There was something of an awkward shuffle at the dinner table that evening. The spot at the head of the table rightly belonged to Terrence as head of the Dechantagne family. During his long absence, Iolanthe had assumed the seat, though by Brech tradition, she should have sat at her husband’s right hand. Terrence didn’t seem to care much one way or another, but Yuah insisted that he receive his due. So as several reptilian wait staff brought heaping trays of food to the table, Terrence sat at its head. Yuah sat at his right. Next to her sat Mrs. Godwin, then the professor’s mother the elder Mrs. Calliere, and then little Iolana in her bright red dress. At the far end of the table sat Professor Calliere, with Iolanthe to his right. Next to her sat Saba Colbshallow, then his mother, and finally Radley Staff.

A pork roast with potatoes, onions, and carrots was the major feature of dinner. There were also boiled chestnuts with melted cheese and breadcrumbs seasoned with caraway and parsley, winter squash fried in melted butter, and Mrs. Colbshallow’s own dinner rolls. It seemed as if there was a mountain of food, but it disappeared quickly from the large white porcelain platters.

“This is the best roast I’ve ever eaten,” said Saba Colbshallow.

“Quite right,” agreed Professor Calliere.

“How do you find our Port Dechantagne now, Mr. Staff?” asked Yuah.

“It’s certainly not dull,” he replied from directly across the table. “It’s been quite an eye opening day. I mingled with the locals. I saw a dragon. And I had a lovely conversation at the local dining spot. I seem to recall that you were part of the conversation.”

“Oh, well, I seem to be the subject of quite a bit of the talk around town.”

“Who would want to talk about you?” wondered Iolanthe from the other end of the table.

“Pretty young women are always a topic of conversation,” said Mrs. Godwin, pausing to wipe a stray drop of wine from her chin. “I’ve had quite enough of people always talking about me, I can tell you that.”

“That reminds me of what I heard from Mrs. Eamsham today,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.

“No gossiping at the dinner table,” said Iolanthe. “I want to hear about my brother’s many adventures in the great city.”

The heads of the diners all turned toward Terrence.

“Oh, good,” he said. “Nothing I like better than talking about myself.”

Yuah chuckled. She was the only one who did, but then she was in the best position to know the irony of such a statement. Of all the people at the table, it was probably Terrence who least wanted to talk about himself. Of course, he wasn’t much of a talker, regardless of the subject.

“Well, what did you do in Brech?” demanded Iolanthe.

“Yes,” said Yuah. “What did you do?”

“Nothing much.”

“You were invited to Crown Street, weren’t you?” asked Iolanthe.

“Yes, I met the Prime Minister.” He looked at his sister. “You and I can discuss my meeting with him, later.”

“How exciting!” exclaimed Mrs. Colbshallow. “What was his wife like?”

“She seemed nice.”

“I hear she has a face like a horse,” said the elder Mrs. Calliere.

Saba Colbshallow snorted and Iolanthe pursed her lips.

“Did you go to the theater?” asked Mrs. Godwin.

“No. Sorry.”

“You went to the Great Church of the Holy Savior, of course?” asked Mrs. Colbshallow.

“I was obliged to.”

“Well, I hope you at least did some shopping,” said the elder Mrs. Calliere.

“I did pick up a few things.”

“I’m full,” said a tiny voice from the other end of the table, reminding everyone that a child was there.

Yuah thought that this must be the quietest that Iolana had ever been.

“Iolana, come here to Auntie,” she said.

The conversation continued around the table as the little girl in her bright red dress climbed down from her chair and stepping past her grandmother and Mrs. Godwin, slipping up and into her aunt’s lap.

“Do you remember your Uncle Terrence?” she asked the child.

The little girl tucked her face into Yuah’s shoulder shyly and didn’t say anything. A single eye peeked over her auntie’s lace covered bosom at the frightening man. Yuah gently stroked her blond hair.

“Don’t be shy, dear.”

“I can’t believe how big she is,” said Terrence. “Talking real words, too.”

