November Novel Essential Information

Novel Title: By Chance

Time Setting: 2021

Genre: Life

Minimum Word Goal: 90,000 

Timespan: Late September–October

Location: Hanna, Alberta

Main Character: Steele Henningsen

Background Information: 

Born the only son and child to his parents, whose names and occupations he never learned, he lived with his parents only until he was five years old. At that time his father murdered his mother and he fled the house to preserve his own life, being taken in by neighbours who handed him over to government custody shortly thereafter.

As a result, Steele was sent to a foster home, where he lived until he was ten, when an interaction between one of his fellow foster children and one of the biological children of his foster parents prompted the authorities to remove all the fostered children from the family.

Steele was sent to a couple who had one other fostered child, and whose biological children were adults. Having developed a defensive nature in response to overzealous extroverts and bullies in school, Steele ended up coming into conflict with his new foster parents because they were very strict and expected him to be an impeccably-behaved child.

Thus, they were displeased when he came into conflict with overzealous extroverts and bullies at his new school and reacted just as he had in his old school, as well as being upset when he rebelled against their other strict demands, including that he not go randomly wandering about outside, which was something he’d always loved doing, finding solace in the quiet and isolated surroundings of nature after spending long days at school surrounded by people, even if those people didn’t pay attention to him.

Eventually the conflict with his foster parents prompted him to be transferred to a new foster home that was headed by a man who’d been a police officer until he was shot by a criminal he was trying to arrest, which damaged his leg enough to leave him with a permanent limp and an inability to run.

His foster family enrolled Steele in riding lessons that helped him learn how to trust, as did a friendship he developed with the patriarch of the family that taught the riding lessons, who had suffered in his childhood not unlike Steele had in his.

In addition to being introduced to horses, Steele was introduced to rodeo when he was observed to have a knack with a lasso, prompting those around him to recommend he go into one of the roping events at a rodeo.

Appealed to by the idea, Steele decided to pursue the tie-down roping event, and quickly distinguished himself in the high-school level before making his way into the professional circuit as soon as he was old enough.

Steele is still relatively new to the rodeo circuit, but he’s considered a promising young talent, and going into the final rodeo of the current season, he has a chance to qualify for the Canadian Finals Rodeo, as well as an outside chance — considering he’s nowhere near the top of the standings — to become the Canadian champion in the tie-down roping event.

As cool as that would be, though, Steele is well aware that he’s not likely to become the champion the first time around, and personally would be content with simply qualifying for the CFR to get that experience under his belt before making a more significant championship charge next season.

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 15

Word Total: 90,079

Year to Date: 900,396

Summary of Events:

Pierson struggled to get used to his moustache, and was chastised by the young woman for fiddling with it, lest he give away the fact that he was unused to it. Mr. Nyilas expressed doubts in Pierson and the young woman's idea of Pierson masquerading as a German businessman, owing to the fact that Pierson wasn't supposed to be staying in Hungary for the long term. Pierson and the young woman nonetheless forged ahead, even finding an identity for Pierson to adopt with the help of the young woman's sister-in-law's family. Several days later, Pierson was waiting for Mr. Nyilas to return from escorting the young woman home in some bad weather, which made Pierson anxious of something bad happening, thus he was quite relieved when Mr. Nyilas finally returned…

Excerpt of the Day:

He unlocked the door and let Mr. Nyilas in, glancing at the clock as he did and feeling alarm at the time it displayed, which was nearly forty minutes beyond when Pierson had been expecting Mr. Nyilas to return.

“What happened?” Pierson asked. “Why are you so late?”

“Her parents invited me in for a tea to warm up before I headed back,” Mr. Nyilas replied.

“Tea takes forty minutes?” Pierson asked.

“No,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “While we were having tea a caller came to the back door in need of men, so her father and I went to help, and because of where we were, I made an errand stop on my way back and got this.”

He held out an envelope that looked similar to the one the coded message from Kraków had come in.

Pierson took it while Mr. Nyilas removed his coat, hanging it over two hooks on the coat tree to expose more of its surface area to the warm air of the apartment, that the snow on it would dry up by morning.

Mr. Nyilas then took the envelope back from Pierson and went over to his desk to puzzle out the message, Pierson supposed.

He was going to watch Mr. Nyilas until he remembered that he’d left cards scattered all over the dining room, so he went and picked them up instead.

“Oh dear, did I startle you while shuffling?” Mr. Nyilas asked.

Pierson startled, going to straighten up without remembering that he was under the table, prompting a significant jolt of pain to his head that made him crumple to the floor, grasping at the contact point.

“Again,” Mr. Nyilas said. “I’m sorry, I thought you heard me. Are you alright?”

Pierson moaned.

“Shall I go outside and get you some fresh snow?” Mr. Nyilas asked. “It’s piling up quite thick with all this wind.”

“I should be fine,” Pierson mumbled, carefully moving out from under the table before slowly straightening. He felt a little dizzy, but thankfully not so dizzy as he’d felt at points in Kraków.

“My apologies,” Mr. Nyilas said.

“It’s alright,” Pierson said. “I should survive. What’s that about?”

“Broadway’s gotten back to me,” Mr. Nyilas replied.

“And?” Pierson asked, setting the cards he’d picked up onto the table.

“They’re aware of the Kraków situation,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “And they do still want you to get to a safer location, but, for the time being, you’re to stay in Hungary, and preferably to lay as low as possible.”

