“Good day, Mother Linton.  How lovely that you could join me this afternoon.”  Iolanthe wore, for her, an unusual day dress.  It was light blue satin with a dark velvet mock-coat.  The front left far more cleavage than she was used to wearing, but some of that was covered by the bouquet of flowers gently tucked at the base and flaring outward.  She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman seated in Bonne Nourriture.  She stood up to shake hands with the priest.

Mother Linton accepted her hand.  She wore her traditional robe, black with one white stripe running down from each shoulder.  Her hair had grown quite long and straight since coming to Birmisia and it had gone completely grey.  Sitting down, she added the white linen napkin to her lap.

“Don’t you prefer Café Etta?” asked the priest.

“I thought this was more appropriate.”

A lizzie, wearing a white apron, handed each of the women a paper menu.  “Ssessial is glazed iguanodon.”

Mother Linton curled her lip.  “I’ll have the chicken salad.”

“The same for me,” said Iolanthe, and smiling, handed back the menu.  She watched the reptilian waiter depart.  “You do know there are no chickens in Birmisia, don’t you?  Our salad will most likely be velociraptor.”

“Hmph.  I don’t get the opportunity to eat out very often.”

“That’s a shame.  I find it advantageous.  It gives me a chance to take the pulse of the community.”

“I don’t need to know the pulse of the community.  I am not a politician.”

“At least not a very accomplished one,” said Iolanthe.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, Mother Linton, that this business with the Zaeri has grown tiresome.  Despite the fact that I have no strong religious feelings, I understand that you do.  That, and the fact that I respect strength in a woman, is why I’ve not interfered with you leading your flock.  But now you are becoming a danger to this colony.  If you drive wedges between the Kafirites, the Zaeri, and the lizzies now, we may not be able to unite against Freedonia.”

“The lizardmen are nothing more than animals, and the Zaeri are infidels.  They killed Kafira.”

“Well yes.  Some of the Zaeri did kill her.  Some of the Zaeri were her followers.  Some of them were her apostles.  And as you priests so often seem to forget, Kafira herself was a Zaeri.”

“Don’t presume to teach doctrine to me.”

“Fine.  Politics then.  If I have to, I will have you removed from Birmisia and sent back to Brech.”

“There is a word for defying the authority of the Church,” hissed Mother Linton.  “It’s heresy.”

“Yes.  I could be burnt at the stake,” said Iolanthe.  “If it were three hundred years ago.  There’s a word for defying my authority too.  It’s called treason, and they hang people for it.  Still.”

“You care nothing for Kafira or the Church.”

“You are absolutely correct, Mother Linton.  I care only for Birmisia Colony.”

“You care only for your family name.”

“One is the same as the other,” said Iolanthe, her voice cold steel.

“I’ll have you excommunicated.  How will your family name look then?”

“I doubt the Church hierarchy will be so inclined when I show them the evidence that you had Yuan Weiss try to assassinate me.”

“I…”  Mother Linton gulped for air.  “I never did any such thing.”

“Oh, I admit that some of the evidence had to be manufactured, but it is very convincing.  Here comes our ‘chicken salad’.”

The lizzie waiter returned and placed a large plate in front of each woman.  Iolanthe picked up her fork and took a bite.

“No,” she said.  “This is nowhere near as fine as Café Etta.  Aalwijn Finkler knows how to run a top-notch establishment.  You know, I believe he is a Zaeri.  And if I’m not mistaken, he married a nice Kafirite girl.  I wonder.  Do they attend your church or do they go to shrine?”

Mother Linton glared back.  She had not touched her food.  Iolanthe took another bite.

“Do you know what they have done to the Zaeri in Freedonia?” she asked.  “They chased most of them out.  Those who couldn’t get out, they herded into work camps.  They murdered tens of thousands of them.”

“That’s just propaganda.”

“No it isn’t.  It’s the truth.  And after the war is over and the extent of the Freedonian atrocities is revealed, good compassionate Kafirites everywhere are going to be shocked and angered at what was done in their name.  Freedonia will become synonymous with prejudice, hatred, and evil.  And the world will look at Birmisia, and what will they see?”

Mother Linton said nothing.

“They will see harmony.  They will see Kafirites and Zaeri working together for the greater good of Brechalon.  And they will see my family as the architects of this veritable utopia.  But there will be plenty of rewards to go around.  I offer you a part of this.  You don’t have to let go of your prejudice and hatred.  You just have to swallow it way down inside, and not let it back out.”

“For all your arrogance, you cannot see the future,” said Mother Linton.  “The Freedonians may march right over this city tomorrow.”

“I do not think so.”

“Are you counting on your Zaeri witch to save you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.  What are you counting on?”

“What would you have me do?” asked Mother Linton sullenly.

“Do what you should be doing.  I don’t care whether you let lizzies in the church or not—I gather there aren’t that many interested anyway.  Just let those mixed families like the Finklers and the Korlanns attend church together.  You might even find a new convert.  You will need someone to replace Yuan Weiss after all.”

There were about two dozen guests at Iolana Staff’s Accord Day party, ranging in age from the girl’s contemporaries like Willa Tice to young adults like Saba and his wife.  It was an odd sort of grouping, Saba thought, and he asked his mother about it when he saw her poke her head out of the kitchen.

“The girl reads too much,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.  “She doesn’t have much in common with the other children her age.  I think she would have invited only adults if she had her druthers.”

“How is Mrs. Dechantagne?  I hear she’s not feeling well.”