“You can talk right to her, you know,” said Yuah.

Terrence flashed her an annoyed look, but then spoke directly to the child.

“I’ve got a present for you.” Then he looked up into his wife’s eyes. “I have a present for you too.”

“I should bloody well hope there’s more than one,” murmured Yuah.

Stepping out of the S.S. Arrow’s mid-deck hatch and onto the gangplank, Radley Staff looked around at the peninsula on which Port Dechantagne was built. He was amazed at the growth of the little colony. When he had left, a little more than three years ago, it was nothing but a few barracks buildings in a clearing in the woods. Now it was a real town. From where he stood, he could see hundreds of buildings, warehouses, apartment blocks, businesses, and the rooftops of more building off between the redwoods. A large dark cloud hung amid the white clouds, formed by hundreds of fireplaces and stoves. The smell of wood smoke overcame the smell of the seashore. He stopped for a moment and enjoyed the scene. Someone behind him cleared her throat. He turned around to find Miss Jindra, in a shimmering white and teal day dress with waves of white ruffles down the front. She wore a matching teal hat with a lace veil and carried a parasol, though she seemed unlikely to need one.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

“That’s quite alright, Mr. Staff. I’m surprised you haven’t debarked yet.”

“I waited to avoid the rush.”

“I’m afraid I was expecting more,” she said, looking with a raised brow at the nearby buildings.

He followed her gaze.

“Really? I was thinking just the opposite.”

He turned back around to face her and started. Miss Jindra was just where she had been, but a second woman stood directly behind her—a woman who hadn’t been there only a second before. Though her hairstyle was different, Staff remembered the charcoal circled grey eyes and the wry smile. He had thought he remembered her scandalous dress too, but what she had on now went beyond the bounds of decency. Black leather covered only the lower half of her breasts, leaving her two star tattoos clearly visible. The dress reached down only to the top of her thighs. Two thick straps attached to a tight leather collar which seemed to be holding the whole thing up. Forget fitting a corset beneath this ensemble. One would have been hard pressed to fit a piece of lace in there.

“Well, Lieutenant Staff, I do declare,” said Zurfina in her unforgettable sultry voice.

“That’s Mr. Staff,” he corrected.

Miss Jindra spun around, getting a piece of her voluminous dress caught on a spur of the railing. There was a loud ripping sound as a four inch tear was opened in the beautiful teal cloth.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” said Zurfina, placing a hand on each of Miss Jindra’s shoulders. Looking around the olive-skinned woman’s head, she said in a loud whisper. “Too long a dress. Bound to happen sooner or later.”

“What exactly do you want, Zurfina?” asked Staff. “I’m flattered, but surprised that you came to meet me.”

“Oh you are a pretty boy, but it’s your friend I’m here for.”

“Miss Jindra?”

Miss Jindra started to speak. “I don’t…”

“Don’t spoil the moment,” said Zurfina, placing a finger on the woman’s mouth.

“Perhaps I could bring her around to your home later,” said Staff.

Zurfina flashed him a smile that was only slightly more than a smirk. Then suddenly she was gone. Miss Jindra, her voluminous white and teal dress with matching teal hat and her parasol, were gone too. There was nothing to indicate that anyone had ever stood on the gangplank behind him, except for a single teal colored thread, clinging to a spur in the railing.

For a moment, Staff thought about finding Miss Jindra and rescuing her. On the other hand, she had never expressed a need or a desire for his protection. He didn’t really know her all that well. She was only a dinner companion, assigned by the ship’s purser at that. And it was not as if he had any knowledge of how to deal with a sorceress or knew Zurfina’s address. So he shrugged and continued down the gangplank, across the dock, and into the street beyond.

The two constables walked past the triceratops pen, and blew a happy cloud of relief in the cold air as the wind swung back around from the west again. The next pen was the home of the colony’s iguanodons, and most of the green and yellow striped beasts were in their barn. One specimen, more than half grown at about twenty feet long and weighing more than two tons, was running around on its hind legs, still hunched over with its tail sticking straight out the back. Upon its back was a heavy set pre-teen boy.
“Woo-Hoo! Look at me, guys!”

