Honor Hertling is a character that I added to the draft of The Voyage of the Minotaur as I was finishing it.  As so often happened, I had a spot for a character and I decided to make her the sister of Hero and Hertzal Hertling.  Of course, since she’s a Hertling, it followed that her name would begin with H.  I named her in honor (grin) of Honor Harrington, the space captain featured in the books by David Weber.  I’ve read and enjoyed the whole series.

In fact I had the Honor Harrington books in mind when I wrote The Voyage of the Minotaur.  Of course these aren’t space books and are quite different from Weber’s books, but I liked the flow of the plot.  I copied the way that his story just moves along as you meet and then get to know the characters, and then BAM BAM BAM– the end of the story explodes and you see which of the characters you liked managed to survive.

Anyway, Honor Hertling barely appears in The Voyage of the Minotaur, but I gave her a small but important part in The Drache Girl.  In The Dark and Forbidding Land, I got to go back and build a foundation for that.  So, she appears more in this book than any of the others.  Here is her first part in book 2, when she shows up at Senta’s door to collect her sister.

Any further consideration of her mistress’s peculiarities was cut short by a knock at the door.  Picking up Zurfina’s discarded coat and throwing it onto the coat rack, Senta opened the door to find Honor Hertling and three armed militiamen, one of whom was carrying a lantern.

“Did you have fun?” she asked the four children.  “It’s time to go home now.”

“I thought my Da was coming to get us,” said Graham.

“He was needed at the saw mill, so I said that I would come and fetch you.  Of course Mayor Korlann wouldn’t let me out of the gate without an armed escort.”  She indicated the three men who were glancing cautiously into the dark spaces between the trees.  She waited at the door while Graham, Hertzal, and Hero gathered their things.

Honor Hertling was in many ways an older version of Hero, with a thick mane of raven hair and large, expressive, dark eyes.  Her lips were as enchanting as her eyes, but her nose, that feature that so often goes unnoticed in even the most beautiful, was the most striking thing about her.  It was perfect; neither too long nor too short; perfectly symmetrical and correctly sized for her face.  That nose brought together those lips and those eyes in a symphony of beauty on a face that had once been flawless.  But the flawless days had ended in Freedonia, when a soldier’s rifle butt had smashed down on that beautiful face and now a scar ran from her cheekbone to her chin.  It was not so horrible a scar that people looked away.  It was not so bad that their eyes were constantly drawn to it when they spoke to her.  It was noticeable though, and just as though a scratch is more noticeable on a steam carriage that is brand new rather than one that has seen some years of service, it was all the more noticeable and all the more tragic because of the otherwise perfect face which it marred.  And in Honor’s eyes, it ruined her.

When I wrote The Drache Girl and The Two Dragons, Cissy the lizzie had a small but important part.  So when I went back and wrote The Dark and Forbidding Land as a prequel, I couldn’t resist the chance to write a big part for her from her point of view.  I did the same with Brechalon and The Young Sorceress.

Here Yuah and Cissy have a confrontation with each other after the woman finds out that the lizzie has been learning to read.

The woman led the way around the side of the house and through the still dead-looking garden.  At the far side of the backyard was a gate which opened into an alleyway that made up the middle of the block between the Dechantagne house and the empty lots behind it that would someday host large stately homes.  Turning right, Yuah walked through the alleyway.  It was not covered with gravel as were the surrounding streets, but was mostly covered with dead grass and a few patches of dirty snow, with a meandering footpath roughly in the middle.  At the end of the block, she turned west down Acorn Street.  Glancing quickly behind her, she saw that Cissy was following at a distance of three paces.  She stopped and pointed to a spot on the ground just to her left.  The reptilian quickly moved to the spot by her side.

“You will stay close by me to help discourage velociraptors.”

“Yes.”

Yuah took a step and then another, but did not return to the quick stride she had been taking earlier.  She lazily strolled from step to step.  From the corner of her eye, she could see Cissy’s great greenish bulk beside her.

“So,” she said slowly, and then burst out.  “Who has been teaching you to read?”

“Hy you hant to know?”