“If I lay any lower I’m going to be six feet under,” Pierson muttered.

“I’m well aware of that,” Mr. Nyilas said. “Thus I sent back immediately enquiring if they would permit you to take on a minor role in operations here until they’ve determined where you’re to go from here.”

“Thank you,” Pierson said.

Mr. Nyilas nodded and left the room. Pierson sat himself on a chair, feeling genuinely glad that he’d not only be able to remain in Budapest, but that Mr. Nyilas understood his need to be doing something instead of sitting around.

Next Post: 30 October

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 14

Word Count: 84,055

Summary of Events:

While waiting for Mr. Nyilas to return from taking the young woman home, Pierson was startled by a knock from someone he didn't recognise. Mr. Nyilas returned before the person could leave and spoke with the person outside before the person departed and Pierson let Mr. Nyilas in. The person had given Mr. Nyilas a coded message that, when decoded, revealed that the group in Kraków had been compromised, which worried both Pierson and Mr. Nyilas deeply. When the young woman came by the following day she noticed Pierson's distress, prompting Pierson to tell her about the bad news…

Excerpt of the Day:

“The group I was with, who were going to help me escape back to Sweden,” Pierson replied. “The Nazis have got into them.”

She gasped. “Horrible.”

“So, I mean, the good part is that I won’t be leaving so soon as I might’ve expected, but the bad news is that my friends there might be hurt, even dead,” Pierson replied. “Even down to the… down to the little kids.”

“Oh,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.

“We have no idea,” Pierson said, tears rising to his own eyes. “And Constantine’s worried that the might be able to track us down since we’ve made contact with them, and that might… cause…”

He couldn’t utter his worst fears, but he could tell that she was well aware of exactly what he was thinking by the look in her eyes.

“I was already compromised there,” he said. “That’s why I was going to Sweden, I was to get somewhere safe so that the rest of the group wouldn’t get hurt, but then I was chased and I ended up getting on a train to Budapest, and the man who chased me got onto the train too. I haven’t seen him since we arrived, but I’m sure he’s still here and looking for me.”

“But he not found you?” she asked.

“Not so far,” Pierson replied. “But, considering I don’t know how I got compromised where I was, it could be a matter of moments before I end up compromised here. Maybe I already am, I’ve just stayed so cooped up they can’t find me. I don’t know. But it puts you in danger, and I don’t want that.”

“You think, then, I not come again?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Pierson admitted. “I don’t know what to do.”

“There plan you go elsewhere?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Pierson replied. “Constantine has to contact our superiors to let them know what happened and ask them for instructions, so I’m staying here until we hear from them, and I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

She nodded. “You keep with Hungarian?”

“I don’t know,” Pierson replied. “I could be endangering you.”

“I come alone,” she replied. “I leave with Konstantin. Nobody see you. Nobody know I come see you.”

Pierson nodded. “But even still, I don’t want anybody to get hurt because of me.”

“I understand,” she replied. “But you pretend be German. Maybe we continue pretend you German.”

“I know the man who’s here in Budapest has seen my face,” Pierson replied. “I shouldn’t have ever been out and about in Budapest like I’ve been with you and Constantine.”

“You change,” she said.

“How?” Pierson asked.

“You grow moustache,” she replied. “Moustache make man look very different.”

“I’ve never grown a moustache,” Pierson said.

“Always first time,” she replied. “Try, we see if it look good different.”

“I don’t know,” Pierson said.

“It make you look older,” she said. “I sure.”

“I don’t want to look old,” Pierson protested.

“It fool him,” she replied.

“I guess,” Pierson agreed. “But will that be enough?”

“We try,” she replied. “We not know what else to do. We try, see.”

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 13

Word Count: 78,036

Summary of Events:

Following Mr. Nyilas' having escorted the young woman home at the end of the day, Pierson explained to Mr. Nyilas why he was pursuing Hungarian lessons even when he could well be leaving Hungary soon, and appreciated what help Mr. Nyilas could offer owing to his being fluent in Hungarian and English. Pierson was also glad when Mr. Nyilas told him he ought to be able to get around Budapest with his German, and took advantage of the first opportunity to do so with the young woman by his side, pretending he was a wealthy businessman and she was his lovely secretary…

Excerpt of the Day:

Pierson looked up at the clouds, which looked a nearly white shade of grey, as well as looking to be quite high up in the atmosphere. He could see snowflakes falling, looking somewhat dark against the lightness of the clouds, before becoming white against the backdrop of the buildings.

They were small flakes, falling like a light rain shower. Usually snow in Coquitlam came down as big, fluffy flakes, that almost looked to be clusters of many smaller flakes, and could fall quite rapidly, as well as melting or being compacted into slush quickly, as the humid climate of Coquitlam meant most snows received there were wet snows that were lucky if they lasted twenty four hours because Coquitlam wasn’t a particularly cold place, thus either ambient temperature, or even the snow changing to rain would often melt it all away.

Part of Pierson was tempted to make an attempt to catch a snowflake on his tongue, but he felt that would probably be an undignified act for a wealthy businessman, or even the son of a wealthy businessman, not to mention, the snowflakes were so small he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to tell if he got one on his tongue.

With the clusters of flakes in Coquitlam, it was more noticeable, and even possibly easy for a person to inhale the snow into their mouth, not to mention, people his age weren’t necessarily expected to behave quite so maturely in the modern day as they’d been in the 1940s, no matter how wealthy they were.