“Go boy, Go!” shouted Eamon. Saba slapped him on the back of the head.

“Get down, Graham! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

The iguanodon slowed and came to a stop just on the other side of the fence from the two constables. Graham tossed his left leg over the back of the great beast and slid to the ground.

“Get on inside,” he said, slapping the beast on its side. It honked, and then walked toward the barn. “It’s alright. Stinky would never hurt me.”

“I know Stinky is friendly. I used to take care of him,” said Saba. “In fact, I’m the one who named him. But you could fall and break your leg. He might fall on you and crush you. Look around. There’s no one here to help you if that happened.”

“I had to come when nobody else was here. Otherwise they wouldn’t let me ride him.”

“Well, there you go. Rules are made for a reason.”

“Come on! Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“Why?” asked Saba. “Cause you’re so jammy?”

“Huh?”

“I heard your girlfriend calling you Jammy Graham.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” said Graham. “She’s just my friend—who’s a girl. She’s my friend-girl, not my girlfriend.”

“How come you’re not working at the dock, Graham?” asked Eamon.

“Don’t need me till tomorrow. They’re not going to put off any freight today.”

“Well, why don’t you head back with us anyway,” said Saba.

“Alright, it’s past lunch time,” said Graham. “Hold on a minute though. I’ve got to go make sure that Stinky’s back in his enclosure.”

Saba and Eamon waited as Graham jogged to the iguanodon barn. A few minutes later, they saw him closing the barn door, and then jogging back to where they waited. He climbed through the fence and stood beside them. Graham was on the short side, not even reaching Eamon’s shoulder. He was a sturdy boy though; no doubt from working on the docks, and muscles stretched the sleeves and chest of his shirt.

“Kafira. Don’t you have a jacket?” asked Saba.

“What are you—my mother?”

“Watch your mouth. Do you have a jacket or not?”

“Yes. Hold on.” Graham retrieved a light coat from the fence post thirty feet away, and threw it on. Once he had returned, the three made their way southeast from the animal pens.

“Might as well finish the circuit, right?” said Eamon.

“Sure,” said Saba.

“I’m thinking of becoming a cop,” said Graham. “I’ll bet the cops will all be riding dinosaurs in a few years when Stinky and Sparky get big enough.”

“They look pretty damn big already,” said Eamon. “They need a proper bridle though. You can’t steer them without a bridle.”

“I can make them go where I want most of the time. I steer them by pressing on their sides with my knees, and talking to them. If they would put me in charge of training them up, I could have them ready in no time.”

“Doesn’t your dad want you to work in the lumber yard with him?” asked Saba.

“Sure, but my Ma’s not so keen since Da sliced those two fingers off.”

“But she won’t mind you being a cop?”

“Na. Cops never get hurt.”

The area directly across from the park was reserved as the colony cemetery, though relatively little of it had so far been utilized as such. Though it had been denuded of ninety percent of the trees, there were still several large copses amid a park-like meadow. People used the cemetery in the summer for picnics and outdoor fun almost as much as they did the actual park, especially since it had easy access to a beach just to the east. Snowflakes were falling even more heavily, and a pattern like the waves of the ocean covered the empty spaces between the few trees. Though it was close to noon now, the sun was just a slightly brighter place in the cloudy sky.

The first building beyond the cemetery was a large workshop built to hold the many inventions of Professor Merced Calliere. It was a two story tall, dark and brooding edifice of stone and wood, more than two hundred feet on each side. It was usually easy enough to tell when the professor or one of his helpers was there working. Most of the machines inside made an ungodly racket. All was quiet now.

“I wonder where everybody’s at,” said Graham.

“They’re all at home, snuggling by the fire,” said Eamon.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” replied Graham, though he sounded as though he didn’t quite believe himself.

“You know as well as anyone how the weather can change here,” said Saba. “If you expect to be a constable some day, you’ve got to keep your eyes open and your wits about you.”

