Peter Bassington didn’t even notice that it was dark until it became impossible to read the book in front of him.  He looked up at the clock on the wall and felt his neck complain.  He had been bent over the books for almost five hours, and now his head was swimming with almost maddening thoughts.  He glanced back at the text he had just finished.

She floated down from the sky, her huge, feathered wings outstretched.  They were twelve feet from tip to tip and as white as the clouds, as white as newly fallen snow, as white as faith and hope.  The rest of her body was smooth and supple and sublime and beautiful and naked.  Her tiny feet came gently to rest in the soil beside the bizarre purple flowers, each of which looked up at her with a large eyeball in the center.  Her face was beauty incarnate and her body was bliss.  Long blond hair cascaded down her shoulders, impossibly thick, almost to her waist.  Her eyes were spaced wide above her prominent cheekbones and small but perfectly formed nose. Her full lips smiled crookedly exposing straight teeth as white as her wings.

It was here, in this endless field of loathsome purple flowers, where she waited for them.  And they came.  They came to her.  They retreated here from the world, when they rubbed the See Spice into their eyes. And here she took care of them; took away all their cares, took away all their fears, took away all their pain. She also took away their love, and their desire, and their sense of self.  She left them the empty husks of what they had been and would never more be. They called her angel, and they willingly gave themselves to her, and she feasted on their insides like they were her own personal drinking gourds.  But she wanted something more. She wanted to leave the endless nothingness of that place and come to the real world, where she would feast on the marrow of all that is good and pure and true.

The passage didn’t mention a name, but Peter knew to whom it was referring.  Her name was Pantagria.  She was an angel or demon that those addicted to white opthalium saw when they used their drug.  He had heard her name uttered once or twice by addicts on the street or in opthalium dens. But most of what he knew came from Senta.  Two and a half years earlier, while they were journeying to Birmisia from Brechalon, an addict, one of Pantagria’s minions here in the real world, had thrown white opthalium into Senta’s eyes.  This transported her to that other world, where Pantagria had begged her to use her art to bring the angel to the real world.  Senta had managed to escape.

The whole story had sounded like a fairy tale and Senta wasn’t above a bit of self-aggrandizement on occasion, so Peter hadn’t been too sure of the authenticity of every detail, but here it seemed to be verified in black and white—in a book written almost two hundred years earlier by a man named Viner.  And there were other mentions of Pantagria going back a thousand years.  Then there was the note scrawled in the margins of the Viner text “Nom 2:3-4”.

Peter pulled himself to his feet and walked from the dining room, through the parlor, and down the hallway to the library.  It was so dark in the room, he had to feel around for the gas light sconce on the wall. Pulling a match from his pocket and striking it, he turned the knob, and the hissing gas burst into bright yellow flame, illuminating one side of the room, and throwing shadows of chairs and tables on the other.  The young wizard retrieved a pristine copy of the Holy Scriptures from the bookcase and flipped it open.

“Bother,” he said. There were three books of Nom: The Writings of Nom, The Letter of Nom, and The Children of Nom.”

Looking at The Writings of Nom, chapter 2, verse 3, he found“I have need of you,” so saith the Lord.  “I have need that you will sacrifice of yourself.”  Not particularly inspiring or helpful.  He turned to The Letter of Nom, chapter 2, verse 3.  One thing I ask of the Lord only, and I hope with all my heart that he will grant my prayer: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life. Finally he turned to The Children of Nom and as he read, he felt ice filling his belly.

2. The Lord came unto the feathered one and the Lord said, “From whence comest thou?” And the beast answered the Lord, and said, “You know from whence I come. From going to and fro within my prison among the seeing weeds.”
3. And the Lord said, “And there you must stay lest man should weep and all our works should turn to dust.”

Bloody hell.  That was the Grand Scriptures too.  They were, what?  Three thousand years old?  It was too big—too much to think about.  He turned out the light and felt his way back to the parlor.  Then he climbed the stairs and slipped into his bedroom. Peeling off his clothes, he dropped down onto his bed and passed into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, Peter, as usual, found Baxter and Sen at the table having breakfast.  The girl had a toast soldier in one hand and her wooden dinosaur in the other.  The man was sipping a cup of tea while reading from a small paperback book.

“What are you reading?”

“Attack of the Zombie Women,”Baxter replied, turning the book to display a luridly illustrated cover picture, then he pointed at the occasional table against the wall.  “I put your books all over there.  I left them open to your pages.”

“Thank you.  Did you read any of them?”

“No.  What would you like for breakfast.  Cook has some kippers.”

“All right.  Do we have any potatoes?”

