassy grounds."
"I did say 'specialty'. These ones are about as dangerous as a hammer... not at all suitable for the army. They are mostly just magical versions of the other devices with some ability to shield against heat. But she also did something that made me wonder what I've been doing all my life." He paused and thought back. "She insisted that all our best brewers get tested for mage potential, plus anyone else who was curious. You know what we found? The common workers had average levels but our master brewers had nearly five times their potential... including one strong enough to have been accepted by the army."
"That's... interesting." He thought about the implications for a moment. "I doubt you're saying a dedication to liquor has given them mage abilities, so somehow their potential made them more skilled at brewing?"
"That's the theory. Nonsensical habits and superstitions may have played a part in their success. We're trying to compile their activities and test them rigorously." There was a gleam in his eye that begged the question.
"You've had some success." A statement, not a question.
"You could say that. It should be ready by the time the President arrives."
"Please save me a glass, sir!"
* * *
The campfire had four inhabitants tonight. The place was a natural gathering point near where railroads would refuel and rewater its trains. It was a little gulley, out of sight yet near the rails, where you could cook a bit of food without being seen. They would clear out just before the bulls would check the cars and then sneak back before dawn to catch a ride to the next stop.
A man approached the fire and those already there gave him a once over before one of them called out. "I see ya, Clem. Sit awhile."
The fifth man got closer to the fire and pulled out some food to share per the hobo code. The misshapen potatoes went into the stew already on the fire and the small apples he had pulled from trees that had branches unwisely hanging over the road were passed around.
An older negro bit into the apple, ignoring that it was a bit underripe and very tart. "Where's that bohunk you hung with?"
"Ah... in the hoosegow. Got nicked 'botu a month ago. Tol' him not to panhandle in a horse-style but he ain't got no sense."
"Ha ha ha ha! Town like that, 'msurprised he didn't get the hot squat!"
The others laughed and they spent the time gossiping while the stew finished cooking.
"Y'all hear 'bout... the haint?"
The others got very quiet. Finally one said, "What you hear?"
"It's a dead soldier and I don't mean an empty bottle! He's a young'un, died without a whisker on him and he's ridin' the lines, looking for a lover who jilted him when he was at war. She was supposed to meet him at a station when he got back and marry him. But she Dear Johnned him and he was shot dead the same day he read the letter."
His voice got deeper and the flickering campfire barely reached his deep-set eyes. "Yeah, he rides up and down, callin' her name, muttering unner his breath. When ya get close, he vanishes in the night. He whispered over and over, still wearin' the uniform and holdin' the rifle he died with. And y'know... I's seen him!"
The others sat up a little straighter. Tall tales were an art that still lived in the hobo jungles, but there's a ring of truth in his voice. "I saw him surfin' a freight car not a week ago. Call me a rum dum but I ain't had a drop. It's a dead-on fact. Uniform on his back, rifle and bindle in hand. He was cleanin' his gun, saying something over and over. I must've stared too long 'cause he looked at me."
"Couldn't see his face no-how. But when he stared, my benny turned to ice and I felt Ol' Nick grab my foot an' start pullin'! I couldn't move a muscle, my heart froze right in my chest. I felt misself about to take the big sleep and jes before the life left me, he turned and flew off like an old bill in a wild wind. Some trick of the night carried his last word to me..."
The hobos leaned forward...
"Clear as day, he sez, 'TANYA' and then he wuz gone!"
Chapter 60 - Sail away with me
In this life, Tanya had a deep and abiding love for travel. It usually meant a period of forced inactivity where she had no particular demands on her time and she could pursue her leisure activities. (Plus the odds of someone trying to kill her were very low.) Of course, to an outside observer, those activities looked much like studying, research and writing research papers – not at all like relaxation.
Both points of view were true.
This would be first time that she would pursue a hobby for its own sake. She couldn't justify it in terms of increasing her wealth, influence or even magical power. She was doing it solely because she wanted to and the feeling was exhilarating.
The only downside was that she couldn't fully let herself sink into the luxurious indolent feeling as she had been reminded how pernicious Being X was. It was a sweet temptation and she would indulge just a bit while keeping wary. She vowed never to be caught so unprepared again!
She put her hands back on the keys and studied the score in front of her. Frau Seidel had brought along crates of music... far more than fripperies like clothing. All the classics and then some! Practicing the piano reminded Tanya of songs she had learned in her past life which gave the impression that she was learning at breakneck speed.
Back then, the future salaryman had stopped because he couldn't be the best. Now that she didn't care about that, she found that everything was easier, smoother.
Fun.
Yeah, more fun.
She started playing the piece – Schubert's Symphony in B minor, scored for the piano. The allegro moderato set up the andante con moto so well that it was like breathing for her. She had always enjoyed Schubert and thought it was a shame that he was so overshadowed by Beethoven... even in his own mind.
