"but the broken heart, it kens nae second spring again"
16.
‘Did you ever see such a blue sky, Mr. Sharp?’ Newkirk shouted.
‘No, I dare say I never did, Mr. Newkirk!’ Deryn shouted back with a laugh.
They were hanging off the ratlines, taking a quick breather before Mr. Rigby found them and yelled for them to get on with feeding whatever animal needed feeding next on this barking gigantic airbeast.
Deryn appreciated the rest, considering how late she’d stayed up with Alek in the machine room. She’d been yawning at least once a minute by the end of the night, which of course caused Alek to blame her for making him start yawning as well, which was ridiculous, anyway, since she was the one sacrificing precious sleep to keep him from taking an accidental nap as a result of the machine room’s stifling heat. At any rate, they had left the room at four in the morning, Deryn had had to get up for duty at eight, and climbing the ratlines was exhausting enough even on a full night’s sleep.
Still, it was nice-hanging in space with Newkirk, riding the breeze, surveying the world as if it was their own to rule over. Nice enough to wake her up a bit, which was something she desperately needed.
Newkirk shouted in terror and Deryn twisted around to look, expecting to see him with a broken rope or slipping footing. But when she saw what it was that’d made him so flustered, she laughed.
‘They’re only gulls, you ninny!’ she shouted up at him. Yet Newkirk remained pressed flat to the side of the airbeast, his eyes closed and his hands clenched around the ratlines. The big gray and white birds were still flapping their way past him-too far away to hit him, of course, but Newkirk was twitchy around beasties of all sorts it seemed, not just the fabricated ones.
Deryn grinned as the first of the birds soared past her, the black tips of its wide wings almost close enough for her to reach out and touch. Another flew past, and another, and Deryn laughed again. For just one moment, she let the safety line take her whole weight and reached out into the beckoning blue. She felt the air brush past her finger tips as a gull beat its way past her. Then she swung back, smacking solidly into the side of the Leviathan once more.
‘Mr. Sharp, you are barking mad!’ Newkirk shouted.
Deryn said nothing. She closed her eyes and imagined flying without ropes holding her up or holding her down.
17.
Alek absently brushed away the sweat on his forehead, only to realize a few seconds later that his hands were covered in engine grease and smearing them all over his face was probably not the best idea. He sighed at his own foolishness, but went on peering at the tangle of wires in the open panel of the engines. He’d already done maintenance of the gears for the day and checked pressure levels, which were all fine, but Klopp had it in his head that something had gotten jostled in the wiring. Unfortunately, wiring wasn’t Alek’s area of expertise, being more at home with mechanics than electrics.
Klopp had given him a map of where the wires were supposed to go, but nothing seemed to look at all like it did on the flimsy piece of paper Alek held in his hand. It made him think of the maps he used to pour over in the library, imagining himself free from his parents’ constant denials, leading armies or even just wandering alone, like a knight from medieval times, making his way across Europe one country at a time. It was a starkly different picture from the real journey he was making-hunted and pursued, lying at every turn. Not to mention, he’d certainly never imagined travelling on a British airbeast. Perhaps that was the mark of exile-the maps no longer made sense to you.
‘Exil,’ Alek muttered, lifting up a wire to try and figure out where it led. ‘Exile. L’exil. L’esilio. Und… exilium? Oder, weil Latein dumm ist, ist es… profugus.’
Alek managed to find the wire’s beginning. Now to find the end.
‘“Fato profugus”… aus der Aeneis, j-ach!’ Alek winced as a spark took him by surprise, stinging his fingers. At least he’d found the loose wire. He pushed his hair back off his forehead, and grabbed the pliers beside him. As he twisted and bent the wire back into place, Alek turned the opening lines of Vergil’s Aeneid over in his brain, picking them apart for the first time since his childhood Latin lessons.
Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris Italiam, fato profugus…
Alek huffed out a laugh as he gave one last tightening pinch of the pliers. His tutor had assured him that Aeneas was the hero of the story, founder of the Roman Empire and favorite of the gods, obedient and faithful. But even as a child, Alek had felt there was something wrong with his tutor’s explanation. Alek had spent a great deal of time wondering what would have happened if Aeneas had stayed with Dido after all, ignored the gods and left the Roman Empire for someone else to establish.
He shut the panel and stood up, dropping the pliers into the tool box. The sky in front of him was a bright blue. Alek glanced up at the side of the ship above him-a towering height that always made him want to take a startled step backward. A flash of movement caught his eye and he spotted Newkirk and Dylan hanging off the ropes, a flock of white birds flying past them. He watched, motionless, as Dylan reached out a hand, as if she was reaching out to an old friend. Although it was faint, he heard her laugh.
Alek made himself turn away, moving to examine the controllers. There was still work to do, after all.
‘“Fato profugus,”’ he repeated again, drumming his blackened fingers against the panel. ‘Exiled by fate.’
18.
Deryn knew she must be going crazy. There could be no other explanation for why Alek would be in her cabin, using her sink and her soap, making stupid expressions at the mirror as he tried to scrub the thick layer of engine grease from his face.
Deryn was well-aware that an Alek covered in black smudges, his eyes shining brightly in his darkened face, was one of her most favorite Aleks, and so his current appearance in her own cabin was thus highly suspect of being the final sign that her brain had had it with all the lying and the self-denial and the stupid, stupid boys and gone on permanent holiday.
‘Sorry about this. I would have asked Volger but he didn’t answer when I knocked at his door, and-’
‘Scrubbing off engine grease requires soap, which you don’t have, for some reason,’ Deryn finished, trying not to stare as Alek started lathering on soap for the third time around.
‘I told you, I lent it to Newkirk and he hasn’t-’
‘So why not go get it back instead of barging in here and bothering me?’ Deryn interrupted, but Alek was unable to reply, in the middle of rinsing all the soap back off again.
‘You’re closer,’ Alek finally said, and flashed her a grin.
‘By three feet!’ Deryn wished she had something she could throw at him.
‘Still closer,’ Alek insisted, rubbing a towel over his now rather pink face, leaving his hair sticking up in daft places. ‘And you have my royal thanks for the use of your sink, soap and towel. Your services to the crown shall not be forgotten, Dylan Sharp.’ He swept into an elaborate bow, flourishing the towel, rough and worn and of standard air service issue, like some sort of elegant silk handkerchief.
Deryn blushed and wished she hadn’t. ‘Shut up,’ she mumbled, and Alek stood up straight again, smiling like an idiot. Smiling at her.
