The documents Henry Barrons brought in that afternoon were nothing special really.

 

Communiques from German ambasadors in Turkey, discussing the state of affairs in the region. Tansy barely had to concentrate to read them, the dull words drifting across the pages, discussing crops, political manueverings, complaints. Boring until one sentence caught her eye. It was the awkward sentence structure that made it stand out.

 

Erklären Sie den Reitern, daß es etwas in der Luft rüber in Griechenland gibt. Ein Besuch ist im Auftrag, zu sehen wenn die Zeit gekommen ist.

 

Reitern, not Kavallerie. Kavallerie would be cavalry, but the translation for Reitern was not men of the horse, but Horsemen.

 

Tell the Horsemen that there is something in the air over in Greece. A visit is in order, to see if the time has come.

 

Something in the air. That boded ill, if it was nothing more than merely political discontent it boded ill, but to refer to it, and 'if the time has come' in the same phrase? This bodes ill indeed.

 

Tansy stares at the line for a long time, and a small frown develops on her forehead twixt her brows. Horsemen... horsemen...

 

"Alfred," she calls gently, addressing the servant in the library. "Could you please get me our copy of Albrect Dürer's Apocalypse? Second shelf from where you stand, big thin brown book... yes, that one. Thank you." She waits until the book thumps onto her table before beginning to page through it. It's only a matter of seconds that she reaches the famous woodcut, and she spends some time staring down at it, tapping her fingers.

 

Finally, with the careful, elegant copperplate that she worked so hard to cultivate, she starts writing out the translation of the papers, scrupulously including everything, even the strange mention. To Great-Uncle Edward though, goes a secondary note, with the line, what she made of the translation and all the possible connotations she can think of, both biblical and civil.

 

This is odd. Too odd to be discarded, especially when the Reich is shaping into such a mystic-loving war machine.

 

"Alfred," she calls again, and hands over the small, neatly inscribed envelope and enough money to send it on its way. "Please see that this gets to Lord Huntingdon at once. I believe you will find him at White's tonight. Tell the runner to wait for an answer, please."

 

Another bit of German crossed her mind as she sat back, closing her eyes and wondering whether she was being too fascinated by what could well be some kind of code: Der Teufel steckt im Detail.

 

The devil hides himself in details.

 

Late that night word comes. Uncle's usual terse hand and manner.

 

'They're right. It's time. Pack bags. Word comes that the first link in this chain shall be found in relation to Troy in the East. We'll need you to be on hand to translate. More in the morning.'

 

Go to Troy? The Troy? The Taruisa of the Hittites, the Τροία of the Greeks? Tansy, halfway asleep, stares muzzily at the note. Then, with a slow movement, she reaches to press the buzzer next to the bed to summon her night-servant. "Amelia, bring my dressing-gown quickly. I have just now received word from Lord Huntingdon that I am to travel with him on a matter of some urgency." With the last flat slipper in place, she makes for the library with her cane, to pick out her books. Homer's Iliad, historical manuals from Heinrich Schliemann and Wilhelm Dörpfeld - "Hm, isn't Carl Blegen excavating there now?" - and assorted other manuals, mostly about the history of the area, the Horsemen and what few small tomes of archaeology and anthropology she has in the library about that area.

 

When the morning arrives, she's had a few more hours sleep on a divan, her trunks are already packed in the car and she's off to meet Great-Uncle Edward at the London airport, dressed in a neat silk suit, with her hat firmly pinned on confined hair and her best cane with her, all polished horn and wood.

 

The early hour meaning while the traffic on the roads was heavier than the driver would have liked, the new terminal at Gatwick at least had adequate space for arriving passengers, including those of Tansy's limited locomotion.

 

At the airport, porters take command of the luggage and one of Edward's retainers is waiting to escort Tansy to the lounge. All dark woods and leather scented with the sickly sweet smell of cigar and pipe smoke, the lounge holds only a smattering of men and one other lady. In a large chair close to the fire is Great-Uncle. His suit shows that despite his aide's best efforts, he insists on wrinkling everything moments after it touches him. A plate with the remains of poached eggs and a rasher of bacon sits on the side table, along with a cup of half drunk tea.