Although she could probably do it from memory, she followed the score while her teacher assisted by turning the pages for her. She launched into the scherzo with passion and rare facility and then she suddenly stopped.
Seidel, who had been enjoying the rendition asked, "Fraulein Degurechaff, what's the matter?"
"What is the name of this?" Tanya asked suddenly.
"Symphony No. 8 in B minor." Puzzled, she still answered promptly.
"It doesn't have another name?"
"No, not that I know of. Oh, some people call it Schubert's Lost Symphony. It was found years after his death among his papers. He had others as well, but none of them were even close to being completed."
The Unfinished Symphony... it's here! She read on past measure 20, hearing it in her imagination, enjoying it even without playing it. "I'm sorry, teacher, the copy I had was... incomplete. I've never seen or heard the full symphony before."
Ah, she was raised in an orphanage. It's likely they had a damaged copy or one that was missing pages. She said gently, "Why not take some time with it?"
She read through the music three times and then restarted the scherzo vigorously, momentum regained. She was playing what some musicians and fans in her old world would literally kill to experience. Her heart raced as she ruthlessly stopped herself from increasing the tempo in anticipation. It looked good but can the third movement really match up to the first two?
It could.
She stopped with the final notes, letting the final chord fade as she savored it. I don't owe that damned Being X a thing but... that was really, really good. She viewed this world as an imposition but, for the first time, she felt that she could live here and be truly part of it. Tanya whispered, "To think I could play the Unfinished Symphony."
Frau Seidel's hearing was better than most. "Lost Symphony, not Unfinished. The Unfinished Symphony is Beethoven's 9th."
Say what?
* * *
Just before she had left Berun, Visha had supplied her with some of the information she had requested. Mostly the names of politicians and business leaders of the Unified states. They were divided into two lists: national and Chicago. For now, the second list was much more important as she had to navigate local politics first and foremost. Extending her influence to the rest of the country would come in time.
In my world, that town was awash with graft and corruption even before the rise of organized crime. I don't imagine this world is much different.
In broad strokes, many of the personalities remained the same. Some of the names were a little different and some people were completely replaced but the kinds of people hadn't changed. She could work with this.
Much of her plan was kept strictly in her head but the more complicated parts were in a carefully guarded notebook. Still, even if someone had access to it, it was such a mishmash of Akitsushiman, modern acronyms, Anglish, Germanian and internet slang. Not that the code was uncrackable... the very concepts in it were incomprehensible to any but a modern person with a profound amount of education.
Chicago was not the heart of the Unified States, despite its money, power and influence. But it would be heart of her influence there. Before her enemies could take action...
...it would be far, far too late.
* * *
The chief steward had delegated his duties to subordinates and dedicated himself to managing everything involving Degurechaff. Her people, her cabins, the ballroom, the rest of the ballroom... all were under his watchful eye. The captain didn't even bat an eye as their bookings were beyond even their optimistic expectations and at premium rates for most of their cabins. Their most expensive cabins, especially.
In terms of difficulty, for her party, there really wasn't any. Wealthy people tended to be terribly entitled since they expected, with some logic, that they paid for premium service. But other than insisting that the hallway to their cabins were off-limits, their demands were very reasonable.
Well, other than the coffee.
You could argue she didn't expect perfection. What she did expect was a level of skill and attention to detail that couldn't be faked. After sending back the same order six times, they finally found an older maid that was currently on permanent duty to make coffee and taking care of the ambassador. Fortunately, they were able to shuffle duties around so she would spend her working time just helping Tanya's party.
The woman was Ispagnan and spoke fluent Francois and no Germanian. She stumbled through the latter language before Tanya responded in Francois. "Please, don't trouble yourself so much, Mercedes. Francois is fine for me and at least half of my people."
"Merci, Madame!" Technically, in both age and lack of matrimony, she was a Mademoiselle, but the older woman couldn't bring herself to use that word. She looks so young! But a colonel, a noble, a wealthy president and an ambassador! Ahhh, she's so cute! I wonder if she would let me brush her hair? It's in dreadful need of care.
"And I hope you can teach me some Ispagnan on this trip? I know a smattering, but not enough to be counted as fluent."
"But of course! Do you require anything else?" She glanced toward the dressing table with toiletries, makeup and hair care items.
The effort was apparently lost on her as the younger woman simply said, "Not at this time, thank you."
If I recall, in this universe, Ispagna and the Portugal analog had a catastrophic war over the New World that Ispagna won completely but only at a terrible cost. The classic Pyrrhic victory! Portugal is no more but Ispagna never quite recovered from the devastation and are barely a second rate power today. Their colonies quickly broke away (much like the Unified States) leaving Mexico and everything south of there independent by the turn of the century.