“Eat more,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “You’re skin and bones.”
“I’m full up, Mother,” said her son.

Saba Colbshallow was full up, too. He had eaten a full breakfast this morning at the Dechantagne family home, and sat back to enjoy his morning tea. Around the large pine table sat his mother, Mrs. Dechantagne, Mrs. Godwin, little Iolana Calliere and at the head of the table Professor Merced Calliere. Mrs. Dechantagne’s baby was in the next room, being rocked in a cradle by one of the reptilian servants, and Mrs. Dechantagne Calliere, who normally sat at the other end of the table from her husband, was not present at breakfast this morning.

“I’m sorry that I missed Mrs. C,” said Saba, though he wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. He had known her all his life, and had been in love with her from the time he was five and she was a striking, sixteen year old beauty, until he was seven and she was a very bossy eighteen year old. Then his affections had been switched to Mrs. Dechantagne, who back then had just been Yuah Korlann, and who had grown up to be a bit prettier and much nicer.

“She’s quite busy this morning,” said the professor, setting aside the book that he had been reading. “You’ll be quite busy too, I dare say. Another ship came in last night.”

“So I heard. Mirsannan freighter. Mostly cargo, but I bet there’ll be a couple of poofs out causing trouble.”

“Quite,” said the professor, saluting with his teacup. “Don’t let us keep you from your duty then officer.”

“Right.” Saba drained his teacup and stood up, pushing in the chair as he left the table. He picked up his constabulary helmet from the small table in front of the window. It had gold braid around its base, a large gold star on the front, and a gold spike on the very top. Of course it was navy blue, just like his uniform.

“Look at my boy,” said his mother. “He looks like a right man, doesn’t he? An officer of the peace.”

“You look just dashing,” said Mrs. Dechantagne, which made Saba blush a bit. He bowed low to her, saluted everyone else, and then headed out the front door, which one of the lizardmen servants held open for him.

Saba was quite proud of his position as one of the first two constables on the police force in Port Dechantagne. In fact, he could well say that he was the first constable, since he had badge number one, and Eamon Shrubb had badge number two. Even though he was only twenty, Saba had worked hard for this position. He had signed on to the Colonial Militia when he was only sixteen, eventually becoming the youngest sergeant at any time before or since. He had served his two years with what he thought was distinction and had volunteered for an extra year. Now he was a copper. Anyone who knew Saba recognized that few deserved a spot in the new police department more than he did. Anyone who knew the royal governor knew that she would not have sponsored him for the position just because she had known him all his life.

“Good morning, Constable,” called a woman in a plain brown dress with a brown shawl thrown across her shoulders and a brown bonnet on her head, pushing a wheelbarrow down the gravel road.

“Good morning to you, Mrs. Eamsham. Do you need a hand with that?”

“Heavens no. I was just taking the slop from the neighborhood out to the pigs and dinosaurs.”

“That’s a good five miles pushing that thing. You be sure and take several rest stops along the way.”

Mrs. Eamsham nodded and turned the corner heading for town square. Saba continued walking into the southwestern part of the town, where the homes sat on larger lots, but were not necessarily larger themselves. The leaves had long gone from the maples and the other deciduous trees, but the pines and cedars were still glorious green. A chill wind whipped here and there, but did nothing to Saba but turn his cheeks a little redder. His wool uniform was exceedingly warm.

Suddenly he heard gunfire erupting from directly in front of him. One, two shots. Then a pause. Then one, two, three, four, five, six, pause. He looked up above the trees and saw a flash of steel shoot across the sky.

“Oh, bloody hell!” he shouted and ran at top speed in the direction of the gunfire. That he carried no other weapon than a heavy truncheon, worried him not a bit. Two men with military issue service rifles, but wearing expensive hunting clothes stood in the middle of the gravel road.

“Guns down!” yelled Saba, as he skidded to a stop in front of them. “Drop your guns now!”

