March, 1969

Auckland, New Zealand

The first thing Hans Dietrich noticed upon stepping off his flight was how pleasantly warm it was. It wasn't blistering hot, nor was it cold. Something just above refreshing. He took off his jacket and draped it over his left shoulder, surprised, but in a good way. It was significantly better than the dull, dreary, cold tail-end of winter back home in Germany. Perhaps this will be more enjoyable than I thought, Dietrich thought.

He had never been to New Zealand before, but he was quite familiar with the accent and its people. They, along with the Australians and British, had routinely hassled him while he conducted reconnaissance and escorted convoys of German supplies in North Africa. He earned a reputation among them for being the most capable German commander to fend them off—up until the Australian-trained Sam Troy and his own patrol entered the picture. The combination of Australian training and Troy's own bullheadedness made him far more formidable, and Dietrich was oftentimes powerless to stop him.

He was glad that was all in the past now.

Jack Moffitt and his son, Jules, along with their Egyptian cobra, Anah, and a Cambridge researcher, Doctor Millington, had been to New Zealand just two months prior, and had asked a favor of Dietrich. On their trip, they had met a young man who was in need of help that Moffitt felt Dietrich was better suited for. Traveling halfway around the world to help a stranger would seem absurd to most. Dietrich certainly thought so. Instead, he thought it would be a good experience—and a chance to have some time away from the sluggish winter at home. He took the opportunity, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what to expect. But, if Moffitt and Jules trusted this man, then Dietrich saw no reason he couldn't.

Unlike Moffitt, Dietrich prepared himself for the extensive timezone difference for over a week in advance in order to avoid jet lag. He was still tired and mildly confused as he left the airport, but it was about the same level of confusion that he experienced dealing with Troy, so he didn't think much of it. He was awake enough to ask around for anyone who was heading in his direction, and was fortunately able to tag along with a young couple returning from a trip to Australia. The drive out to the horse shelter that Jules's friend lived at would be quite long, but Dietrich didn't mind. He was alone and in no rush.

The sun was getting lower in the sky by the time Dietrich was dropped off at the start of a long, winding road that cut through huge fields dotted with grazing horses. He was told by Jules and Moffitt to be cautious, as the man running the shelter, Silas Wilkins, had a vitriolic hatred toward Germans from his time in the war. Duly noted, Dietrich had thought. I will not go wearing lederhosen and wearing an alpine hat. He kept his clothing simple, and hoped he wouldn't be seen as he entered the property. Past the fence lining the road were horses—lots of horses. Dietrich paused to study them once. "My goodness, Moffitt and Jules must have been in heaven when they were here," he said.

A few of the horses looked up from their grazing to watch Dietrich as he walked by. He looked at them as well, paying attention to their body language and doing his best to look nonthreatening to them. He was used to Troy and Moffitt's horses, but not these. He kept walking until he came to a very small home with no vehicles in the driveway. It was easy to see into the front window, and saw a young man with auburn hair lounging on a couch with a dog—an Australian cattle dog, or blue heeler, by the looks of it—watching television. Dietrich looked over the house after knocking, and saw something on the roof. Is that a cooler? He shook his head. I must be tired.

The door opened, and the young man leaned against the doorway, a wand in hand. "Who are you?"

"Are you Zeph Ainsley?" Dietrich asked.

"Who wants to know?"

"I do. I am Hans Dietrich. Moffitt sent me."

"Oh, you're Dietrich! I thought I recognized your voice. Well, welcome to New Zealand, mate. Come on in."

"Zeph, first…" Dietrich sighed. "Can I ask why there is a cooler on your roof?"

"Oi, it's not my roof. It's Lysander's. Second… there's no chilly bin on the roof."

"Yes, there is. I saw it on my way in."

Zeph looked like he was scrambling for an excuse. "I was told to hide all our lollies from you, because you have a thing for them."

"Are you referring to sweets?"

"Yeah, mate."

"Whoever told you that is being ridiculous."

"I couldn't tell. Jules made it sound serious."

Dietrich resisted the urge to sigh again. "It is not serious."