 

He stands as she approaches on the arm of his man and enfolds her roughly in a bearhug. "Tansy! About time you got here, your driver take the scenic route? Nevermind, sit, sit! Joseph?! Get Tansy a plate of food, she's still wasting away I see!" Despite his bluster, the elderly man feels frail in the hug, his arms like fleshy dry sticks. "Our plane's being prepared. We'll stop in Rome to collect a few things and perhaps people, then on to Istanbul. My people are working on train accommodations from there to the dig site at Troy. After that...." He tosses his hands into the air, "We take it a day at a time, dear. Momentous events are about to unfold. Wish this had happened a generation ago, not that I don't want you along, but I'm not the man I was, you know. As it is I hope I'm not a liability." He sits roughly and collects his tea.

 

Tansy fights the urge to bury her face in his neck and squeezes back gently before sitting in the chair with a relieved sigh. "You're not able to kid me, sir. You've never been a liability in your life; if anything, I'll be the one to hold you back." Still, she pats his knee delicately and turns to avail herself of the breakfast tray, eating quickly and decorously.

 

"Actually," she mutters over her own cup of tea fifteen minutes later, "traffic was hideous, but at least we made it." Her eyes glow. "Both Rome and Istanbul? Really? I've always wanted to go there. Oh, this is going to be lovely. And to be on an authentic dig site!" She's exhausted her exuberance though, and settles back with a sigh. "The line did sound a little strange; I don't understand, Great-Uncle. What precisely is going on, and what do you mean by momentous events?"

 

He glances about the room then shrugs, "Simple enough, girl. While the Talismans' manifestations are continuous, their locations are... vague. Once the first is identified though, the rest are discovered as part of a 'mystic journey'. Whole thing is a massive ritual, you understand. Air in the East is always first, then Fire to the South, Water in the West, and then Earth to the North. These are symbolic, you understand. Sometimes the act of the journey manifests the Talisman, othertimes it's already Manifested and you must find the physical object. The danger is, once someone, anyone, has the first item, the rest are like dominos, ready to collapse on their own. Happens to Fire all the time. A well meaning occultist finds Air and Fire falls into a mundane's hands and they go found an empire. Once you have the Talisman of Air, you MUST find the rest, or keep them completely separated. Keep one of the four away from the rest so the Horseman cannot bring about the Apocalypse. Of course the more Elements they DO acquire, the more power the Reich they are backing will have. Air would be bad, Fire disastrous, Water potentially debilitating and the Earth must reject them my dear, MUST. Death must be denied them."

 

He leans back, exhausted from his little oratory. Joseph clears the trays, providing Tansy with a fresh cup of tea. "The airplane will be fueled and checked within an hour sir, milady. Can I get you a copy of the newspaper? Perhaps a warm towel?"

 

Tansy shakes her head at Joseph, marshalling up a kind smile. "No, thank you, but if you could get a selection of papers for the plane I would appreciate it." She waits until he's gone before turning towards her elderly companion. "We'll find them, Great-Uncle, if they mean that much to you." When she reaches over to gently squeeze his hand, she's careful with his thin fingers, but the clasp is warm. "You know I'll do anything for you. Besides, you know how curious I am."

 

She doesn't converse much for the rest of the hour, and she sinks happily into her plane seat when the times comes for boarding, amusing herself by looking at the people around her.

 

The plane is fairly full. A few painfully obvious military types in drab brown overcoats. A few well off businessmen, and coming in toward the end of boarding is a familiar face. Graf von Reichenau. He translates for Viscount Ludlow as well, also working on German ciphers. Tall, blonde, and handsome with bright blue eyes and an athletic build, if the Germans DID look like that, they wouldn't need a war machine.

 

It appears he has the seat across the narrow aisle from Lord Edward, who is seated next to Tansy.

 

.............................................

 

Gerhard found his seat without trouble.  He watched the man who'd preceded him into the plane, an inconspicuous figure in a well-tailored overcoat, go to the front of the plane and look casually back along the aisle before he sat down.  He knew without looking back that another similar figure had entered a little behind him and seated himself at the back of the plane.

 

All very well, he thought, but we spent so much time circling and doubling to shake off possible followers on the way to the airport that we came close to missing the plane.

 

He settled his two pieces of hand luggage -- a briefcase and a long, slender wooden case -- and looked around at his fellow passengers. He nodded without surprise at Lord Edward and his -- was she his niece or his great-niece?  He would have given a great deal to be able to discuss matters with them, but that would of course be impossible in public.