“See here chap,” said the first man, his accent labeling him as plainly as if he had worn a placard that he was from Old Town Brech. He must have been very new to the colony, because Saba made it a custom to get to know everyone, and neither of these men he recognized.

“We’re doing nothing illegal,” said the second man. “Just shooting some pests.”

“What exactly were you shooting?”

“We heard from some of the neighbors that these velocipedes….”

“Velociraptors,” Saba corrected.

“Yes, them. They’ve been a menace lately, to the point of endangering the local children.”

“Quite,” said the first man. “We went out to put a few down and found a small group digging right into those garbage bins. We shot a few and killed two, I think, but one took off and flew into the trees.”

“If you listen to me very, and I do mean very, carefully,” said Saba. “I just might be able to save your lives. Lay your rifles down on the ground.”

“But I don’t under…..”

“Do it!”

The men leaned over and carefully placed their weapons on the white gravel road.

“Nobody told you velociraptors don’t fly?”

A loud whomp made all three men jump, and they found themselves standing next to a pony-sized reptile with twenty foot wings, and more importantly a mouth open large enough to swallow a human head. Steel scales reflected the light from the winter morning sky like shields and swords on a forgotten battlefield. The steel dragon let out a huge roar, rending the air with a noise that must have been heard all over Port Dechantagne. Little puffs of smoke flew out of his mouth at the two men as well as bits of saliva which burst into little sparks in the air.

“They bloody shot me!” The dragon’s four word sentence disintegrated into another roar of rage.

When she stepped inside, it was like stepping into a different world. The room was warm from the fire burning in the cast-iron stove and the glow from three oil lamps made the recently tidied up room feel almost festive. A pot of tea on the stove was just beginning to whistle, and three white porcelain cups, painted with pink roses and green stems, sat on the table.

“Get that, would you, Pet?” said Bessemer, sitting on his pile of fluffy pillows with a large open book in front of him.

Senta sat her magazines down and picked up the teapot off of the stove. She poured the steaming water into the three cups. Zurfina’s sterling silver tea diffuser had already been filled with tea leaves, so she dipped it first into one cup and then another.

“What are you reading?”

“Night of the Snake.”

“Is it good?”

“It’s supposed to be. I haven’t got very far, but I’m already pretty sure that the snake did it.”

Zurfina stepped down into the room just as Senta was finished brewing the tea. She wore a robe that covered her from neck to ankles, but was composed of completely sheer black lace. The girl dropped three lumps of sugar into one of the cups and handed it to the sorceress. She put three more lumps in a second cup and carried it over to the steel dragon, who reached up and took it from her hands without looking away from his book. She took a sip of her own tea, and then decided to add one lump.

“And what are you about today?” asked Zurfina.

“We had a picnic at Battle Creek.”

“Which one is Battle Creek again?”

“It’s where you fought Wizard Kesi,” said Senta. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember.”

“I have some vague recollection,” said the sorceress, absentmindedly rubbing the bald spot above her ear. “You weren’t up there this whole time? You’re so late that I had to have Bessemer light the stove.”

“I was getting fitted for a new dress.”

“You have plenty of dresses right here. I went to the trouble to lay one out for you this morning.”

“It was black and it was made out of rubber.”

“It would have looked very pinnaped-like.”

“Aren’t I old enough to pick out my own clothes?”

“You’re only ten.’

“I’m twelve!”

Zurfina looked toward the steel dragon, who nodded in confirmation.

She sighed. “Do you think she is old enough to make these decisions?”

“The technological intricacies of stove lighting, I have mastered. I offer no expertise when it comes to fashion or adolescent human female development.”

“Alright. But you don’t have an unlimited budget. I’m not made of money.”

“She should have an allowance,” suggested Bessemer.

“She shall have a stipend,” corrected Zurfina. “As befits a student of sorcery. How about one hundred marks per month?”

“Too much,” said Bessemer.

“Oh, so you are an expert. Fifty then.”

“Fifty is fine,” said Senta.

“And since you have fifty marks left just floating around, I think I should have a stipend too,” said the dragon.