“Don’t you sass me!”  Yuah turned quickly to look into the round yellow eyes.  “You are my servant.  You live in my house.  Answer me, damn it!”

“He say not tell,” said the lizzie, very quietly.

Yuah just stared into the yellow eyes.

“Your Terrence.”

Yuah stared, her mouth falling open again.

“You liar,” she said quietly.  “How dare you lie right to my face like that?”

“Cissy not lie.  Terrence teach to read.  He say not tell.”

“Why would he do that?  He hates you lot.  He hates all of you.”

Cissy shrugged.  “Cissy look at…”  She made an opening book hand gesture.  “Cissy try to read.  Terrence find her.  He give testasstilas chogghua tostisthiss…”

“Stop, stop.  I don’t understand.  I know a few lizzie words, but… testarosa?”

“Testasstilas… He… teach.”

“Why?”

Cissy shrugged again.

“Why teach a lizzie who can’t even say ‘book.’  You can’t say ‘book’ can you?”

“Took.”

“You see?”

“I say ‘took,” said the lizzie, suddenly straitening up.  “I say took.  I read took.  I read Holy Scritures.”

Cissy seemed to have grown twice her original size and Yuah shrank back, glancing down at the long claws on each hand.  The reptilian followed her gaze and then returned it back to the woman’s eyes.  She leaned backwards away from Yuah, but didn’t return to her hunkered down smallness.

“I do not know why Terrence teach reading,” Cissy said, carefully enunciating each word.  “Terrence haff own reason.  He not do anyone say.  He do he say.  No else.”

“Yes, well that is certainly true.  He does what he wants and to the devil with what anyone thinks.  He always did, even before his mother died.  But still, I can’t imagine…  He didn’t give you the scriptures to study, did he?  I think he’s secretly an atheist, though he denies it.”

“No.  I see ladies reading Scritchers.  I read.”

“Surely you can’t find any real interest in them.  They are stories of people and places long ago in the human world.  What are they to you?”

“It is the whord of God.”

“Yes, but not your God—not the lizzie’s God.”

“I think hoonan God is God,” said Cissy.  “Lizzie gods not create lizzies.  How hoonans here?  How lizzies here?  How trees here?  How anything here?”

Yuah stood thinking for just a moment.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” she said at last.  “I don’t know enough to say one way or another.  I wish we had an Imam that we could go ask, or even a Kafirite Priest for that matter.”

“I not see you read Scritchers.  I see you read other tooks.”

“I should be reading them.  Maybe that’s why I’m not… maybe that’s why some things aren’t turning out the way that I want them to.  I read them a great deal when I was young.  I had to.  I had to be able to recite the names of the Scriptures by rote.”

Cissy tilted her head to one side, clearly unable to follow all the words the woman was saying.

“I had to learn them,” said Yuah.

“You know all Scritchers?”

“Oh yes, I can name them all.  Listen carefully.” She took a deep breath, and in very quick succession she listed. “Creation, Odyssey, Discovery, Old Prophets, Stars, Laws, Kings, Writings of Nom, Letter of Nom, Middle Prophets…”  She stopped.  “See?  And that’s only the beginning.  You know I can name the Kafirite part of the scriptures too.  Master Akalos made sure I could recite them.  He was our tutor.  Well, he was the Dechantagne tutor really.”

“More Scritchers?”

“Yes, well you see, the ones I just listed are the first part of the Grand Scriptures.  They along with the Magnificent Law make up the Zaeri Holy Book.  The Kafirites have thrown out the Magnificent Law, but they have another whole set of scriptures that they call the Modest Scriptures.  So their book has the Grand Scriptures and these Modest Scriptures, which if you ask me have very little modesty in them.”

“You teach Cissy Scritchers?” asked the lizzie.

“No.  I don’t think so,” replied Yuah, shaking her head.  “I am not Terrence.  I most assuredly do care what other people think of me—I suppose I shouldn’t, now that I’m a Dechantagne, but I do.  And teaching a lizzie?  I just don’t know what people would make of that.”