‘Ach, Mr. Sharp, that’s no way to speak to royalty,’ Alek said, and Deryn thought, Shut up, shut up, Alek, Newkirk might hear you, anyone passing by could hear you, you idiot.
What Deryn said, however, was, ‘I thought you were “just” a prince, anyway. I don’t think I need to lose any sleep over politeness where you’re concerned.’
‘Why, Mr. Sharp, I’m wounded by your words,’ Alek countered, placing a hand over his heart for illustrative purposes and leaning against her bedpost for support in his misery. ‘To think I would suffer such cruelty at your hands! Ich bin verraten!’
‘I’m sorry, Prince Aleksander, but unless it’s an emperor, I really just can’t be bothered,’ Deryn said with a wistful sigh, trying desperately to maintain her straight face.
And with that, Alek collapsed upon her bed, gazing up at her with an expression of utter devastation. ‘The killing blow!’ he cried, and finally Deryn gave into laughter with Alek following close behind. His wet hair was brushing against her leg, leaving dark marks on the fabric, and she could feel the dampness against her skin.
‘Und sterb-’ Alek choked out around his laughter, ‘und sterb ich denn, so-so sterb ich doch-durch sie,’ and Deryn wished she could understand what he was saying but she couldn’t, so she just laughed and laughed instead.
19.
It was madness, Alek had realized. Complete and utter madness. Every time he decided this was the last time, the last day he let himself indulge in this foolishness, another day would dawn and he would wake up full of steadfast resolve-steadfast resolve that shattered the instant he saw Dylan smiling at him with a cheerful ‘good morning’ to follow. It didn’t matter how many times he repeated the same admonishments to himself-you’re a prince, you’re first in line for the throne, you’re royalty. They were just words, it seemed, and Dylan was so much more real than any of them.
Alek was sitting in the darkness of his room, staring at the wall opposite his bed, the blanket across his shoulders and his chin resting on his knees. He didn’t know what time it was, although that was probably for the best, since he’d turned off the light around two and it had been at least an hour since. It was impossible to sleep with Dylan Sharp taking up all his thoughts.
The cabin was quiet enough that Alek could hear his heart beating, his own pulse ringing in his ears. He kept waiting to hear another sound-someone walking along the corridor outside, a shout from men on the rigging up above-but nothing came. He listened to his heart beating, a slow rhythm he could feel when he pressed his fingertips together.
He wondered where Dylan was-if she was out in the darkness, keeping watch, or if she was in her own cabin, sleeping. It was strange to think of her as being so close when she could have been oceans away for all the difference it made.
In his head, Alek could hear a quartet, playing a piece he remembered from another night at the Musikverein. Another night of Beethoven. Another night of unfathomable beauty that never seemed to end, even after the curtain came down for the last time and the applause had ended.
He could hear the first violin, flying up above the others, so beautiful and so alone. So lonely.
Alek stared at the wall and listened to the violins in his own head, his mind filled with an endless pure blue and a name that wasn’t even hers.
20.
Deryn woke up and realized she’d been dreaming. She yawned, so tall that her jaw popped, and rubbed her eyes, wiping away a dream that was already fading, now hardly more than the feeling of infinite space and rushing wind and someone else’s hand in hers, gripping too tight for them to ever let her fall.
She glanced at the cheap brass watch at her bedside and groaned, much as she did every morning and had since learning the habit from Jaspert. She stumbled out of bed and made her way to the sink, fumbling for her toothbrush and jar of toothpaste.
Brushing slowly with early morning bleariness, Deryn turned to look out the porthole. It took her a few moments to realize what she was seeing, but as she did, her brushing slowed and slowed to the point where she simply stopped and stared out the porthole.
She’d studied the maps of their projected approach again and again. There was no question in her mind as to the name of the hazy streak of land on the horizon.
Eventually, Deryn turned away and back to the sink, where she finished brushing her teeth, washed her face and combed her hair-all without meeting the eyes of her reflection in the mirror.
21.
Finally, Alek picked the last piece of Tazza’s hair off the clothes lain out across the bed. Volger had told him to be prepared for anything upon their arrival tomorrow morning in Constantinople. Alek presumed this included entrance into higher class establishments-establishments which might object to Alek looking as if he’d rolled about in a room full of cats shortly before arriving. He’d already checked over each article of non-work clothes for stains from engine grease.
One by one, Alek picked up each article of clothing, folded it, and placed it in the leather case sitting on the floor.
Alek supposed it should’ve been a relief arriving at Constantinople. After all, leaving Dylan behind meant leaving behind the whole host problems and complications she brought with her. It was fortunate, really, that they were being forced apart before he did something truly imbecilic.
Dr. Barlow had requested him for egg duty, but Volger had intervened and told her that his preparations for Constantinople took priority. Again, it should have been a relief, not having to spend hours cooped up in that unbearably hot room, but Alek couldn’t help longing for its secure monotony. As he slowly stripped his cabin bare, all he could think of was how he would be leaving it forever in the morning.
He imagined the machine room, glowing with soft red light, full of unlabeled wooden crates meant for God knows what. He imagined Dylan sprawled across them, pronouncing German effortlessly, her face lit up with the heaters’ glow, grinning at him in triumph.
Do not surrender while you are alive.
22.
Constantinople, Deryn thought, worrying at the cuff of her right sleeve as Tazza snuffled about her feet. It was just past sunset now, but she could still see the shape of land on the dark horizon, solid and unmistakable. The place where Alek would be leaving her forever, disappearing back into that special realm of barking mad royals and idiot princes that had hardly a disdainful glance to spare for a common girl from Glasgow.
The first stars had already come out, even though the sun had barely dropped behind the horizon.
The spine was strangely deserted, but she guessed everyone was busy preparing for tomorrow’s landing-something from which she was exempt, thanks to her wonderfully special status as the lady boffin’s cabin boy. While she didn’t mind the thylacine, nor did she mind the view, it was still frustrating to know that everyone else was currently occupied by tasks considerably more important than her own.
‘Come on, Tazza,’ Deryn said, and started walking again. The sky was clear again, the Mediterranean having yet to let them down, but it was the dark blue of impending night and for once Deryn felt how empty it was and how impossibly vast.
Later that evening, after she’d returned Tazza to Dr. Barlow’s cabin, grabbed some food in the mess and been bossed around a bit by Mr. Rigby, Deryn found herself standing outside Alek’s door. The halls were dark and quiet, and her knock was loud in the stillness.
Hardly a second passed and the door swung open.
