MPF 2.07 – Norris Tilney and the Airship Docks of Dover

~ A Tale of the Aethelian Age ~

Norris Tilney sat alone on the floor in the corner of the stone cell, his back against the wall. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself, and with every utterance, he gently emphasized the point by beating his head softly against the wall. What had he been thinking? Had he been thinking at all? The cold stones of the cell surrounding him sat in silent judgment of his massive lack of foresight. And the military tribunal he had testified before earlier in the day had been almost as accepting as the grey granite walls. His fingers went to his left sleeve, itching to hold his wand again, but of course it had been confiscated nearly the moment he’d arrived. Not for the first time did he wish that he’d never been posted to the Columbia XIV.

He could understand the tribunal’s reluctance to attribute the loss of the massive airship to dragon-riding pirates. He’d been there, felt and seen the impact of their fiery breath, and he hardly believed it himself. Still, appearing suddenly at a top secret compound in Wales, carried by a gryphon being transported aboard said airship, bearing the last egg of the poor thing’s clutch should have lent him some credibility, he thought. He sighed again. A top secret facility. Of course that’s where they’d be keeping the gryphon’s mate. And of course that’s where they would have landed. Of course he’d immediately been apprehended, wand confiscated, bound and tossed into a holding cell. Of course at that point he’d been interrogated, and his story had been so… unbelievable… that of course he hadn’t been believed.

Until the Columbia failed to arrive. By Norris’s count, they should have been in Dover yesterday. By now, surely the message had come through that something was wrong. And maybe then the tribunal would see fit to let him out of this thrice-cursed cell. Maybe then Vice-Admiral Jellicoe would be more disposed to be accepting of his story.

And then maybe pixies would serve them all tea and crumpets.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. It was all so bloody logical and inevitable when you actually thought about it. And he hadn’t thought about it at all. He was able at least to channel enough magic without his wand to light the dark, windowless cell. He opened his eyes and summoned a faint blue flame to his thick index finger. The ghostly light illuminated the cell, its featureless gray walls and floor, and a small man standing in the entryway.

Norris gave a most ungentlemanly yelp and a bit of a jump, and the light went out. A low chuckle greeted his ears, and a soft light radiated from the wand the man was holding. In the clearer, stronger light of the wand, Norris saw him clearly. He was a thick man of middling-short height, dressed impeccably in black, holding an chestnut brown wand in one hand. His bright blue eyes dazzled from beneath his thick black brows and he grinned through a neatly trimmed beard.

“Mr. Tilney, I presume?” The man’s voice was low, almost rumbling. Norris scrambled to his feet, coming to attention before the small man, and nodded once. How did he get in here without my hearing him?

The small man crossed the room and offered his free hand to Norris. Norris noted that the man – while broad – appeared to have little in the way of the soft middle one normally sees in well-dressed gentlemen of a certain class. He barely came up to Norris’s broad chest. Norris looked at the hand for a moment, offered as though they were meeting on the street rather than in a cell. He extended his own hand, half expecting the man to be a hallucination brought on by solitude and desperation. As it turned out, the large hand was quite solid, and the grip was strong.

“Yes, Mr…?” Norris was determined to treat the encounter as normally as possible if only to counterbalance his earlier shriek.

The man didn’t respond immediately, nor did he release Norris’s hand. “I was wondering, Mr. Tilney, if you might do me the favor of giving me a sense of where I might find my wife?”

Norris’s mouth opened as he fumbled for an appropriate response. Considering the incongruous nature of the man’s demeanor when compared with the surroundings in which they found themselves, an appropriate response was not to be found. “Ah… yes. I suppose she was aboard the Columbia? I’m sorry, sir, for your loss.” The man stared up at him with raised eyebrows. “The Columbia was… lost with all aboard. Gasbags exploded, the whole thing came down in the German Alps, sir.”

The man nodded thoughtfully at the large cadet. “You might be surprised, sir. I’ve found my wife to be exceptionally resourceful.”

“Be that as it may, she’d have to be a miracle-worker to survive the explosion of each gasbag aboard an airship, Mr…”

The man still didn’t respond immediately, and Norris got the sense that he was being looked right through – like he was the hallucination in the room, and the man was trying to determine if he would disappear in a puff of smoke. “Perhaps. Still, you’ve proven to be rather resourceful yourself, having survived the explosion of each gasbag aboard an airship?” He nodded at the larger man. “Yes… resourceful indeed.” He grinned. “I’m afraid I’m being terribly rude. My name is Lucius Bennett. And I am inquiring as to the current whereabouts of my wife, Naval Lieutenant Dorothy Bennett.” Norris’s blood froze. This man was the husband of his commanding officer aboard the Columbia? The ice-blooded, ruthless, merciless Ms. Bennett… was a Mrs after all?

Mr. Bennett chortled merrily at the cadet’s reaction, and finally released his hand. “Come, Mr. Tilney, pick your jaw up off the floor, and have a seat. We’ve matters to discuss, you and I.” Norris sat on the cot against the wall, as Mr. Bennett waved his wand at the corners, igniting a light within glass globes fixed into the wall near the ceiling.

The wand disappeared into the man’s sleeve, and a flask was procured from his jacket. Mr. Bennett took a small sip, and offered the flask to Norris. Norris made to reach for it, but then thought better of it. He had a poor head for spirits, and he needed his wits about him. At last, perhaps I’m thinking. The flask disappeared back into the jacket, and Mr. Bennett leaned back against the wall.

“Let me start. Your name is Norris Tilney. Your father is a blacksmith and machinist in Hathersage. You are the eldest of six children.” Norris’s brow furrowed. “You were late coming to the Academy, because we typically do not scour the countryside for fresh talent when most magical talent runs in families. Your admission to the Academy was granted with the understanding that you would serve in His Majesty’s Forces after your graduation. As such, your… education…” Bennett seemed to be almost tasting the word and finding it unacceptable, “was somewhat limited to basic offensive magic. You’re a deft hand with flame, ice, lightning, and wind manipulation. Your teachers at the Academy were almost uniformly dismissive in their comments.”