 

Archaeology, translations, and diplomacy in Turkey, Viscount Ludlow had said.  He hoped someone else spoke Turkish.  He wished he had paid more attention to his tutors when they tried to teach him Latin and Greek. 

 

Tansy nods to the gentlemen greeting them, one she's seen a few times in her father's company at the office, if rather dimly through the crowds of flocking secretaries out on the hunt for a handsome Aryan type. She busies herself with preparing the papers for her great-uncle before she leans forward a bit and takes Aristophanes' Lysistrata from her own bag.

 

Then, arranged to her satisfaction, she leans forward slightly and nods again. "Sir, it is, I think you will agree, a most excellent morning for a flight." No title, no name - who knows who might be on this flight, and their purpose. "If you are with us as far as Rome, let me persuade you to borrow one of my companion's newspapers if you have none of your own here.  It will be a flight of some duration, and he has a most diverting selection."

 

Gerhard glances casually at Tansy's book and blinks, but otherwise his expression does not change as he thanks her courteously.  "I did indeed fail to bring any newspapers or books.  I packed in something of a hurry."  With Lord Edward's leave, he selects a newspaper from the neat pile next to Tansy.  "Although I do not expect to find the flight dull.  I enjoy airplane travel, from the taking off to the landing. I have always wondered what it was like to pilot a plane."

 

"A somewhat hair-raising experience, no doubt," Tansy replies rather drily. "Top-filled with buttons and readout dials. I'd be too afraid of immolating myself with the screams of my victims in my ears - passengers, you understand - to properly enjoy the experience." She gives a small smile to excuse herself from the conversation, and spends the time until take-off reading, where she leaves off in favour of holding tightly onto the armrests until they're a safe distance up in the air.

 

Once take-off is imminent, Gerhard moves from his aisle seat to the empty seat at the window, where he shows every sign of enjoying the view as the plane taxis and ascends.  He even seems to have forgotten the newspaper as he presses to the window to see more of what is below.

 

The new DC-3 is quite comfortable and shiny in all the right spots. Take off is smooth and despite rough air near the ground, the flight is almost smooth once you reach your cruising altitude of 19,000 feet. Rather quick compared to rail, it will still take some time to reach Rome and refuel, taking on a few new passengers.

 

The lady buries her nose in her book instead, going through Lysistrata at a quick pace with the odd muffled laugh here and there, flight nervousness forgotten. When the last stifled laugh fades, she turns to Jane Austen's classics instead, which will easily last her the rest of the way to Rome, if need be. She pauses here and there to pass her great-uncle the next paper, but otherwise keeps herself quiet and reserved in her own corner.

 

Gerhard varies his activities, from looking out the window to reading newspapers to an occasional nap.

 

 The landing in Rome is uneventful, if a bit white-knuckled for the passengers unaccustomed to such things. More than half the plane disembarks and the remaining passengers are invited to stretch their legs, though Rome's airstrip is damp at the moment, a light drizzle making everything wet. A few passengers get on, mostly swarthy men, some with colorful accents to their suits. Edward makes no move to leave, though he does stand and stretch.

 

"Halfway there," he mutters, "Though if this is what I think it is, the journey's just begun." He lowers his voice. "Each element of the compass is circumscribed by the element it represents. If this is the element of Air, air travel is almost required. And if so, I almost fear the fire that follows..."

 

Tansy isn't happy about the landing, not at all so. She makes it through by dint of a lot of silent prayer and slow breathing, and when she finally stands to join her great-uncle in stretching, she's visibly jittery. "I fear I will never get used to this sensation of taking off and landing, no matter how much I travel, sir. If we're going to have to do that on a regular basis I shall have to invest in some smelling salts." Her own stretches are quite thorough, perhaps surprisingly so, but quite slow.

 

She sinks back into her seat with a sigh of relief. "I would walk through a thousand leagues of fire, but do not give me stretches of water. Surely there is nothing that presses more upon the mind and reminds us how small we are against Mother Nature?" Another sigh, and she closes her eyes. "Joseph, is there any chance of perhaps obtaining some water here? Now that I think of it, I should wish to drink some, to reassure myself." It's said with a skewed smile.

 

Joseph, ever-suffering manservant to Edward, has already procured glasses of water and has also gone out into the drizzle to collect sandwiches for the three travellers. "Cold fare I' m afraid, but all that is available unless we wish to prolong our travels significantly."