‘Dylan!’ Alek exclaimed in a hushed voice. ‘What are-’
‘I just-I just thought I’d-just let me in, will you?’ Deryn said, and Alek stepped backward, letting her pass.
Deryn went ahead and sat on the edge of the bed as Alek clicked the door shut behind her, wishing she knew what she was doing, wishing she knew why she was even here. The bed creaked and shifted as Alek sat down next to her, but he didn’t say anything as Deryn watched her fingers undo and redo the button on her sleeve again and again and again until finally, out of sheer desperation, she said, ‘So these Beethoven symphonies you went to see. That’s the music of your country, is it?’
Alek started beside her, but seemed to recover fairly quickly. Deryn still didn’t look at him, just the button, back and forth.
‘Well… no, actually,’ she heard him say. ‘Beethoven was German, not Austrian.’
And now she could finally look at him, because that was just ridiculous. ‘What? But I thought you listened to Austrian people!’
‘What, like Mozart?’ Alek said, clearly rather confused.
‘Sure, him.’
‘But I don’t like Mozart. At least not his orchestral music,’ Alek said with a shrug.
‘How can you not like Mozart? I thought he was as famous as Beethoven.’
‘Yes, but… Beethoven is more interesting. He was less… structured. More passion.’
Deryn snorted. ‘Louder, you mean?’
‘No, not louder, Dylan,’ Alek replied, looking put-upon until Deryn raised an eyebrow, and he grinned at her sheepishly.
‘Well, sometimes louder. But not always! Sometimes it was so quiet, and the whole hall was just holding its breath, trying to hear every note…’ Alek’s voice trailed away, and then he sighed. ‘I wish you could hear it, Dylan.’
‘Then sing it for me!’ Deryn said, knowing as she said it that this was stupid, that she should stop right now and shut up and start acting like a proper boy again-a proper boy who didn’t barge into his friend’s room in the dead of night and start asking nonsensical questions about Beethoven concerts.
But that was it. She didn’t want to be a boy for Alek. She wanted to be herself. And what her self-not her boy-self, or even her girl¬-self, just her self-wanted was to hear Alek sing Beethoven up here, halfway between sky and sea, the two of them together with the yawning darkness on every side.
‘Er… I’m not a very good singer-’ Alek started to say, but Deryn interrupted him.
‘I don’t care, Alek, come on-just sing it for me! It’s not like I know what it’s supposed to sound like.’
Alek sighed, but she knew she’d won. He didn’t seem able to meet her gaze, but looked out the window instead, out toward the stars as he started singing out the first notes on the same nonsense syllables Da had used when singing back a tune for her from the local pub.
‘Da-da-da-dum-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum-da-da-da-da-dum-da-da-dum-da-da-da-dum…’
To Deryn’s surprise, it was a very simple tune, not like anything she would have expected from the way Alek had described it. It made her think of summer and running through the open fields behind the house, Jaspert chasing her and Da laughing from the back door. It was true, Alek’s voice wasn’t the best, but she could at least recognize the tune in there, which was more than could be said for her brother Jaspert’s singing.
After a minute, he broke off and looked at her, cheeks rather pink.
‘Sorry, I don’t-I don’t remember any more,’ he said, twisting his hands together.
‘Oh no, that was lovely!’ Deryn said before her brain could intervene and tell her that one thing boys of sixteen do not say is the word ‘lovely,’ especially not in the company of other boys. Alek, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice.
‘You liked it, then?’
‘Of course,’ Deryn said.
‘It would be much better with all the instruments, I think.’
‘I like it this way, Alek,’ Deryn replied, and now it was her turn to blush and glance away, as if something of fascinating interest had suddenly appeared between the floorboards.
‘Well, then. Now you must sing me something,’ Alek said.
‘Wha-’ Deryn’s head snapped up, sudden panic seizing control of her. She’d always hated singing. ‘I, no, I really don’t-’
‘Fair is fair, Dylan. I don’t know any Scottish songs, and I sang for you, even though trying to sing an entire symphony by yourself always sounds ridiculous.’
He was right, Deryn knew it, the smug Clanker bastard. ‘Fine,’ she said, and swallowed, trying to think of a proper Scottish song. Unbidden, she heard the sound of Da’s voice, the same song he’d sing to her every night when she was little, trying to get her to fall asleep. She hadn’t understood the words until she was much older, after Da was already taken from her.
Fine. At least it’s bang to rights Scottish.
‘By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, where the sun shines bright on Loch Lo-’
And then Deryn stopped singing, because this was the stupidest thing she’d ever done.
Her voice, her bloody voice, how could she not have realized-
She spun back to look at Alek, who was-grinning?
‘…you knew. You knew,’ Deryn whispered, and none of it made any sense, because how could he have known? And why on earth wouldn’t he have said something before now?
23.
‘Answer me, you bloody Clanker bastard!’
Dylan was starting to sound a bit hysterical and Alek was feeling increasingly less pleased and more terrified.
‘Please, I didn’t-I didn’t want to, to out you or anything, I just-’ Alek tried to say, but Dylan continued to stare at him in horror. As she made to stand up, Alek grabbed hold of her wrist and made one last desperate attempt to explain.
‘I just didn’t want to leave with secrets still between us. I-I wanted you to know I knew yours. And I wanted to tell you mine. But I couldn’t, except then you had me, with the Beethoven, and I just-I thought it would be easier. I’m sorry. Please-please forgive me.’
And at that, Dylan finally unfroze, dropping back down onto the edge of the bed, her head in her hands.
‘… how did you know?’ she finally said.
‘Er,’ Alek said, and realized that he hadn’t actually prepared for this question.
I found you rather attractive, which was a bit of a problem, since I thought you were a boy. And then I tripped and received a sudden revelation thanks to nighttime shadows and possible brain injury.
Alek considered it for a second, as Dylan raised her head and looked at him with growing expectation.
No, perhaps not.
‘I just-figured it out,’ Alek said eventually. ‘But I don’t think anyone else would be able to guess for the same reasons, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
Evidently it was, since Dylan breathed a loud sigh of relief and fell back on top of the mattress. ‘Thank God for that,’ she said, and bit out a short and humorless laugh. ‘So I suppose that’s it for my secrets, then.’ She turned her head to look at him and Alek wasn’t sure, but-was she looking at him like that for a reason?
God I hope so.