“She’s taking the cure.”

“Taking the cure?  From what… drink?”

“First things first,” replied his mother.  “Governor Staff is taking good care of her.  She won’t let her out of her sight.”

“Did you have to make all the food?”  Saba watched the lizzies, wearing red, white, and blue aprons passing out finger foods.

“Oh heavens no,” his mother replied.  “It’s all catered.”

One of the lizzies waved an appetizer tray in his direction and Saba examined the tiny sausages, little cheese pies, dainty meat pasties, and roasted shrimps.  With her free hand, the servant passed him a small plate, and he picked one of each of the items.

“Get an extra sausage,” advised Shemar Morris, scooping up several sausages for himself.  “They’re fantastic.”

Saba wondered if he should gather a plate for Loana, but looking around, he didn’t see her.

He followed Shemar around the corner and saw him begin to circle the group of girls in the parlor, like a predator trying to separate one from the pack.  From the flash of eyes and the giggles, he knew that the girls had spotted their would-be hunter and were not overly worried.  Gabrielle Bassett, Dutty Speel, and Hero Hertling all undoubtedly knew the truth: that the real threat was from each other.  In a land where women outnumbered men, the young ladies wielded their charms like fishing lures.  Gabby with sparkling blue eyes and a face like an angel, and Hero with her long raven locks and thick exotic lips, both had the advantage over the rather blank looking Dutty.  Eleven year old Sherree Glieberman, standing next to the three older girls, tried to continue whatever conversation they had been having, but their attention was all on Shemar.

Continuing through the house, Saba found his wife in close consultation with Wenda Lanier.  He walked up to ask her if he could bring her a plate of food, but she spoke before he had a chance to.

“Saba, there is a rumor that Billingbow’s is being served in the foyer.  Be a dear and bring me one.”

Saba nodded and turned on his heel to head toward the foyer.  There was no soda water there, but the front door was open and on the front portico, he found a large barrel filled with ice, frosty bottlenecks sticking out.  He pulled out three—one for Loana and one for himself, and an extra in case Wenda wanted one.

As he turned to step back inside, he noticed a huddle of young men near the corner of the house.  Stepping toward them, he caught a snippet of the conversation.

“It’s on for the tenth.  Then it’s smooth sailing…”

The face of Walter Charmley turned toward Saba, then turned back to shush the speaker.  The rest of the group faced the police inspector and it was as if the fates had conspired to place in one small spot all the mischief making talent of Port Dechantagne.  Warden Charmley was next to his brother, along with young Ascan Tice, newcomer Maro McCoort, Hertzal Hertling, and the obvious ringleader Graham Dokkins.

“Just what are you young gentlemen planning?” wondered Saba.

“Nothing that concerns the police,” said Graham, who had been the one speaking before.

“You’re not planning any more dinosaur races are you Graham?”

“Like I said, nothing that concerns the police.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt is all—you or Walter or these other boys.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Walter.  “It was Warden.”

“Shut up,” said Warden.

“Just be careful boys.”  Saba turned and went for the front door.

“Saba.”  The police inspector turned back around.  Graham stepped very close to him.

“You haven’t heard anything about Staff’s expedition, have you?  About Senta?”

“No.”

“Well… because Maro is worried, and all.”

“I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”

Back inside, Saba was looking for his wife who seemed to have disappeared again, when he almost literally ran into Dot Shrubb.  Wearing a bright pink dress, her copper hair parted in the middle and pulled back in long curls, Dot stood out in a not unpleasant way.

“Hello.  I didn’t know you were here,” said Saba.  “Is Eamon with you?”

Dot shook her head.  “Working.”

“How are you?”

She shrugged.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Iolana.”

“Church.”

“Oh, I see.  Um, have you seen my wife?”

“Out back.  WC.”

“Oh.”

“Everyone!” Iolana Staff called from the edge of the room.  “It’s time to go to the garden for games.”

She shot out the door, trailed by Willa Tice and four other girls as well as a single nine year old boy.  The older guests followed along.  Saba noticed that Shemar Morris had been landed by Gabrielle Bassett.  All was not lost for the other girls though.  Dutty Speel walked arm in arm with Benny Markham, and Hero Hertling held hands with Marzell Lance.  Of the group, only Sherree Glieberman was unescorted.  Saba followed along with everyone else and found Loana waiting outside.

In the garden, party goers played croquet or Hightower, and then the girls watched the boys run sack races.  The lizzies brought out cucumber sandwiches and lemonade and they all ate sitting on folding wooden chairs around the gazebo, while they listened to music from a mechanical player.  Afterwards, they played Doggy Doggy and Honey, Do You Love Me, and just as the sun was going down No Ghost Out Tonight.

Then it was time for dinner.  In the back of the house a long table had been set up with thirteen chairs down each side and one at the table’s head.  Each place was labeled.  In addition to the party guests, Iolana’s mother the Governor, Saba’s mother, and Cissy the lizzie joined the group.  Saba and Loana were seated at the far end from the young hostess, who sat at the head.  This was fine, as far as Saba was concerned, but his wife immediately hissed at him.

“Why is she seated there?”

Saba looked where Loana indicated and saw Dot Shrubb seated between Iolanthe and his mother, not a seat that he would have chosen for himself.  But he had to admit that it did show some status.

“Well, Dot’s well thought of,” he said.

The evening was topped off with fireworks.  The party was a great success.  All in all it was one of the most memorable Accord Days that Saba had ever experienced.