Dot Shrubb is one of my favorite minor characters in Senta and the Steel Dragon.  I’m always looking for something to differentiate characters and Dot is separated from the others in the story because of her deafness.  As I have mentioned before, the idea for her came from the wife of a work friend I had years ago.  She too was deaf and had red hair.

Mrs. Loana Colbshallow was without a doubt the most beautiful woman in the café. Her multihued hair was swept back beneath a broad-brimmed, bright red hat with white flowers that matched her bright red dress. The plunging neckline showed a bit more skin than was current fashion, but neither her husband nor any other man in the establishment seemed to object. Directly across from Mrs. Colbshallow in a quite fetching sky blue gown, Mrs. Dot Shrubb clearly was bothered both by the lack of cloth which covered her dinner partner’s breasts and by the amount of breast which threatened to jump out at her. All through dinner she had stared at the prodigious amount of cleavage and scrunched her nose. Her husband seated to her right had been oblivious to this, and fortunately for him, seemed oblivious to the cleavage as well.

“I’ll say this,” he said. “If we had dined on this meal in Brech City, we would have had to pay a pretty pfennig for it.”

“I think we may very well pay a pretty pfennig tonight,” replied Saba. “Dining out is one of the few things that isn’t dirt cheap in Birmisia.”

“I hear the new café, Bonny Nurraty, is only half the price, because they employ a lizzie wait staff.”

“It’s Bonne Nourriture,” said Saba. “I also hear the food’s not half as good, though I’m sure that has nothing to do with the lizzies.”

“Unless my mother-in-law decides to open her own restaurant,” said Loana. “I don’t see anyone taking the fine dining crown away from Aalwijn Finkler.”

“And you can be bloody positive he won’t ever have a lizzie wait staff either,” added Eamon. “Actually it’s nice to have a place to come where there aren’t any.”

“What do you think about it, Dot?” asked Saba.

Dot just shrugged.

“Dot’s getting to be a lizzie-lover,” said Eamon, stroking his wife’s long coppery hair.

“You like her too,” said Dot, in the nasal voice that was the result of her deafness.

“Well, our lizzie is all right. She dotes on the boys—takes them for walks and plays her little block game with them.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it,” said Loana. “Everyone seems to like their own lizzie. They just don’t trust the rest of them. I have several to take care of things and one that comes in twice a week to clean and have never had any problem with any of them.”

“How are the boys, anyway?” said Saba, intentionally changing the subject.

“They’re fine. Young Saba showed me this week that he can do addition, and little Al isn’t far behind.”

“Alasdair,” corrected Dot, punching her husband on his meaty shoulder.

“And how is Darsham?”

“Wonderful. He follows Saba and Alasdair everywhere they go. Best dog I’ve ever seen.”

“You know he was going to name one of the boys Darsham,” Saba told his wife.

“That’s right,” said Eamon. “But I was overruled on account of my wife fancying your husband.”

Dot hit him again. “You named Saba. I named Alasdair.”

Amoz Croffut and Woodrow Manring are two characters in Senta and the Steel Dragon.  Their main appearance is in The Two Dragons, though I foreshadowed them in the earlier books here and there.  I really like when a character that fulfills part of the plot is someone the reader has seen or heard from before.  Amoz and Woodrow make the journey to the lizzie city along with Senta and the others, facing adventure and adversity along the way.

Staff picked his way through the large feathered bodies to where the man lay.  A quick examination revealed however that he was unharmed.  He had apparently fainted from sheer terror.  The only one injured was Manring, who had dived out of the way of the vicious claws, but not quite quickly enough, and had sustained a horrible gash across his forearm.  Staff quickly drew a healing draught from his pack and poured half of the contents of the small brown bottle onto the cut and had Manring drink the remaining potion.  Within seconds the bleeding had stopped and the injury had already begun to heal.

“Thank heavens for magic,” said Mr. Vever.

“Yes,” agreed Staff, then turning to look at Senta.  “I assume that was your magical lightning?”

The girl nodded.

“These are beautiful,” said Femke Kane, holding up a long black tail feather.  “Perhaps we should take some to present to the lizzies in Tsahloose.”

“All right,” replied Staff.  “We earned them I suppose.”

“I think we should take some of this meat for our lunch,” offered Werthimer.  “Have you ever seen a drumstick like this?  What are these anyway?”

“They are called achillobators,” said Wissinger.  “Colonel Mormont described them in his journal when he scouted this region.  Considering what he wrote, we got off lightly.  He said they were relentless once they had chosen a target.  Looking at them, I think they make the point that dinosaurs and Mallonian birds are all from the same group of animals.”

“Maybe dinosaurs and all birds belong in the same group,” said Senta.

“Perhaps you should leave that type of speculation to trained naturalists.”  Staff hadn’t realized until this point that Brown had recovered consciousness.  Though the sorceress seemed to ignore his condescending tone, it made no friends among the others, whose imperiled lives she had so recently saved.

“Look out!  That one’s still alive!” cried Croffut.

Brown let out a girlish squeal, sending most of the other party members into fits of laughter.  The beast in question had indeed been moving, but only because Werthimer was struggling to remove its leg.  A few minutes later he had finished butchering the animal, removing a large portion of breast meat as well as a drumstick and the party, now with Brown scowling angrily, moved on down the hillside.

When Staff judged that they had gone far enough that they would not be bothered by scavengers drawn to the dead achillobators, he ordered a stop for their luncheon.  The group managed to quickly put together a large pile of wood for a fire, which Senta ignited with no more than a glance.  Manring, whose wound had by now completely healed, pulled out a bag of seasoning and began preparing the meat.

“He was company cook in the Guard,” explained Werthimer. 

Staff nodded.  He wasn’t really paying attention.  He was watching Senta unpack her bag.  He had seen it a dozen times now but he still found it fascinating.  Unlike every other member of the party who carried heavy haversacks, she carried a small purse-like bag no more that eleven inches square, yet she pulled the most remarkable amount of equipment from it.  Now as he watched, she pulled out a camp chair that even folded up was two feet long.  She set up the chair, sat down, and crossed her legs.  With a dull thud, the pyramid of backpacks that had been hovering behind her all the while, crashed to the ground.

Staff turned around to find his face only inches from the brim of Femke Kane’s pith helmet.  Though she eschewed feminine convention from the lack of foundation garments right on up to her unshaped brows, she was still a handsome woman.  At five foot eleven, she scarcely had to look up to meet Staff’s hazel eyes with her sparkling baby blues.

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” she said.

“Mmm,” he murmured noncommittally.  He was thinking of how unlike the girl that had come to Birmisia all those years before, Senta now seemed, and how much she seemed like the sorceress with whom the girl had come. 

It wasn’t long before the smell of roasted meat filled the air.  Whether Manring was a great cook or the meat of the achillobator was naturally succulent, Staff didn’t know, but there was no question that it was excellent.  Along with mixed fruit from tins, it was a fine repast.  After eating, they rested for an hour before continuing on their journey.