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Daryl turned the letter this way and that, as though doing so would educe some further hidden message. It was overwrought and over-dramatic, and an aroma of clove saturated the paper, bringing back... memories.
She sighed.
As though it weren’t typical.
Flicking her gaze to find the impresario still wringing his hands, she folded the letter up and stuck it in an inner pocket of her coat.
“It’s nothing at all to worry about,” she assured him. “He won’t get within throwing distance of the orchestra pit, I’ll see to that.”
Maria stopped pacing, arms crossed. Her mouth remained set in a childish pout.
“Well that’s a relief,” she remarked, turning her gaze to the impresario. “Now that my bodyguard has reassured you on the matter of my safety, can we finally have a discussion about-...”
“Not now, my dear,” he told her, “There is still much to be done for tonight’s show, and so little time!”
He whisked himself out the door, leaving Maria staring after him.
The diva made an impressively high-pitched squeak of in defense of her dignity. Casting about, she found a bottle of fragrance set on the vanity, and hurled it at the closed door.
Daryl stifled a snicker, and cleared her throat. Dragging her boots off the armrest, she straightened up, just in time for the girl to flounce dramatically across her lap, one hand poised delicately over her face.
“Perhaps I should consider letting... what’s his name again?”
Seeking out the letter, she started to pull back Daryl’s coat, only for Daryl to still her hand. “Trust me when I say he’s not worth it.”
She extricated herself with a wry smirk, leaving Maria draped across the couch as she moved for a pour from the decanter kept on the stand beneath the window.
“At least then I would know I’m in the hands of a man who appreciates me. Would that not be worth it?”
Daryl didn’t answer, merely sipped her liquor while watching the distant sky, at this hour of the evening painted in hues of pink and scattered blue clouds.
Maria huffed.
“Well!” Standing, she straightened her dress, and made for the vanity to preen. “Perhaps I ought to pay you to take me away from this wretched place.”
Daryl listened with half a mind as Maria let her imagination run free.
“We could gallivant across the countryside, and perhaps I will find better appreciation in Figaro, or even Doma. Could you see me on the stage in Doma...?” A moment’s thought, and she added, “Tzen has a fine center for the Arts, did you know that?”
But as far as jobs went, this one wasn’t bad.
***
The show went on, most splendidly.
Hidden from sight, Daryl watched the man in the crowd.
She’d spotted him almost immediately. Front and center, and not quite at all the same caliber of the crowd he was sitting amongst.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t paying attention to the opera. Every so often, his gaze drifted across the stage, watching the play of talent. But by the way he moved and where his eyes roved, he was searching and scheming.
Casing the stage, Daryl thought.
The curtain came down between acts, and Daryl’s gaze was drawn to the flurry of activity on the stage as the set was changed around. An aid rushed to Maria’s side to offer her an elaborate handfan, and she took it to fan herself with as she regained her breath.
When the curtain raised again, Setzer was gone from his seat.
“Damn,” Daryl whispered, to no one in particular. She stood from hers, and strode to exit the backstage.
She didn’t have to go far to find him – he was all but waiting in the hall. When he saw her, he grinned brightly with open arms.
Daryl drew her foil.
His arms dropped. But without missing another beat, he drew his.
“Ever the consummate professional these days,” he chided. “Is this truly necessary?”
“You could walk away.”
“And you could give me what I’m after.”
“Not gonna happen.”
He took the first strike, which she deflected with ease, and parried her counter.
Daryl couldn’t but scoff.
She’d taught him to fence.
Evidently, he was still terrible at it.
And it was a feint to begin with. She knew that well enough, but was of a mind to keep him on his toes until he showed his hand.
He ceded ground with all too casual ease, and she forced him back from the stage. As they passed a flight of stairs, Setzer opted to take the high ground, and Daryl let him have it. They reached the upper hall, and she pushed him up another staircase.
Soon enough, she had him backed against the catwalks as the sweetened melody of a love song drifted up from below. He chanced to glance behind him at the fall, a thoughtful little hum in his throat.