Even though he couldn’t go catching snowflakes on his tongue, Pierson had to admit, he was glad to be walking out in the snow with Mouse* on his arm. It seemed something of a romantic thing to him, and considering that Mouse was about the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on in any time period of history, Pierson was pleased to be walking with her down a snowy street.

Since he was playing the part of a wealthy businessman — or possibly the son of one, considering he was young, and felt certain that he looked youthful — and had assigned to Mouse the role of his secretary with whom he had no romantic connections, however, he forced himself to not look at her affectionately, even though he wanted to; indeed, he actually wanted to ask her if he could kiss her.

As they walked, the snow started falling thicker and faster, but the flakes didn’t increase in size, nor did the wind pick up. All of the snow just continued falling straight down, coating the sidewalks and the roadways, as well as parked cars, store signs, awnings, rooftops, and even the top of his hat, his shoulders, and his forearm.

Passing vehicles and pedestrians left tracks, as did some birds, all of which Pierson observed to be strange to him, not that he expected the birds of Europe to be the same as those of North America, unless some were birds which had been introduced to North America, but he wasn’t recognising any.

*Mouse is the nickname he's assigned to her in lieu of knowing her real name.

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 12

Word Count: 72,047

Summary of Events:

The following day, and several days after, Pierson ended up doing as he'd done before the young woman had come to the door: laying around Mr. Nyilas' apartment feeling terribly bored and wishing he could do something when he was surprised by a knock on the door. It was, again, the young woman, but she wasn't in any way distressed, and had no emergency she needed help with, prompting Pierson to enquire what exactly had brought her to the apartment again…

Excerpt of the Day:

She looked at him with an expression that suggested she was ready to get upset at him, but wasn’t going to do so quite yet.

“You do not make joke about Hungarian lessons do you?” she asked.

“No,” Pierson replied. “No, I wasn’t joking, but, um, I’m not sure if it’s really worthwhile to pursue them.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I’m going to be leaving shortly,” Pierson replied. “I wasn’t even supposed to have come to Hungary in the first place.”

“Oh,” she said, refastening the button on her coat she’d just opened, and looking rather more crestfallen than Pierson had expected, and it made him feel badly, as he did want to spend time with her, which was ensured to be aboveboard to others by it being over language lessons.

“I’d still like to get started,” Pierson said, hesitating before putting his hand around her wool-clad arm. “And then, hopefully, after the war we can find each other again and maybe even continue the lessons.”

She looked up at him with something of a sceptical look. “That not maybe happen.”

“What do you mean?” Pierson asked.

“We are in war,” she replied. “We have no knowing how it end. We may not even be alive. You and me.”

Pierson felt a churn of sickness in his stomach to think that she might not make it, as he knew he would, because he was playing the role of Uncle Ashford, and Uncle Ashford had died at the age of 101.

“I guess that is true,” he admitted. “But can’t we maybe do a little bit still? Maybe enough that I could book my own train ticket to Kr– ah, where I’m going, and maybe even enough to make some small talk so that I seem like a Hungarian, or, at least, not the person anyone who might be following me thinks I am.”

She nodded. “We do it.”

Pierson felt pleased as she unfastened the buttons of her coat before Pierson helped her out of it, hanging it, her scarf, and her hat onto the coat tree before leading her to the dining room where she revealed what was in her bag, which looked like old fashioned school books.

“I’d offer you tea, but I’m not very handy in the kitchen,” Pierson said. “Nor am I entirely sure if I should go making myself quite that at home in a flat that isn’t mine.”

“I need no drink now,” she said. “We begin.”

Pierson nodded, seating himself beside her.

“These books from school,” she said. “Youngest, my brothers and sisters use them.”

“When they first started school?” Pierson asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “We begin, letters.”

“Alphabet,” Pierson said.

“Alphabet?” she asked.

“Yes, all the letters that belong to a language are called the alphabet,” Pierson replied. “There’s the English alphabet, and the French alphabet, and the Hungarian alphabet, and the Russian alphabet, which are the letters those languages use in their words.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Maybe we’ll both teach each other a little about our languages,” Pierson said.

“Maybe,” she replied with a smile.

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 11

Word Count: 66,028

Summary of Events:

Pierson went with the young woman to an apartment building, where they saw three thugs break down a door before Pierson felt compelled to confront them, pretending to be a wealthy German man and accusing them of harassing his maid, whom he attested wasn't Jewish. He and the young woman then took the family hiding in the apartment to a safe house before returning to Mr. Nyilas' apartment, where Mr. Nyilas was quite glad to see them…

Excerpt of the Day:

He felt another shot of jealousy as he saw Mr. Nyilas helping the young woman out of her coat and revealing that she was in a rather appealing dress that in no way detracted from her mature looks, despite her visible youthfulness.

With the thick wool layer removed, Pierson could see that her figure was indeed a lovely and slender one with a modest bust, making her, like Petra, look appropriately feminine and even delicate, but yet with a strength and resiliency that the femininity and delicacy couldn’t altogether hide, and probably served as a warning to the observant that they weren’t women to be trifled with.

Unable to understand the conversation Mr. Nyilas and the young woman were having, Pierson followed them silently to the living room, feeling somewhat sulky that he couldn’t understand what they were saying.

