Hsrandtuss stopped halfway up the hillside and leaned wearily on his staff. Glancing behind him, he saw that his six wives and twenty warriors were not having nearly as difficult a time with the climb as he was.  Looking up the other direction he saw the massive fortress at the top of the hill. It was covered with wooden scaffolding for renovation and hundreds of small square wooden houses surrounded it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to his first wife Sszaxxanna.  She pointed off to the right.

Hsrandtuss, his wives, and his warriors were all members of the cold-blooded reptilian native race of the continent of Birmisia.  The humans called them lizzies.  Ranging in color from light olive to deep forest green, they gave the appearance of an alligator crossed with an iguana, if either had been able to walk around on their hind legs.  Thick tails followed behind them, the tips a few inches off the ground.

“That is the road of supplicants, my king,” she said.

He nodded and started off in that direction, leading his small column along.

As they neared the road, they could see that literally thousands of people were upon it, making their way to the fortress and to the god who lived within. They were not all walking though. About one mile from the great gate, there was an arch over the road.  Upon reaching the arch, travelers dropped down onto their bellies, crawling the rest of the way, dragging their tales behind them.  Hsrandtuss stopped at the archway.  He was torn.  He needed to go on, but it was unseemly for a king to crawl.

“Hsrandtuss,” called a voice, just as he had decided that he had better get down on his belly.

He looked up to see an ornately painted male, wearing a bright red cape. He started when he noticed that the cape was made not of feathers, but of the smooth cloth woven by the soft-skins to the north.  He nodded at the male.

“You need not enter through this gate. Bring your people and follow me.”

The red-caped male led them up a path paved with shiny river stones.  It wound up the hill, sometimes approaching the main road and sometimes veering farther away.  Finally it led to a small but beautiful gate in the cyclopean fortress wall.  It was not as large as the main gate, but was lined with two beautifully carved statues of the god.

Close up, it was easy to see that the fortress was more than undergoing a simple renovation.  One entire wall in the rear of the structure was gone and another had just been rebuilt. Buildings inside the walls were being remade.  Every brick was being replaced.  Thousands of males and females were laying bricks, hauling stones, or pushing wheelbarrows.  Hsrandtuss hadn’t seen so many people since he had visited Suusthek as a child.

Tokkenoht, the king’s third wife, gave a low hiss and Hsrandtuss turned to see what had drawn her attention.

The body of a huge creature lay on its back, rotting in the sun.  It was over fifty feet long, easily as large as a tyrannosaurus, though it was obviously a quadruped.  A thick armadillo-like armor that had once protected the mighty back, now seemed to weigh the body down to the ground, and the gigantic head, attached with almost no neck, now gazed at the sky with empty eye sockets.

“What is it?” asked Sszaxxanna.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Hsrandtuss replied.

“It was a magic beast,” said the red-caped envoy.  “The god killed it.”

Hsrandtuss stared.

“Come with me,” said the envoy.

He led them to a one of the few completed structures near the newly rebuilt wall.  Tall and boxy, the building was covered on all sides by hanging pots, from which grew flowering vines.  Beneath the windows were more flowers growing in heavy stone window boxes.

“This is the style popular in the south,” said Sszaxxanna.

Hsrandtuss nodded.  He didn’t ask her how she knew such a thing.

“Make yourself at home,” came the order, before the caped one left.

Seconds later four females entered through the same door that both the party and the envoy had used.  They carried huge platters of food—raw meat, cut into fist-sized pieces, and fresh fruit. As the females placed the platters on the floor, the warriors all looked at their king, waiting for him to choose the best for himself.

“Remember your bowels,” whispered Sszaxxanna, leaning her long snout near his earhole.  “Just have some fruit.”

“I’m too tired to eat,” he sighed, and then turned to his warriors.  “Feast my friends.”

The warriors went right after the slabs of meat.  Two of his wives did too, but Sszaxxanna quickly put an end to that.

“Get over here,” she hissed.  “The king needs to be rubbed with oil while he relaxes.”

Tokkenoht and Sirris both looked suitably chastened.

“Oh, let them eat,” said Hsrandtuss.  “I just want to go lie down for a bit.”