Mr. Parnorsham is one of those characters who is around a lot in Senta and the Steel Dragon.  He is proprietor of the pfennig store and as such can play an important role in the town and in the story– providing information to the characters and the reader, and his store is a great spot for different characters to meet and interact.

I based Mr. Parnorsham’s name on Mr. Haversham of Little Lord Fauntleroy.  Although the two characters have little in common, I liked the sounds and wanted that British feel.  Here Mr. Parnorsham shows off his pistol to Yuah and Terrence– a pistol that he gets to use in book 3, The Drache Girl.

They stood quietly while Mr. Parnorsham finished trading with all the lizzies in the store, though just as he returned to them, the bell above the door rang and another group entered.

“So what may I do you for today, lady and gentleman?”

“I would like two number four needles and a one spool of thread each of azure, beryl, cerulean, cobalt, and ultramarine.”

Mr. Parnorsham pulled a small envelope from below the counter.

“The needles come three to a package now, but it’s the same price that we used to charge for two.”  He walked to the notions counter and returned a moment later, setting the thread next to the package of needles.  “Here you go—five spools of blue thread.”

Yuah squinted her eyes and examined the thread, sure that Mr. Parnorsham was either trying to cheat her or make fun of her, but the thread was all of the correct shades.

“Anything else?”

“Not for me, but I’m sure that Mr. Dechantagne is in need of a few things.”

“Captain?”

“I need a tin of shaving powder, whatever kind you think best, and a bottle of Brill-Hair.”

“Very good, sir.”  Mr. Parnorsham returned with the items.  “Anything else?”

“I also want two jars of Major Frisbie’s green tomato chutney.”

Mr. Parnorsham paused.  “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, it’s just that your sister doesn’t purchase it.  I understand that Mrs. Colbshallow is the official condimentarian, if you will.”

“My sister isn’t here to purchase it.  I am.”

“Of course, sir.  No disrespect implied.”  Mr. Parnorsham retrieved two jars of the chutney from a small stack just inside his large front windowpane.  “That will be twenty five p for the lady and let’s see… two marks seventy.”

“That’s roadside robbery,” said Terrence, sounding disgusted.

“Now that hurts, Captain.”  And Yuah noted that Mr. Parnorsham did indeed look as though his feelings were hurt.  “You know the cost of shipping products all the way from Brechalon.  If anyone knows, you should.”

“Yes, he knows,” said Yuah.  “Don’t mind him.  He’s just in a mood because of all the lizzies here and at his home.”

“Mmm.  Oh!”  Recognition suddenly rolled across the shopkeeper’s face.  “Well, yes I see… of course.  You know, I could do without their scaly faces myself.  I keep thinking they’re going to open up those great mouths and bite me, like Mrs. Gompers.”

“I have just the thing for you,” said Yuah, and reaching into Terrence’s pocket, she pulled out the large nickel-plated revolver and made as if to hand it to Mr. Parnorsham.

“Hey,” said Terrence.  “That’s a family heirloom.”

“Oh, pish posh.  You bought that in Brech before we set sail on the Minotaur.  And you’ve got at least two more just like it.”

“Oh, that’s a fine weapon,” said Mr. Parnorsham, making no move to take it.  “Too much gun for me though.”

He reached under the counter and pulled out a small black pistol.  He pressed a button on the side and a clip full of bullets dropped from the handle.  After pulling back the action to empty the chamber, he held out the weapon for Terrence.

“What do you think of that, Captain?”

Terrence held out his hand and the shopkeeper placed the pistol in it.  He ran his fingers over the smooth lines and sharp edges of the black steel.

“Automatic?  Never cared for them myself.  What is it—a Tycho Mather C-21?”

“Mather 17,” said Mr. Parnorsham proudly.  “Freedonian naval officer’s sidearm.”

“7.65 millimeter?”

“That’s right.”

“How do you get ammunition for it?”

“I have two boxes.  More than enough for me.  I shot off six rounds to try it out and a dozen more when the lizzies attacked.  The rest I’m saving for robbers.”

Terrence handed back the pistol, and then reached out to find his own still in Yuah’s hand.  He took it and put it back into the pocket of his greatcoat.  He took Yuah’s arm and gently pulled in the direction of the front door.  She quickly grabbed their packages from the counter.