"Alright, alright." Zeph grabbed a broom propped up by the door, and went outside to get the cooler.

Dietrich looked down when he heard the sound of a dog's nails on hard floor, and saw the cattle dog sitting by him. "I am not all that familiar with your breed," Dietrich said. "Are you friendly with strangers?"

The dog sniffed the skinny German's hand when he held it out, then trotted over to sniff Dietrich all over.

"Be nice, Soot," Zeph said as he came in. "Friend, not threat." He set his broom back by the door, and put the cooler on the counter. "So, when'd you get here?"

"I just arrived today, actually," Dietrich replied.

"Oh, so you must be exhausted."

"Moderately so."

"You hungry?"

"I will eat if you offer something."

"I can cook, mate, but I've never made anything German before."

"That is alright." Dietrich set his suitcase near the broom. There were three surfboards propped up next to it. "I am more interested in trying some local tastes anyway." He sat by the counter, wondering if it would be polite to get back up and help.

"I will say, a lot of stuff we have isn't that different to the Brits. Mostly. I personally don't stop for tea ten times a day. I wouldn't be able to surf! I'd need to keep stopping to take a leak."

And that is what I came to talk to you about—surfing. "I like a cup of tea in the afternoon. Chamomile, with a bit of honey and vanilla."

"Chamomile?" Zeph made a face. "I can't stand chamomile. Lysander drinks it when he's sick. It tastes like you just plucked a flower and put it in your mouth."

"I disagree, although that would be a good way to convince Troy to drink tea."

"Why? Because he already eats random plants?"

"Yes."

"Oh, yeah, Jules and his old man told me about Troy's questionable eating habits."

"Indeed, he is… quite legendary among our group for it." Dietrich rested his arms on the counter and leaned forward. "That brings me to the reason for my trip here. Moffitt suggested a career path for you that you are not entirely sure about."

All the humor faded from Zeph's blue gaze. "Yeah… that… I've been doing everything he suggested since he and Jules left. I go out on a ride every morning, try to do something a little different if the horse permits, and try not to get frustrated. It'd be better with a mentor."

"I agree with Moffitt that horseback riding is a good way to instill self-discipline and a better way of managing frustration when one of your students becomes difficult. However, I think we can do more. He also mentioned that there are some things in your past that I should be aware of, but that I should let you tell me at your own pace."

Zeph sighed. "Well, Jules told me about your history, so it's fair I tell you mine. Soon. Not now."

"Fair enough."

Zeph opened the refrigerator. "Now, are you as picky as Jules's dad? That's the question."

"To put it simply, no, but I do have my preferences. They are just not nearly as extreme as Moffitt's."

"Oh, so do you actually put a decent amount of milk in your tea?"

"Tea is not my morning beverage of choice. I have tried in the past, and it does not work as well as coffee for me."

"I prefer coffee, too, so that'll make mornings easier." Zeph set some ingredients down on the counter. "So, I take it you've never been here before?"

"No. I am familiar with your people, though."

"Oh, yeah, you were in North Africa. Lysander's dad was as well. I'm sure Jules told you that—"

"Yes, he told me to be careful. Did you have family in the war?"

"Technically, yes, but it's complicated. All I'll say for now is that my dad was too young to serve."

Dietrich didn't particularly care for being handed a few puzzle pieces at a time in terms of Zeph's history, but he was willing to be patient with the younger man. He changed the topic. "How long have you been surfing?"

"Since I was ten. I don't think my parents realized how much I was going to enjoy it when they let me give it a try. To be fair, I didn't, either. Not long after, I made it a part of me." Zeph went over to where the surfboards were propped up, and took the one next to his broom. It was silvery-gray with two teal stripes running lengthwise near both sides. "I've had this since I was thirteen, and I'm not getting rid of it until it breaks. First thing I bought with my allowance money—well, Lysander helped. Earned me a bit of a lecture on how to be more careful with my finances, because I spent everything I had on this. My parents told me to pay Lysander back, but he told me not to bother."

"I take it your hobby of surfing has always been a point of contention with your family?"