Alek swallowed. ‘Not-not all of them, I think,’ he managed to say, painfully aware that his cheeks were beginning to burn. ‘That is to say, I mean, I was wondering-’
But now Dylan was grinning in a way that made Alek feel inconveniently lightheaded and he knew he was making a mess of it, but her eyes were so blue and there were freckles across her nose, how had he never noticed that before, and she was looking at him like he was everything-
And that was as far as Alek got before Dylan reached up, grabbed him by his cravat, and pulled him towards her. He caught himself just two inches above her, the blush running rampant now, and he made one last-ditch attempt to be the gentleman. ‘I hope-that is-’
‘Oh, Alek. Do you realize you always manage to make a mess out of everything?’ she asked, and, without waiting for a reply, leaned up and kissed him.
Alek hadn’t been expecting it, not really, and it took him rather by surprise.
You’re leaving tomorrow, said a little voice inside his head. You’ll never see her again.
But Alek ignored it, focusing on Dylan instead, who-
Alek pulled away and said with a frown, ‘You know, I don’t even know your name.’
‘Oh blisters, you’re right,’ she said. ‘Deryn Sharp, at your service.’
‘Deryn,’ Alek repeated, and it was… unusual. Perfect. Deryn. He grinned back at her. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘Nice to meet you, Prince Aleksander von Hohenberg,’ Deryn said with a laugh, her fingers tangling in his hair.
‘Yes, about that-’ Alek said, but was cut off as Deryn kissed him again. ‘No, please, I think you might like to know-Deryn!’
24.
There was a knock at Deryn’s door. Hardly a second passed before she raced her way over and opened it. It was Alek.
‘Hello,’ he said, and then, after she’d closed the door behind him, added, ‘Deryn.’
She smiled at that, and he smiled back, but weakly. The gray dawn light drew out the dark shadows under his eyes, and she was sure she looked no better. She’d have to be getting ready soon, heading down to help with the landing. The watch sat on the ledge beside her bed, ticking away each second with its cheap metal gears.
After watching her face for a good while, Alek finally said, ‘Do you know how blue your eyes are? Like, like-’ He sighed and looked away, out toward the gray sky. ‘Nein. Träume sind Schäume,’ he said quietly.
‘What?’ Deryn asked, but Alek just shook his head and gave her a bitter smile.
‘Nothing,’ he said, and kissed her, so briefly that she didn’t have the chance to enjoy before it was gone.
‘I don’t suppose-’ Deryn said, ‘I mean, you have to-’
‘Yes,’ Alek said. ‘I wish-but it’s not safe here, for me or my men. You… understand, yes?’
And Deryn nodded. ‘I mean, you’re heir to half of Europe, aye? How could you possibly stay.’
‘I-’ Alek stopped. ‘I honestly don’t know what to say.’
‘Not much of a surprise there,’ Deryn replied, and Alek’s face twisted, as if he was trying to laugh and glare at the same time. Eventually, he gave up and just looked stricken. Deryn swallowed and looked away.
25.
“Do hurry up, Alek,” Volger said, and Alek took a couple of hurried steps to catch up with his men. It was a long distance across the dirt airfield from the Leviathan to the small walkers which Volger had suggested were likely taxis that they could hire to take them into the city.
In one hand Alek held his leather case of clothes. In the other was a much heavier burden-the one remaining bar of his father’s gold, stamped with the Hapsburg crest. His arm was already aching from its weight.
Alek glanced up at the gray sky, then looked out in front of him once more at the city in the distance-a jumble of buildings spanning the horizon, broken here and there by what he assumed must be minarets. It was covered in a gray haze that made it hard to make out any details.
Finally, they arrived at the taxis. After loading their bags, they got into one of the many vehicles shaped like a beetle-a popular form, it seemed. Alek hardly listened as Volger gave the driver his instructions, staring down at the grated metal floor instead.
As they began to pull away, Alek turned in his seat to look back at the Leviathan one last time. It looked surprisingly small in the distance, clinging close to the ground under a wide gray sky. They were too far away for Alek to make out the faces of any of the grounds crew. He turned away from the window to meet the eyes of Klopp, who was smiling at him sadly.
26.
The evening drizzle of rain was trickling its way down her cabin window, obscuring the city beyond. Deryn leaned her head against the glass and closed her eyes. It’d been a busy day, with all kinds of bustle and the lady boffin telling her she was expected to be a blooming diplomat tomorrow, which was a sight her Ma surely would’ve liked to see. For now, though, everything had quieted down, and she was alone again in her cabin.
‘O ye’ll tak’ the high road, and I’ll tak’ the low road,’ Deryn sang softly, more a whisper than a tune.
She’d watched Alek and his men leave that morning. It was hard to believe that they’d really all packed up and gone, with hardly a trace left behind, out into the hazy city and beyond her grasp. It felt like she was in some kind of dream-only it should’ve been the other way around, really.
‘And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye… For me and me true love will never meet again-’ and there Deryn’s voice broke, because she was crying now, good and proper.
‘On-on the-’ Deryn tried to sing, but the tune wouldn’t come and all she could do now was sob her guts out, the tears dripping down her face.
She waited for something to break the silence, but there was nothing at all to break it. So Deryn just kept on crying and wished that she could fly whenever she wanted, up above the rainclouds and into the waiting sky.
end.
Endnotes:
Alek sings the first movement of Beethoven’s 6th (which is all about the joys of simple pastoral life and which you might recognize from Disney’s Fantasia) and Deryn sings Loch Lomond (in case you hadn’t already figured that out). Alek also references the third movement of Beethoven’s Quartet in A Minor, Op. 132 in Section 19. All of these works are absolutely beautiful, so I suggest you take a listen if you have the time.
Most of the German in this isn’t too important to understand, but in case you’re dying to know the translations, here are all the ones that aren’t explained or aren’t self-evident in meaning.
Ja, wirklich, Dylan. Hast du nicht Ohren? - Yes, really, Dylan. Do you not have ears?
Aufsteigen - to soar
Der Akkord - chord
Das ist nicht möglich… Ich bin ein Dummkopf, bestimmt. - This is not possible... I am an idiot, for certain.
Ich bin Dylan, ein Fähnrich zur Luft. - I am Dylan, a midshipman (of the air). (Note: Alek is teaching her the male conjugation of “midshipman,” so as not to blow her cover to anyone else who speaks German. How thoughtful of him.)
Mein Gott, mehr als du weißt. - My God, more than you know.
Ich bin verraten! - Alas, I am betrayed!
Und sterb ich denn, so sterb ich doch durch sie. - And though I die, at least I die by her hand. (A quote from Goethe’s “Das Veilchen,” a beautiful (albeit rather silly) poem with an equally beautiful setting by W.A. Mozart.)
