“Would Your Majesty like to examine my person himself, to see that I have no weapons?”
She ran his hand across her breasts, and then down her belly and between her legs. “Please inspect as carefully as you would like,” she whispered into his ear, and closed her lips over his earlobe. He began to tremble.
“If you’re not an assassin, you must be a spy,” he said, pulling his head away. “You are from that navy of so-called Pilgrims that are wintering in Zara, aren’t you?”
“I do not know what you speak of, Your Majesty,” she said, and squeezed his hand between her thighs. He made a confused moaning sound but tried to pull his hand away.
“You’re from Montferrat, aren’t you?”
“I have never heard of Montferrat, Your Majesty,” she whispered, and again closed her lips upon his earlobe. Then she licked the back of his ear.
A moment later he was naked atop her, bucking away, and a few moments after that, with a loud sob of relief, he finished and lay panting on top of her.
Immediately the door to the chamber pushed open, and Empress Euphrosyne stormed in with two large Varangian Guards behind her. The Emperor did not bother to raise his head.
“Thank you,” said Euphrosyne briskly. “Alexios, get off of her, we’re sending her home.”
Without further acknowledging Chira, the Emperor rolled over on the bed and lay staring up at the gold-tiled ceiling with a morose expression. The Empress picked up Basina’s blue gown and Chira held her hand out for it. “I don’t think so,” Euphrosyne said with a laugh, and tossed it into a corner. “Alexios, I’m giving her your nightshirt to wear.”
The Emperor was already asleep.
Euphrosyne picked up the garment and tossed it to Chira. “Put that on quickly, Jewess. These men are taking you back to Pera.”
This was convenient enough, as the second part of Chira’s task was to get across the Golden Horn to Pera, to leave the kalonji seeds with another witch (KCW from previous Strands, but still a stranger in this one) in the Jewish section of the city. Getting an armed imperial escort was not how she had done it in previous Strands, but this would take less effort on her part.
One of the guards offered her a woolen cloak and she wrapped it round her shoulders. She allowed them to take her down various flights of stairs and across yards and gardens and halls and down corridors, until she was once again disoriented. Eventually the smell of briny water began to waft past her nostrils, so she was not surprised when they came to an enormous wooden gate that opened onto a street at the edge of the water. There was a boat with two oarsmen who wordlessly rowed them across the Golden Horn—the deep protected harbor, less than two bowshots wide, that led to the hilly northern suburb of Pera, in the shadow of Galata Tower.
Upon landing at the foot of the steep hill (not an official dock, although there were several in either direction), the oarsmen secured the boat, and the two guards got out and then hoisted her directly to the shore. Throughout this she had maintained her firm hold on the kalonji-seed bag and now was mindful not to let the harbor water touch it.
“Where’s your home?” asked one of the guards, with the clumsy, angry-sounding accent of the Britons who made up such a large percentage of the Varangian force.
Suppressing a mischievous urge to address him in modern English, she responded in Greek. “It is directly behind the synagogue,” she said. “My father is Avraham ben Moises. I will show you.”
The three of them marched up the steep hill along the street, which was not very broad but paved with stones and well maintained. About halfway up was the synagogue, a large building with a fenced garden. Chira directed them to the rows of neat wooden homes behind this, all dark as it was now about midnight. In the middle row of houses, set on leveled-off stone foundations, Chira pointed to one house in particular.
One of the guards took her by the shoulder and the other pounded on the door.
After a confused moment, there were voices within both this house and the surrounding homes, and candlelight appeared in windows. Eventually the door opened and a man barely old enough to be Chira’s father opened the door. He sported a long beard, longish hair covered by a felt cap, and dark robes. A woman, obviously his wife, stood behind him, and behind her were the shadowy forms of several children ranging in age from approximately seven to full-grown.
“What do you want?” asked the man in Greek, fearful, staring up at the Varangian Guard.
“We’ve brought your daughter back,” said the guard, sounding bored.
“Our what?” the man said, amazed.
“Your daughter,” repeated the guard, in a warning voice.
“All of our daughters are here with us already,” the man said, looking alarmed and confused.
The guard took a step forward to tower over him in the doorway. “To disown your daughter because she has been with the Emperor is to disown the Emperor himself,” he said warningly. “Either you receive her into your home or I will bring you back to answer to His Majesty for the insult directly.”
Looking mystified, and a bit spooked, the man stepped back into the house and somewhat robotically held his arm out in a gesture of welcome. The other guard pushed Chira through the doorway.
“Abba,” said Chira in a happy voice, throwing her arms around him. And then turning to his equally mystified wife, “Eema!” The woman very woodenly put her arms around her.
Then Rachel, the oldest of their daughters (late teens?), and Chira’s connection, gasped as if remembering or realizing something, and said, “Oh, my dearest sister, I’m so glad to see you safely home!” She threw her arms around Chira with a bear hug. To her younger siblings, she said emphatically, “Is it not wonderful to have our sister home again?”
They gave her strange looks.
“Pretend you know her, and welcome her home,” Rachel whispered fiercely in Hebrew.
The children immediately surrounded Chira and hugged her with feigned enthusiasm.