Norris felt himself bristling at the memory. Without connections, without a family with some magical history, he’d been denied entry to the more advanced classes, had been unable to find a master willing to tutor him or take him as an apprentice. His large stature, blond hair and easy smile had further convinced most of his instructors that he was a backwoods simpleton, though Norris did have a quick and agile mind. He’d taken the basic classes over and over and over again until he’d graduated from the Academy with time served. The library had helped, but most of the advanced books required a professor’s permission and sponsorship just to read them.

Mr. Bennett pursed his lips and nodded with a grunt that sounded oddly like satisfaction. “And of course, your first post recently exploded from beneath your feet.”

Norris sucked his teeth. “Well, I’ll admit that all of that is true. Now, you know something about me, sir. But I know next to nothing about you except that you claim to be the husband of my former superior officer.”

Mr. Bennett’s eyebrows rose. “Former? That remains to be seen.” He chuckled to himself. “You also see that I am here in your cell, apparently with full authorization. But still, quite sensible, I suppose. Perhaps a review of credentials is in order.” He reached into his waistcoat and withdrew a silver stickpin. He placed it in his lapel and looked up at Norris expectantly. The stickpin showed a crossed staff and blade behind a silver skull wearing a gold crown. “You are, of course, familiar with this?”

Norris’s eyes went wide, and he sucked in a breath. “Yes, sir. All Academy students are familiar with the sigil of the Croix de Sangre.” A knightly order steeped in mystery and the worst kind of popular fabulism, they were usually referred to simply as The Cross. It was rumored that they had agents in every corner of the globe, keeping tabs on His Majesty’s far-flung empire, and various other areas of interest. They were a favorite subject of dime novels, and Norris had read more than his fair share back at the Academy. After all, he didn’t need a professor’s permission for those.

The smile disappeared from Mr. Bennett’s face. “Very well. Why don’t you begin with how you became aware that you were transporting a magical creature aboard the Columbia…” His tone brooked no argument or protest.

Norris explained, with the occasional pointed question from Mr. Bennett, how the gryphon had been agitated just before the dragon attack. How it had ripped a hole in the aft of the airship and flown out carrying Norris to fight its natural enemy and protect the nest. How Norris hadn’t been fast enough or strong enough to protect all of the eggs. And finally, how a sorcerer dueling Mrs. Bennett had set off the chain reaction when he blew the forward gasbags. “The explosions moved back through the rest of the ship, despite her efforts. The last I saw of her, she grabbed one of the other cadets, waved her wand over her head, then there was a sort of a blue flash, I think, and the gasbag exploded. That was the last I saw of your wife, sir. She went down fighting, and trying to save lives. I jumped, the gryphon caught me before I could hit the ground, and off we went.”

Mr. Bennett’s smile returned. “Well. Good.”

Norris wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that, so he held his tongue.

“Or rather, interesting, I suppose.” Mr. Bennett waved his wand again, and a miniature image of a dirigible appeared before them. “So, you say that this piratical German dog blew up the front gasbags, like so.” He poked the illusory airship with his wand, and the front of the airship slowly exploded in orange flames. “And that then the remaining gasbags each went up in turn.” He tapped the airship again, and each place he tapped began to explode in a similar, slow fashion, until the entire mass of the airship was engulfed in flames, and it sank to the floor in an oddly majestic miniature crash. Norris watched it burn for a moment, thinking of his friends and shipmates aboard. “Aye, sir. That’s how it happened.”

“Well, that really doesn’t make any sense.” Mr. Bennett frowned at the burning wreckage, and twirled his wand. As he did, the airship sailed up from the ground, reversing its motion in time and space until it hung before them again, whole and unblemished. “Those gasbags are heavily protected against just the type of reaction you’re describing, Tilney. We don’t have any open flame around them, true, and for good reason. But they’re designed in such a way that the force of an explosion is directed out and away from the surrounding gasbags.” He tapped the airship again, and the front gasbag exploded again, but this time, the shape of the explosion was different – definitely less spherical, and directed out and to the sides. “Part of that is the design of the airbags themselves, part is the design of the frame, and part of that are magical wards placed between each airbag to prevent just such an occurrence.” The illusory airship’s flames had already begun to die out, and though it was tilting forward a bit, it was definitely not in danger of an immediate crash. “They simply should not have gone up one after the other that way.” Mr. Bennet frowned at the recalcitrant illusion, stubbornly hanging onto its altitude despite the loss of an airbag.

“Well, if that’s the case, Mr. Bennet, then what happened to the Columbia?”

“What indeed, Mr. Tilney. What indeed.” He leaned back against the wall, and put his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He crossed a leg and hummed softly to himself. “What indeed…” he murmured, between humming snatches of tune. He stayed in that position for a long moment, then glanced over at the large blonde Magus. “It’s not the first airship we’ve lost like this, of course”

“Sir?!” Norris hadn’t heard of any other losses.

“Oh, it’s all being kept hush hush, of course. But the Majestic and the Arrowroot were also lost within the last three months. I believe the cover stories have involved training accidents or something of that nature.” He stared up at the ceiling for a long time while Norris tried to take in the implications of what Mr. Bennett had just revealed.

“Three ships? In three months?”

Mr. Bennett glanced over at Norris with a sly grin. “Well, Cadet Tilney? Any ideas?”

Norris hesitated. “Well, sir, it could be a design flaw… the bags aren’t working properly…”

“Tested. Tested and triple tested after we lost the Arrowroot. Go on…”

“Or it’s, um, sabotage, sir.”

“Well done, Cadet. You do have the capacity to think logically, even if it’s only a recent development.” Mr. Bennett nodded at the impenetrable stone walls. He straightened, and began pacing the length of the cell. “Now, the next item of business, of course, is to determine who was responsible for the sabotage, and what their aim was.” Norris watched the little man walking back and forth. “I can’t believe the damage occurred after my Dorothy arrived aboard. She’s very good at identifying potential… problems with personnel.” He stopped and nodded at the seated cadet. “Case in point, Norris. If she chose you for the security detail, it meant one of two things. Either she believed you would be a great asset in that regard… or that you were a potential threat. Either way, she placed you in a position to reveal yourself more fully.”