‘Did you ever see such a blue sky, Mr. Sharp?’ Newkirk shouted.
‘No, I dare say I never did, Mr. Newkirk!’ Deryn shouted back with a laugh.
They were hanging off the ratlines, taking a quick breather before Mr. Rigby found them and yelled for them to get on with feeding whatever animal needed feeding next on this barking gigantic airbeast.
Deryn appreciated the rest, considering how late she’d stayed up with Alek in the machine room. She’d been yawning at least once a minute by the end of the night, which of course caused Alek to blame her for making him start yawning as well, which was ridiculous, anyway, since she was the one sacrificing precious sleep to keep him from taking an accidental nap as a result of the machine room’s stifling heat. At any rate, they had left the room at four in the morning, Deryn had had to get up for duty at eight, and climbing the ratlines was exhausting enough even on a full night’s sleep.
Still, it was nice-hanging in space with Newkirk, riding the breeze, surveying the world as if it was their own to rule over. Nice enough to wake her up a bit, which was something she desperately needed.
Newkirk shouted in terror and Deryn twisted around to look, expecting to see him with a broken rope or slipping footing. But when she saw what it was that’d made him so flustered, she laughed.
‘They’re only gulls, you ninny!’ she shouted up at him. Yet Newkirk remained pressed flat to the side of the airbeast, his eyes closed and his hands clenched around the ratlines. The big gray and white birds were still flapping their way past him-too far away to hit him, of course, but Newkirk was twitchy around beasties of all sorts it seemed, not just the fabricated ones.
Deryn grinned as the first of the birds soared past her, the black tips of its wide wings almost close enough for her to reach out and touch. Another flew past, and another, and Deryn laughed again. For just one moment, she let the safety line take her whole weight and reached out into the beckoning blue. She felt the air brush past her finger tips as a gull beat its way past her. Then she swung back, smacking solidly into the side of the Leviathan once more.
‘Mr. Sharp, you are barking mad!’ Newkirk shouted.
Deryn said nothing. She closed her eyes and imagined flying without ropes holding her up or holding her down.
17.
Alek absently brushed away the sweat on his forehead, only to realize a few seconds later that his hands were covered in engine grease and smearing them all over his face was probably not the best idea. He sighed at his own foolishness, but went on peering at the tangle of wires in the open panel of the engines. He’d already done maintenance of the gears for the day and checked pressure levels, which were all fine, but Klopp had it in his head that something had gotten jostled in the wiring. Unfortunately, wiring wasn’t Alek’s area of expertise, being more at home with mechanics than electrics.
Klopp had given him a map of where the wires were supposed to go, but nothing seemed to look at all like it did on the flimsy piece of paper Alek held in his hand. It made him think of the maps he used to pour over in the library, imagining himself free from his parents’ constant denials, leading armies or even just wandering alone, like a knight from medieval times, making his way across Europe one country at a time. It was a starkly different picture from the real journey he was making-hunted and pursued, lying at every turn. Not to mention, he’d certainly never imagined travelling on a British airbeast. Perhaps that was the mark of exile-the maps no longer made sense to you.
‘Exil,’ Alek muttered, lifting up a wire to try and figure out where it led. ‘Exile. L’exil. L’esilio. Und… exilium? Oder, weil Latein dumm ist, ist es… profugus.’
Alek managed to find the wire’s beginning. Now to find the end.
‘“Fato profugus”… aus der Aeneis, j-ach!’ Alek winced as a spark took him by surprise, stinging his fingers. At least he’d found the loose wire. He pushed his hair back off his forehead, and grabbed the pliers beside him. As he twisted and bent the wire back into place, Alek turned the opening lines of Vergil’s Aeneid over in his brain, picking them apart for the first time since his childhood Latin lessons.
Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris Italiam, fato profugus…
Alek huffed out a laugh as he gave one last tightening pinch of the pliers. His tutor had assured him that Aeneas was the hero of the story, founder of the Roman Empire and favorite of the gods, obedient and faithful. But even as a child, Alek had felt there was something wrong with his tutor’s explanation. Alek had spent a great deal of time wondering what would have happened if Aeneas had stayed with Dido after all, ignored the gods and left the Roman Empire for someone else to establish.
He shut the panel and stood up, dropping the pliers into the tool box. The sky in front of him was a bright blue. Alek glanced up at the side of the ship above him-a towering height that always made him want to take a startled step backward. A flash of movement caught his eye and he spotted Newkirk and Dylan hanging off the ropes, a flock of white birds flying past them. He watched, motionless, as Dylan reached out a hand, as if she was reaching out to an old friend. Although it was faint, he heard her laugh.
Alek made himself turn away, moving to examine the controllers. There was still work to do, after all.
‘“Fato profugus,”’ he repeated again, drumming his blackened fingers against the panel. ‘Exiled by fate.’
18.
Deryn knew she must be going crazy. There could be no other explanation for why Alek would be in her cabin, using her sink and her soap, making stupid expressions at the mirror as he tried to scrub the thick layer of engine grease from his face.
Deryn was well-aware that an Alek covered in black smudges, his eyes shining brightly in his darkened face, was one of her most favorite Aleks, and so his current appearance in her own cabin was thus highly suspect of being the final sign that her brain had had it with all the lying and the self-denial and the stupid, stupid boys and gone on permanent holiday.
‘Sorry about this. I would have asked Volger but he didn’t answer when I knocked at his door, and-’
‘Scrubbing off engine grease requires soap, which you don’t have, for some reason,’ Deryn finished, trying not to stare as Alek started lathering on soap for the third time around.
‘I told you, I lent it to Newkirk and he hasn’t-’
‘So why not go get it back instead of barging in here and bothering me?’ Deryn interrupted, but Alek was unable to reply, in the middle of rinsing all the soap back off again.
‘You’re closer,’ Alek finally said, and flashed her a grin.
‘By three feet!’ Deryn wished she had something she could throw at him.
‘Still closer,’ Alek insisted, rubbing a towel over his now rather pink face, leaving his hair sticking up in daft places. ‘And you have my royal thanks for the use of your sink, soap and towel. Your services to the crown shall not be forgotten, Dylan Sharp.’ He swept into an elaborate bow, flourishing the towel, rough and worn and of standard air service issue, like some sort of elegant silk handkerchief.
Deryn blushed and wished she hadn’t. ‘Shut up,’ she mumbled, and Alek stood up straight again, smiling like an idiot. Smiling at her.