After a few moments, however, they both left the living room, with Mr. Nyilas departing to the kitchen, shortly after which the young woman departed to the washroom, leaving Pierson to stand alone and somewhat bemused in the living room.

Unsurprisingly, the young woman returned first and sat down. Pierson wanted to sit down beside her, but he felt like that might be a bit forward of him, so he instead sat down on a different piece of furniture in the living room, and looked at the young woman, but she didn’t look at him, so he looked down at his hands and sighed.

The kettle’s whistle told Pierson that Mr. Nyilas had been making tea, and in moments he returned with the china teapot on a tray with teacups and cookies, much like when Pierson had been first brought over.

He served tea to Pierson and the young woman before preparing his own as the young woman, between very refined and dignified sips of tea and bites of cookie, seemed to be recounting the whole tale of the afternoon.

Pierson sipped his tea and ate at a couple cookies while she talked, wishing he could understand what she was saying, instead of just hearing it, and the emotion conveyed her tone and pace, which was enhanced by the expressiveness of her face and her restrained gesticulations.

Mr. Nyilas looked quite intrigued, and listened without asking many questions to the whole tale, most of the time keeping his gaze fixed on the young woman, although he occasionally looked at Pierson, including once with his eyebrows raised with intrigue.

Finally the young woman sounded like she was wrapping up her account, and Mr. Nyilas then spoke for about a minute to her before turning to Pierson.

“That was a box clever thing you did with that ruse of being a German,” Mr. Nyilas said, sounding somewhat admiring. “Were you pretending to be anyone in particular? Was it a character you’ve played before?”

“No,” Pierson replied. “I just pretended to be a German, and I hope I came across as a wealthy one who’s maybe exempt from military service because he’s in a business that’s vital to the German war effort.”

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 10

Word Count: 57,201

Summary of Events:

Pierson expressed his boredom to Mr. Nyilas, who had no suggestions for helping him, before Pierson suggested — for reasons he couldn't explain — that he could study Hungarian, which Mr. Nyilas said he'd look into. While waiting, Pierson strove diligently to remember what had happened to him in the present, but the last day he could remember was the day he'd gotten Uncle Ashford's coat, which he was sure was part of the reason he'd ended up in the past, along with the fact that he bore a resemblance to Uncle Ashford, or so he was told. He was convinced more time had passed since then, but he could remember nothing of what had happened during that time. His bored musings were interrupted by an urgent knocking that sounded like it was being done against the door of Mr. Nyilas' apartment, so Pierson went to check…

Excerpt of the Day:

The knock sounded again, sounding even more urgent, as Pierson neared the door, and convinced him that the knocker was knocking on the door he was approaching.

He put his eye to the peephole and looked out. A thrill shot through him. It was the beautiful dark-haired young woman from the meeting whose name he wanted but hadn’t yet gotten who was on the other side, looking nearly frantic.

Unlocking the door, he opened it and she surged in briskly. He closed the door and locked it before reaching for the button at the collar of his shirt, which he felt keen to reopen, along with all the other ones beneath it.

The young woman immediately started speaking in a flurry of urgent Hungarian that, in a way, sounded beautiful, which Pierson supposed had to do with its being uttered in a feminine voice, but the rapidity with which it was being uttered made him feel like he was being borne down on by a steamroller with the high-powered engine of a race car.

Having started speaking with her back toward him, the young woman turned to face him and stopped speaking abruptly, her mouth slightly agape, looking mortified. A flush rose to her cheeks. She must’ve thought he was Mr. Nyilas, and now, seeing his face, had realised her error.

“Hol van Konstantin?” she asked.

Pierson wasn’t sure he wanted to presume she was asking where Mr. Nyilas was, but he felt like that would be a reasonable question for her to ask, although she suddenly looked even more mortified than before.

“Sorry,” she said. “Where Konstantin?”

“I don’t know,” Pierson replied. “He didn’t tell me where he went this morning, and he’s not been back yet.”

She bit her lip. Pierson just about chided her for it, her lips were too pretty to be bitten, even by her.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Pierson asked.

Her green eyes shifted to his face critically. “You drive?”

“Yes,” Pierson replied.

“Good,” she said, looking pleased. “We must go.”

“Right,” Pierson said.

He turned to the coat tree beside the door, taking up and putting on his scarf, coat, and hat before he unlocked the door again and opened it.

She exited briskly and Pierson followed her only after reaching into his pocket and finding the key that Mr. Nyilas had given him in case, for any emergency reason, he needed to leave the apartment, which he’d put in his coat pocket so that it’d be with him if needed and he wouldn’t have to hunt around for it.

He locked the door and followed her brisk and fairly urgent stride, seeming like a barely-restrained run, if he was honest, down the corridor to the stairs and out onto the street, where he had to take advantage of the length of his legs to ensure he was able to keep up with her rapid pace.

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 9

Word Count: 48,026

Summary of Events:

After a long, boring, lonely day, Pierson was grateful for Mr. Nyilas' return, and his news that he'd contacted MI6, except for the fact that they would have to wait for a reply. Mr. Nyilas also told Pierson that the group he and Árpád were a part of were going to rent the apartment next door to Mr. Nyilas' as a cover for Pierson's being Mr. Nyilas' newly-arrived Swedish neighbour with whom he'd become friends, which they went over to prepare the following day…

Excerpt of the Day:

A couple other people were there working about the apartment, getting things ready for the resident, and all of them looked familiar from the meeting; in fact, one man who noticed them in the doorway actually glared at Pierson on his way by.