“Potatoes yes, tomatoes no.”  Baxter turned toward the kitchen and called, “Kippers and fried potatoes for Mr. Bassington!”

Tokkenoht sighed and looked at the warriors around her.  She could see it in their eyes.  They were all thinking the same thing: a female had no business in a scouting party. Of course none of them had said it to Hsrandtuss.  The worst thing about it was that Tokkenoht agreed with them.  She no more wanted to be wandering around the forest with a hundred warriors than they wanted her with them.  Of course she hadn’t said anything to the king either.

“We are ready, Your Eminence,” said Szerl, the veteran warrior that was her second in command.

Tokkenoht nodded in agreement, but also in recognition.  There was more in the eyes of the warriors than just the unusualness of having a female with them.  There was anger at having a female in command.  Hsrandtuss was clear though.  With Straatin having been killed in the attempted coup, and with Slechtiss out of favor, having lost the king’s trust, Tusskiqu was needed in the city to command the mainline troops.  That meant that there was no trusted battle commander to scout the area for any humans trying to sneak into the territory.

“I need you to do this, Tokkenoht,” he had said.  “You and Sirris must be my eyes and ears.”

There was only one acceptable answer: “Yes, Great King.”

“We will cross the river and follow the other side,” she told Szerl.

It had been an entire month since the four human prisoners had escaped and weeks since the rest of the soft-skins had been driven out of Yessonarah’s territory.  In recent days though, nearly a dozen humans had been captured sneaking back in.  The lure of gold was simply too strong for them to resist.

The river was called Scizzinik, and was neither very wide nor very deep, except during the rainy season. It marked the official edge of the territory of Yessonarah.  Once the party reached the bank, a quick determination was made than none of the fifty-foot-long Birmisian crocodiles was present.  Neither were there any of the giant salamanders that often inhabited the still pools and shallows.  Satisfied, the lizardmen, strong swimmers that they were, quickly crossed the waterway.

“Four teams, spread out following a ninety degree arc.  The rest of us will make for the round hill to the northwest,” said Tokkenoht.  “That is where we will rendezvous.  We’ll set up camp there tonight.”

The four groups of ten warriors each set off in a pattern designed to cover all the land on the other side of the river that faced the human lands.  Meanwhile the other sixty marched toward the hill.  It was about five miles from their crossing space, so they arrived in short order and began setting up a semi-permanent base of operations. They had just cleared a large circle, setting up a crude fence of dead brush, when one of the four search teams returned.

“Why are you back so soon?” asked the priestess.  “Did you see humans?”

“Yes,” said the warrior in charge, rolling his eyes around, “but not the ones we were looking for.”

“How many were there? Describe them.”

“There were at least two hundred.  They were painted alike, and they all carried thunder weapons.”

“A war party?” questioned Tokkenoht.  “How were they painted?”

“Their feathers… or whatever the humans have…”

“Cloth.”  Tokkenoht used the human word.  “What about it?”

“It was a sort of pale green color.  Every one of them had the same color on, and they all wore hard hats.”

“All right.  Take five of your men and head for Yessonarah immediately.  The Great King will want to know about this.”

“What will you do, Your Eminence?”

“We will be watching the humans, to see what they are doing.  As soon as we know and the other teams check in, we will follow.  Szerl, your opinion?”

“You are right,” he said grudgingly.  “We must wait for the other patrols.  In the meantime, have the men bury their rations and anything else we don’t need. That way we can move faster.”

“Yes,” she said. “Give the order.”

By the time the others had returned, the warriors had cached their food and extra equipment, leaving each with only his sword, three small spears and his atlatl throwing stick. Tokkenoht questioned each of the returning groups.  One had seen the humans.

“They are moving along the south side of the river in the general direction of our territory,” the team leader told her.  “They are not in attack formation.  They walk in a column, about two miles to the southwest.  We need to be careful.  They are observant, not like the other humans we’ve seen.”

“Did they see you?”

“No, we watched them from far away and from a screened position among the trees.”

“Good,” she said. “Let’s be on our way.”

The large party retraced their footsteps down the hill and to the river.  They had barely crossed to the other side when the air suddenly echoed with the sounds of thunder weapons.  Several warriors fell bleeding to the ground.  Szerl grabbed Tokkenoht and dragged her to the ground as well.

“Where are they?”  She shouted to be heard over what sounded like a thunderstorm from hell.

“Over there!”  Szerl pointed to their left.  “Although how they got there, I have no idea.”

“Spears!” he shouted.

Warriors jumped up and launched spears with their atlatls, but most were immediately cut down.

“We have to stay down!” hissed Tokkenoht.

There was a knock.

“Come in,” said Lady Iolana.