Norris swallowed.

“Now, having allegedly acquitted yourself rather well aboard the Columbia, and having successfully delivered most of the Sultan of Istanbul’s gift to the King of England safe and sound, do we give you another opportunity to show your mettle?” Mr. Bennett considered the young cadet for a moment, then produced and took another sip from the flask in his jacket. He savored the draft for a moment before swallowing. “How would you like to accompany me to Dover?”

“The airship yards, sir? Well… I – ah -” he motioned at the walls around them.

Mr. Bennett waved off the concern with a flip of the wrist. “The tribunal will take their time determining where to appropriately find fault. Of course, as the sole survivor, and coming from a family lacking in connections, and with your fantastical story that no one in their right mind would believe without the actual gryphon there to show, there’s a good chance they will attempt to lay the blame entirely at your feet. I can tell you now they aren’t about to reveal to the greater populace that the Austro-Germans have been training dragons and wyverns as mounts for soldiers. For one, it might cause an immediate demand for open retaliation, which would lead us almost certainly to war.” He paused, and chuckled to himself. “And for another thing, it might cause people to question official reports about certain goings-on in the Scottish Highlands. No, no. They’ll try to lay this squarely on your broad shoulders, my good man. Or on Dorothy’s – we are not without our own enemies. Of course, they’ll have to come up with some explanation as to how you came to be alive after the disaster. They’ll probably charge you with desertion, and the official story will claim that you were never aboard the Columbia in the first place. Possibly you’ll be hung, just to be sure that no nasty rumors start circulating.”

Norris’s heart sunk, and he stared at his hands. “So… that’s it?”

“Is it? The tribunal hasn’t ruled yet, have they? I suppose that we have approximately three days before they’ll have all their pieces in order. In the meantime, you’ll most likely remain in confinement. That is, if you’re still here.”

Norris looked up to see Lucius Bennett’s wolfish grin. “So I’ll ask you again, Mr. Tilney. How would you like to accompany me to Dover? There’s no guarantee of any clemency, and you may be running into a worse fate than a hangman’s noose. You know I claim to be a member of the Croix du Sangre, but other than a stickpin and my presence here in the Tower of London, there’s little corroborating evidence of that. I could be merely speculating about your chances, but…” Mr. Bennett’s eyes crinkled, and Norris was again aware of the feeling that he was being seen straight through. “… you were at the tribunal. You saw those men. What do you think your chances here? What are you willing to risk for your freedom?”

Norris Tilney stood again, returning the little man’s piercing gaze. “I lost good mates on the Columbia, Mr. Bennett. And there were women, and children aboard. If there’s anything I can do to see that what happened to them doesn’t happen to someone else, then it’s my duty to do so.” He looked around the cell. “And it’s a duty I can’t fulfill from inside a cell.”

Mr. Bennett smiled. “Very good, cadet. Very good indeed.” He reached back and rapped at the door twice. “Now to effect a daring escape.” The door opened, and Mr. Bennett nodded at the guard before tapping him on the head with his wand. The guard sank to the ground, guided gently by Mr. Bennett.

“Sir!” Norris cried, shocked.

“Come, Tilney, you really don’t think that they’re going to allow me to walk out of here with you on my arm like a blushing debutante, do you?” He stepped across the hall and tapped a stone with the wand, muttering under his breath. The stone rolled back to reveal a narrow staircase. “Down you go, Tilney. Down… and out.”

Norris stepped onto the first stair, and the wall began closing behind him. “I’ll meet you downstairs, Tilney,” he heard, and then the wall closed entirely, and Norris Tilney was plunged into darkness. Alone, apparently in the walls of the prison. He summoned the ghostly blue flame again and began his descent.

The stairs ended in a narrow passage, then a few steps up. As Norris stepped furtively into the moonlight, he recognized the unmistakable smell of the Thames. He glanced back and up at the Tower of London.

“Ah, there you are.” Lucius Bennett stepped out of an alcove. He took Norris by the arm and walked him to the street, whistling up a hansom cab. “Elephant & Castle Station, and be quick about it, my good man.”

The driver grunted at them, and they were off through the crowded nighttime streets of London.

#

No one really expects a wizard to take the train. And when the wizard happens to be part of the intelligence gathering arm of an empire, one really expects him to be traveling by… Norris struggled for a moment with that. Private airship? Car, at least? Flying carpet, perhaps? The train seemed so… mundane.

More mundane still was the humble inn where they’d gotten a few hours rest before heading to the airship yards. “We show up in the middle of the night demanding entrance to the shipyards, and we’ll throw the place into an uproar and never catch our quarry, Tilney. Best we get some sleep and a bit of breakfast under our belts, then slip in as an ordinary inspection from London. And, of course, we needed to get you out of London quickly.” Norris nodded, smiling faintly at the thought of how the military tribunal would react to his sudden disappearance from the Tower of London.

Mr. Bennett reached into his jacket pocket, and produced something Norris had despaired of ever seeing again – his wand. “I imagined you’d be wanting this also,” Mr. Bennett said, extending the wand to Norris grip first.

Norris took the wand reverently, feeling the comforting, solid weight in his hand and let out a long breath he hadn’t known he’d been carrying. He placed the wand in its normal place in the sheath strapped to his left forearm. Mr. Bennett looked at him with a piercing gaze. “Well, good night, Tilney.”

“Good night sir, and thank you.” Norris went back into his room and slept peacefully until he was awakened by the creep of dawn over the windowsill.

At mid-morning, Norris Tilney and Lucius Bennett approached the Dover airship yards. The place was bustling with activity and shouted commands as men constructed the mighty airships that secured the airways of the Empire, just as the sailing ships secured the sea lanes. The massive hangers rang with the sounds of metalworking and the hissing of great steam engines. Bennett was all smiles and bravado, while Norris found himself feeling rather dour, and scowling at everyone. An obsequious man with a long thin nose, slicked black hair and pencil mustache led them into a massive hanger where the Victorious and Resolute were even now undergoing their final inspections.