“The Emperor thanks you,” said the senior guard to the father. “But the Empress requests that you keep your daughters closer to home from now on.”
“Yes, of course, sir,” stammered the father.
The other guard added, “I’d marry this one off as soon as possible. If nobody in Pera wants her, I’ve got some connections in town who would be happy to take her off your hands. Get a great price with those tits.”
“I . . . I’ll take that into consideration, thank you,” said the father.
This man pulled back his helmet to give Avraham a clear view of his face. “Name’s Bruno. Bruno of Hamlin,” he said agreeably. “You can ask for me via the imperial kitchens, the head cook’s a kinsman through marriage.” He winked at Chira and then turned his attention back to the father. “I’ll take fifteen percent commission. Think about it.”
The guards left.
As soon as the door was closed, the younger children pulled away from her and scurried behind their mother, as Chira turned to face the family. Rachel looked delighted, but the father and mother were frowning unhappily and the younger children took their cues from this.
“Thank you,” said Chira in Hebrew, in her most winsome smile. “I apologize profusely for the alarm and confusion I’ve just caused you. Please allow me to explain the peculiar circumstances of our meeting.”
She then revealed herself as working with a witch network. She shared as much as she safely could, and requested their permission to leave the kalonji seeds with them until her associate came to collect them, which she anticipated would be within a day or two. Persuasive narrative is one of her specialties; due to her innate charisma and agreeable demeanor, by the time she’d finished, the entire household had relaxed and adopted a more welcoming air. The family (as we knew from previous Strands) has a commitment to protecting fellow witches, and agreed readily to assist her. In fact, the daughter Rachel pressed her for more information about the witch network she was working with, and expressed a desire to go adventuring with Chir
a in other times and places, despite Moises’s quiet disapproval.
“When my associate Felix comes to collect the bag, you may speak more with him about it,” Chira suggested. “In the meantime, please be kind enough to send me back to my own home.”
“I shall do that,” said the mother.
“Oh, eema, please let me try,” said Rachel. “I would love to know I can help such interesting people to have such marvelous adventures out in the world.”
The mother was about to agree but Moises interrupted. “Your mother will do it,” he said. “You are too eager.”
Chira smiled at Rachel. “I was like you at your age,” she said. “Except I did not have the powers you have. You will certainly be a remarkable force for good in the world if you make your mind up to be so.” Rachel looked rapturous.
“You are welcome to invade our home but not our daughter’s mind,” said Moises curtly. “Sarah, send this woman back where she came from, before I decide to follow Bruno’s advice and sell her off.”
At 05:10 the morning after her departure, Chira was Homed to ODEC #2 uninjured.
Post by Dr. Roger Blevins to Dr. Melisande Stokes
on private ODIN channel
DAY 627 (MID-APRIL, YEAR 2)
Have reviewed your After Action Reports on Chira Yasin’s series of DEDEs in the Blachernae Palace. All are too long, editorialized, and frankly tawdry. Revise to reflect the professional standards of DODO, and see to it all future reports remain within department guidelines (brief, containing salient facts only).
Allowing a chatty tone, personal timbre, etc. to seep into your reports is unprofessional, Dr. Stokes. As such it is, by the letter of DODO policy, grounds for being placed on a Performance Enhancement Plan, which I need not remind you may culminate in demotion or dismissal.
It might behoove you to review the transcripts of the recent congressional hearings during which we were raked over the coals by various Red State senators for even suggesting that sexual activity might be involved in diachronic operations. In the future, any DOer actions of this nature are to be downplayed to the greatest extent possible that is consistent with accurate record-keeping. This is not a Nora Roberts novel.
—RB
AFTER ACTION REPORT
DEBRIEFER: Dr. Melisande Stokes
DOER: Felix Dorn
THEATER: Constantinople/Late Medieval Europe
OPERATION: Antwerp witch recruitment
DEDE: Retrieve and carry viable kalonji seeds across Europe for sowing
DTAP: Pera, Constantinople, September 1202; Peerdsbos Forest (Antwerp), Belgium, November 1202
STRAND: First (out of a projected three) repetition of this DEDE
Erszebet Sent DOer Felix Dorn from ODEC #2 at 08:10 of Day 627. DOer landed safely in Pera, retrieved kalonji seeds without incident, traveled for two months by foot, river, and stolen horse from Constantinople to Belgium. Many adventures. Did not die. Arrived in Peerdsbos Forest, sowed kalonji seeds, was Homed by Goedele, our KCW of that DTAP.
Note: Witch Rachel in Pera volunteered for diachronic engagement but father disapproved.
Dutifully submitted,
Dr. Melisande “Reads Less Nora Roberts Than Dr. Blevins Does” Stokes
INTERNAL MEMO
From: Dr. Roger Blevins
To: General Octavian Frink
Re: Melisande Stokes
Day 688, 14:12
General Frink—
[REDACTED]
…
INTERNAL MEMO
From: LTC Tristan Lyons
To: General Octavian Frink
Re: Dr. Blevins’s recent statements re: Melisande Stokes
Day 688, 15:02
Dear General Frink:
[REDACTED]
…
INTERNAL MEMO
From: Dr. Roger Blevins
To: General Octavian Frink
Re: LTC Lyons’s response to my (somehow leaked) memo re: Dr. Stokes
Day 688, 15:39
Okie—
[REDACTED]
…
INTERNAL MEMO/EMAIL
From: General Octavian Frink
To: Dr. Roger Blevins and Lieutenant Colonel Tristan Lyons
Re: Leaked memos, etc.