 

The next leg of your trip to Istanbul will be departing in less than an hour.

 

Tansy shakes her head. "No, thank you, Joseph. This will do fine for now." Indeed, she's quite happy to spend the next hour eating, drinking and slowly walking up and down the plane's interior, before it's time for the leg to Istanbul. Hm, perhaps now is a good time to brush up on her Turkish and see how much of it she remembers.

 

Gerhard wakes up from his nap as the plane lands in Rome.  He stands and stretches, his eyes roving curiously over the new arrivals among the passengers.  He takes the opportunity to stretch his legs, despite the damp and unattractive weather.  Although he does purchase a sandwich and some water (mixing it with the contents of a little flask in his pocket), he spends most of the time walking about the airstrip. 

 

The inconspicuous gentlemen in the well-tailored overcoats also seem to feel the need for fresh air.

 

From Rome to Istanbul, the Mediterranean glimmers beneath you, though the sunset colors the water crimson. As it grows darker, the people in the cabin settle down and any conversation spoken over the whine of the rotors is silenced. After long hours, the plane lowers in the dark, your stomach settling upwards.  A bit rough as you hit the concrete, but otherwise safe. Joseph quickly moves to see about the luggage and transportation.

 

What a trip! Tansy's as tired as anything as she gets off the plane, leaning heavily on her cane and head hanging a bit. "Are we going to motor up to the excavation site, Great-Uncle?" she asks quietly. "Please tell me there will be no llamas or camels involved!" It's a small joke, but at least she has energy enough to make it.

 

The relatively ancient Edward has to be roused to leave the plane. His comments, drowsily interspersed with yawns, can be pieced together to say something along the lines of, "Tomorrow morning we'll speak to my local contacts and collect our train tickets to the stop closest to the dig. We'll likely have to stay the night there, then hire a car to take us to the site. We may be fortunate and meet up with diggers or suppliers in town." Joseph has the luggage. The inconspicuous gentlemen take a car directly before and behind the one Joseph is loading with luggage.

 

Actually, Gerhard had been rather hoping for camels, but he does not say so.  He approaches Lord Edward and says politely, "Pardon me, but I am somewhat at a loss as to how to proceed, and I have reason to believe, from our mutual acquaintances, that you might be able to guide me."

 

Tansy is no Lawrence of Arabia, to go about the countryside on camels. She appraises the man as he approaches them, then peeks once to see whether Joseph is managing with the luggage before she returns her attention to the conversation in front of her, both hands now braced on her cane. "My great-uncle is tired, sir, and should not be kept here chatting. May I convince you to accompany us to our hotel and speak there? Perhaps you gentlemen could share a glass of port and cigars whilst talking about mutual acquaintances." She's polite as well, but firm. Off the tarmac and into comfortable surroundings first.

 

Edward nods to both speakers. "Of course, of course. I expect Henry told you as little of the venture as possible, Gerhard. Still and all, good man, my nephew, good man. Level-headed, if a bit stuffy. We'll discuss over a good port and I'll lay out what to expect." He nods to the cars waiting fore and aft. "They'll have accommodations at our hotel, I'm certain Henry saw to it, but the odds of a man of your history being noticed here, and someone doing something about it? Low, very low. Farther we get from Istanbul, the lower it will be." He chuckles weakly and gets into the car.

 

Climbing in next, Tansy moves to sit next to her great-uncle, then peeks out the door at the gentleman. "In exchange for an introduction, sir, would you perhaps care to join us in the car?"

 

"Yes, indeed, and thank you," replies Gerhard.   It takes him only a moment to locate the remainder of his luggage -- quietly watched by one of the inconspicuous gentlemen -- and place it in the car, carefully setting the long wooden case where it will not be crushed.  He climbs into whatever space remains in the car.

 

"He tries hard, Great-Uncle; he just has a lot on his plate." Tansy waits politely for a few moments; then, when no introduction is forthcoming as behooves a gentleman, she clears her throat delicately. "My name is Damara Tansy Barrons. I do believe I've seen you with my father at the office before, sir?" Her lips quirk. "Distantly. I doubt even Moses could have parted that sea of secretaries."

 

Gerhard is absently watching the car ahead of them, but pulls his attention back to Tansy.  "I beg your pardon, my lady," he says.  "I am Gerhard von Reichenau, at your service.  I have done some small work for your father."