Mrs. Colbshallow (Saba’s Mother) is present in all the Senta and the Steel Dragon books.  She adds a lot of flavor to the stories.  I had written The Voyage of the Minotaur, in which she appears quite a bit and had never given her a name.  In the first draft, she was just referred to as “cook”.  I made her Saba’s mother.  He appeared throughout the book, but wasn’t too important– at least in that draft.  I was several chapters into The Drache Girl before I gave her a first name, and that only for a gag about the name of Eamon’s upcoming child.  It was revealed that both Eamon’s wife Dot and Saba had mothers who first names were Yadira.

When I went back to write The Dark and Forbidding Land between those two books, Yadira Colbshallow got a much meatier part than she had previously enjoyed in the series. It was a lot of fun rounding out her personality.  Here she is, hiring lizzies to be Dechantagne servants.

Now another softskin was talking to the one that Tisson had pointed out as Clark.  Both were looking in the direction of Cissy and the others.

“What is it?” asked Cissy.

“She is a female,” said Tisson, standing up.  “The females have very wide bottoms.  And you can see she is older because the tuft of hair on her head is grey.”

“You know much, old one,” said Sirrek, sounding impressed.

“I have come to the human village many times over the last two years, to trade and to work.  In Tserich they will no longer let me hunt, because I am getting too old, but the humans will let me work and earn many copper bits.”

The older human female approached the group.  She was tiny even next to Cissy who was the smallest of the four, but she walked right up to them without fear.  Sirrek and Kheesie stood.  The human woman took each of the four by the shoulder and turned them around to look at their skin, their tails, and their feet.  She reached up and examined Tisson’s dewlap.

“I do believe Sergeant Clark is correct,” she said.  “You are a promising looking lot.  What are your names?”

Tisson put his hand, palm out over his dewlap.

“I Tisson,” he said, then pointed to each of the others in turn.  “This Sirrek, Kheesie, Cissy.”

“Wonderful!” shouted the human, clapping her hands together.  “My yes, you are a fine fellow.  Excellent.  You will all come along with me.”  She waved for them to follow and then started across the base towards the great wall.  “My name is Mrs. Colbshallow, though I don’t imagine you’ll be able to pronounce it.  You can say ‘Lady’, yes?”

“Lady.”  Each of the four lizzies tried out the word.

They reached the edge of the base when they were suddenly waylaid by a soldier with one of the big weapons slung over his shoulder.  The four lizzies instinctively shrunk back and tried to look small.

“Did you get a good selection, Mother?” the soldier asked Mrs. Colbshallow.

“Yes, yes.  No need to worry about that.  I’ve been hiring servants for nearly forty years now.  I know how to spot a good one, be he man or beast.”  She turned to the four lizardmen.  “This is my son, Saba.”

Senta’s best friend Hero Hertling is always a fun character to work with.  She is in many ways the opposite of Senta and so it is fun to play them off against each other.  Hero is shy and quiet, kind and empathetic.  She doesn’t play a monumental role in the plot of this book, but we spend enough time to get to know her.

At that moment one of the two doors in the back of the room opened and Hero stepped out.  Seeing Senta, she squealed and bounced happily into her arms.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Hertzal brought me for tea.”

“Thank goodness.  I wanted to go to your house and visit, but Honor wouldn’t let me out.”

“She has the sniffles and she thinks nothing of spreading the germs around to everyone else in the town,” said her sister.

“Come sit down with me,” said Hero.  “I want to show you my new book.”

“Oh, great—a book,” said Senta facetiously as her friend produced a small volume with a brown leather cover.

“Don’t be like that.  It’s Colonel Mormont’s journal.”

“Who is Colonel Mormont?” asked Senta.

“He explored all across Mallon more than ten years ago.  He wrote all about velociraptors and iguanodons and loads of other animals.  He wrote about the lizzies too.”

“The only soldier I care about is Major Frisbee,” said Senta.  “He makes damn fine chutney.”

“We don’t use that word in this house,” said Honor.