"Not really. They were okay with it while I was still in school, because back then, that's all it was—a hobby. When I became more serious about going professional, that's when it became a problem. It's not a worthwhile career. There's too much risk and reliance on luck. It's dangerous. It has a culture full of lazy people. Everything you could argue under the sun, that's what I was told."

"Reminds me a bit of what Troy went through growing up. His grandparents were farmers in Greece before moving to the United States in the late nineteenth century. They continued farming in Wyoming, and taught their children the same thing. As a child, Troy grew to enjoy that sort of work, so he wanted to become a rancher. His parents did not want him to. They wanted him and his brother to go off to college, and do something better. Troy refused, and it caused a number of issues that he is still dealing with to this day. Fortunately, he has his ranch now."

"I mean, I can kind of understand my parents claiming that surfing is pointless. What Troy wanted is actually productive."

"I know. Troy is one of the main suppliers of beef in the town he lives near. He is good at his job, and he understands the value of it. He is far from selfish, like his family has tried to paint him. In spite of how he was treated, he is a good man. He is loyal to his friends, his wife, and his daughter. He works hard, he does his best to do the right thing, he is generous, and has a sense of humor."

Zeph was quiet, absentmindedly turning sausages over in a skillet. "That's something I need to work on. The 'being a good person despite being treated badly' part."

"According to Jules, you already are."

"Did he not tell you I nearly beat the crap out of him?"

"He did, but that did not last long, did it?"

"No, but that wasn't the right thing for me to do."

"No, but good people can make mistakes and bad choices sometimes. None of us are perfect. The best we can do is learn from our mistakes and do our best to not repeat them."

Zeph nodded. "Makes sense." He covered the skillet, and opened the refrigerator to get a bottle of soda. "I do try, but sometimes I wonder if I'm not trying hard enough."

"Even the smallest acts of kindness can do wonders for someone who needs it."

"Maybe that's what I need to… sink in. I told Jules and his old man that I don't want to be responsible for helping people, because I'm afraid of botching it up and making them worse off."

"I think that is a reasonable fear to have, and I am going to show you how to overcome it."

"How?"

"A few different ways. It will require you to trust me, though."

"Hey, I was told I can trust you, and Soot's still sitting by you and hasn't tried to bite you once. Cattle dogs typically don't do that, but he was really good with Jules, his dad, and Anah, so…" Zeph shrugged. "I get the feeling this'll be a test of patience for you, too."

"As a father to a young child, and having been friends with Troy for over twenty years, I can handle whatever you throw at me."

"I'm not sure if I should be glad you have that much confidence, or worried you're a bit overconfident."

"Trust me, I learned my lesson with being overconfident many, many years ago." On one hand, Dietrich hoped he was right in assuming that his confidence wasn't being misplaced. On the other, perhaps Zeph would be the person who challenged him more than Troy or Gunther.

Zeph was kind enough to let Dietrich stay, and designated the recliner in the living room to be where he could sleep. After getting a shower, which felt quite good after his long flight, Dietrich attempted to settle in for the night. It was taking a great deal of time for him to feel tired as his usual nightly routine was almost nonexistent.

"Still up?" Zeph asked as he entered the living room. He was only in a pair of shorts, and his hair was messy and damp from his shower. He set his wand on the coffee table before sitting on the couch.

"It will take a bit of time. I will manage," Dietrich replied.

"We do have tea if you want." Zeph lay on his back, pulling a blanket over himself. "Books under the table."

"I would not like to keep you up by keeping the lights on."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I can sleep with the brightest lights on, somehow."

"Interesting." Dietrich attempted to get comfortable. "I have a nightly routine that I have adhered to for many years. This will take some getting used to."

"I'm used to having the place to myself with Lysander in Auckland, but sometimes it feels a little too lonely." Zeph shifted to let Soot hop on the couch with him. "Even with Soot around. Having you will help a bit."

"Well, I am alright with conversation, if you are."

"Sure." Zeph draped one arm around Soot, then turned to look at Dietrich. "Jules told me you have this ability that lets you have psychic visions when you're asleep. That true?"