He opened the tiny pouch on his belt and pulled out a golden pocket watch that he had purchased from the soft-skin city trader for 2,500 copper bits. He held it in front of his first wife’s face and pointed to it.

“The little hand is on the river and the big hand is on the tree by the river. I want to get up when the little hand is on the claw and the big hand is on the ladle.”  He handed her the watch.

“It will be done, Great King,” she said, and then snapped her fingers, calling his second wife.  “Ssu will sleep with you and make sure you are comfortable.”

Hsrandtuss nodded.  Ssu was good for little else, but she did a good job of seeing to his comfort.

“The sleeping room will be through there,” Ssaxxanna pointed.

Hsrandtuss found a large, well appointed chamber set up in the usual style.  A fire pit burned in the center of the floor, surrounded by comfortable sleeping mats.  The king climbed down onto one of the mats, pausing to appreciate its craftsmanship. Then descending to his stomach, he put his snout near the burning fire.  Ssu settled next to him, on the same mat, placing her snout over his, and pressing her stomach to his side.  He scratched her belly idly before drifting off to sleep.  When he woke Ssu was gone, but Tokkenoht was in her place, in exactly the same position.

Staff stood in the observation tower, three hundred feet above the ground, and looked across Iguanodon Heath through his binoculars.  The invading army had not begun to move toward the Brech defensive position, but they were there.  The bulk of the lizzies were beyond the tree line, but every once in a while one would pop out, moving from place to place in the lines.  He wondered if they had heard yet about their friends on the other side of Port Dechantagne.  If they hadn’t, they would soon.  He had just received the message by telegraph.  Three thousand lizzies and that bloody great dragon defeated, and less than fifty men lost.  True, one of them had been an important wizard, but it was still a favorable exchange.

Three others occupied the small covered room at the top of the three-legged structure—two colonial guardsmen, wearing khaki fatigues and pith helmets, and the sorceress Zurfina, wearing a short black leather dress and high black leather boots.  She had her arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Did you know Wizard Bassington well?” he asked her.

“We had a history,” she said.

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“About him dying.”

“Oh yes,” she said.  “I’m sure his masters in the War Ministry will be very disappointed.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

She turned toward him and cocked an eyebrow.  “Is this your attempt to chat me up, Mr. Staff?  Because I’m really not in the mood right now.  You could come by the day after tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t trying to chat you up.  You said that you and Wizard Bassington had a history.  I was just expressing my condolences.”

“Well then, thank you.  I do feel quite a loss.  He was a gifted… man.”

“And we will probably be in the midst of battle the day after tomorrow, if we can hold them off that long.”

“Pish-posh.  The day after tomorrow the lizzies and the Freedonians will all be gone, and I will be at home—all alone and naked.”

“May I ask you what you were looking so pensive about?”

“I was just wondering…”

“Fina.”  The disembodied voice of Senta Bly interrupted her mistress.

“What is it, Pet?”

“I’m walking Bessemer home.  They say the train is not heading your way for an hour.  They want to get as many volunteers on it as possible.”

“That’s fine.  Take our boy home put him in his bed.  He’s going to need a good long sleep to recover.  You know how dragons are.”

“Yes, I know.”

Staff waited for a moment for the sorceress to convey any additional message, but apparently the connection was severed.

“Well then,” said Zurfina.  “Shall we go down?”

Without waiting for an answer, she lowered herself through the hole in the wooden floor and began climbing down the long ladder.  Staff followed.  When he finally reached the ground, his arms and legs felt shaky.  He couldn’t imagine how a woman wearing a corset could have made it down without passing out.  He looked at the sorceress appraisingly.  Yes, she was wearing a corset.

“I’m feeling a little peckish,” said Zurfina.  “How about you?”

Staff nodded.

“Shall we go back to your headquarters and have a bite?”

“All right.”

Zurfina had insisted that they spend the night at home before going to their respective assignments, and now that Senta reached the field near the Regmont apartment building, she was glad that they had.  The men who were assembled there, more than two thousand if Senta’s estimation was correct, all looked bleary-eyed and tired.  Then again, Senta doubted that she had slept any more than they had.  Her destination was obvious.  The late Professor Calliere’s balloon stood, rivaling the eight story apartment buildings across the street.  It was fastened to the ground by dozens of ropes and at its base was the large wicker basket that served as the passenger compartment.  Wizard Smedley Bassington stood next to it.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” replied Senta.