‘Ach, Mr. Sharp, that’s no way to speak to royalty,’ Alek said, and Deryn thought, Shut up, shut up, Alek, Newkirk might hear you, anyone passing by could hear you, you idiot.
What Deryn said, however, was, ‘I thought you were “just” a prince, anyway. I don’t think I need to lose any sleep over politeness where you’re concerned.’
‘Why, Mr. Sharp, I’m wounded by your words,’ Alek countered, placing a hand over his heart for illustrative purposes and leaning against her bedpost for support in his misery. ‘To think I would suffer such cruelty at your hands! Ich bin verraten!’
‘I’m sorry, Prince Aleksander, but unless it’s an emperor, I really just can’t be bothered,’ Deryn said with a wistful sigh, trying desperately to maintain her straight face.
And with that, Alek collapsed upon her bed, gazing up at her with an expression of utter devastation. ‘The killing blow!’ he cried, and finally Deryn gave into laughter with Alek following close behind. His wet hair was brushing against her leg, leaving dark marks on the fabric, and she could feel the dampness against her skin.
‘Und sterb-’ Alek choked out around his laughter, ‘und sterb ich denn, so-so sterb ich doch-durch sie,’ and Deryn wished she could understand what he was saying but she couldn’t, so she just laughed and laughed instead.
19.
It was madness, Alek had realized. Complete and utter madness. Every time he decided this was the last time, the last day he let himself indulge in this foolishness, another day would dawn and he would wake up full of steadfast resolve-steadfast resolve that shattered the instant he saw Dylan smiling at him with a cheerful ‘good morning’ to follow. It didn’t matter how many times he repeated the same admonishments to himself-you’re a prince, you’re first in line for the throne, you’re royalty. They were just words, it seemed, and Dylan was so much more real than any of them.
Alek was sitting in the darkness of his room, staring at the wall opposite his bed, the blanket across his shoulders and his chin resting on his knees. He didn’t know what time it was, although that was probably for the best, since he’d turned off the light around two and it had been at least an hour since. It was impossible to sleep with Dylan Sharp taking up all his thoughts.
The cabin was quiet enough that Alek could hear his heart beating, his own pulse ringing in his ears. He kept waiting to hear another sound-someone walking along the corridor outside, a shout from men on the rigging up above-but nothing came. He listened to his heart beating, a slow rhythm he could feel when he pressed his fingertips together.
He wondered where Dylan was-if she was out in the darkness, keeping watch, or if she was in her own cabin, sleeping. It was strange to think of her as being so close when she could have been oceans away for all the difference it made.
In his head, Alek could hear a quartet, playing a piece he remembered from another night at the Musikverein. Another night of Beethoven. Another night of unfathomable beauty that never seemed to end, even after the curtain came down for the last time and the applause had ended.
He could hear the first violin, flying up above the others, so beautiful and so alone. So lonely.
Alek stared at the wall and listened to the violins in his own head, his mind filled with an endless pure blue and a name that wasn’t even hers.
20.
Deryn woke up and realized she’d been dreaming. She yawned, so tall that her jaw popped, and rubbed her eyes, wiping away a dream that was already fading, now hardly more than the feeling of infinite space and rushing wind and someone else’s hand in hers, gripping too tight for them to ever let her fall.
She glanced at the cheap brass watch at her bedside and groaned, much as she did every morning and had since learning the habit from Jaspert. She stumbled out of bed and made her way to the sink, fumbling for her toothbrush and jar of toothpaste.
Brushing slowly with early morning bleariness, Deryn turned to look out the porthole. It took her a few moments to realize what she was seeing, but as she did, her brushing slowed and slowed to the point where she simply stopped and stared out the porthole.
She’d studied the maps of their projected approach again and again. There was no question in her mind as to the name of the hazy streak of land on the horizon.
Eventually, Deryn turned away and back to the sink, where she finished brushing her teeth, washed her face and combed her hair-all without meeting the eyes of her reflection in the mirror.
21.
Finally, Alek picked the last piece of Tazza’s hair off the clothes lain out across the bed. Volger had told him to be prepared for anything upon their arrival tomorrow morning in Constantinople. Alek presumed this included entrance into higher class establishments-establishments which might object to Alek looking as if he’d rolled about in a room full of cats shortly before arriving. He’d already checked over each article of non-work clothes for stains from engine grease.
One by one, Alek picked up each article of clothing, folded it, and placed it in the leather case sitting on the floor.
Alek supposed it should’ve been a relief arriving at Constantinople. After all, leaving Dylan behind meant leaving behind the whole host problems and complications she brought with her. It was fortunate, really, that they were being forced apart before he did something truly imbecilic.
Dr. Barlow had requested him for egg duty, but Volger had intervened and told her that his preparations for Constantinople took priority. Again, it should have been a relief, not having to spend hours cooped up in that unbearably hot room, but Alek couldn’t help longing for its secure monotony. As he slowly stripped his cabin bare, all he could think of was how he would be leaving it forever in the morning.
He imagined the machine room, glowing with soft red light, full of unlabeled wooden crates meant for God knows what. He imagined Dylan sprawled across them, pronouncing German effortlessly, her face lit up with the heaters’ glow, grinning at him in triumph.
Do not surrender while you are alive.
22.
Constantinople, Deryn thought, worrying at the cuff of her right sleeve as Tazza snuffled about her feet. It was just past sunset now, but she could still see the shape of land on the dark horizon, solid and unmistakable. The place where Alek would be leaving her forever, disappearing back into that special realm of barking mad royals and idiot princes that had hardly a disdainful glance to spare for a common girl from Glasgow.
The first stars had already come out, even though the sun had barely dropped behind the horizon.
The spine was strangely deserted, but she guessed everyone was busy preparing for tomorrow’s landing-something from which she was exempt, thanks to her wonderfully special status as the lady boffin’s cabin boy. While she didn’t mind the thylacine, nor did she mind the view, it was still frustrating to know that everyone else was currently occupied by tasks considerably more important than her own.
‘Come on, Tazza,’ Deryn said, and started walking again. The sky was clear again, the Mediterranean having yet to let them down, but it was the dark blue of impending night and for once Deryn felt how empty it was and how impossibly vast.
Later that evening, after she’d returned Tazza to Dr. Barlow’s cabin, grabbed some food in the mess and been bossed around a bit by Mr. Rigby, Deryn found herself standing outside Alek’s door. The halls were dark and quiet, and her knock was loud in the stillness.
Hardly a second passed and the door swung open.
