The Twins Hero and Hertzal Hertling are such solid parts of Senta and the Steel Dragon that I was surprised when I went back over The Drache Girl to find out they’re not in it as much as I thought.  They have some very key scenes, especially Hero, but don’t appear nearly as much as they do in book 2.

This is a pretty key scene in the book, and revolves around Senta and Graham, but as usual Hero and Hertzal are there to round out the cast.

When the four had finished their tea, Senta set four silver ten-pfennigs on the table and they left the bakery café.  No other patrons had come in while they had been there, and the seven diners who had been seated when they arrived were still seated.  The town square still looked completely abandoned.

“I’d like to go over to Mrs. Bratihn’s,” said Senta.

“Oh, come on,” pleaded Graham.  “I want to go to the dinosaur pen.”

“Why don’t you two go ahead, and we’ll join you,” suggested Senta.

“I really don’t want to go to Mrs. Bratihn’s,” said Hero quietly, looking down at her own black coat and brown dress.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t.  Can’t we go to the dinosaur pen with the boys?”

“Go ahead with them,” said Senta.  “I’ll stop at Mrs. Bratihn’s and be along in a few minutes.”

Hero nodded, and hurried off to catch up with Graham and her brother, who were already several paces away.  Senta turned and crossed the town square to the Dress Shop.  Mrs. Bratihn called out from the back when the bell rang over the door and a moment later came out to the front.

“Good afternoon, Senta,” she said.  “Why aren’t you at the train station dedication?”

“It was boring.  You?”

“Well,” she laughed.  “I guess I find that sort of thing boring too.  Lawrence is there, and he can tell me what happened tonight at dinner.  So what can I do for you?”

“I need another new dress.”

“That’s the third one in a month.  At this rate you’re going to be a better customer for me than Mrs. Dechantagne.”

“I’m going to buy lots of dresses,” said Senta.  “I want a whole closet full.”

“That’s wonderful, dear.  What did you have in mind?”

“Anything that’s not black.”

“I had a bolt of lavender silk come in on the Arrow.  I was thinking of making something stylish to put in the window—something with some darker purple velvet.”

“Miss Jindra has a purple dress that is really nice.  You can see her shoulder blades.”

“Yes, all the women want to show off their shoulder blades now,” said Mrs. Bratihn.  “It’s very daring.  We could make one like that for you.”

Senta reached around to feel her back.  She wondered how her shoulder blades would look.  Stuffing her hand into her pocket, she pulled out a wad of bank notes and peeled off enough to pay for the dress.  She had not even come close to spending her first month’s stipend, and now she already had another.

“Do you need to measure me again?” she asked.

“No dear.  I doubt that your measurements have changed appreciably since last week.  I do want you to look at some dress styles though, so we can be on the right track.”

Mrs. Bratihn went into the back of the shop and returned with her huge dress stylebook.  They sat looking through the pages and picking out things that they thought ought to be added to a dress, as well as things they thought ought never to be added to a dress.  Senta was aided in this by a very distinctive idea of what she wanted.  The more it looked like the dresses worn by Mrs. Government and Mrs. Dechantagne, the better the dress was as far as she was concerned, and the less it looked like those ladies’ dresses, the less she liked it.  Within ten minutes, the two had hashed out enough details for Mrs. Bratihn to get started.

Waving goodbye to the dressmaker, Senta stepped out into the cold and made her way across town square and through the great gate.  She turned west down Second Avenue though a section of some of the first houses built in the colony.  Though they were less than four years old, they seemed primitive compared to the more recent construction.  Most were tiny, one room cottages.  There were few people about here too, though Senta saw a man shoveling snow, and a woman shaking out a rug on her front step.  When she got to the corner of Bainbridge Clark Street, Senta turned right and began skipping down the hill.

She was nearing the docks when she saw four lizardmen walking away from the area.  The speed at which they were moving could very well have been called running, so slow was the normal speed of reptilians during the winter.  Then she heard shouting ahead, and she stopped to listen, but before she could discern the nature of the disruption the voices stopped.  She continued on her way, but no longer skipping.  When she reached the shipyard, everything seemed quiet. 

She stepped around the corner of an equipment storage shed that stood on the left hand side of the street and she saw her three friends.  Graham was sitting on the cold ground, his legs sticking straight out in front of him and his chin resting on his chest.  Hero and Hertzel were standing next to him.  Senta lifted up the front of her skirts and ran the last fifty feet to stand beside the three.  Tears streamed silently down both sides of Graham’s face, which was deep red.  A purple welt was beginning to form around his left eye.

“What happened?”

Hero and Hertzel both looked at her, but neither spoke.

“What happened?” she asked again.

“Nothing,” said Graham.  He slowly got to his feet.  “Nothing happened.”

“Those lizzies didn’t attack you?”

Hertzel shook his head, but Graham just stomped off to stand with his back to them, a dozen feet away.

“If it wasn’t the lizzies, then what happened?” Senta asked, this time looking directly at Hero.

“There were…” she paused and looked at Graham’s back, but he didn’t move.  “There were three men.  They had some of the lizzies kind of pushed into this spot.  They were threatening them.  Oh, maybe they were just teasing them, but…”

“But what?”

“They said they were going to cut their tails off.”

“Wankers,” said Senta.

“Yes, well, Graham jumped in and told them to ‘sod off’.  Then one of them…”

“One of them what?” said Senta, her voice taking a menacing tone.

“One of them hit him.”  Hero’s eyes welled up.

“Which way did they go?” growled Senta.

Hero did nothing but look stricken, but Hertzel immediately pointed toward Seventh and One Half Avenue, and the apartments just beyond.

“I’m going to rip their hearts out.”

“No,” said Graham.

“Don’t worry.  I’m going to…”

“No, you’re not,” said Graham, louder than before. 

He stomped back over to where the other three stood.  Fresh tears streamed down his face and a little trail of snot flowed from his right nostril.  It made a bubble when he breathed.

“All right, I won’t kill them,” said Senta.  “I’ll just teach them a lesson.”

“You’re not going to do anything!” shouted Graham, pointing at her, his finger so close to her face that it made her start.  “I don’t need you to stick up for me!”

“I just…”

“I don’t need anyone to fight for me!  Especially not a girl!”

He walked several steps away.

“And you’re not my girlfriend!” he shouted and broke into a full run, not stopping as he ran south and out of sight around some buildings.

The three friends stood looking at the place where Graham had disappeared.  Then, as if some magical spell had been broken, people began to appear on the street.  First a few could be seen at the top of the hill, coming down Bainbridge Clark Street.  A moment later half a dozen more people walked down Seventh and One Half Avenue.  Within ten minutes, the streets of Port Dechantagne were as busy as they ever were.  Hero came and put her arms around Senta’s shoulders.  Neither of the girls seemed to know what to say, and of course, Hertzel never said anything. 

“What’s going on here?”

Police Constable Eamon Shrubb had walked up next to them without them even noticing.  He looked down at the two girls and the boy, and his brow furrowed with concern.

“What’s going on here?” he said again, but this time in a softer voice.

Senta sighed.

“Tell him what happened,” she told Hero, and she began walking back up the hill the way she had come.