“You’re not even four years old yet.” Senta sputtered.

“Four dragon years.”

“Dragons live almost forever, which means you’re like what, a baby? A premature baby.”

“Have you ever heard of a dragon who wasn’t sitting on a hoard of riches?” he asked. “I feel so incomplete.”

“Do you want a pretty dress too?” wondered Zurfina.

“I want to buy Detsky’s other book, “Rabbits Under the Fence”. This one’s pretty good. And I want another pillow—a green one shaped like a turtle, so that I can cuddle it.”

“Alright,” said the sorceress in a pose that brooked no further arguing or demanding. “A twenty five mark stipend for the dragon. You can both get your money each month from the lower layer of the silver box.”

Senta went to the silver box and pulled out the tray with knives, forks, and spoons in it, setting it aside. The lower level was stuffed with money—coins from copper pfennigs to large silver marks to gold decimarks. In between there were bills of all denominations from single mark notes to five hundred mark Tybalts.

“Don’t take more than you are supposed to. Bad things will happen,” said Zurfina.

Senta picked out two gold decimarks and thirty marks in various bills.

“Toss me my twenty five,” said Bessemer.

“You heard what she said,” said Senta. “You get your own.”

“Good girl,” said Zurfina. “Now, what shall we have for dinner?”

Yuah thought she had made it up early this morning, but everyone was already seated at the long dining table. Professor Merced Calliere, dressed in a white summer suit that his wife had no doubt purchased for him, sat at the head of the table and was already scooping forkfuls of eggs and sausages to his mouth. At the opposite end of the table, his wife, the royal governor, sipped her morning tea. The bright red dress she wore was clean in style and far simpler in cut than Yuah’s teal dress. It featured no lace or brocade or beading what-so-ever, but the material which covered Iolanthe from the top of the neck to the wrists and down to the floor was so smooth, and so fine, that Yuah would have bet it cost a fortune, and was probably imported all the way from Forlond.

Each side of the table had four place settings, though for breakfast, not all of them were filled. Yuah took her place to Iolanthe’s right. The two seats to her right were empty. At the far end, next to her father, and perched on a stack of books in her chair was little Iolana. The pretty little girl, dressed in bright pink, had her blond hair carefully curled into dozens of tiny ringlets, which framed her aquamarine eyes, tiny freckled nose, and bow-shaped mouth. Directly across from Yuah sat Mrs. Colbshallow. A handsome, though rather worn woman in her late forties, Mrs. Colbshallow had been the family cook for the Dechantagne household. Having journeyed to the new world, she found herself in the rather queer position of being a human servant in a land where servants were lizardmen. Since she clearly was above the level of the Lizzies, she had sort of automatically assumed the place of family member. While she was still in charge of all the meals, she only engaged in the actual work of the kitchen when it suited her. Next to her was her son Saba, in a neatly pressed blue police uniform, with large brass buttons. The lanky boy who had been a step-n-fetchit for the Dechantagne home had grown to a handsome six foot three nineteen year old. His thick blond hair and flashing moss green eyes were a welcome sight for most girls in Port Dechantagne. Though he lived in a small house down the road, he often took meals with his mother. Next to him was another empty seat, and then next to that, to the professor’s right was seated Macy Godwin. Another staff member elevated to family, Mrs. Godwin had served as a governess and head maid at the Dechantagne family home in Shopton. Now nearing sixty, Mrs. Godwin had settled in to serve as the grizzled aunt neither the Dechantagne nor the Calliere family had.

One of the lizardman waiters placed a plate of eggs, sausages, black pudding, baked beans, sliced tomatoes, and toast in front of Yuah. Balancing Augie in the crook of her left arm, she picked up her fork and used the side of it to cut the eggs into bite sized pieces. The local lack of chickens did nothing to lessen the humans’ appetite for eggs and the local countryside obliged. There were many birds in Birmisia, as well as dinosaurs, and quite a few animals that seemed to fall somewhere in between the two groups. Wild eggs had proven to be the most abundant food source offered by the new land. Early on, the colonists had scavenged them for themselves, but this had given way to trading with the local lizardman tribes for them. Now, with the exception of manual labor, eggs were the largest source of wealth for the reptilians.