 

Tansy lifts one hand. "Ah, I recall hearing that name once or twice. Graf von Reichenau, is it not? You come from a beautiful part of the world, or so I hear." She looks past him out the window, then to her slumbering great-uncle. Then, straight-forwardly, "Who are those men? They're trying awfully hard to fit in. Too hard, really; someone should tell them that they're overplaying their hand."

 

A wry smile touches Gerhard's lips.  "They are guarding me," he says.  "Be glad it is only them.  Your father considered sending a military escort." He pauses and then continues, as if reluctant to sound melodramatic.  "There have been attempts on my life since I left my fatherland.  Apparently there is a -- a price on my head," he says, speaking the idiomatic phrase slightly more carefully than a native speaker might have done.

 

"Möchten Sie Deutsches sprechen?" Tansy asks curiously as she hears the slight hesitation. Her own accent's a little more careful, as she doesn't get a chance to speak the language very often. "Ihre Reichweite auf meiner Sprache ist besser als meine Reichweite auf Ihrem, jedoch."

 

"That is entirely as you prefer," replies Gerhard in German.  "I learned to speak English while working for my country's Foreign Office, but I am not so familiar with the idioms, the 'slang,' " he says, using  the English word.  "But we should speak only English when we are in public, I think."

 

She manages a smile before she promptly switches back to English herself. "As you wish, sir. Besides, I do not think my accent will be a la mode in Berlin." She smoothes out her skirts before her hands clasp, nervous from the small tremor to them. "I take it you will be coming with us to Troy, and beyond. You should know then that I'm not a very physical person."

 

Gerhard nods.  "I believe I will be accompanying you wherever you are going," he says, "but in what capacity I do not know.  I do not speak Turkish, and my knowledge of ancient languages is rudimentary.  And perhaps most important, I do not yet know what your -- or our -- mission is.  Your father only said it involved archaeology and diplomacy in Turkey."

 

"Your uncle said that we would be travelling by train and motor.  So you should not have to climb or walk, at least not very far, and I assume you will not be actually digging at the archaeology site.  Although I would like to try it," he adds with a smile.  "And I admit I was rather hoping for camels.  I have never seen one."

 

"Why, then you should have gone to Arabia!" Tansy is watching the road flash past out the window, and laughing. "I have no doubt you should have looked a very dashing Arab, but perhaps the sun would not have been very kind to you. It is very hard to be dashing with a peeling nose." Dimples flash for the merest second. "I've tried. And... I do believe this is our hotel?" She ducks down a little to see the sign, and gives a happy sign. "The Avicenna? It looks perfectly charming. I do declare, I've never been so happy to see a red carpet in my life!"

 

Gerhard looks out eagerly at the hotel and its environs.  "What a pity it is too late to explore Istanbul tonight," he murmurs.  "Or at least ... perhaps after dinner ... "

 

Tansy gets out of the car with Joseph's help and looks up at the Hotel Avicenna's façade. "The Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the Hippodrome..." She leads her great-uncle into the hotel, walking slowly. "I would so much like to see the Bosphorus too!" There's actually a little pink in her cheeks at the thought, something which should please her family members.

 

"Dinner sounds like an excellent idea, Gerhard. Over the meal I can brief you both on what to expect at the dig, as well as what we may have to deal with if things get out of our control." He nods briefly at the ever-so-conspicuous inconspicuous gentlemen as he enters the hotel. Your rooms are already prepared and Joseph is seeing to the baggage. The hotel manager greets Edward personally and assures you all that dinner will be ready momentarily; your schedule was quite specific and accurate. The meal will be, however, local delicacies.

 

Gerhard has an appetite after his frugal lunch, and wonders what "local delicacies" will entail.  He remembers hearing something about sheep's eyeballs ... but perhaps that was further east ...

 

"I am looking forward to it," he says to Lord Edward, "both the dinner and especially the briefing.  Please pardon me while I freshen up before dinner."

 

He accepts a key from the desk and goes to his room, noticing one of the inconspicuous gentlemen following him up the stairs.

 

Tansy takes longer than the men to freshen up. Isn't that what women do in any case? When she returns, dressed with quiet good taste, she doesn't say much, choosing to let the conversation and explanation flow around her.