"It is true," Dietrich replied. "It was… a reward, of sorts, for completing the prophecy—well, the knowledge of it was a reward. I have had strange dreams in the past that turned out to be visions, even long before I received the knowledge of this ability. One such dream involved the magpie prophecy. Specifically, Jules falling from one of the turrets of the birds' castle in Scotland."

"Ah. Yeah, he said he's had bad dreams about that. And the magpies in general."

"Yes, I received a phone call about it from him, as you may remember."

Zeph nodded. "Did he tell you what I did? About trying to help him with surfing?"

"He did. That was also what gave Moffitt the idea of you running your own camp."

"Yeah, which I got upset about."

"I can understand why. For the longest time, I believed I could not help anyone. Troy once told me that if he ever seriously pondered suicide, I would be the first person he would talk to. Back then, I told him he was crazy."

"Wait, I thought you've always told him he's crazy."

"That is true. I have been questioning his sanity for over twenty years now. You get my point, though."

"Yeah. But, you know Troy. I'd be working with complete strangers."

"You would, but that is what I will help you with."

"Can I admit I'm worried about failing you?"

"You can, but I would not worry. I will challenge you, but I will not get angry if you struggle."

"Thanks." Zeph turned so he was looking up at the ceiling, still holding Soot. "What's it like? Having psychic visions, I mean."

"It feels strange at times, but it has come in handy. Over the years, I have learned to better analyze them through meditation."

"Do they happen every night?"

"No. I cannot predict when they will happen. They can even happen when I am unconscious or under anesthesia."

"I know true psychics can control their visions, but I've never heard of this before."

"Have you met someone like Moffitt before?"

"No. That was definitely a first for me. It was a bit freaky hearing him hissing in his sleep."

"During the war, after I learned about Moffitt's gift, interacting with him was always a bit nerve-wracking because all I knew at the time was that he could summon snakes if they were in his vicinity, and that Anah would defend him at all costs. I was very cautious when dealing with him. Even with our roles at the time, the fact that I treated him in such a way was… hurtful, because it was exactly how he feared people—his own allies—would treat him if they found out about his abilities."

"You two didn't even trust each other then."

"No, but I did apologize for it years later. Now, it is nice to see he is less ashamed of it."

"Yeah, but it wasn't hard to see that he's got issues with his confidence. And Jules has a similar problem."

Dietrich nodded. "We are working on Moffitt's confidence, and Jules's. It will take time for both of them, but it is also important to recognize the traits they are already strong with."

"They both have a lot of good traits, but sometimes they get hung up on their shortcomings."

"Yes. That will also take time to assist them with."

Zeph was quiet for a long while, staring up at the ceiling. "Jules's dad is the kind of person I wish raised me. Even with some of the things he needs to work on. He's not overly pushy, he doesn't talk down to anyone younger than him, he listens, he's really smart, and he's open about his own past. He doesn't act like I'm not going to understand anything he tells me."

"I am guessing that was a problem with your own father."

"Yep."

"I have to tell myself that children are capable of understanding things far better than one would expect. Sometimes, they do things that make you question whether or not they can, but in the long run, it is better to gently correct them and try to turn something into a teaching moment." Dietrich sighed. "I am not always good with that with Gunther. My patience sometimes wears thinner than I expect." He looked at Zeph. "I take it Jules told you I have depression?"

"He mentioned it, yeah."

"I have gained a great deal of control over it, but sometimes it flares up and makes day-to-day life difficult. Gunther will be seven in a few months, and I am trying to find the best way to tell him about what I have."

"That's hard because it's one of those things that's just… invisible."

"Pretty much."

Zeph was staring absently at the ceiling, with Soot's head rested by his shoulder. Eventually, he reached up to shut the lamp off. "I'm going to try and sleep. See you in the morning."

That was a bit sudden. "Alright. Good night." Dietrich shifted to get comfortable, and made sure his blanket covered him before settling in to sleep.

Dietrich awoke to the feeling of two paws on his chest, and a wet nose sniffing his neck and face. "No, Fritz, down," he murmured in German.