A small bird flew down and landed on Bassington’s shoulder.  It was no bigger than a man’s fist, with a bright yellow band across its belly, and brown and black wing feathers.  It chirped several times.  Bassington cocked his head and listened.  Then the bird took off again.

“New pet?” wondered Senta.

“An informant.”  The wizard smiled.  “The news is good.  The lizzies have deployed most of their forces to support the Freedonians.  The attack that we have to face will be much smaller than anticipated—no more than three thousand.”

“Really?  Only three thousand?”

“That’s nothing for magic of our caliber.”

“So that means that Zurfina has to face ten to twenty thousand enemies by herself?”

“She does have the Colonial Guard with her.”

Lawrence Bratihn approached the two from the direction of the mustering volunteers. He looked at Senta for a moment as if assessing whether to say something, but decided against it.  He looked to Bassington.

“The plan?”

“The plan is the same.  Have the men fan out around the northern edge of the evacuated area.  Let Senta and myself deal with the bulk of the lizzies and then, when we signal, move in and clean out the rest.”

“How far away are they?”

“About five miles,” replied Bassington.  “So, let us get into position.”

Bratihn nodded and jogged back to the men, while Senta climbed into the basket. The wizard climbed in next and a woman in a khaki dress and blouse followed him.

“Do you know Mrs. Hollerith?”

“Of course,” replied Senta.  “What are you doing here?”

“I learned how to work the balloon when I helped the Professor survey the peninsula eight years ago, though I haven’t been up since.”

“I was hard pressed to find a balloon veteran,” said Bassington, as Mrs. Hollerith pulled a handle from the mechanism suspended over the basket, sending flames shooting upwards.

“Cast off!” called Mrs. Hollerith, and the ground crew unfastened the lines as quickly as they could.  In scant moments, they were ascending past the tops of the highest buildings in Port Dechantagne.  Senta looked down to see the volunteer soldiers moving away in long snaking lines toward the east.

“How high are we going?” she wondered.

“Just high enough to get a clear view,” replied Bassington.

“I don’t know what kind of a clear view you can get.  There are so many trees.”

“We just want to be able to see the lizzies moving into the area.”

“Can’t we do that from the top of a building?”

Bassington looked at her.  “Would that be anywhere near as exciting as this?”

Mrs. Hollerith gave one more pull on the handle controlling the ascent, and then looked over the edge along with Senta.  The balloon was fastened with only a single long rope, the other end of which was wound around a large spool attached to the ground.  The spool was quickly unwinding as two men stood, one on either side, watching it.  When the balloon had almost stopped, the men locked down the spool, making the basket jerk as it reached the end of its tether.

Senta pulled the mirror from her belt and looked into it.  Her own face looked back at her.  She looked terrible.  She had dark circles under her eyes and her face was drawn.

“Uuthanum,” she said, touching the mirror with her index finger.  Her own image was replaced with a view of Zurfina from above.  She was standing in some kind of small wooden-floored room.

“Hello Pet,” said Zurfina looking up, but not quite meeting Senta in the eye. “Are you up in your balloon?”

“Yes.  Can you see me?”

“No, but I can hear you.  I may well be as high up as you are.  I’m in the observation tower.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go up this high.  Isn’t that why I’m in the balloon instead of you?”

“No.  I don’t want to fall down from this high.  That’s why you are in the balloon instead of me.”

“What’s the situation there?”

“Oh the Freedonians and the lizzies are miles away,” said Zurfina, waving her hand in a typically dismissive gesture.  “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  Make me proud.”

Iolanthe had grown sick with sitting at her desk in her office and sick with waiting for the Freedonians to attack.  The last several days she had spent either at home or driving around town in her steam carriage.  She had even resorted to visiting other people.  The day before, she had played a game of badminton against the Korlanns. Of course she had won.  Now she walked alone in her garden, examining the annuals.  Even the last summer blossoms were gone.  It was time to prepare the beds for fall.