“The Columbia, sir?” the man asked in a slightly whining voice, as though he expected that Mr. Bennett would whip him at any moment like a dog, “I inspected most of it myself, including the gasbags, and I can assure you that she was in top condition – absolutely top condition when I was finished reviewing her. I have the reviews in my files, and if you’ll allow me a moment, I can produce them for you to review.”

Bennett nodded. “Ah, just the thing, my good chap. Normally I wouldn’t question a man of your integrity, but we must keep up appearances for the lads back at the Ministry, eh? Got to cross our t’s and dot our i’s for the sake of King and Empire, what?” He chortled merrily. “After all, it’s the paper that makes the Empire run.”

Their obsequious guide nodded ingratiatingly. “Oh, yes, sir. So good to speak with someone who understands the need for proper documentation.”

As they walked back toward the man’s office, Norris caught a glimpse of a figure in the shadows – thin and quick, but as he gazed closer at that corner of the massive hangar, it faded back into the blackness. Probably a trick of the light, he told himself.

As they reached the office at the side of the hangar, Bennett paused. “We only need one of us to verify the paperwork, m’boy. Why don’t you take a look around if you want. After all, you’ll have to be as familiar with this place as I am soon.” Their guide twitched once, as though he was about to protest, but the documentation Mr. Bennett had provided which established their identities as Inspectors from the Ministry had been rather impressive, imposing, and positively foreboding as to the fate of any man who stood in the way of any official business.

Norris nodded once at Mr. Bennett, and watched the men slip into the office. Once the door was closed, he looked around. The giant room was almost quiet, a group of men with clipboards surrounding the Victorious as they ran through final checks on the airship. Apparently, the Resolute had already been checked out, and Norris approached it. He heard the creaking noises from the sandbag anchors and ropes tying the airship down. If he were going to look it over, now would be the time. He wasn’t exactly certain what he was looking for, or how he’d recognize it when he saw it, but it was his career, and perhaps his freedom and life on the line – he had to try.

A sudden movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. A thin silhouette – the same one he’d seen earlier – but now in another section of shadows. Norris felt a strange chill running up the back of his spine, and he forced himself not to look directly at the silhouette. If he kept his eyes on the cabins, and let his eyes un-focus slightly, he could almost make out a figure in a gray coat and cap that drank the light in, only a little lighter than the shadows themselves.

The main cabins of the Resolute were closed, but not locked, and Norris let himself into the airship. He shut the door behind him, and moved as quickly and silently as he could across the passages of the massive ship to find a porthole that would give him a better look at the other side of the hangar. As he climbed a staircase and crossed to one of the state rooms that he thought would have a view, he heard a soft sound below him – the sound of a door opening and closing.

Someone had entered the Resolute behind him. Norris thought quickly, glancing down at the patches of shadow around the hangar. There was no sign of the mysterious silhouette, though he heard the murmuring of the inspection crew on the Victorious. Norris felt his pulse quicken. Just after final inspection – all the checks made, and everyone satisfied. If there was a time for a saboteur to engage their craft, this was it. Or perhaps the saboteur had heard of a surprise inspection from London and was even now moving to remove incriminating evidence of his handiwork from the Resolute before it could be discovered.

Norris’s mind raced. The sabotage aboard the Columbia had involved the gasbags. He listened at the hallway for the passing of a figure, and hearing nothing, he decided to risk venturing back into the passageway. He pulled his wand from its sheath, drawing some comfort from the reassuring firmness of the oak wood in his hands. Some wizards carved runes and sigils into their wands, but Norris Tilney’s was rather like Norris himself – strong, functional, unassuming, and unadorned. They complemented each other.

He cracked the door, glancing down the hallway. In the hangar, he couldn’t venture a fireball, but a shock of cold might well incapacitate any saboteur and allow them to discover who – or what – had worked to such disastrous effect for the Columbia.

Norris crept as quietly as he could up the stairs toward the main gas chambers. As he peeked over the top stair and could see down the crew passage that led to the bridge – and the stairs that led into the gas chambers, he caught a glimpse of movement. He froze – watching a figure in a gray cape and cap ascending the stairs at the far end of the chamber. The figure paused for a moment, and Norris held his breath. He didn’t dare duck, he didn’t dare move at all. After a long, horrible moment, the figure continued its ascent. Norris wasted no time in following. Quickly reaching the metal stairs, he paused at the bottom to look up.

The top of the stairs seemed clear. Norris moved slowly up the stairs – wand at the ready – certain that at any moment the grey-coated figure would descend upon him and attack. The attack never happened. Instead, Norris saw the mysterious figure in the grey cloak and cap standing there, staring up at the gasbags wordlessly. He raised his wand. “You there, keep still.” The figure whirled and flung the cloak at him, dashing to get back to the stairs. Norris fired, but hit the cloak, which flew up and back, covered in a sheet of ice. As the figure dashed to the side, Norris wrapped his arms around the runner and they rolled to the ground. Norris found himself on top of the slim figure, wand pointed at…

…the features of what appeared to be a young girl with red flowing hair that had come free when the cap had been struck from her head. Her green eyes flashed in fury, and she bared her teeth at him and growled low in her throat. But it was her ears that caught Norris’ immediate attention.

Her pointed, elfin ears.

Norris blinked. He seemed to run into more mythical creatures aboard airships.

The Academy had always skirted around the topic of the Fair Folk. Dragons, nixies, even merfolk had been discussed in various detail. But not the Fae. The one time a classmate had brought them up in a class, the instructor had glared at the poor young cadet with such ire that the subject had been immediately dropped. As a result, Norris had no idea how or if his magic would affect her.

“So much for a practical education,” Norris muttered to himself.

“Is that supposed to be a slight?” the elf maid hissed at him. “I can assure you that I have decades more education than any buffoon of a human. Especially one so obviously thick as yourself.” She punched him in the stomach with her tiny fist. “Who are you, and what are you doing aboard this airship?”

Norris winced a little, though he didn’t budge. Instead, he rapped her sharply on the head with his wand. “Who am I? Who are you? And what is a Fae doing aboard a Crown Airship?”