The sniffing stopped, and Dietrich opened his eyes to see not the face of the red stray mutt that was left with his men as a very bizarre result of none other than the Rat Patrol's usual antics, but the very confused face of an Australian cattle dog.

"Oh. My apologies, Soot." Dietrich gave the heeler a scratch around his ears. "Can I get up, please?" He got out of the chair once the dog was off, and picked up his suitcase from the floor to get a change of clothes. The smell of coffee started floating in from the kitchen, and Dietrich found he was looking forward to trying New Zealand coffee. He had to go through the kitchen to get to the bathroom, and saw Zeph pouring cereal into a bowl. "Good morning," Dietrich said.

"Good morning," Zeph replied. "Coffee should be done soon."

"Thank you." Dietrich went into the bathroom, taking all of a minute to get changed. He returned to the kitchen, and paused by the coffeemaker. "Where do you keep your mugs?"

"Cabinet right in front of you," Zeph said. "I've got some work to do, but then I'm heading out to Sunset Beach."

"I would be happy to help you out."

"Normally, I'd gladly accept your help, but I don't want Lysander's dad to see you."

"I can pass as American if I need to."

"Really? Cool."

"Well, I learned how to in order to impersonate American personnel in North Africa. Not exactly a positive origin."

"I assumed you could pass as British. You seem… like you'd fit right in with the British upper class."

"I have not put much practice into a British impersonation, actually."

Zeph took a moment to think. "I don't know… As much as I'd like the help, I would hate to see something bad happen. You don't exactly have a cover story."

"Alright. Is there anything around the house that needs to be done?"

"I guess clean something if it looks like it needs it. Don't bother with Lysander's bedroom—I dusted it a couple days ago."

"Alright. How long do you expect to take?"

"At least three hours. Depends on how many other people are working today." Zeph shoveled a heaping spoonful of cereal in his mouth. "Have you ever flown on a broom before?"

"No."

"Well, that's how we're getting to Sunset. It's not bad once you get used to it."

Dietrich wasn't opposed to the idea of flying on a broom, but he did wonder how so many warlocks were able to undergo long trips without discomfort to certain things that weren't considered polite conversation. After breakfast and coffee, he tried to busy himself by searching for anything around the small house that needed attending to. He didn't find much, apart from dog hair on the couch that only needed a few swipes with a lint roller. When he finished, he threw out the strip of sticky paper and returned the lint roller to the closet outside Lysander's bedroom.

He noticed movement in the corner of his left eye, and saw an older man walking up to the house. Dietrich wasn't sure if the man was Lysander's father, and didn't want to take chances, so he ducked into the bedroom and closed himself in the closet. Fortunately, the closet was incredibly clean and organized, leaving him with plenty of space to sit. His suitcase had been tucked away in the linen closet before Zeph headed out for his chores, and hoped that was the only trace that had needed to be covered.

He could hear the sounds of the man walking around the kitchen and living room, then heard him enter the hallway outside the bedroom.

"At least you're keeping this place clean, Zeph," the man said.

Dietrich expected him to leave after a little while, but it sounded like he was still standing outside the room.

First, there was a sigh, followed by, "I swear I saw someone in here last night. Huh. Guess not."

Dietrich didn't move until he heard the front door open and close. He still gave himself ten minutes to ensure it wasn't a trap to lure him out, then crept out of Lysander's closet. On his way out, he noticed a stack of cardboard boxes by the door, all labeled with Zeph's name. Is this all of Zeph's possessions? He didn't look inside, as he didn't have permission to do so, and instead left the room. Sure enough, no one was in the house anymore, leaving Dietrich free to keep searching for something to do. When he found nothing else, he pulled one of the large atlases out from under the coffee table. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the window being right behind him, but told himself to relax.

At the same time, he was thinking back to when he returned home for a month of leave on Field-Marshal Rommel's orders shortly after he had been reassigned to Italy in 1943, and found his apartment had been bugged. Dietrich unconsciously reached behind to take one of the curtain drawstrings and inspect it. He let go of the drawstring, suddenly feeling like he was being ridiculous. Dealing with one man's irrational hatred of his nationality was nothing like dealing with the SS trying to prove his loyalty, but Dietrich wasn't exactly alone here. Lysander's father figuring out who and what I am could have disastrous consequences for Zeph, and Lysander as well. I will not risk them being made homeless because of me. Dietrich positioned himself so he could see out the window more easily. Fortunately, the next person he saw coming up to the house was Zeph, so he stayed where he was.