“It’s beginning to look a bit bleak.”

Iolanthe turned to find her husband standing behind her.  He wore his khakis and stood with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders a bit slumped, but still towering over her.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today.  Shouldn’t you be preparing for the Freedonians?”

“We’re as prepared as we are going to be.”

“I hope so.”

“I sent out Bassington with a team three days ago.  They destroyed several hundred yards of track and set up a magical ward to alert us when the Freedonians cross.”

“Strategic thinking.”

“I have something for you,” he said, pulling his right hand from his pocket and holding up a small velvet-covered box.”

“It’s not my birthday for four more days.”

“I know.  This is not a birthday gift.  This is a gift for you just being you.”

“Oh?  Interestingly enough, most people don’t find that sufficient reason to give me gifts.”

Iolanthe took the box and flipped open the hinged lid.  Inside were two golden earrings fashioned to resemble dragons in flight.  Each dragon clasped in each of its front claws a large and very bright red gem. It was as though they had just snatched the rubies from the ground and were taking them back to their treasure piles.

“These are exquisite,” said Iolanthe.

“Mr. Vever says there are no finer examples of rubies outside of the Crown Jewels of Brech.  I had to have him rework them twice.  First he made earrings with clips, not knowing your ears were pierced.  Then I had him add a second gem to each of the dragons.”

“Put them on for me,” she said, shoving the box back into his hands, and then pulling the golden hoops from her ears.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It should be easy.”  She leaned in close.  “Just poke it in the hole.”

He took her left earlobe and pulled it taught, slipping the post through the piercing.  She could smell his breath and feel it on her cheek.  Once the earring was in, she turned and presented the other ear.  More confident now, he threaded the earring without looking, pressing his lips against her temple and smelling her hair.

“We could go upstairs to the bedroom,” she said.

“Now that Cissy is no longer with us, we could use the paramour chamber.”

“No.  I’ve had that filled with gardening tools.”

“Don’t we already have a gardener’s shed?”

“This was closer.”

“Well then the gardener’s shed must be empty…”

“Absolutely not.”

He smiled.  She smiled back at him.

“Go to the kitchen and get two cups of tea,” she said.  “I’ll be ready for you upstairs.”

“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 the bouquet of flowers gently tucked at the base and flaring outward covered some of that.  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?”

Saba led the seven uniformed police officers, each of them armed with rifles through the back door of Mayor and Mrs. Korlann’s house.  The small entryway and cloakroom led to a well-appointed den. Here amid countless books and artworks was a grisly scene.  The lizzie butler Chunny had been hacked nearly to pieces, just as Mrs. Dechantagne’s dressing maid Cissy had been.  Red blood was splattered everywhere.  A trail of dripping crimson led out the other door and toward the front of the house.

Interrogating lizzies at the station, Saba had learned that a gang was responsible for not only the murder of Cissy, but of terrorizing lizardman throughout the town, particularly those who became too close to humans, or even worse, who began to take on human affectations.  He remembered Cissy’s hat and her fondness for Billingbow’s.  There were several dozen members of the group, but the four ringleaders, four young toughs, were all employed at the Dechantagne home.  With two of them in custody, Saba had rushed out with a team of men, only to find that the other two, Skye and Starr, gone.  A hurried interrogation had uncovered their plans to make another example of the Mayor’s lizzie, Chunny.

Signaling three of his officers to cut through the kitchen, Saba and the other four followed the bloody trail through the parlor.  It was far too much to have dripped from a blade, even a wood and obsidian sword.  One of the attackers must have been injured.  He turned around and pointed his rifle at the stairway.  Two lizardmen, covered in the raiment of their gory work stood on the landing.

“Halt,” he shouted.

One lizzie turned and hissed at him, brandishing a sword, while the other sped up the steps.  All five policemen fired and the hissing reptile fell back against the wall, blood spraying all over several fine paintings behind him.  Saba ran up the steps, leaping over the reptilian body. The blood trail continued.  At the top of the stairs, it led him down the hall and through a doorway into a bedroom.  He could hear the others coming up behind him.