“Why don’t they like me?” Pierson asked.

“They don’t trust that you’re who you say you are,” Mr. Nyilas replied with a sigh. “I don’t know what to do to persuade them of your identity either.”

Pierson nodded.

“I’ve genuinely tried everything I can think of,” Mr. Nyilas said. “And I have gained a few people who believe me, but the majority still refuse to believe it.”

“Have they given any reasons why they don’t believe the proofs I’ve given you?” Pierson asked.

“The main reason is because the proofs can all be forged,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “Which is true.”

“Even the one you had me show in front of Árpád?” Pierson asked.

Mr. Nyilas said nothing, even looking a little momentarily stunned. “Of course.”

“Had you forgotten?” Pierson asked.

“I hate to confess that I did,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “But I didn’t forget so much that I’d done it as that Árpád had been there. But of course he was, because I wouldn’t have let you stay if I’d not seen it.”

A man approached them and spoke to Mr. Nyilas in Hungarian. Pierson thought he heard Árpád in the flurry of strange words, and wondered if the man was asking why they were talking about Árpád, or what they were saying about him.

Mr Nyilas gave the man a rather lengthy reply, which Pierson suspected was an explanation of the fact that Árpád had witnessed the proof which had convinced Mr. Nyilas that Pierson was who he said he was, especially when the man looked somewhat sceptically intrigued by what Mr. Nyilas was saying, suggesting that he wasn’t fully inclined to believe what Mr. Nyilas was saying, but that he was rather keen on finding and speaking with Árpád alone to confirm Mr. Nyilas’ story.

This was reinforced by the fact that a couple other men Pierson could see were looking their way with the same sorts of expressions on their faces. Pierson wondered if they were all going to gang up on Árpád, maybe getting him to give them taxi rides later, during which they would question him about what Mr. Nyilas was saying, so that they could prove that the truth was really being told, and that Árpád was in no way complicit with any cover-up situation.

Once Mr. Nyilas had finished speaking, the man nearest to him moved off and one of the other men walked over to him, speaking in a hushed voice with some suspicious glances toward Pierson and Mr. Nyilas.

“They still don’t believe you?” Pierson asked.

“They want to confirm it with Árpád,” Mr. Nyilas replied.

Pierson nodded.

“Not that everyone entirely trusts Árpád,” Mr. Nyilas said.

“Why not?” Pierson asked.

“He has an appropriate zeal for the cause, but he can sometimes be a bit impulsive, as I’ve gathered that he was with you before he brought you to me,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “He rather wants everyone he can find to help with the cause, but his passion for it runs the risk of jeopardising the whole operation.”

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 8

Word Count: 45,006

Summary of Events:

The following day Mr. Nyilas had a long day of business to attend to which he'd determined it would be safest if Pierson didn't accompany him on, which left Pierson confined to Mr. Nyilas' apartment for the day since he knew no Hungarian and so couldn't wander around Budapest alone…

Excerpt of the Day: 

He figured it shouldn’t be too bad if he could find a few interesting titles on Mr. Nyilas’ bookshelves, as Mr. Nyilas had a pretty significant number of books, not that Pierson really knew how long Mr. Nyilas had been living in Budapest, as maybe it was reasonable for him to have such a collection owing to how long he’d been in Budapest.

Wandering over to the bookshelf nearest him, Pierson discovered, to his dismay that the first books he laid eyes on had Hungarian titles, and so did the ensuing ones all down the shelf.

Every ensuing unit of shelving also proved to contain only Hungarian-language volumes, whose titles Pierson couldn’t even make sense of. Hungarian had no relation to English whatsoever, outside of the fact that they used a common alphabet, which likely meant that the letters each represented the same or similar sounds in Hungarian as in English, but they were given meaning by wildly different combinations than in English, and with such accents as acutes, umlauts, and what looked rather like doubled acutes.

Since Pierson didn’t know any foreign languages outside of food-identification French, he wasn’t necessarily sure what the different accents meant. He knew French used a lot of them, such as acutes, graves, circumflexes, and umlauts, but they didn’t use doubled acutes, and there was no guarantees that the way the French used their accented letters was the same way that the Hungarians did.

After all, French, along with Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian, was a member of the Romance Language family. Hungarian, Pierson had always presumed, was a part of the Slavic language family that included Polish, Russian, Czech, Slovak, and the Balkan languages, but Pierson wasn’t entirely sure, and even if there was a book in Mr. Nyilas’ collection that told him what family of languages Hungarian was a part of, Pierson wouldn’t be able to read it because it was Hungarian.

Pierson did make sure to examine the spine of every single book on Mr. Nyilas’ shelves on the off chance that there was one in English, but he wasn’t altogether surprised when he found that every single one had its title printed on in Hungarian.

He did open one up, just to see what a long passage of written Hungarian looked like, and he had to admit that it looked like rather a challenge to read, but obviously Mr. Nyilas’ father had taught his son — and probably the rest of his children — to read Hungarian enough that they could acquire books and read them for information or pleasure, as well as speaking it fluently like natives.

As for him, unless he had someone teach him Hungarian, there was no way he was going to understand a thing, but he wasn’t likely to learn anytime soon owing to the fact that he had no one who was really available to teach him.

Mr. Nyilas had important business to do for Broadway, which Pierson had come to the conclusion was a codename for MI6, and was probably used for confusion reasons by suggesting that Mr. Nyilas was a theatre actor.