 

Gerhard would have liked a bath, but since the manager said dinner would be ready "momentarily," he makes do with a wash and change of clothes.  He is only slightly delayed by the request of the inconspicuous gentleman that he be allowed to enter Gerard's room first.  Gerhard sighs, hands over his key, and waits while the gentleman quickly goes through the room -- balcony, bathroom, closets, and under the bed -- and explains to Gerhard that he and his partner have the room next door to him.

 

He wonders if the two of them will be coming out to the archaeological dig and inspecting his tent at night, then berates himself for ingratitude as he descends the staircase to join the others in the dining room.

 

 In the dining room, a cold salad called "imam bayildi" is served first. It appears, smells, and tastes like eggplant, onion, garlic and tomato.  A rice pilav and bowl of yoghurt follow before the main dish called "borek" by the waiter. The English in the party might think it like a shepherd's pie with layers of pasty, meat, goat cheese and potatoes. Rich, savory, and delicious, the meal makes everyone sleepy. Espresso is offered, along with sweetmeats and a tobacco.

 

"Ahh," says Edward aferwards, a glass of port and a demitasse of espresso before him. "Much better, though I expect I shall sleep on the train tomorrow." He looks about the room at the two plain men with serious faces eating alone at tables near the door and kitchen. "So.... we follow a rumor. A German communique to people known to associates of mine. There are cycles in the world, throughout history even. One of the larger ones involves the four primary elemental powers. Air, Fire, Water, and Earth. Our ... competition calls them by other names, Plague, War, Famine, and Death. Historically they were revered, worshipped and when Christianity rose, assimilated, the four arch-Angels, Raphael, Michael, Gabriel and Uriel. These powers manifest on a cycle that has yet to be predicted, but one thing IS known reliably. Once one is identified, the others will be revealed by signs and portents. These signs will be determined by the forces controlling the first Talisman, but the cycle always holds, clockwise through a circle, through all four elements. My associates expect the first Talisman truly may have been found here, at the site of Troy. If it has, we must collect it and seek out the others. Holding them grants great mystic power, but all four together..."

 

He pauses. "Think of the world as a table. The four Talismans, the four POWERS are the legs. As long as they are separated, the table is stable. Bring them together... the table falls. We must bring them together and use them, to spread their essence back across the world." He sniffs the port. "I expect you have questions. I have few answers, I'm afraid, but what I do know is this. The Horsemen, our opposites, seek to bring the end of everything. I cannot, while I draw breath, allow that."

 

Tansy sticks to the demitasse of espresso instead, and sips at it as her great-uncle launches into her explanation. She puts the cup down with a clink, and asks, "The first question must then be why you have never told me about this before. Am I not your mentee in most things? Was it for my own safe-keeping?" She pauses, then speaks again with a lowered voice, "We are after Air, I know that much now. Plague, and Raphael?" Her lips thin. "Should we ever meet them, I definitely have something to say to Plague."

 

Gerhard has taken full advantage of the "local delicacies," ending with a demitasse of espresso and a sticky but enjoyable sweetmeat.  His face goes from bafflement to surprise and settles into bemused interest as he listens to Lord Edward's explanation. "This is ... not what I expected," he says.  "I am at your service, Lord Edward, but as I said to Lady Damara, I do not know what use I can be to your mission, and I said that when I believed that your mission involved archaeology and diplomacy.  At least I do know something about the latter."

 

"I know very little about occult matters.  There were those of us who dabbled in such research at University, but it was all study.  As far as I know, none of us ever actually ... " He trails off, clearly at a loss for words.

 

"None of you had ever saved the world from something like this?" Tansy asks pretty tartly, and makes short, finicky work of the rest of her espresso. "You will be fine. You're so...." Pretty. Big. Not semi-cripple. "Courageous," she finally chooses. "I am sure you will be fine, Graf. It is not the subject matter that distresses me, but the lack of trust from a person I thought my mentor." Then as an afterthought, "Please. Call me Tansy."

 

Gerhard makes a half-bow from his seat.  "Then, if you please, call me Gerhard.  So, you have done this sort of thing before?  Both of you? You can tell me what to expect?  What is required?  What the personal risks are?"

 

"I am a scholar of languages and history, not of the occult," Tansy explains. "I have no experience with this field myself, I am afraid. However, if you want multi-lingual assistance I will be happy to assist."

 

"The ancient languages ... I was taught Latin and Greek, but I could not say I know them.  Nor do I speak Turkish or Arabic," says Gerhard.  "But that is what I meant.  I assume that we may require ancient languages, but I do not know.  I assume that there will be danger, but of what kind?  Where will we start?  What must we do?"