The flashing green eyes narrowed, and she seemed about to spit another venomous reply at him, but then her eyes caught the tip of Norris’s wand, and she relaxed – a little. “I am Pandella, a daughter of Titania, and I do not treat with traitors to their own kind and nation.” Her mouth closed, a firm and disapproving line.

“Traitor? What do you think I…” He stood. “You know someone’s been tampering with the airships.” The elf maid’s jaw clenched, and Norris stepped back out of the range of her legs before she could kick him, but his wand stayed fixed on her. If anything, she went more still. “What have you seen? Who has been tampering with the airships?”

Pandella’s brow furrowed, and a little of her rancor seemed to drain from her face. “What are you on about? You’re the one running around an airship unaccompanied and unsupervised.”

“No more so than you,” Norris pointed out. Pandella blinked. She moved slowly to sit up, and Norris took another cautious step back along the narrow walkway, staying between her and the stairs. “Again, I must ask you – what have you seen, and do you know who has been tampering with the airships?”

She rose to her own feet, and crossed her arms. “I won’t be interrogated by a strange man who won’t even give his name.”

Norris’s cheek twitched once. “I beg your pardon, my lady. My name is Norris Tilney, Magus Adeptus, and cadet 1st class of the Royal Air Corps, and I have something of a personal interest in whoever has been tampering with these airships, as they recently were responsible for one blowing up under my feet.” Norris saw the elf maid’s eyes widen a bit as she reassessed him.

“You expect me to believe that? That you survived an airship explosion?”

Tilney shrugged. “As long as you answer my questions truthfully, I don’t much care what you believe about me.” He waved the wand at her. “Now. Can you tell me who has been tampering with these airships or not?”

Her expressions flashed into a mocking smirk. “No.” And she threw up her hands in front of her. Immediately, the elf maiden’s entire body seemed to catch fire. Norris felt the incredible heat, saw it distorting the air around him. He threw up his hands to protect his eye, and looked down – and saw not so much as a scorch mark on the floor.

He gritted his teeth. A glamour. He threw himself down the stairs after the retreating elf. She was already at the tairs on the far side of the corridor. She’d probably turned and ran the instant the illusion of her body catching fire had begun. Norris grunted in frustration and followed. He was surprisingly fast and agile for a man of his size, which was why he’d caught her in the first place, but he knew he had little chance of catching an elf in a footrace. Even less when she had that kind of head start.

Still, he hurtled down the corridor, and down the stairs. And upon coming round the corner at the stairs bottom, he had to grab both sides of the corridor to avoid colliding with Pandella again. She was standing in the causeway, hands in the air. She backed slowly down the corridor, and Norris stepped back to allow her entrance. “What on Earth…?”

Lucius Bennet stepped aboard the Resolute, wand held levelly at the elf’s chest. “Well done again, Tilney. She was so distracted by attempting to escape you, she never saw me coming.” His gaze never wavered from the elf’s green eyes. “Swear to me by your true name that you will answer our questions, and assist us in our mission.”

“I’ll not be bound by you or any human.”

“Oh no? Mr. Tilney! You’ve served as security aboard an airship before. Surely you must know where to find some iron manacles.”

Pandella gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed, and a grimace of rage crossed his features. “Wouldn’t I? Good men and women are dead. Including possibly my own wife. I intend to find out why and who is responsible. And if that means chaining a Fae lady with cold iron, then by my wand, that’s what I’ll do. Tilney?”

Norris’s brow furrowed. Iron manacles? Prisoners aboard an airship? He opened his mouth to object, but then he saw the sudden trembling in Pandella’s outstretched hands. Then Norris felt the blood drain from his own face as he suddenly realized the implications of what Mr. Bennett had just threatened, but he also knew it was a bluff. It had to be. And for it to work, he’d have to play along. “By the crew quarters, sir. I’ll be right back.” He stepped back toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Pandella cried, and there was real anguish in her voice. “I swear. I swear by my own true name, Ethereal Pandion Clytemnestra, that I will do as you wish.” Her shoulders slumped, and her hands fell to her sides. “I am bound now, as surely as if I was bound with iron. Please. Please, not the chains.”

Norris’s heart shriveled inside him as he heard the plaintive, remorseful begging of the proud elf girl, and he grimaced. Mr. Bennett immediately spoke.

“And I swear to you, Ethereal Pandion Clytemnestra, by my wand and steel, that I will only require your assistance in finding our saboteur. And once found, you shall be free of your oath.” Mr. Bennett reached back and from under his cloak he produced a short, wide bladed sword – a roman gladius, Norris noted. Mr. Bennett reached down with his wand hand, and gripping the wand with his fingers, touched the meat of his palm to the blade.

It must have been razor sharp, because a thin line of blood appeared where the blade had kissed his hand. Mr. Bennett rolled the wand back into the palm. Then, having bound his sword and wand with his own blood oath, he replaced the sword in its hiding place beneath his cloak. Norris could feel the movement of magic around them as the oath was made, a deep and powerful thrum in his guts, and for a moment, he felt his eyes watering. He blinked them away to see Mr. Bennett transfer his wand to his left hand, and tap the wound once, closing it.

Mr. Bennett then looked up at Norris.

“Ah. Um. I… uh… I don’t suppose I can borrow a sword?”

Mr. Bennett’s face broke into a wide grin. “Here, Tilney. Take this.” From beneath his cloak, Mr. Bennett produced a wide-bladed dagger and scabbard. The scabbard was black leather, and Norris fastened it to the back of his belt where it would be out of the way. Steel would play merry hell with his casting, he was certain, but this felt like the right thing to do.

“I also swear, Ethereal Pandion Clytemnestra, by my wand and steel that I will not hold you or bind you by your true name, save to assist us in finding and stopping the people or creatures responsible for sabotaging our airships.” He held the handle of the dagger in his left hand, laid the wand along the blade, and squeezed gently. The dagger was also razor sharp, and Norris felt the warm blood flow – creating his own blood oath. A warmth suffused him as his blood met the wand, thrilling him and he felt the thrum of Mr. Bennett’s oath coursing through him, magnified a hundred times. He took a deep, shuddering breath, as the magic flowed through him, his nerves electric with power, and after an almost unbearable moment, the power slowly subsided. He wiped the blade on his dark pants, and sheathed the dagger, then repaired the cut with a tap of his wand, panting the whole time. Oddly enough, the iron didn’t interfere after all.