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 7

Word Count: 42,024

Summary of Events:

The following day, Pierson was taken on a tour of Budapest by Mr. Nyilas, before being taken to a meeting of Hungarians who were committed to helping Hungarian Jews escape Hungary, where Pierson saw the beautiful young woman from the Swedish Embassy again, along with an even more beautiful young woman whose name he was unable to learn. Following the meeting, Pierson and Mr. Nyilas were given a ride home by Árpád, who'd also driven them to the meeting…

Excerpt of the Day:

“How many Jews are left in Hungary?” Pierson asked as Árpád drew away from the curb.

“I can’t say for all of Hungary, but for Budapest our estimates are over one hundred thousand,” Mr. Nyilas replied.

Pierson raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “Not all of them are native-born, as some actually fled to Hungary from other German-occupied territories.”

“But Hungary is an ally of Germany,” Pierson said. “Why would Jews be coming to Hungary?”

“Because even though Hungary has enacted repressive laws against Jews, they’ve not conducted any pogroms against them,” Mr. Nyilas replied.

“What are their laws?” Pierson asked.

“The First Jewish Law was passed five years ago, and restricted the number of Jews in commercial enterprises, the press, medicine, engineering, and law to twenty percent,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “The Second Jewish Law, passed nearly a year later, defined Jews as individuals with as few as two Jewish-born grandparents. The Third Jewish Law, enacted two years ago, prohibited intermarriage and penalised intimacy between Jews and nonJews.”

Pierson nodded.

“Prime Minister Kállay and Regent Horthy are resistant to German pressures to allow the deportation of Hungarian Jews to their facilities in Poland so far,” Mr. Nyilas added. “Which is heartening, except when it comes to wondering how long they’ll be able to hold out, especially seeing as they’re without an army.”

Part of Pierson wanted to stare at Mr. Nyilas like he had an extra head. Why were the Hungarians allies of Germany if they didn’t agree with the policy of Jewish elimination Uncle Ashford, in particular, had been almost adamant was a core policy of the Nazi regime?

“You don’t have confidence they will be able to hold out?” Pierson asked, even though that wasn’t the question on the forefront of his mind.

“They have no army,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “How can they?”

“Considering how much other fighting Germany has to do everywhere else, do you really think they would have the men to spare to go after their own allies?” Pierson asked.

“If their territory continues shrinking the possibility exists,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “And, like I said earlier, Hungary is technically the biggest ally they have left, even if it has no real army, outside of Japan, who are rather busy out in the Pacific, and can’t really spare anyone to help here, and I don’t know that Germany would really be all that inclined to try and sustain this war on their own. In fact, I don’t think they can.”

“You mean to say that you think Germany’s position is slipping?” Pierson asked.

“Undoubtedly,” Mr. Nyilas replied. “The Allies are gaining traction and the Germans are losing their footing. I don’t think the end of the war is by any means imminent, but I certainly do think that it’s nearer on the horizon than it may’ve once looked, and with an outcome more hopeful than once had seemed possible. At least, when it comes to Europe, I can’t say about the Pacific, I don’t hear much about it here.”

Pronunciations:

Kállay: kahlay

Horthy: hohrtee

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 6

Word Count: 36,011

Summary of Events:

Once the taxi driver and his friend had succeeded in losing one another deliberately, the taxi driver took Pierson first to meet with a Hungarian man who didn't seem to trust Pierson, and then to the Swedish Embassy, as Pierson had emptied his pockets for the Hungarian man they'd met, revealing he had a Swedish passport under a false name, where Pierson was barely able to get the name of the pretty young woman who helped them, before finally taking Pierson to the apartment of a man who was fluent in English and Hungarian, who questioned Pierson and asked to see the birthmarks on Pierson's hip before addressing the taxi driver in Hungarian…

Excerpt of the Day:

The driver seemed quite pleased by what the man was telling him, and after a few minutes the two men shook hands and the driver rose, putting on his cap. The man rose as well and the two walked to the door. Pierson got to his feet and took up his coat.

“Jó éjszakát!” the driver said cheerily, waving at Pierson in the open doorway before the man closed the door after him and put the chain in place, as well as locking the door.

Pierson felt a bit bemused at his having been left behind, and he felt a bit wary of the man, if he was honest, although the man smiled at him easily, his gaze rather warm and disarming.

“My name is Constantine Nyilas,” the man said. “I’m with Broadway.”

Although he felt very confused, Pierson nodded. Broadway was New York, and the world’s, most famous theatre district. How was that supposed to be reassuring?

“I got a message from Kraków that you’d disappeared near a train heading to Budapest and to be on the lookout for you,” Mr. Nyilas said. “I was even at the station looking, but I must’ve missed you. Thankfully you found Árpád, otherwise I’d have gone back to the station tomorrow.”

For some reason, Pierson felt relieved.

“What happened that you ended up getting on the train to Budapest?” Mr. Nyilas asked.

“I’d been instructed to take a taxi to a rendezvous that would take me to the airfield so I could fly to Sweden,” Pierson replied — not that he was sure why he was telling this man the full details. “But we were stopped by the SS, and even though they let us through, a car followed us, and we couldn’t shake it, so I was dropped off at the train station to try and fool them, but a man followed me into the station. Because the platform wasn’t busy, I decided to board the train to make him think I meant to take it, but before I could get off the train it started in motion, and because I wasn’t expecting it to, I hit my head and got too dizzy to risk jumping, so I stayed on the train. I’d like to get back to Kraków, and just wanted him to take me to a hotel, but for some reason I needed to accompany him on his errands around Budapest and now he’s left me with you.”