In the bedroom was the other lizzie.  He held Egeria Korlann in front of him like a shield.  The clawed fingers of his left hand were enmeshed in her flaming red hair. In his right hand, he held a kitchen carving knife to her throat.  Blood ran in small rivulets from several cuts on the lizzie’s arms down onto Mrs. Korlann’s light blue dressing gown.

“You have two seconds to decide,” Saba told the lizzie as he looked down the rifle sights.

“I kill.”

The bullet hit the lizardman in the right eye, knocking him backwards.  He fell into a small bookcase, which crashed to the ground on top of him.  Mrs. Korlann stood statue-like with horror written across her pretty face and a single drop of blood on her neck.  For a horrible moment, Saba thought the attacker had sliced her throat as he had fallen.  Then she burst into sobs.  The single drop of blood was the only one that escaped the veins of her long white neck.

Saba took off his jacket and wrapped it around her.  He led her down the hall to another bedroom and sat her on the bed.  He looked out into the hall just long enough to see that his men were removing the bodies. Once they had done so, he guided her downstairs, though she nearly swooned at the blood covered landing. Outside, he had PC Gorman drive her to the Dechantagne house so that her daughter-in-law could look after her.

“There was absolutely no danger to me,” Saba explained to his wife that evening. The lizzies had knives and we had rifles and we outnumbered them four to one.”

Saba and Loana Colbshallow were seated at one of the indoor tables at Finkler’s Bakery, Port Dechantagne’s original dining establishment.  Loana sat to Saba’s left.  Opposite him sat Eamon Shrubb and opposite her was his wife Dot.

“Well this certainly underscores why the War Powers Act was so important,” said Loana.

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Eamon.

Their waitress brought out crockery bowls of hearty soup to join the fresh-baked bread already there.  Unrolling their silverware from their linen napkins, they all four tucked in.  The soup was full of beef, squash, and potatoes. After having been gone from so many diets for years, beef seemed to be everywhere now.  The cattle brought to Birmisia colony directly from Brechalon had been supplemented by others brought by train from Mallontah.  Now there were cattle farms springing up all around the country, though Saba wondered if this would continue with the war on.

“You two be careful anyway,” said Dot, returning to the topic at hand.

“Dot’s right,” agreed Loana.  “The last thing I need is to find myself a widow at this time in my life.”

“Don’t worry,” said Saba.  “Eamon and I both had our defining moment five years ago.  Now we’re destined to die in our beds as old men.”

“Here’s to dying in our beds,” said Eamon, raising his glass of beer.

“With your families gathered around you,” added Loana.

They all drank.

“Which brings us to another point,” said Loana.  “Both Dot and I have some news.”

Saba was surprised to see his wife reach across the table and clasp Dot’s hand in hers.  He looked from one to the other, expectantly.

“Preggers,” said Dot.

“Who?” asked Saba.

“Both of us!” Loana squealed.  “We’re going to be mothers together and you’re going to be a father.”

“It’s about time too,” said Eamon, taking another swig of beer.  “I was beginning to wonder if you didn’t have something broken somewhere.”

“Well that just goes to show you,” replied Saba, grinning happily.  “When are we expecting?”

“Early in Magnius,” said Loana.  “Dot and I think we must be very nearly the same way along.”

“Come in,” called Senta in response to the loud banging on the front door.

“St. Ulixes has been invaded!” Graham shouted as he burst in.

“Go back outside and come in again properly.”

“What?”

“Go back outside and come in again properly.  This is my home.  Show some respect.”

“Come on!”

She raised her eyebrow.

“Fine.”

He went back outside and closed the door after him.

“How long are you going to make him suffer,” wondered Hero Hertling.

“Until he learns to come when he’s called,” replied Senta as Graham once again knocked.

“Maybe he was helping Gaylene with her new baby.”

“No, he was playing around down at City Hall,” replied Senta.  Then she said, “Come in.”

Graham opened the door and stepped in.  He took a deep breath and smiled.

“Good day ladies.”

“Good day sir,” said Senta.

“Hey Graham,” said Hero.

“I, um… have some news.”

“What is it?”

“St. Ulixes has been invaded!”  His self-control gave way like a dam bursting.  “The Freedonians attacked it with a full brigade of infantry and steam powered war machines.  They used their airships to drop bombs.  It’s only a matter of time till they’ve completely taken over Mallontah.  Then they have a straight shot on the train directly toward us.  The whole city is going crazy over the news.”