Day 689, 10:19
[REDACTED]
. . . Coming from an academic background, Dr. Blevins, you should know better than to consign anything to writing. I will have to redact most of this correspondence not due to security concerns but from sheer embarrassment.
So you will let it rest there, gentlemen.
General O. K. Frink
Post by Felix Dorn
on “Recreation” ODIN channel
DAY 617
As some of you have noticed, I am not much of a talker, but I just wanted to mention that if anyone wants to join a barefoot running group, meet me at 0430 tomorrow at the Harvard Bridge, on the Cambridge side.
Reply from LTC Tristan Lyons, Day 619:
Well, everyone, maybe this isn’t much of a surprise, but response has been muted to Felix’s “dawn barefoot running” group. Heavy spring rains, darkness, and muddy conditions have been cited as an excuse. I just wanted to remind everyone that when you are Sent, you arrive naked—which means barefoot. Your feet are probably larger than average for the DTAP, so stealing shoes isn’t as easy as people make it sound. And we do prefer nighttime arrivals because there’s less chance of being noticed. Participation in Felix’s dawn barefoot running group is a breeze by comparison, and will help you develop skills, grow calluses, and build up a tolerance to pain that will serve you well when sprinting away from an unsecured DTAP (or, worse yet, getting clear of a possible Diachronic Shear event). Cardio: it’s not just for knights!
DODO MEMORANDUM
CRITICAL UPGRADE TO JOB TITLES
BY MACY STOLL, MBA
POSTED Day 629
As those of you in management positions are already aware, it is essential that we move over to ISO 9000 compliant job titles for all current and future DODO staff. It is beyond the scope of this memo to enumerate all of the benefits that will accrue to DODO (and, by extension, the taxpayers) as a result of organization-wide ISO 9000 compliance, but those of you who are curious can find plenty of information about it on the non-classified Internet.
Making this especially urgent is that we are getting pushback from concerned parties in the Trapezoid about having a staff member whose job title is “witch.” The word simply looks bad when it shows up in a spreadsheet or official report. Moreover, since it is gender-specific, it is a violation of our Diversity Policy (or at least it will be when that policy is written!).
It’s time to nip this in the bud, since it will only become that much worse when/if we recruit more staff to perform the same function.
After lengthy consultations with Dr. Oda and others, we have settled on a new job title, which has been fast-tracked through the Policy on Official Jargon and Acronym Coinage. That title is . . . (drum roll) . . . MUON, for Multiple-Universe Operations Navigator. We believe that this acronym encapsulates the essential functions and duties of this all-important role without any of the backward and sexist connotations that have raised hackles within the Trapezoid.
Later on we may establish additional gradations such as Junior MUON, Senior MUON, etc. but for now this is unnecessary as we only have one of them on payroll.
This title applies only to paid staff members living in our timeline. Terms such as KCW may still be employed when referring to individuals in past or alternate timelines.
Exchange of posts by DODO staff on
“Recruiting” ODIN channel
Post from LTC Tristan Lyons, Day 630:
I’ve been reading Stokes’s After Action Reports on Chira’s Blachernae Palace DEDE, and I want to start a conversation about Varangian Guards. For those of you who might not be up to speed on context, these are fighting men from Scandinavian or other Northern European countries who were recruited to serve as palace guard
s and elite troops by the Byzantine Empire. I had read of them in history books, so I knew of their existence, but reading these After Action Reports really drives home how pervasive their presence was in Constantinople circa 1200. Best of all, they tend to show up in important places like the Imperial Palace and key fortifications like the Galata Tower, city gates, etc.
Why is this of interest to DODO? Well, it’s no secret that we are having difficulty recruiting DOers capable of blending in in 1200 Constantinople. The required combination of physical appearance, cultural literacy, and language fluency needed to “pass” in that DTAP is difficult to pull off—occasional miracle recruits like Chira notwithstanding.
The ubiquitous presence of Varangian Guards suggests a different strategy, at least for male DOers: don’t worry about trying to pass as a native Byzantine. Instead, hide in plain sight. We can recruit DOers who can pass for Northern Europeans, then Send them back and look for ways to infiltrate them into Varangian Guard units. Their lack of fluency in the Greek language, ignorance of contemporary customs and etiquette, etc. then becomes a natural fit with their cover story.
This strategy presents two main challenges that I can think of:
1. We don’t know much about how the Varangian Guards were actually recruited. If we’re lucky, there’s a sort of labor market in this DTAP, such that big, healthy-looking Northern European males who show up in town with no past history or connections can get recruited into these units without going through the Byzantine equivalent of a background check. Now that Chira is finished with the kalonji-seed DEDEs and has established some familiarity with Constantinople, maybe we can Send her on some scouting missions to learn more about how this works.
The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O.: A Novel Page 39