Wein - Black Dove, White Raven

ALSO BY ELIZABETH WEIN

Code Name Verity

Rose Under Fire

Special thanks to Dr. Fikre Tolossa for sharing his expertise on Ethiopian history and culture

Copyright 2015 by Elizabeth Gatland
Cover design by Whitney Manger
Cover photo Andrii Muzyka / Shutterstock
Cover photo of boy Jane Sweeney / Getty Images
Cover photo of girl Rebecca Parker / Trevillion Images

Excerpt from Code Name Verity copyright 2012 by Elizabeth Gatland.
Excerpt from Rose Under Fire copyright 2013 by Elizabeth Gatland.

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For Susan

I still have a plane. There must be some way I can get Teo out safely. I think Mommas hoard of Maria Theresa dollars is enough to pay for the travel. I am hoping my new passport is waiting for me in Addis Ababa. But TeoTeo is trapped. I have thought about trying to get him a British passportColonel Sinclair has friends who have not left Ethiopia. I could throw myself at them in disguise as Helpless Young American Girl All Alone.

I wonder if I could sweet-talk someone at the British Legation. But Momma couldnt even sweet-talk the Americans in our own legation, and of course the British probably cant do a doggone thing for Teo even if they want to. Legations have not got all the powers of embassies, and I dont know if they are even running anymore, since the invasion and the shooting started. I dont know anything thats happened in the past four months, except what Ive seen from the air.

What about the French? Momma was still friendly with Pierre Ferrand and those Imperial Ethiopian Air Force pilots last time we were in Addis Ababa. But were not French, either, and I dont even know if theyre still here.

It is a waste of time trying to pass Teo off as Italian. I think I pretty much burned that bridge when I stole a plane from the Italian air force.

Sinidu is right. I am here at Lake Ashenge, north of Korem, and the emperor is in the hills above the town. There isnt anyone else who can help me.

I have nothing to lose. I am going to dare it. I will aim for the sun.

March 4, 1936

Yekatit 25, 1928

I am writing to you (politely, I hope) to beg you to forgive my brother, Teodros Gedeyon, for the bond he owes your servant Ras Amde Worku and to grant him an Ethiopian passport.

We have not met you, but we saw you just before your coronation and again when you landed for a few minutes at Tazma Meda. You know our mother, the photographer and flier Rhoda Drummond Menotti, who works in your progressive clinic there. You used to let her land on your airfield in Akaki near the capital. Her aircraft has also been flown honorably in your service by my brother, Teodros. He was given his pilots license by the same man who trained your own Imperial Ethiopian Air Force pilots.

Your Majesty, I am a white American myself, and I dont believe you will expect any national loyalty from me. But my foster brother is an Ethiopian citizen because of his Ethiopian father. I count on your mercy and wisdom as I beg you to shower your blessing and generosity on Teodros. I have lived in Ethiopia since I was a little girl and am brokenhearted to have to run away as it is falling.

I am on my own. I am desperate. I dont know where else to turn for help. But I know that you can grant Teo a passport. You have children, too, I know, and some of them are not grown up yetPrincess Tsehai is our own age, and Prince Makonnen is very young. You must understand what it is to fear for your family.

I thought I would send you some things my mother kept, our baby stories and our older stories, some writing exercises, and our flight records. I hope they help you understand what has happened to us.

I am embarrassed that everything is written in English. Teo and I both speak Amharic, but we dont write it very well, and I know that your translators are busy. My apologies! Also, Im embarrassed about the writing, which is silly here and there, especially in the beginning. But we both like to write, and sometimes I feel as if the only thing I can do is write. It helps me think. Maybe you know what I mean.

I beg to tell you all that we have done for Ethiopiaand for youthis year.

I anxiously await your response and remain

Your obedient servant,

Emilia Drummond Menotti

P.S. The captured Italian aircraft is also for you. I hope it is payment enough for the big favor I am asking.

This story is by Em M and it is writen down by Teodros Dupr

Once upon a time there was a very beaoutiful lady that was able to wear every costume and she coud make things and save peple and her name was White Raven. She travled in her flying machene with her partner named Black Dove. Sometimes he coud be invisable. They flew everywere together and that means they were always in the soup together. One day in there plane they saw a big gray cloud and when they got close they saw that it was made all out of birds flying very close together. They flew arond the cloud and they landed safelly. The End

(May 1928)

Subject: My Earliest Memory

Beehive Hill Cooperative Coffee Farm

Tazma Meda, Wollo Province

19 October 1934 (Teqemt 9, 1927)

YOU DON T HAVE MUCH CHOICE about what your parents make you do until youre big enough that they cant tie you down. I am not sure this is my earliest memory, but it is the oldest one with details in it. It is of being tied into the open cockpit of a Curtiss Jenny flying machine by Cordelia Dupr. When I was little, Delia took up more space in my head and heart than my own father did. In fact, she still takes up more space there. Delia is the most important thing that ever happened to our momma.

I know that this memory takes place when I was five years old because I was five years old when Momma and Delia bought the Jenny, their own airplane. It was a biplane that looked a lot like the one we have now, one wing above the other, with open cockpits. Well, there were four of us to fit into the Jennys two cockpits, counting me and Teo. Teo and I werent very big when we were five, but Momma and Delia figured out ways of taking us along.

This memory is not of my first flight. My first flight was in France in 1919, when I was five weeks old, not five years. My father, Pap Menotti, did the flying. Momma carried me against her belly in a scarf tied around her waist and under her big leather flying coatthey didnt want anyone at the airfield to know they were taking me along. It was the day of my baptism. Mommas parents are Quakers, and they dont hold any kind of religious ceremony, but Pap is Roman Catholic and Momma wanted to make him happy. So she agreed to have me baptized if they did my baptism in air on the same day. Momma thinks I might have been the youngest person ever taken for a flight in an aircraft then.