 

Edward sighs and bows his head to Tansy. "Niece, I had hoped to spare you the stress of this life. I have loved you as my own grand-child, but in truth, this trip is fraught with mental, physical, emotional trauma. These items are likely disastrous in any hands. The last time I know of where the Talisman of Air was acquired, the Spanish Flu pandemic resulted. A mundane man named Alexander acquired a sword imbued with War, and conquered the known world. I know of your weaknesses, dear Tansy, and had hoped to bring you in as a researcher and librarian, eventually."

 

He looks to Gerhard then gestures to Joseph, who brings a leather portfolio over. "Your presence is needed here, Herr Graf, due to your association with this fellow." He opens the folder and shows Gerhard and Tansy a face. A short file on a man named Hans Gruber. "A fellow you knew back in the days of your 'dabbling?' Herr Gruber's family has money, political connections, and I have it on authority he is angling to BE one of the Horsemen. He wants the power it will bring."

 

Tansy sighs as she reaches over to clasp Edward's hand in hers, her grasp light and warm. "I love you too, Great-Uncle. Have you forgotten how stubborn I am? The doctors said I would never walk again and here I am, hobbling along. I'll manage somehow, even if I have to poke them in the eye with my cane. Besides, we have the Graf here to do all the hard work for us." She looks sideways with a smile. "How does that offer sound, Graf? I shall unravel the intricacies of the ancient stories, and in turn you shall deal with all the physical dangers?"

 

She leans a little closer as the portfolio is opened. "You know this man then? He must surely be finding a warm welcome amidst your previous company. Power and mysticism seem to be the rulers there these days, along with a crasser warmongering. Could either of you tell me a little more about his history though, and what kind of man he is?"

 

Gerhard's eyebrows rise at the sight of the portfolio.  "Him?  I remember him from University, but I have not seen nor heard from him since then.  He was indeed one of our circle that studied the occult.  I did not care much for him ... I can easily believe that he would seek power, and not be particular about where or how."

 

"As for the physical dangers, my lady ...er, Tansy ... I will do my best.  I must say I find this all very intriguing."

 

Tansy laughs at that. "It is indeed the beginnings of a great adventure." That leads her to a frown. "I shall have to purchase new journals and chronicle our path. I..." She pauses, blinks, then addresses her relative. "Great-Uncle, if we have these, can we stop the war threatening to happen?"

 

"Stop it, reverse it, change it, make it worse... whoever holds the majority of the Talismans can change the world for a generation, or more depending on the scale and dimension of the alteration." Edward sighs, "That is the key, the majority. Holding one is sufficient to make one a force of nature, but that doesn't provide wisdom or perspective." He sips his port.

 

Tansy turns her face away at that news, staring past the restaurant wall into a measure that might as well be time as distance. When she finally speaks it's softly. " Five, or six, ten people shall be made temporarily wretched because one person, unconsciously perhaps, yet supremely, egotistic and selfish, has never learned to control his disposition and bridle his tongue." Her hands, previously resting on her lap, nervously clasp together. "I shall do whatever I have to. I am neither strong, nor quick, but whatever there is in me to prevent this, I shall excavate it and use it."

 

Grimacing, she looks back at Gerhard. "I wonder whether we will still be so intrigued after months of this thing? It will likely take that long, perhaps longer. Shall we ever see the Hagia Sophia, do you think? There are so many beautiful places in the world. Ludlow, and the Huntingdon Estate. You should see those one day." She stands with difficulty. "I find that I am no longer in the correct mood for sight-seeing tonight. Good night, gentlemen." She crosses to her great-uncle's side to give him a kiss on the cheek, then departs.

 

Lord Edward watches her go then turns to Gerhard. "I suspect sleep would be a wise choice for all of us. Rest and peace may be in short supply in the coming weeks." He finishes his port. "She is tougher than she looks, but in all, still I see the child, racked with illness. Would that I could spare her from the coming storm."

 

Gerhard's eyes also seem distant for a few moments, but he brings himself back to the here and now, and Lord Edward's advice.  "Good night, then," he says.  "I assume you will leave word at the desk for us to be called in the morning.  Don't forget my ... shadows."

 

 

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Continued in 1936-October-Turkey

 

 

 

 

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