Zeph entered the house with Soot in tow. His skin was reddened from working out in the sun, and sweat was running down his face in waves. Soot, meanwhile, looked like he was ready to keep working. "You know, if you could stand and hold a shovel, that'd be great," Zeph said to the dog. He looked over at Dietrich. "Have you had lunch, mate?"

"No, not yet. Why?" Dietrich asked.

"I'm going out to Sunset after I eat something. Was there anything you planned on doing?"

"Well, I would like to start slow, to get a good idea of what is hindering your confidence, with a session of meditation."

"Do you mind if I surf for a bit first? It helps clear my head."

"By all means. A clear head will make this easier for both of us."

"Thanks."

Zeph had Dietrich stay inside while he tied his surfboard to his broom, only beckoning for Dietrich to come out and climb on once he was ready to take off. Unfortunately for Dietrich, Zeph's takeoff wasn't exactly slow. He cursed in German while holding tight to Zeph, all before making the mistake of looking down.

"Yeah, don't do that, mate," Zeph said. "Sorry. Wanted to get out of here before someone saw you."

"I have a feeling that hiding me is going to prove to be more of a challenge than either of us thought before long," Dietrich replied.

"I do enjoy a challenge. We'll make it work."

Once Dietrich got used to the sensation of flying on a broom, he was able to take in the sights around him. All the pictures he had seen, and Moffitt and Jules's accounts, weren't wrong in how lovely the New Zealand countryside was.

"We didn't get to see much when Jules was here. Next time he comes, Lysander and I will pack up the car and show him around. It'll be fun," Zeph said.

"I think we are both spoiling him with experiences like this. I have plans to take Jules to the Alps for a few days in the summer," Dietrich added. "He is old enough and expressed a willingness for trips like that. It will be just the two of us, in a very quiet, somewhat remote location."

"We have our own Alps in the South Island. I've flown over them a few times to get to surf contests."

"That must be quite cold."

"You could say that again. I prefer warmer water for surfing. I'm hoping to go to one of the tournaments in Hawaii one day. I went to Australia once. The snake doctor that brought Jules and his dad here gave me the name of one of his friends in South Africa who could get me into some of the contests there."

"I was told that you have been struggling somewhat with actually winning contests here in New Zealand."

Dietrich began wondering if that had been the right thing to say, as Zeph didn't respond. They both remained quiet until Zeph landed his broom at the beach. He untied his surfboard from the rear of the broom, then left his shirt, sunglasses, and wand with the broom. "Watch over that, please," Zeph said. "I'll be back."

Dietrich nodded before pulling off his own shirt and sitting cross-legged by Zeph's things. He watched the younger man walk out to the water with his board tucked under his arm, then looked around the rest of the beach. The only other people present were dog owners walking their pets. He had a feeling this was just how Zeph liked the beach—with no one to interrupt or bother him. I imagine that is an attitude that has not won him any friends, Dietrich thought. However, there is probably a reason for his behavior. To dismiss it as mere rudeness would not do him any favors.

He watched Zeph get up on his board to ride the first incoming wave. There was grace and fluidity to Zeph's movements, making the most of the time he had with each individual wave. The motions of Zeph's surfing reminded Dietrich of the movements of a snake, weaving along the ground without disrupting its path. The tracks in the sand left behind by the local snakes in North Africa were always an interesting sight to see, whether they were straightforward paths or sidewinding. It made Dietrich wonder how Zeph had never won anything. Did he perform differently under the stress of competition? Was he not flashy enough for the judges? Was it something else entirely? Something Zeph knew about but hadn't told Dietrich? Zeph had been fairly open so far, but at the same time, he had a tendency to close off at random points.

Dietrich could be patient. He would help Zeph, but he kept in mind that he was doing this for Jules and Moffitt as well.