“You don’t think a colleague would let you stay in his flat if he has two bedrooms?” Mr. Nyilas asked.

Pierson felt confused. Colleague? How was Mr. Nyilas his colleague when Mr. Nyilas was a theatre actor?

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Pierson said, despite his confusion.

“It’s no imposition,” Mr. Nyilas said. “Besides, I would need to wireless Kraków and let them know you’re here, and then we can discuss what should be done.”

“Well, I’m going to go back to Kraków,” Pierson said.

“It might not be wise, especially if you were followed,” Mr. Nyilas said. “It might be better to get you to Switzerland, or Spain, or Italy, maybe even Egypt.”

“I guess so,” Pierson conceded.

Pronunciations:

Jó: yoh

Éjszakát: aesahkaht

Nyilas: naelahs

Árpád: ahrpahd

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 5

Word Count: 27,045

Summary of Events:

Pierson was able to stay on the train by finding an unused ticket from Gdańsk to Warsaw in his coat pocket for the conductor to punch, who didn't notice the incorrect locations, before managing to sleep in his seat on the train. The next day Pierson determined that the train was travelling south and mused on what he should do about that fact, as well as on his lack of hunger despite how long he'd been awake without eating, and also on how boring riding a train was. Eventually the train stopped at a major city — where Pierson hoped he could find a currency exchange office so that he could change his money and buy a ticket back to Kraków after spending a night in a hotel — and approached a taxi driver just to ask directions, as he was unfamiliar with where he was and what language was spoken there, but the driver insisted he get in the taxi, and when Pierson saw the man he was afraid of exiting the station, he was grateful that he'd conceded…

Excerpt of the Day:

Hardly had Pierson closed the door before the driver pulled away from the curb and accelerated quickly, not unlike the time Pierson had been in New York to visit one of Mom’s cousins, whose daughter had implored Pierson to go on a taxi tour of New York with her, which had been a harrowing experience of he’d ever had one.

He watched the man he was afraid of as the car pulled away and saw the man rush to a taxi, pointing forcefully as he spoke to the driver. He was ordering the driver to follow them, which the taxi soon did.

“Take me on a tour of… wherever we are,” Pierson said.

“You not know where you are?” the driver asked.

“No,” Pierson replied.

“You are in Budapest,” the driver replied. “You never visit Budapest before?”

“No,” Pierson replied. “No, I haven’t.”

“But why you want tour of Budapest when so late?” the driver asked.

“Well, um, just… I think… we’re being followed,” Pierson replied.

“Ah, yes, I notice,” the driver replied.

Pierson startled. Maybe this driver wasn’t the novice he’d supposed.

“You want us to lose them?” the driver asked.

“That would be appreciated, yes,” Pierson replied.

Pierson startled when the driver — instead of accelerating and turning sharply as he’d expected — suddenly braked sharply three times, almost pitching him into the front seat of the car, and making his wrist feel a little shot of pain again as he put out his hands to keep from smashing his face into anything.

The fourth time the driver braked gently, coming nearly to a full stop before carrying on.

“Who taught you how to drive!?” Pierson exclaimed.

The driver laughed, which made Pierson feel even more indignant. “I just signal my friend who driving taxi behind us so he know he supposed to lose us.”
“Oh,” Pierson said. “Couldn’t you maybe give those signals a bit more gently? I just got a bad whack on the head recently, and I don’t really want to suffer another one.”

“Oh, I am sorry,” the driver said. “What happened?”

Pierson hesitated. He wasn’t sure what he should — or could — tell the driver about what had happened. He should be able to make it vague enough.

“Well, this isn’t the first time I’ve been followed lately,” Pierson replied. “And last time I was being followed I ended up getting into an accident that caused me to hit my head.”

“You be followed often,” the driver said.

“Yes, I have something of a penchant for being followed,” Pierson agreed.

“Penchant?” the driver asked.

“Yes,” Pierson replied. “It’s something that happens often, almost as if I like it, except that I don’t.”

“Ah,” the driver said.

Since the driver had resumed a consistent forward motion — and had even accelerated beyond the speed he’d been travelling before — Pierson relaxed against the back of the seat, hoping that the driver, with the help of his friend in the taxi behind, would soon help the man he was afraid of to lose track of him so that he could exchange his currency, find a hotel, and get some sleep.

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 4

Word Count: 23,018

Summary of Events:

Pierson left for the taxi stand he was told to go to and found the taxi he was supposed to. On their way to the next stop in his journey to the airfield, the taxi was stopped by SS officers, among whom Pierson saw a man in civilian clothes that he, for some reason, felt very afraid of, even though he had no idea who the man was. Once they left the SS men behind the taxi driver observed they were being followed and tried in vain to shake the follower, eventually telling Pierson to go into the train station and follow a set of instructions to try and give the follower the slip. Unfortunately, as Pierson was waiting on a platform as instructed, the man he was afraid of appeared, and seemed to be watching him, prompting Pierson to board the train, where he chose to advance through the cars toward the rear of the train before he'd get off further up the platform, and hopefully out of the man's sight…

Excerpt of the Day:

Checking quickly over his shoulder to ensure he couldn’t see the man he was afraid of so that the man wouldn’t be able to see him, Pierson opened the door and entered the train car, walking down the aisle that divided the two rows of two-person seats, forcing himself to do so somewhat meanderingly, as if he was looking for a seat that suited him when he was just using the train as a covered escape route.