‘Dylan!’ Alek exclaimed in a hushed voice. ‘What are-’
‘I just-I just thought I’d-just let me in, will you?’ Deryn said, and Alek stepped backward, letting her pass.
Deryn went ahead and sat on the edge of the bed as Alek clicked the door shut behind her, wishing she knew what she was doing, wishing she knew why she was even here. The bed creaked and shifted as Alek sat down next to her, but he didn’t say anything as Deryn watched her fingers undo and redo the button on her sleeve again and again and again until finally, out of sheer desperation, she said, ‘So these Beethoven symphonies you went to see. That’s the music of your country, is it?’
Alek started beside her, but seemed to recover fairly quickly. Deryn still didn’t look at him, just the button, back and forth.
‘Well… no, actually,’ she heard him say. ‘Beethoven was German, not Austrian.’
And now she could finally look at him, because that was just ridiculous. ‘What? But I thought you listened to Austrian people!’
‘What, like Mozart?’ Alek said, clearly rather confused.
‘Sure, him.’
‘But I don’t like Mozart. At least not his orchestral music,’ Alek said with a shrug.
‘How can you not like Mozart? I thought he was as famous as Beethoven.’
‘Yes, but… Beethoven is more interesting. He was less… structured. More passion.’
Deryn snorted. ‘Louder, you mean?’
‘No, not louder, Dylan,’ Alek replied, looking put-upon until Deryn raised an eyebrow, and he grinned at her sheepishly.
‘Well, sometimes louder. But not always! Sometimes it was so quiet, and the whole hall was just holding its breath, trying to hear every note…’ Alek’s voice trailed away, and then he sighed. ‘I wish you could hear it, Dylan.’
‘Then sing it for me!’ Deryn said, knowing as she said it that this was stupid, that she should stop right now and shut up and start acting like a proper boy again-a proper boy who didn’t barge into his friend’s room in the dead of night and start asking nonsensical questions about Beethoven concerts.
But that was it. She didn’t want to be a boy for Alek. She wanted to be herself. And what her self-not her boy-self, or even her girl¬-self, just her self-wanted was to hear Alek sing Beethoven up here, halfway between sky and sea, the two of them together with the yawning darkness on every side.
‘Er… I’m not a very good singer-’ Alek started to say, but Deryn interrupted him.
‘I don’t care, Alek, come on-just sing it for me! It’s not like I know what it’s supposed to sound like.’
Alek sighed, but she knew she’d won. He didn’t seem able to meet her gaze, but looked out the window instead, out toward the stars as he started singing out the first notes on the same nonsense syllables Da had used when singing back a tune for her from the local pub.
‘Da-da-da-dum-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum-da-da-da-da-dum-da-da-dum-da-da-da-dum…’
To Deryn’s surprise, it was a very simple tune, not like anything she would have expected from the way Alek had described it. It made her think of summer and running through the open fields behind the house, Jaspert chasing her and Da laughing from the back door. It was true, Alek’s voice wasn’t the best, but she could at least recognize the tune in there, which was more than could be said for her brother Jaspert’s singing.
After a minute, he broke off and looked at her, cheeks rather pink.
‘Sorry, I don’t-I don’t remember any more,’ he said, twisting his hands together.
‘Oh no, that was lovely!’ Deryn said before her brain could intervene and tell her that one thing boys of sixteen do not say is the word ‘lovely,’ especially not in the company of other boys. Alek, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice.
‘You liked it, then?’
‘Of course,’ Deryn said.
‘It would be much better with all the instruments, I think.’
‘I like it this way, Alek,’ Deryn replied, and now it was her turn to blush and glance away, as if something of fascinating interest had suddenly appeared between the floorboards.
‘Well, then. Now you must sing me something,’ Alek said.
‘Wha-’ Deryn’s head snapped up, sudden panic seizing control of her. She’d always hated singing. ‘I, no, I really don’t-’
‘Fair is fair, Dylan. I don’t know any Scottish songs, and I sang for you, even though trying to sing an entire symphony by yourself always sounds ridiculous.’
He was right, Deryn knew it, the smug Clanker bastard. ‘Fine,’ she said, and swallowed, trying to think of a proper Scottish song. Unbidden, she heard the sound of Da’s voice, the same song he’d sing to her every night when she was little, trying to get her to fall asleep. She hadn’t understood the words until she was much older, after Da was already taken from her.
Fine. At least it’s bang to rights Scottish.
‘By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, where the sun shines bright on Loch Lo-’
And then Deryn stopped singing, because this was the stupidest thing she’d ever done.
Her voice, her bloody voice, how could she not have realized-
She spun back to look at Alek, who was-grinning?
‘…you knew. You knew,’ Deryn whispered, and none of it made any sense, because how could he have known? And why on earth wouldn’t he have said something before now?
23.
‘Answer me, you bloody Clanker bastard!’
Dylan was starting to sound a bit hysterical and Alek was feeling increasingly less pleased and more terrified.
‘Please, I didn’t-I didn’t want to, to out you or anything, I just-’ Alek tried to say, but Dylan continued to stare at him in horror. As she made to stand up, Alek grabbed hold of her wrist and made one last desperate attempt to explain.
‘I just didn’t want to leave with secrets still between us. I-I wanted you to know I knew yours. And I wanted to tell you mine. But I couldn’t, except then you had me, with the Beethoven, and I just-I thought it would be easier. I’m sorry. Please-please forgive me.’
And at that, Dylan finally unfroze, dropping back down onto the edge of the bed, her head in her hands.
‘… how did you know?’ she finally said.
‘Er,’ Alek said, and realized that he hadn’t actually prepared for this question.
I found you rather attractive, which was a bit of a problem, since I thought you were a boy. And then I tripped and received a sudden revelation thanks to nighttime shadows and possible brain injury.
Alek considered it for a second, as Dylan raised her head and looked at him with growing expectation.
No, perhaps not.
‘I just-figured it out,’ Alek said eventually. ‘But I don’t think anyone else would be able to guess for the same reasons, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
Evidently it was, since Dylan breathed a loud sigh of relief and fell back on top of the mattress. ‘Thank God for that,’ she said, and bit out a short and humorless laugh. ‘So I suppose that’s it for my secrets, then.’ She turned her head to look at him and Alek wasn’t sure, but-was she looking at him like that for a reason?
God I hope so.