“I believe there is something wrong with your dress, dear,” said Mrs. Godwin.

“Oh?” said Yuah.

“Yes, it’s missing the back.”

“Perhaps you have it on backwards,” offered Mrs. Colbshallow.

“I happen to know that both of you saw this dress at Mrs. Bratihn’s,” said Yuah. “You’ve just been waiting until I wore it so you could play at being blinkered old ladies.”

“It does show rather a lot of skin, for a day dress,” said Iolanthe.

“Backs are all in, in Brech,” said Yuah.

“I think it looks very nice,” said the professor.

“Oh shut up,” snapped Iolanthe.

When breakfast was over, Yuah bundled Augie up in blankets and tucked him neatly into the baby carriage she had ordered from Brech. It was baby blue, as befitted a boy, with a cute lace edged sun shade and very large round wheels to make it easier to go over the mostly unpaved roads of Port Dechantagne. Picking up her teal parasol, she pushed the stroller out the front door and waited at the bottom of the steps as Tisson carried baby and all down to the level ground. It was cool and somewhat on the breezy side, so she tucked the parasol into the carriage and pushed on down the roadway.

When breakfast was over, Yuah bundled Augie up in blankets and tucked him neatly into the baby carriage she had ordered from Brech. It was baby blue, as befitted a boy, with a cute lace edged sun shade and very large round wheels to make it easier to go over the mostly unpaved roads of Port Dechantagne. Picking up her teal parasol, she pushed the stroller out the front door and waited at the bottom of the steps as Tisson carried baby and all down to the level ground. It was cool and somewhat on the breezy side, so she tucked the parasol into the carriage and pushed on down the roadway.

Though she hadn’t quite decided on a destination when she left the house, it wasn’t long before Yuah realized that she was walking east toward the heart of the colony’s Zaeri community. Here along the edge of the town, yards were large, filled not with flower gardens but with rows of vegetables, and houses were for the most part small one or two room affairs. White gravel paved the road here as most everywhere else, but there were few paved or even stone walkways. Here people walked across grass yards to the front doors of their bungalows.

Three women were outside working, and stopped weeding or turning soil in order to watch the woman in the teal dress push along her baby carriage. Each of the three women wore utilitarian dresses, which though they were the same shape and covered a similarly large bustle, had none of the lace or decoration of Yuah’s dress. They were made of coarse brown cloth over white cotton under-dresses. Instead of hats, they wore bonnets of brown linen. A fourth woman looked up from digging the weeds from her garden as Yuah reached the point directly in front of her home. She put aside her hoe and stepped quickly to the road side holding out her hand.

“Mrs. Dechantagne, how lovely to see you.”

Honor Hertling was dressed in the same sturdy brown and white clothing as her neighbors. Her sleeves and the front of her dress were stained with dirt, and she wore a beat up pair of men’s work gloves. Twenty years old, with large, sad eyes, a small nose, and raven hair, she was not classically beautiful, and not just because of the ugly scar that ran across her left cheek to her chin. She was cute though, in an indefinable way. Yuah reached out to take her gloved hand.

“Oh, sorry,” said Miss Hertling. She pulled her hand away and removed the glove, then grasped Yuah’s hand firmly. “What a lovely dress.”

“You like it? A little bird told me that you might not approve.” Yuah was suddenly aware that she was using one of Iolanthe’s expressions.

“Mein sister and her friend.” Miss Hertling’s accent suddenly became thicker. “I am thinking that the Drache girl likes to stir up trouble. Would you like to come in for some tea?”

“Thank you.”