“That is exciting news,” said Senta, though she didn’t seem excited at all.

“What are we going to do?” asked Hero, who looked not only excited but terrified as well.

“General Staff has ordered all the Colonial Guard out to Iguanodon Heath so they can be ready.  The volunteers are going to start training at the guard base tomorrow.”

“Did you sign up?” asked Senta.  “I won’t associate with a dastard.”

“I can’t,” Graham replied, with a frown.  “I have to supervise the lizzie crews.  We’re going out tomorrow to dig trenches and build an observation tower.”

“As long as you’re doing your part.”

“Is Hertzel going with you?” asked Hero.

“Of course he is.”

“Well, enough of worldly matters,” said Senta.  “Do you have my present?”

“I do.” Graham reached into his trouser pocket.

“It’s not your birthday,” observed Hero.  Senta just smiled at her.

“Um, I have to give her a present every day for seven days,” said Graham, pulling out a tiny box.  “This is number six.”

He handed the tiny box to Senta, who opened it and withdrew a small bejeweled key on a silver chain.

“It’s a skeleton key, so it opens all kinds of locks,” said Graham.  “But the really brilliant part is that the handle is a magnifying lens.”

“Well… I don’t know…” said Senta.

“Oh come on!  It’s the best one yet.”

“What other gifts has he given you?” wondered Hero.

“I gave her a fan, a kaleidoscope, and some gloves…”

“And a silver page marker,” finished Senta.

“Ooh, nice,” approved Hero, who appreciated book-related gifts above any others.

“All right, I think I like it.”  Senta fastened the chain behind her neck, so that the key lay across her chest right next to the silver dragon that Graham had given her several years before.

“Well, I have to go,” said Hero, getting up from the comfy chair.  She opened the door and then slammed it shut again. “Graham, your dinosaur is right outside.”

“Of course he is.  How did you think I got here so quick.”

“Can you clear him out of the way?  He might step on me.”

“Stinky wouldn’t do that.  He’s very gentle.”  But he went outside anyway and guided the iguanodon out of the yard and onto the street. “Come on Stinky.  Let the nice girl pass.”

“You’re going to block traffic there,” said Senta, following the other two out the front door.  “Why don’t you take him around to the side of the house?”

“He’s afraid of Bessemer.  I’m going to take him home.  I’ll come back later.”

Out on the brick street, Graham tapped the great beast’s front knee.  The dinosaur stuck its foot out, and Graham stepped onto it, propelling himself up onto its back.  There was no saddle as such, but there was a kind of strap that wrapped around the iguanodon’s neck, to keep its rider from slipping forward. Senta placed her hand on Stinky’s flank. The flesh beneath that pebbled skin wasn’t cold to the touch like a lizzie.  It was warm.

Grasping a pair of reigns attached to the iguanodon’s head with a harness, Graham urged the animal down the street.

“See ya,” he waved.

“He could have given you a ride,” said Senta.

“Oh no, he couldn’t have.”  Hero took her own route away from the tower.

Senta walked around to the side of the house and entered Bessemer’s barn.  There atop the great pile of pillows was the steel dragon, sprawled out and asleep.  He had been asleep now for a full week.  Climbing over several pillows, Senta placed her hand upon his scaly skin.  She already knew that he was so much warmer than the iguanodon.  He was warmer than human skin.

“I guess I do feel vindicated now,” said Zeah Korlann.  “Of course I didn’t realize so many people thought I was lying before.”

“They didn’t think you were lying,” replied Iolanthe Staff.  “No one would believe that of you.  They just thought you were addle pated.”

The Governor sat opposite the Mayor at a table beneath the awning at Café Etta. Between them on either side were their spouses.  Radley Staff seemed to have aged at least ten years since Zeah had seen him last.  Zeah wouldn’t have expected to see him out on the town less than forty-eight hours after having returned to Port Dechantagne, especially given some of the stories that were going around about the events on his trip, but then again Zeah knew from experience that Mrs. Staff wasn’t an easy person to dissuade when she set her mind to something. Never one for idle chatter, Staff stuffed a slice of rare beef fillet into his mouth.