Alek swallowed. ‘Not-not all of them, I think,’ he managed to say, painfully aware that his cheeks were beginning to burn. ‘That is to say, I mean, I was wondering-’
But now Dylan was grinning in a way that made Alek feel inconveniently lightheaded and he knew he was making a mess of it, but her eyes were so blue and there were freckles across her nose, how had he never noticed that before, and she was looking at him like he was everything-
And that was as far as Alek got before Dylan reached up, grabbed him by his cravat, and pulled him towards her. He caught himself just two inches above her, the blush running rampant now, and he made one last-ditch attempt to be the gentleman. ‘I hope-that is-’
‘Oh, Alek. Do you realize you always manage to make a mess out of everything?’ she asked, and, without waiting for a reply, leaned up and kissed him.
Alek hadn’t been expecting it, not really, and it took him rather by surprise.
You’re leaving tomorrow, said a little voice inside his head. You’ll never see her again.
But Alek ignored it, focusing on Dylan instead, who-
Alek pulled away and said with a frown, ‘You know, I don’t even know your name.’
‘Oh blisters, you’re right,’ she said. ‘Deryn Sharp, at your service.’
‘Deryn,’ Alek repeated, and it was… unusual. Perfect. Deryn. He grinned back at her. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘Nice to meet you, Prince Aleksander von Hohenberg,’ Deryn said with a laugh, her fingers tangling in his hair.
‘Yes, about that-’ Alek said, but was cut off as Deryn kissed him again. ‘No, please, I think you might like to know-Deryn!’
24.
There was a knock at Deryn’s door. Hardly a second passed before she raced her way over and opened it. It was Alek.
‘Hello,’ he said, and then, after she’d closed the door behind him, added, ‘Deryn.’
She smiled at that, and he smiled back, but weakly. The gray dawn light drew out the dark shadows under his eyes, and she was sure she looked no better. She’d have to be getting ready soon, heading down to help with the landing. The watch sat on the ledge beside her bed, ticking away each second with its cheap metal gears.
After watching her face for a good while, Alek finally said, ‘Do you know how blue your eyes are? Like, like-’ He sighed and looked away, out toward the gray sky. ‘Nein. Träume sind Schäume,’ he said quietly.
‘What?’ Deryn asked, but Alek just shook his head and gave her a bitter smile.
‘Nothing,’ he said, and kissed her, so briefly that she didn’t have the chance to enjoy before it was gone.
‘I don’t suppose-’ Deryn said, ‘I mean, you have to-’
‘Yes,’ Alek said. ‘I wish-but it’s not safe here, for me or my men. You… understand, yes?’
And Deryn nodded. ‘I mean, you’re heir to half of Europe, aye? How could you possibly stay.’
‘I-’ Alek stopped. ‘I honestly don’t know what to say.’
‘Not much of a surprise there,’ Deryn replied, and Alek’s face twisted, as if he was trying to laugh and glare at the same time. Eventually, he gave up and just looked stricken. Deryn swallowed and looked away.
25.
“Do hurry up, Alek,” Volger said, and Alek took a couple of hurried steps to catch up with his men. It was a long distance across the dirt airfield from the Leviathan to the small walkers which Volger had suggested were likely taxis that they could hire to take them into the city.
In one hand Alek held his leather case of clothes. In the other was a much heavier burden-the one remaining bar of his father’s gold, stamped with the Hapsburg crest. His arm was already aching from its weight.
Alek glanced up at the gray sky, then looked out in front of him once more at the city in the distance-a jumble of buildings spanning the horizon, broken here and there by what he assumed must be minarets. It was covered in a gray haze that made it hard to make out any details.
Finally, they arrived at the taxis. After loading their bags, they got into one of the many vehicles shaped like a beetle-a popular form, it seemed. Alek hardly listened as Volger gave the driver his instructions, staring down at the grated metal floor instead.
As they began to pull away, Alek turned in his seat to look back at the Leviathan one last time. It looked surprisingly small in the distance, clinging close to the ground under a wide gray sky. They were too far away for Alek to make out the faces of any of the grounds crew. He turned away from the window to meet the eyes of Klopp, who was smiling at him sadly.
26.
The evening drizzle of rain was trickling its way down her cabin window, obscuring the city beyond. Deryn leaned her head against the glass and closed her eyes. It’d been a busy day, with all kinds of bustle and the lady boffin telling her she was expected to be a blooming diplomat tomorrow, which was a sight her Ma surely would’ve liked to see. For now, though, everything had quieted down, and she was alone again in her cabin.
‘O ye’ll tak’ the high road, and I’ll tak’ the low road,’ Deryn sang softly, more a whisper than a tune.
She’d watched Alek and his men leave that morning. It was hard to believe that they’d really all packed up and gone, with hardly a trace left behind, out into the hazy city and beyond her grasp. It felt like she was in some kind of dream-only it should’ve been the other way around, really.
‘And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye… For me and me true love will never meet again-’ and there Deryn’s voice broke, because she was crying now, good and proper.
‘On-on the-’ Deryn tried to sing, but the tune wouldn’t come and all she could do now was sob her guts out, the tears dripping down her face.
She waited for something to break the silence, but there was nothing at all to break it. So Deryn just kept on crying and wished that she could fly whenever she wanted, up above the rainclouds and into the waiting sky.
end.
Endnotes:
Alek sings the first movement of Beethoven’s 6th (which is all about the joys of simple pastoral life and which you might recognize from Disney’s Fantasia) and Deryn sings Loch Lomond (in case you hadn’t already figured that out). Alek also references the third movement of Beethoven’s Quartet in A Minor, Op. 132 in Section 19. All of these works are absolutely beautiful, so I suggest you take a listen if you have the time.
Most of the German in this isn’t too important to understand, but in case you’re dying to know the translations, here are all the ones that aren’t explained or aren’t self-evident in meaning.
Ja, wirklich, Dylan. Hast du nicht Ohren? - Yes, really, Dylan. Do you not have ears?
Aufsteigen - to soar
Der Akkord - chord
Das ist nicht möglich… Ich bin ein Dummkopf, bestimmt. - This is not possible... I am an idiot, for certain.
Ich bin Dylan, ein Fähnrich zur Luft. - I am Dylan, a midshipman (of the air). (Note: Alek is teaching her the male conjugation of “midshipman,” so as not to blow her cover to anyone else who speaks German. How thoughtful of him.)
Mein Gott, mehr als du weißt. - My God, more than you know.
Ich bin verraten! - Alas, I am betrayed!
Und sterb ich denn, so sterb ich doch durch sie. - And though I die, at least I die by her hand. (A quote from Goethe’s “Das Veilchen,” a beautiful (albeit rather silly) poem with an equally beautiful setting by W.A. Mozart.)