“Chutney?”

“The d-word.”

“Oh.  Sorry.”

“You care about Saba Colbshallow, don’t you?” asked Hero slyly.

“Saba is very nice,” said Senta, “but you know my heart belongs to only one boy.”

“Anyway,” continued Hero.  “Colonel Mormont has a lot to say about the tyrannosauruses.  When he encountered them, they hunted in packs, running around and gobbling up everything in their paths.  They sound truly horrifying.”

“The one that we have is scary enough,” said Honor.

“Down on the plains by Sussthek, I saw a pack of them,” said Senta.  “They were following a herd of these really great long-necked dinosaurs.  They hardly even noticed us.”

“That sounds just like what the Colonel was talking about.  Listen to this… ‘the tyrannosaurus is the larger and more frightening relative of the coastal gorgosaurus of western Mallon.  Notable for its hideously red face atop a black body, the creature hunts in packs that scour the land…” 

Hero kept reading on, but Senta’s mind had wandered back to her encounter with Streck.  She didn’t know why it should bother her that he didn’t believe she could do magic, but it did.  He was just so smug—so Freedonian.  She began to think about how much fun it would be to annoy him, and as Hero continued reading, she decided that the rest of her winter might not be so boring if she made it her hobby to do so.

“Tea is ready,” said Honor, calling everyone to the table.

Honor, with Hertzal quietly helping her, had laid out a very nice tea.  A plate of sliced, smoked sausages sat next to a matching plate filled with boiled potatoes.  A small bowl of mustard sat across from a mismatched bowl of chutney—home made, not Major Frisbee’s.  And each of the four diners had a plate with two small grilled cheese and apple sandwiches and a bowl of winter squash soup.

“This is really ace,” said Senta, tucking in to her soup.  “Is this Freedonian food?”

“Well, we are from Freedonia,” said Honor, “so I guess this would qualify as Freedonian food.”

“Maybe that Streck knows what he’s talking about… at least as far as food is concerned.”

“Who’s Streck?” asked Hero.

“Is that Professor Calliere’s Freedonian solicitor?” asked Honor.

“I guess so,” said Senta.  “He’s a wanker.”

Hertzal made an up and down motion with his hand and Honor reached over and slapped him on the wrist.  “We don’t say that word either.”

“Sorry.  I should have said ‘tosser’.”

“Or that word!  Meine Güte, that entire topic is verboten am tisch.”

“Sorry.  What does ‘am tisch’ mean?”

“At the table,” said Hero.

“Oh.”  Senta took a bite of her sandwich.

 “I can see how you might not like Mr. Streck,” said Honor carefully after composing herself.  “He’s one of those Nationalistische Demokraten.  They are the ones who blame the Zaeri for everything they think is wrong with Freedonia.”

“Yeah, he thinks he’s a wizard too,” said Senta.

“He’s a wizard?”

“He thinks he is.”

“That is troubling,” said Honor.  “The Freedonian wizards, the ones that belong to the Reine Zauberei, they are the worst.  If he is really one of them, and he is here in Birmisia, then that is bad.  I hope someone is keeping an eye on him.”

“I’m sure that somebody will,” said Senta.  She was thinking of herself, but as she would find out later, she wasn’t the only one planning to keep tabs on Mr. Streck.

“I wonder what the new Mrs. Dechantagne thinks of him,” said Hero.

“That’s right,” replied Senta.  “She’s a Zaeri, isn’t she?”

Honor made a noncommittal noise.

After tea, Senta made her goodbyes to the Hertling family.  Honor wanted her to stay until she could get one or more of the neighborhood men to walk her home, but Senta wouldn’t hear of it.  Hertzal made signs indicating that he would walk her home himself, but she waved him off as well.

“Don’t worry about me.  I can take care of myself.  And no offense, but if anything comes along that I can’t handle, I doubt that any of your neighbors could.”

“You’re probably right,” said Honor, sounding unconvinced.  “But do be careful.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow and see you, Hero,” said Senta, donning her snowshoes.  “You can read me more about Colonel Marmalade.”

“Colonel Mormont,” corrected Hero.