Lucius was looking at him, grinning, but there was something else there besides the small man’s usual sardonic nature that Norris couldn’t quite place. “Well done, Tilney. Oh, well done indeed.”

They turned to the Fae, and Norris spoke. “Well, Pandella? What is it? Who is sabotaging our airships?”

The elf maid had a curious expression on her face – as though she’d given herself up to the worst possible excesses of her own imagination, and been given instead a clemency she hadn’t expected. She shook herself, and spoke. “Two months ago, we felt the weft of the Fae realm twisted. When we investigated, we found that a human sorcerer had… changed… some of the Fae. Where they had been simple brownies, they became something new… something fascinated by your human machines, and your aircraft in particular. Mischievous, as brownies can be. We call them Grimlins.”

Lucius’s face grew pale. “This is a violation of treaties long held sacred between our peoples.”

Norris glanced back and forth between Lucius and Pandella. “Evil brownies? We have to catch evil brownies?” He shook his head. “I am doomed.”

“Not just Evil Brow… er… Grimlin’s, m’boy. We’ve got to catch the man responsible for twisting them in the first place.” Lucius’s eyes grew cold and unforgiving. “And when we do, he’ll answer to me.”

#

Late that evening, after some preparations and a bit of bullying of the poor inspector, Norris, Lucius and Pandella had secreted themselves in a tiny dispatcher’s office overlooking the hangar. The lights were out, but Pandella and Lucius didn’t seem handicapped by the darkness.

As Tilney looked down at the dark floor, he wondered how Lucius could see so clearly. It was obvious that Pandella, as an elf, would see quite well no matter the lighting.

“Ah, now… there we are.” Lucius murmured under his breath. “You were right – they’ve been twisted, but they are still brownies at heart.”

Tilney peered down at the bowl of milk and honey he’d left near the airship. The bowl was undisturbed. He peered closer, and thought perhaps he’d seen a bit of furtive movement, but it could have been anything. “What are you talking about?”

Lucius glanced over, then did a double-take and tut-tutted. “Come now, Tilney – what on earth are they teaching at the academy these days? You haven’t prepared a shifting for your eyes.” He nodded at Pandella. “Would you mind? You’ll be faster and your skills will be less likely to be noticed.”

Pandella gave a meek nod at Lucius, then one at Tilney, and instantly Tilney could see everything as though it was noon. The lack of shadows was slightly disconcerting, though. He glanced down at the floor of the hangar – his bowl of milk and honey was still undisturbed. But off to the right, near the tail of the Resolute, a thick mass of small figures was huddled around something. The small creatures resembled little men in shape. They had two arms and legs, but their skin was dark – reminding Norris of shadows, and their heads were too large for their scrawny bodies.  Their hands were slightly larger than normal, and ended in delicate claw-tipped fingers. They were gathered near a second bowl of milk and honey that Lucius had placed, and occasionally one of the grimlins would dash off and grab a sip, but almost immediately he would return to the huddled mass gathered around something that was obscured by the press of little bodies.

“What is that they’ve got there?”

“While you were gathering the foodstuffs, I made my way to the jewelers’ district and obtained a pair of pocket watches.”

Tilney looked back down at the huddled mass. There was no way to see the watch itself in that crowd, but it made sense. “You said a pair of pocket watches? But there’s only one group?”

“Ah, yes. The other is near the tail of the Victorious – there.” Lucius nodded, and Tilney could just make out the small pocket watch. Occasionally a grimlin would step towards the other watch, but the combined pull of the pocket watch and the milk and honey was too great. They’d make it about five or six steps away, and turn back for a sip of the milk, then immediately return to gather around the pocket watch. Occasionally, a grimlin would make the same run for the other bowl, but again would only make it a few steps.

“Well, there they are. Now what?” Tilney asked. “Can we… un-twist them? Straighten them out to regular brownies again?”

Pandella nodded. “Perhaps. If I am to make the attempt, I should do so now, before they run out of honey-milk. Or break your pocket watches.”

Lucius held up a hand. “Wait. They’ll be fine for a few moments. And I’ve a feeling that whomever did this will be around to monitor their activities before long.”

They waited tense minutes. The honey-milk in the bowl grew lower and lower. Tilney could hear the cackling calls of the grimlins to each other. However, after another twenty minutes or so, another figure entered the hangar from opposite them. This figure was wrapped in a dark cloak. Lucius stood, bringing his wand out. “My dear Pandella, if you’ll give Tilney and I a few moments, you can follow us down and attempt to help your fellow Fae. Meanwhile, Tilney, I believe we may have found our saboteur.”

They moved silently down the stairs. “He’s halfway across the hangar, sir.” Norris whispered. “If he sees us coming, we’ll never catch him.”

“First, Tilney, unless he’s an idiot, he’ll know someone left out brownie bait. And the addition of the pocket watch will indicate that someone has explained to us the nature of the change he’s wrought. So he’ll naturally be on his guard. But he won’t see us coming. In a moment, he won’t be seeing much of anything.” He held out a hand and stopped the large cadet before they could step off the stairs and into plain view. “Now, close your eyes, and get ready to sprint.” Lucius held up his wand. “On three. One… Two…”

Norris squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with the palms of his hands. “Three.” Even through his palms, he could see a bright flash of light. A small sound tinkled in the darkness, and Norris heard Lucius sprint. He immediately opened his eyes and followed. The man in the cloak and hood was on the ground, rolling around and moaning – fingers digging into his eyes in what Norris imagined was something akin to extreme agony. In a moment, they stood over the figure, Lucius pointing his wand down at him. Norris reached down and began searching the stranger – procuring a carefully decorated wand from the man’s sleeve. He felt a strange slickness to the material, and realized it was bone. Of what, he had a sickening suspicion.