She thought back to the map of the Americas she had studied. If it's the same mish-mash of corrupt politicians but fairly decent people that I recall, they will be a valuable future market. Brasilia alone is a treasure trove of resources and is horribly underdeveloped after the punitive reparations were imposed on them by Ispagna... yes, this will be useful, I think in the long term.
* * *
Several of the waiters were chatting with each other over cigarettes while on their break. "So what do you think of that broad from Germania? I haven't even caught a glimpse of her since she came aboard."
Another shook his head. "Ya got me, Petey. Since Mercedes took up with her, ain't none of us been on that half of the deck."
"Yeah, more's the luck. I saw a pic from a few years back but the paper didn't have a very good pic of her. Just a really, really short officer mixed in with a bunch of other ones before the trials. She's still 16, y'know? Everyone I talk to imagines her as six-foot-six with muscles like Atlas!"
The others laughed until a quiet Ispagnan said, "I've seen her."
"What?! Tell us more, man!"
"I was helping Meche carry some stuff for the Germanian party that wouldn't fit on the normal cart. We went by their private sun-deck and I saw her on a reclining bench there. She was wearing a bathing suit, Ildoan I think and had large beach hat on even though she had an umbrella set up."
"Enough with the scenery, get to the good stuff!" The others gathered closer, eager to catch every word.
"Wait you guys! Ahem. She had some odd spectacles with tinted lenses so I couldn't see her eyes and was reading a book. I couldn't catch the title but it was rather large." Perhaps sensing that their patience was drawing to an end, he continued. "Her hair is as blonde as they say... even in the shade, it was bright, bright as the sun. She's a bit small for 16 but you can tell she's 'growing' a bit, right? Pale skin without a mark as far as I could tell."
"They say mages who get proper care heal up alright. Especially the strong ones. Maybe that was it?"
"I don't know but what skin I saw was flawless and those swimsuits show a bit more than a bit, right?"
He left them with the image in their heads and didn't say what happened next. Tanya had noticed him standing there and had pulled down her sunglasses to look at him with her piercing blue eyes. Any 'interest' he had was quickly doused as he felt his insides freeze in response. After what seemed like far too long, she had put her glasses back up and went back to reading.
"Duarte, you didn't go up and talk to her? It's a one in a million chance!"
"Ah ha ha ha. She's a passenger and she's out of our league, right? No way would I do that!" No way in hell!
* * *
As per plan, Tanya and Frau Seidel practiced the piano daily. She's strangely experienced and also strangely inept in ways. It seems geniuses learn differently from the rest of us. "Tanya, why did you play the passage like that." She pointed out part of the page.
"Sorry, teacher, I'll do better next time." Crap, I played it from memory rather than reading the music.
"No, no, what you did was fine. Though a little rough, it was very close to the original. This rendition is instructional and simpler chordings have been substituted. It seems like you've at least seen some good pieces before now."
"I've... seen some, yes."
Seidel tapped the piano lightly with one fingernail and then declared, "I've decided, then. No more student pieces, just originals from now on. Our time is precious, let's not waste it, hmm?"
Tanya tilted her head slightly. "What do you suggest?"
"I think you are ready for some Mozart. Or rather, we are ready."
"Wait... oh! Allegro con spirito?"
"Exactly."
* * *
As the other passengers had been promised, they were 'sharing' the dining room with Tanya. There were large folding screens set up so nothing could be seen without crassly peering between the boards. The waiters were told to serve food and to keep people from doing exactly that.
One woman with a Francois flair about her, whispered to her husband. "It's been several days and we still haven't heard anything from 'that side'. Was it just a ruse by the liner?"
"Patience, dearest, patience! It's no like a show you can order up. Admittedly, it's a bit of a gamble but others have heard her during practice sessions. But I slipped a gratuity to one of the staff and I have it on good knowledge that tonight might be... wait, I think I hear her starting."
His wife sniffed. "We don't even know if it's really her."
"Shush, woman!"
They heard the piano begin... wait, pianos? His wife was a profound music lover and murmured. "Mozart's Sonata for two pianos." She quieted herself as she listened. She was surprised, no she was actually shocked at how good they were. Rumor said that she had a piano instructor there and they had seen the two pianos but that had to mean Tanya was playing the second piano, right?
The two ended with a textbook perfect finale and the diners couldn't help but break into applause before the waiters could shush them.
There was silence from the other side of the screen for several minutes. Then a ragtime piece started up. It was about as far removed from Mozart as you could get but it bounced along and toes were tapping around the room until she got to the final coda of "The Entertainer", performed for the first time in the world.
The applause was even longer this time. And still again when she played "And so it goes", "Can't help falling in love"and "Stand by me". Played AND sang... somehow her unamplified voice could match even the volume of the piano, blending together perfectly as if the instrument was an extension of her will. She ended with a soulful rendition of "Love of my life".
The final song did not fail to bring tears to the eyes of many and no one could tell when Tanya had left the room.