Exiting at the rear of the car, Pierson once again crossed at the coupling and checked to be sure that the man he was afraid of wouldn’t be able to see him before passing through the next car in the same fashion as the first. He moved straight into the third car without checking over his shoulder, as he was pretty sure the only way the man he was afraid of could see him now would be if he got up and walked along the platform, meaning he ought to be able to descend the stairs at the car’s rear ‘balcony’ — or whatever it was called — and head for the ticket desk.

The train whistle blew just as Pierson stepped into the third car, and before he’d reached the end of it he heard a decent amount of noise. He didn’t want to hurry down the car, lest people realise he didn’t mean to stay on the train, but he wasn’t sure he liked what he was hearing.

Just as he reached the back door of the car, it jerked suddenly and Pierson, unready for the jerk, slammed into the door heavily, which caused him to drop to his seat on the floor, his head spinning worse than it had in days.

Moaning, Pierson could feel the sensation of motion. If he wanted to get off the train he’d have to jump from it, but with his head spinning faster than the tire of a car attempting a land speed record rotated, Pierson was sure that would only end badly.

He’d have to ride the train until its next stop and then find his way back to Kraków from there, or something, unless it was heading north, as then maybe he could sneak on a boat to Sweden and get out of the country that way. He felt badly for Clem and Arek, though, as he was sure they’d be waiting for him, and then be worried about what happened to him.

Having suddenly thought of something, Pierson fought against the dizziness to find something solid to grab onto as the train continued rather slowly edging forward. He hauled himself to his feet and clung desperately to the rearmost seats of the car he was in, onto which he managed to seat himself despite his spinning head.

He looked out the window, not that the motion helped his dizziness, seeking desperately for any sign of the man he was afraid of, in the hopes that he’d given that man the slip, but he saw no sign of the man on any of the benches, all of which he had a respectable amount of time to look at as they eased by. It appeared that the man had gotten onto the train too.

Inadvertently Entangled: Day 3

Word Count: 18,096

Summary of Events:

Clem and Arek came by and confirmed Pierson's identity by a cluster of birthmarks on his hip that he didn't recall having ever possessed before, and everyone living in the house welcomed him warmly based on their testimony; in fact, a young woman staying at the house even seemed to be developing a crush on Pierson, which left him a bit concerned, as he knew for a fact Uncle Ashford had never married. Clem and Arek informed him before long of a plan for him to fly out of Poland to Sweden, from where he'd either be reassigned or return to England. As he was preparing to depart for that flight, he was startled by a knock at the door…

Excerpt of the Day:

The door opened a small crack and the youngest of the boys — whom Pierson had, by this time, gathered was Mrs. Lis’ youngest child — peeked in.

“Is it suppertime?” Pierson asked.

“No,” the boy replied, slipping inside and closing the door quietly behind him.

“Then what brings you here?” Pierson asked.

“I wanted to know if you’re a spy,” the boy replied.

“Do you think I am?” Pierson asked.

“Well, you’re from England,” the boy replied. “And you keep having secret meetings with Clem and Arek.”

“You’re very observant,” Pierson said.

“I want to be a spy,” the boy replied. “I want to help defeat the Germans and send them back to Germany.”

Pierson nodded. “How old are you?”

“Nine,” the boy replied. “But I’ll be ten in December.”

“My birthday’s in December too,” Pierson said. “The day before Christmas Eve.”

“Mine is on St. Nicholas’ Day,” the boy replied.

Pierson nodded, even though he had no idea when that was, or if that was Polish slang for Christmas, but he doubted it was.

“You’d have to wait eight years yet to become old enough to be a spy or a soldier,” Pierson said. “Surely you don’t want the war to last that long?”

“No,” the boy admitted. “But I do want to become a spy.”

“Do you think we’ll need spies after the war?” Pierson asked.

“Well, maybe there will be another war,” the boy replied.

“I hope not,” Pierson replied. “Two large-scale conflicts in the span of thirty years is too much as it is.”
“Were you in the other war?” the boy asked.

“No,” Pierson replied. “I was born after it finished. But my father was in it, and my uncles. Three of my uncles died in it, and one of them left a wife and children behind, and one of his sons has done the same in this war.”

“You mean, he’s died and left a wife and children?” the boy asked.

Pierson nodded. Uncle Ashford hadn’t really shared a lot of stories about what had happened to his relatives, but he had at least shared the stories of each one who’d become a casualty of war once, as well as usually listing off all their names as specific people that the family should remember on Remembrance Day, as they were people for whom the day had been created.

“Does there always have to be a war to be spies?” the boy asked.

“Not necessarily,” Pierson admitted. “But there are more spies in wartime than there are in peacetime, which would make it easier for you to get a job, but war is a horrible and gruesome thing that no one should ever wish for.”

The boy nodded. “So are you a spy?”

“It’s probably better if you don’t know,” Pierson said. “But, if we ever meet again, I might tell you the answer.”

“Do you think we will meet again?” the boy asked.

“I can’t say for sure,” Pierson replied.

“I hope we do,” the boy said. “I like you.”