The grimlins had scattered when they’d emerged, but Norris saw furtive movement in the cabin of the nearest airship. And then he heard the singing. Few men have heard the songs the Fae sing to each other in the spring and lived to tell the tale. And Norris was never sure if this was one of those songs, but it reached out to him and soothed him. He found himself longing for peace, for home, for a particular kind of order – if such a thing could be ever associated with the wild, chaotic Fae. The song spoke of nature, of the place of each individual in the greater whole, of the fit between sun and earth and sky and rain and made everything all right.

Tilney saw the grimlins turning to hear, and as they did, their skin shifted – changing from the shadowy black he’d seen to a more nutty brown. It was the color of good wood. Their eyes, which had been a malevolent red before, turned green as leaves. They sighed, hearing Pandella’s song, and one by one, they surrounded her and knelt – listening.

“Eyes forward, Tilney. You’re in no need of untwisting.” Lucius’ amused tone brought him back to himself, blushing furiously.

“Sir, I…” and then he saw the second hooded and cloaked figure at the other end of the hangar raising a wand. “GET DOWN!” he bellowed, and tackled Lucius just in time to feel a rush of heat and light pass over them. They’d dove out of the way of the fireball just in time.

He sprang to his feet, and ran for the figure which had turned to flee. At first, the distance seemed too great, but Tilney was running fast – faster than he’d ever imagined possible. He felt the thrum in his guts again – the power rising in his belly.

He dove out the door, barely missing being toasted by another fireball from the fleeing shadowy figure. “HALT, YOU!” Norris cried, and he brought up his own wand. The shadowy figure dove behind a building and fired again – a crimson bolt that Norris batted away with his wand as he sprinted toward the saboteur’s partner. He saw her glance around the corner, and loosed a lightning bolt that lit up that corner of the metal hangar and sent the figure sprawling with a high pitched shriek. He saw its wand go flying, flashing ivory in the moonlight.

Norris circled around the woman while she tried to drag her frozen legs to where her wand had gone tumbling when she fell. He raised the wand and held it leveled at those eyes – the same slick feeling of carved bone in this wand. “How many more are you?” The figure turned, and Norris’s eyes widened. The girl glared up at him with dark hair and piercing gray eyes. She was plain, with a wide nose and small lips, but Tilney supposed that those eyes could see through a man’s soul.

The woman shook her head, and Lucius soon joined him. “Well, we’ve had a bit of a merry chase. No telling who these two are. And no matter who they say they are, the truth is liable to be quite different, isn’t it, my dear?” Lucius knelt before the woman, holding her chin in his hand as he stared her down. “Rather a good evening’s work. Wouldn’t you say so, Cadet?”

Norris nodded, and handed Lucius the bone wand. “Like the other, sir.”

Lucius took it gingerly between his fingertips as though it were somehow soiled, and nodded at Norris with a satisfied smile. Moments later, some rather large guards came and took the saboteurs away. Lucius kept both wands, comparing them to each other as they returned to the hangar. Pandella met them outside the door. “The brownies are returning to the wild, as it should be.” Something in her expression made Tilney’s eyebrows furl. She was glancing at them in furtive bursts. Lucius considered her for a moment, silent.

Then Tilney blinked and spoke in a whisper. “Ethereal Pandion Clytemnestra, you have fulfilled your oath, and now I fulfill mine. I release you of any bond, real or imagined, that you owe to me.”

Afterwards, he could never say why he did what came next, but it felt so right that he didn’t question the urge to pull the dagger from its sheath at his back. Norris touched his head, his lips, and his heart with the flat of the blade. Once again, he felt the surge of power coursing through him, and he knew that he had done something momentous and powerful, though the nature of it was still a mystery to him.

Lucius laughed aloud. “Again, Mr. Tilney. Well done.” He then produced his gladius and spoke. “Ethereal Pandion Clytemnestra, you have fulfilled your oath, and I release you of any bond, real or imagined, that you owe to me.” He raised the hilt to his head, his lips, and his heart. “So help me God.”

“So help me God”, repeated Tilney.

A sudden smile of joy crossed the elf-maids features. “Oh, thank you. I know you had sworn, but some men can be… some men are…”

“Some men are idiots who would bring upon themselves the wrath of the Fae.” Norris said. “And I hope I’m never one of them.”

Lucius chuckled. “Please convey my regards to Oberon and Titania, m’lady. Will you require any assistance with returning your charges to the wild?”

Pandella paused, and a curious look crossed her face. But she bowed low and nodded at Lucius. “No, thank you. I will convey your respects to my parents, friend.” She looked back at Tilney. “And I will bring them word of your new apprentice, whom I also name friend.”

Tilney’s mouth gaped. “Apprentice… but I’m *oof*.” Lucius had elbowed him in the stomach, and he bowed. “Thank you…” he croaked. Lucius was not a large man, but he was a surprisingly strong one.

Pandella turned and ran for the wall at the far side of the landing field. She hurdled it easily, and was gone. Lucius and Tilney stood silent for a long moment, staring at the place where she’d gone.

“Well, m’boy, we’ve got a pair of saboteurs to question, and a military tribunal waiting for you back in London.” Tilney blinked. Three days – they had one day left to get the information they needed and return to face the counsel.

They turned together and strode back toward the blockhouse where the saboteurs waited.

#

Two days later, in London, they were met at the front door of the Ministry by a pair of red-coated guards, and immediately escorted to the tribunal’s chamber. As they walked, Lucius hissed under his breath “Keep your mouth shut, Tilney. Do not speak of our discovery. Do you understand?”

Norris’s heart sank. They’d just gone through all of this to clear his name… hadn’t they? “Sir? But, I…?”

“Trust me, Tilney. It’ll be for the best. This is not the time to start making claims of Russian saboteurs, odd magics, or for Heaven’s sake to make any mention of the Fae. Oh, and give me your wand.” Norris hesitated for only a moment, then reached into his sleeve and produced the wand.

Lucius stopped at the door of the tribunal and faced the large cadet. “You could have run at any time, you know. You had every opportunity. In fact, I half expected it after you’d gotten your wand and I left you in your rooms in Dover. Like my wife, I wanted to give you the opportunity to… reveal yourself more fully. You’ve proven to be a good man in a tight spot, and more than a deft hand, a natural at some magic that instructors at the Academy would never even believe possible. Oh, speaking of which, you’d probably better hand over your dagger as well.”