“Maria’s staying right where she is,” Daryl told him. “You’re not taking her anywhere. It’s over – surrender.”
“My dear, tell me most honestly,” Setzer replied, skittering backward from a sweeping arc, “Why would I bother with the girl when I have you in my life, hmm?”
Daryl blinked.
Foil still outstretched, she reached into her coat pocket for the letter. Setzer waited patiently as she unfolded it with a flick of her hand, and re-read the missive it contained.
Oh.
Setzer gave her a little bow, only to leap back onto the catwalk as she lunged at him again. Steel met steel, step by step, until, with a daring smirk, Setzer reached into his own jacket.
Without hesitation, Daryl dropped her guard to kick his hand.
The dice went flying, only for gravity to catch them and drag them to the stage, far below. Setzer’s balance gave, and for once in his life he looked uncertain as he teetered over the brink. She made a grab for his hand, but it only served to pull her over the edge with him.
They crashed onto the stage, and the rousing love motif all but screeched to a stunned halt. A murmur blazed across the audience, and the impresario burst out from behind the set.
Setzer staggered to his feet, and offered her a hand. Daryl declined it with a glare, reaching instead for her foil and dragging herself up by her own strength.
Thus spurned, Setzer shrugged dusted his hands off. He glanced at the crowd, and at the sputtering man surrounded by his actors, and the bedroom-at-night set surrounding them. Finally, his gaze fell on Maria, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
With a suave smile, he reached for her hand and bowed deeply as he brought her fingers to his lips. Maria’s free hand fluttered to her chest, a solemn blush coloring her cheeks as she regarded him with a warming fascination.
While he was bent over, Daryl took the opportunity to slap her foil flat across his backside.
***
They were two tankards down each, and her scowl might’ve eased a bit.
Still.
“You... just cost me the best gig I ever had.”
“Delightful! Now you and I can get down to business.”
“Why, pray tell, would I want anything more to do with you?”
Setzer held up a finger for her to hold her judgment, and reached to move their tankards across the table. He reached a hand into his jacket for a fold of paper, which he promptly unfolded and smoothed out across the table in front of him.
Finally, he slid it her way, inviting her to look at her leisure.
Daryl’s mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown as she tried to make heads or tails of what was traced on the paper.
“And I’m looking at...?” she ventured, “An engine?”
Setzer leaned back in his chair, a sly grin creeping across his face.
Daryl squinted at him, then squinted closer at the paper. At the way the lines fit together. Piecing it together what it could possibly be for-...
She scoffed.
He was joking.
He had to be.
Setzer gave their surroundings a glance, rapping his fingers on the table. No one gave them a second look, and he leaned in close to explain in an only marginally slurred hush.
“The Empire is funding an excavation. The official line is that they’re seeking out cultural artifacts of the Magi era. In reality, they’re looking to find-...”
“Airships.”
“Airship schematics.”
Daryl thought about it.
And sighed, deflated.
“So what?” she asked, reaching for her ale again.
“So what?” he echoed shrilly, as though she’d insulted his mother. “So we get there first. Where’s your sense of adventure gone?”
“Even if we get the plans, where in any hell would we scrape together the cash to build an entire airship with modern technology from schematics two millennia old?”
Imbibing a draught, she set the tankard down. Setzer reached to move her hand, and slide the paper out from under it, folding it away again.
“We steal the plans from the excavation site. We make our escape. We sell the thieves to the Empire, and the plans. We make copies first, of course. They reward us lucratively; we now have the plans and the money to build; they are none the wiser; everyone goes home happy.”
“Not your best of plans, but it’s got guts.”
“I know. It could fail horribly.”
And the Empire is not widely known for its forgiveness.
He leaned into her shoulder, peering up at her with stars in his eyes.
Daryl groaned.
He knew just what cards to play, she’d give him that.
“I could kiss you.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because you’re a right bastard.”
Setzer smiled brightly. “And what would it take to change your mind?”
Pursing her lips, Daryl thought about it.
“Another round should do it,” she admitted.
With a hearty laugh, Setzer slapped his hand flat on the table, and raised his hand to flag down the serving girl.