The door opened and her father peered inside.  He paused for a second, seeing her still in bed, but then he closed the door behind him and stepped across the room to take a seat in the comfy chair by the fireplace.

“It’s unusual for you to be in bed at this hour,” he said.  “Not ill, are you?”

“No.  I’m just being indolent.”

“Well, you are entitled, I suppose.  It’s not everyday you turn fourteen.”

“No, it isn’t, but it seems like my birthday comes quicker every year.”

“Wait until you’re my age,” he said.  “They fly at you like freight trains.  We missed you at breakfast.”

“Esther brought me breakfast in bed.  But I’m about ready to get up and about now.”

“What are your plans today?”

Iolana pulled the book, heretofore unnoticed from her side, and placed a silver bookmark between its pages before setting it on the nightstand.

“We are having our little get-together tonight, and I have a date for tea with Dovie.  I thought I would visit some friends this morning.”

Mr. Staff stood up and walked over to the bedside.  He picked up the book as if he was reading the cover, though he didn’t really look at it.

“You’re a very busy young lady,” he said.  “I suppose you soon won’t have any time for me at all.”

“Don’t be silly, Father. We’re going hunting three days hence. We have to get that therizinosaurusthat you’ve been after.  Besides, we’ll see each other tonight.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile.  Setting the book back down, he turned and walked to the door.  He paused to look back over his shoulder.  “You have a present waiting for you downstairs.”

“I can’t wait,” she said with a smile.

As soon as Mr. Staff left, Esther entered.  She was wearing a cheerful blue sundress.

“Have you decided what you want to wear?” she asked.

“I don’t want to clash with you,” said Iolana.  “Perhaps my teal skirt, with a white blouse.  Do I have a teal tie?”

“Yes, but you don’t have a matching hat.”

“Find a bit of teal lace and put it around my white boater.  I’m sure Auntie Yuah has some if I don’t.”

Thirty minutes later, properly attired, Iolana and Esther descended the stairs.  As usual for that time of day, Kayden was manning the front door. He opened it and ushered them outside. Sitting right in front of the portico was a new Sawyer and Sons model 12b steam carriage with a large red bow attached to its shiny sky blue bonnet.

“Golly!” exclaimed Iolana.

“Do you like it?” asked her father’s voice from behind her.

“It’s beautiful! Thank you so much!”

“An important young lady like yourself needs to be able to get around reliably.”

“Is there room for it in the motor shed?” wondered Iolana.

“Yes,” replied her father. “I’ve sold the Model 5, and I’m going to sell the cabriolet as well.  Now that you have this, no one will drive it.”

“What about me?” asked a scratchy little voice from behind them.

“You’re a few years away from driving,” said Mr. Staff, stepping aside to reveal Terra in a white walking dress and a daisy-covered white hat.  “I promise though, that when you’re old enough to drive, I’ll buy you your own car as well.”

“You don’t mind if I come along with you, do you?” the ten-year-old asked her cousin.

“Of course not,” said Iolana, hurrying over to the driver’s side of the vehicle.

She quickly climbed aboard, while Terra took the front passenger’s seat and Esther climbed into the back.

“This is lovely,” said the lizzie.

“I know.”  Iolana gripped the steering wheel and peered through the windscreen.  “I wonder how fast she’ll go?”

“She won’t go at all with a cold boiler,” said Mr. Staff with a laugh.  “Let me light it for you.”

He stepped around to the rear of the car and applied a match to the tinder beneath the coal.  Then he stepped around to Iolana’s side.

“It has plenty of water in it and coal too, so just as soon as it’s hot, you can go.  Just keep to a manageable speed.”  With that advice, he took the bow off the bonnet and then walked back up the steps and into the house.

Iolana looked at the array of controls at her feet.  Rather than the three simple pedals in the cabriolet, there were five: forward and reverse accelerators, forward and reverse decelerators, and the clutch. Then there were the hand controls: the brake and the gearshift.  She ran her fingertips around the steering wheel, and smiled.

“I think I’ll name you Tsisia,” she said.

“Oh, that’s a good name,” said Terra.  “The lizzie word for of the sky.”

“Are you ready?” Iolana looked first at Esther and then Terra.  Both nodded.

With what seemed like a practiced hand, she pressed down on the brake lever.  Then she threw the gearshift forward while pressing her feet down on the clutch and the forward decelerator.  As she slowly let out the clutch, she transferred her right foot from the forward decelerator to the forward accelerator.  The blue steam carriage rolled forward.

“I don’t think you have enough steam,” said Terra.

“Don’t worry,” replied Iolana.  “It’s picking up.”

“Ack!” said Senta, blowing water out of her nose.