“I never doubted you for a moment, Dearest,” said Egeria.

Zeah’s wife was stunning as usual.  Her burgundy evening gown, trimmed along the bodice with antique lace, was a more traditional style than the simple and daring black, shoulderless dress that the Governor wore, but Zeah didn’t think she could have looked more beautiful.  Her brilliant red hair was pulled back and draped down in ringlets behind her head, and the short fringe across her forehead forced one to focus on her emerald eyes.

“I must admit that I had my moments of doubt,” said Iolanthe.  “Not that it would be any reflection on you.  Those were trying times.”

“As are these,” said Staff after swallowing.  “How did the council meeting go yesterday?”

“The War Powers Act passed,” said Zeah.  “I myself don’t see the necessity.  There was nothing in the law that was not already in de facto effect. But now the tribal leaders will have something to complain about.  Khowass and Tuusuu will be in my office first thing, raising a stink.”

“Sometimes things need to be spelled out,” said Iolanthe.  “Now it is official that the police may search lizzie homes without a warrant.  It’s necessary in time of war, to search out any possible saboteurs or other undesirables. Kafira knows the kinds of damage that just a few lizzies with guns can do.”

“I wonder that it’s necessary to remove the need for a warrant, or to suspend the writ of habeas corpus for natives,” said Egeria, before taking a sip of water.

“Don’t forget,” offered Staff.  “We already have lizzies importing dangerous drugs and murdering each other right here in town.”

“Yes, I forgot about your lizzie,” said Zeah.  “Are there any leads in the murder investigation?”

“Inspector Colbshallow is gathering information for the case, but it seems that it is very difficult to cull any information from the lizzies.”  Iolanthe folded her arms.  “This is exactly what I’m talking about.  We need to know what’s going on in those alligator brains of theirs.”

“I’m more worried about the humans,” said Zeah, “like that boy that tried to shoot you—Yuan Weiss.”

“One lone sad individual,” said Iolanthe, “foolishly afraid that people would somehow be contaminated by working side by side with lizzies.”

“Are we sure that was the reason?” asked Staff.  “What did he say when Mother Linton cast a speak-with-dead spell?”

“He didn’t because she didn’t,” said Zeah.

“What do you mean she didn’t?  She didn’t cast the spell?  She refused?”

“She said she couldn’t do it,” said Iolanthe.  “Weiss had some kind of protective ward.”

“I didn’t believe her though,” stated Zeah.  “And now we may never know why the boy did what he did.  He was clearly troubled.”

“What about that other piece of legislation?” asked Egeria, changing the subject.

“What piece… oh, the dinosaur thing?”

“The Dokkins boy and some of his young friends gave an impassioned argument for a law to officially allow dinosaurs with riders on their back to make use of the streets,” Iolanthe explained to her husband.

“And did they succeed?  I may want to get my own iguanodon.”

“Good heavens, why?” wondered Zeah.  “The streets are crowded enough with the all the steam carriages coming over and now the rickshaw traffic.”

“You could be king of the road on a dinosaur,” replied Staff, looking sidelong at his wife.  “You could look down on the other drivers.”

Iolanthe was thoughtful for a moment, and then dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand.

“Council decided that such a law was superfluous.  Anyone may ride an animal on the street, so long as they follow the rules of the road.”

“That makes sense,” said Staff.  “After all, they don’t have a law that says people may ride horses in Brech, but I’ve had to step over my fair share of horse…”

“Radley!” snapped Iolanthe.  Egeria burst into a fit of musical laughter.

After dinner Zeah and his wife walked to the trolley station.  The lamplighters had already been down the street and it was growing dark.  It was dark enough in fact that one had to listen for the bell to know that the trolley was just up the street.  At one point a genius in the transport department, who didn’t know dinosaurs nearly as well as Graham Dokkins, had come up with the idea of attaching lights to the horns of the three triceratops employed as trolley pullers.  After Harriet, in a rampage of fear and anger, had completely destroyed her trolley car, the idea was suitably disposed of.

“Did you enjoy your beef steak, Dearest?” asked Egeria.