Norris was encouraged by Lucius’s words, but somehow he was more reluctant to surrender the dagger than he had been to surrender his wand.

Lucius nodded at the dagger. “Being a blacksmith’s son has certain advantages, it seems.” He pulled the dagger from its sheath by half an inch, causing the guards to tense, but he made no other move, peering at the metal of the blade. What he saw must have satisfied him, for he nodded and replaced the knife in its sheath, then reached up and patted Norris on the shoulder.

“This will be brief, and I’ll be right here.”

Twenty excruciating minutes later, Norris Tilney stood at attention in the inquiry chamber, and mostly he wanted nothing more than to exit the room and close the door behind him so he could collapse in a heap. He’d taken Lucius’ advice, and kept his mouth shut. No wild stories. No dragon-riding pirates. Not even a protestation of innocence.

“Have you nothing to say in your defense, sir?” Admiral Jellicoe had demanded.

“Sir, I’ve made my statement.” Norris replied.

The Admiral’s mouth puckered. “No retraction or adjustment to your tale?”

“None, sir.” Norris remained at attention.

“Very well.” Admiral Jellicoe picked up a gavel, and looked down the row of the tribunal on either side. “Is there any need to change our decision of this morning?” There was no reply. “Cadet Magus 1st Class Norris Tilney, even if we take your story as gospel truth, we must find you guilty of deserting your ship and your post in the face of an enemy attack.” Norris felt his stomach drop into his ankles. “Normally, the penalty would be death by hanging. However,” at this, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “there has been some additional testimony that seems to indicate that you were acting under the orders of your superior to defend and escort the Sultan of Istanbul’s gift to His Majesty the King.”

Admiral Jellicoe glanced back down the line of naval judges on either side again. “Your… escape… from the Tower of London, reports of a wild adventure in the Dover yards… This entire affair is most irregular. Most irregular indeed. And irregularity is a danger to the discipline that is necessary in any country’s fighting force.”

“Therefore, it is the decision of this council to discharge you as unfit for service in the Naval Air Corps or any other uniformed service of the Empire. You shall receive no pension, nor any rank worthy of note prior to your discharge.” Norris felt as though he’d been stricken, and the room spun for a moment. “Where is your wand?” Admiral Jellicoe extended a hand.

“Ah, I don’t have it, sir.”

Admiral Jellicoe’s eyes narrowed, and there was some murmuring among the other tribunal members. “Where is said wand, Mr. Tilney?”

“Ah, Lucius Bennett is holding it, sir. I imagine he’d be the one to surrender it.”

Admiral Jellicoe’s pucker grew distinctly stronger. “Very well,” he said, but then his expression softened. “I should add that for your service to crown and country in protecting the gift of the Sultan, and other services rendered on which we have not been fully briefed but seem to have been above and beyond the service of a Cadet Magus of any class, we hereby declare that your duty to serve your country as payment for your Academy education has been rendered in full.”

A man stepped forward and removed the insignias from Tilney’s jacket, but he did not rip them off. He used a little knife to cut the stitching and removed them so skillfully that only a very close inspection would ever indicate that they had been there.

When he was done, Admiral Jellicoe nodded. “Good day to you, Mr. Tilney, and good luck. I hope I’m not being insulting when I say that I hope never to see you here before me again.” Admiral Jellicoe banged the gavel down. “Dismissed.”

When he stepped out of the room, Lucius was waiting for him. He smiled a wan smile at Norris. “So, what’s the damage? I take it you’ll not be hung?”

“I’ve been expelled from the service, sir. Deemed unfit to serve.”

Lucius nodded and began walking back down the corridor. “I expected as much.” He had walked almost to the end of the hall when he realized that Norris hadn’t followed. “I say, man, do keep up.” Norris’s feet dragged on the plush carpet, but he followed the smaller man. “It’s just as well. You’re not really Air Corps service material – the last few days have been proof enough of that.” He was whistling to himself a merry little drinking tune.

Norris felt the ashes of his career blowing away. No adventure to far-off America or Calay for him. “Sir?”

“You’re too much of a lightning rod, Norris, my boy. You’ve a disturbing knack for being in the right place at exactly the wrong time. And that’s not the kind of person you want in a fighting unit.” He chuckled to himself, and handed Norris his wand back. “I imagine they asked for this?”

Norris nodded. “Yes, sir. I told them you had it, and they were most unhappy about it.”

“Well, they can get stuffed. You’ve too much talent for them to waste it by sending you to a penal colony to rot, and a natural nose for trouble that I’ve seen on only one other person.”

“Sir?” Norris didn’t dare ask the question he felt he knew the answer to, for fear that he’d be laughed at for his presumption.

“Just as well. This makes it much easier than signing transfer papers, leaving one of those nastily official trails.”

“Sir?”

“Here, you’ll be needing this also.” He extended the dagger back toward Norris, hilt first.

“Sir? I mean, yes?”

Lucius looked back up at the young man, and nodded, smiling. “Yes, yes indeed.”

They entered Lucius Bennet’s office, and the smell of freshly brewed tea greeted them. As did a familiar voice “Well, Lucius, I had expected more of a homecoming than an empty office but I… ah. Hello, Tilney.”

Norris Tilney turned and saw, sitting there on one of the low couches, holding a cup of tea and dressed impeccably in blue, Mrs. Dorothy Bennett.

“Ah, darling. You’re home at last.” To Norris, he nodded. “Remember when I said there was only one other person in the world that had your nose for being in the right place at the wrong time?” He shuddered. “I’m tempting fate just by having the two of you sitting in my office.”

Mrs. Bennett’s icy glare met Lucius’ relentlessly cheery smile for a moment, but when he reached for her, they embraced like newlyweds. Norris blushed.

“Ah, yes. Well.”

“Oh, sit down, Tilney,” Mrs. Bennett sighed. “Unless I miss my guess, you’re about to be offered a position.” Norris nodded, and the three of them sat around the low table for tea, and what promised to be a very interesting chat.

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