Szim rose to the surface of the little pool that was the lizzie bathtub and circled around her like an alligator.

“No fair!  How am I supposed to keep up without a tail?”

Senta was not a strong swimmer even by human standards, having had little opportunity to swim, growing up first in a large city with few clean waterways, and then in a primordial land in which every body of water held frightful predators.

The lizzie submerged briefly and then shot out of the water so quickly that she was able to land feet first on the stone edging.  She reached down a clawed hand, and pulled the human female from the water.

“Frogs swim very well, and they have no tail.”

“Do I look like a frog to you?”

The lizzie tilted her head, looking at the human with one eye.

“Oh very funny.”

“Come, I will paint you,” said Szim.

A table in the corner of the room served as a sort of vanity for reptilians, and was stocked with pigments that the lizzies used to decorate their bodies.  Two days earlier, Szim had convinced Senta to let her paint her body, and since then she had spent her time naked but for a bit of red, black, and yellow body paint.  After all, she reasoned, there were no other humans within a hundred miles, and the lizzies could hardly tell the difference.  There was no one to be scandalized and no one to accuse her of going native.  Though Szim had tried several designs, she had at last settled on outlining or emphasizing the sigils already imprinted on the sorceress’s body.  Senta had fourteen sigils, sort of magical tattoos, adorning her body.  Up and down her front were twelve two-inch stars, while on her back were two images of Bessemer, one with open wings that covered both shoulder blades, and one of the young dragon curled up and sleeping in the small of her back.  They were the result of creation and summoning magic.

“Okay, my turn,” said Senta, when Szim was done.

She used the same cups of paint to draw designs on the lizzie—red stars surrounded by yellow up and down her back and a large yellow happy face on her belly.

“It is too much,” said Szim. “I’m not important enough to have so much paint.”

“Nonsense.  You’re the close personal friend of the most powerful sorceress in the world.”  She stopped and looked around.

“What?” wondered the lizzie.

“Just checking to see if someone was going to pop up to contradict me.  Oh well.  Come on. Let’s go down and eat.”

Szarine had finished setting the table and the food looked delicious.  At Senta’s direction, the cuisine had improved greatly over the past week or so.  Now boiled eggs and poached fish sat beside fruit salad and a mashed tuber that was almost a potato.  The lizzie cook joined them at the table and the three of them began passing the dishes and filling their plates.

“What do you want to do today?” asked Szim.  “I don’t think there is anything to show you in the entire complex that you haven’t already seen.  Maybe we could climb the mountain.”

“Hmm.  Or maybe we could hunt down Khastla and torture him until he calls that stupid dragon home.”

Both the lizzies rolled their eyes in shock.

“You mustn’t say such things!” said Szim.  “The god cannot be summoned!”

“Don’t I know it, or he would be here already.”

“Khastla says the god is asleep in Tsahloose,” said Szarine.

“I’ve been waiting here an entire fortnight.”

“Hissussisthiss used to sleep for months,” said Szim.

“Bessemer’s not as big or old as Hissussisthiss was,” said Senta.  “It hasn’t been that long since I used to dress him up in my doll’s clothes.”

“You still have your little goddess,” Szim pointed out.

“Yes, I do.”  Senta frowned.  “You know, I think it’s been four days since I saw her.  She’s never been away from me for more than two before. I should scry her and see what trouble she’s into.”

“After that, we can go mountain climbing,” said Szim.

When she had finished eating, Senta left the two lizzies, and climbed the stairs to the bedchamber. Along the way, she stopped and picked up a washbowl from the bathroom and filled it with water.  Once upstairs, she placed the bowl and the floor and sat down cross-legged in front of it.  The magical art of scrying, observing something or someone from across time and space, wasn’t something that Senta specialized in, but it was simple enough, as divination magic went.

“Uuthanum,” she said, but nothing happened.

“Uuthanum,” she said again.

The water remained transparent and completely unremarkable.

“Uuthanum eetarri.” She touched her finger to the water, and still nothing.

“Kafira’s tits!” Senta growled.  It had been a long time since anything had foiled her magic.

Getting her handbag, she reached into it and pulled out a piece of chalk.  On the solid stone floor, she drew a large circle and inside of that, a pentagram.  Then she drew arcane symbols all around its circumference.  Placing the bowl of water in the center of the circle, she sat down next to it once again.

“Sembor uuthanum edios nit eetarri!”  This time the water turned white like milk.  Suddenly red bubbled up from the center.  Some powerful magic was preventing her from magically seeing anything at all.  She grabbed the edge of the bowl and flipped it out of the circle, spilling contents that were once again just plain ordinary water, across the floor.