Iolana Staff is one of the characters in Senta and the Steel Dragon.  In book 5, The Two Dragons, she is just a child of 7.  It’s particularly fun for me to look back at her, as I’ve just finished writing an 11 year old Iolana in The Sorceress and her Lovers.  This is a pretty typical domestic scene in the Staff home.

“Augie and Terra are with their grandmother again today.”  A strange look passed over Mrs. Colbshallow’s face.  It was a combination of impish humor that Egeria Korlann, barely thirty-five and looking twenty-five should be called a grandmother, and discomfort that she herself at fifty-two did not yet warrant the title.  “Iolana is in the library, I believe.”

“She didn’t want to go?”

“I’m sure she was invited.  I think she wanted to stay home and read her book.”

“That girl reads too much,” opined Iolanthe.  “I don’t remember reading at all when I was eight years old.”

“She reminds me of Master Terrence when he was a boy.”

“Yes, well…”  Iolanthe untied the ribbon below her chin and took off her hat.  She handed it to Skye, who had just walked in, then turned to Ursal.  “You’re staying for dinner?”

“Thank you.  I will accept your invitation.”

Sweeping through the kitchen and down the hallway, Iolanthe made her way to the library.  Sure enough, Iolana was sitting in the overstuffed chair that her uncle had so often occupied.  Her feet were propped up on the antique tuffet and a massive book was splayed across her lap.

“Good afternoon, Iolana.”

The head of thick blond hair rocked back revealing the bow-shaped mouth, small freckled nose and striking aquamarine eyes.  Those eyes darted to the cuckoo clock on the wall and then back.

“Good afternoon, Mother.”

“How long have you been in here reading?” asked Iolanthe, stepping across the floor as a hunter approaches a doe.

“About three hours.”

“You shouldn’t read so much.  You should go upstairs and paint.”

“I don’t like to paint.”

“Why didn’t you go to Egeria’s?”  Iolanthe cupped the girl’s chin and tilted it up toward her face.  “You could have played her piano.”

“I wanted to read my book.”

“What is it that has you so engrossed?”

“It’s called “Steam”.

“Garstone?  In this house?”  She lifted the heavy volume out of the girl’s lap and turned to the inside cover.  In a careful scrawl across the page, was the barely legible signature of Kasia Garstone.  The corner of a white paper stuck out of the flap of the book jacket.  She pulled it out and found it was a receipt.  “Breeding Booksellers Limited.  Second of Hamonth, 1902.  Terrence Dechantagne.  Signed Garstone first edition.  Four thousand one hundred twenty-five marks!”

She sat the book down on her daughter’s knee.  “Is it any good?”

“Oh yes.”

“Have you given any thought to your party?”

“Um… not really.”

“Have you at least thought of a theme?” wondered Iolanthe.

“I thought maybe… goodbye to summer?”

“It’s three months till fall.  How about Accord Day?  That will give you almost a month.”

“Can we have fireworks?”

“There won’t be time to order any from Brech, but I’m sure we can find some, if not in town, then in Mallontah.”  Iolanthe cupped the girl’s chin again.  “I want a guest list tomorrow.  We’ll need to send it to the stationer by the end of the week.  And talk to Auntie Yadira about the food.  I’ve already spoken to Mr. Ghent about the music.”

“Yes Mother.”

“And thank you Mother,” prompted Iolanthe.

“Thank you Mother.”

“Don’t be late for dinner.”

“I won’t Mother.”