Tossing her gloves onto a potting bench near the garden, the young woman opened the door. Yuah parked the blue baby carriage in the yard and lifting little Augie out, followed into the house. The structure was very small and consisted of three rooms. The front room, only about eight by twelve feet, served as parlor, dining room, and kitchen, as well as any number of other functions for which the Dechantagne household would have had individual rooms. At one end was a cast iron stove, a kitchen counter with a wash basin and spigot, and a shelf filled with jars of canned goods. At the other end of the room was a bookcase filled with a dozen volumes and two small porcelain flower vases holding cut flowers, and an old rocking chair. In between were a rough-hewn table and four very simple chairs. The wood planking of the floor was exactly the same wood planking of the walls and the ceiling, but bright light shown in through the four lace curtained windows, and the room was impeccably clean.

Augie began to fuss as Yuah stepped inside.

“He’s probably hungry again,” she said.

“If you would like to nurse him now, you may sit in the rocking chair, while I make our tea.”

Yuah set the swaddled baby on the chair as she went about the fairly arduous task of freeing her breasts from the many layers of her clothing. Though two of her three undergarments had been fashioned with breast-feeding in mind, the gorgeous teal dress had not. By the time Augie was able to begin suckling, he was red-faced from crying and his mother was nearing exhaustion. Yuah pulled the suddenly quiet baby close to her body, now bare from the waist up, and reached with a free hand to accept the cup of steaming tea. Miss Hertling turned the lock on the door, which consisted of a small piece of wood with a single nail holding it to the doorjamb.

“I wouldn’t want Hertzal walking in on you,” she explained. “I think he might faint.”

“Isn’t he working at the dock?”

“Yes, but sometimes he comes home for lunch.”

“Thank you again for your hospitality. I suppose I would have had to walk all the way back home, or find a spot beside a tree.”

“That probably wouldn’t have been a good idea. I’ve seen velociraptors eating out of people’s garbage twice this week. I doubt that one or two would chase down a full grown person, but they always seem to multiply. I hate to think of one of them getting after a baby.”

Yuah pulled Augie even closer. “I hope you have notified the police.”

“I have. The militia too. They keep chasing the beasts off and they keep coming back.”

Yuah turned Augie around to give him the other breast. He cried for just a moment as she shifted his position, and then happily went back to feeding. She brushed his thin brown hair back away from his face.

“I don’t want you to think that I disapprove of you or your clothes,” said Miss Hertling, pulling one of the dining chairs forward to face the rocking chair, and sitting down in it. “I just think that it is very important to preserve our traditions.”

“There is nothing in the scripture or the Magnificent Law that prohibits the wearing of colorful clothing.”

“Yes, I know. But my sister and I come from Freedonia. You must understand that in Freedonia, the Zaeri face extinction.”

“You don’t really mean that do you? Extinction, as in death?”

“Murder is being committed and sometimes it’s sanctioned by the government. Those Zaeri who stay are being discriminated against and forced to move to specially designated areas. Laws are being passed that limit Zaeri rights and create special Zaeri taxes. Those Zaeri who do leave, find themselves unable to return. Things are only going to get worse, too. King Klaus II has publicly called the Zaeri an unclean race.”

“That’s abhorrent.”

“Yes, but that’s the way it is. My parents were killed and my brother, sister, and I were chased out of our home. But they couldn’t destroy what we are. We are still Zaeri and we are still alive. I think it’s important that we remember who we are. We should maintain our traditions.”

“I suppose I can understand your feelings about it,” said Yuah.

“Things must be strange for you though,” mused Miss Hertling. “I hadn’t really thought of it before. You are one of only a handful of Zaeri from Greater Brechalon. You must feel as different from us, from the Freedonians, as you do from the Kafirite Brechs.”

“Yes. I hadn’t thought about it either, at least not much, but I have been feeling isolated lately. It’s probably postpartum angst as much as anything.”

“Don’t disregard your feelings so quickly. If only I had known you were interested in being part of the Zaeri community here… well, I could have done something.”

“I don’t know if I am interested. For a long time I didn’t want to be a Zaeri at all. When I was a little girl, my mother took me and my brother to shrine every week. Then she died. I was only five.”

“Losing a parent can shake one’s faith.”

“My father called a Zaeri Imam to cast a healing spell. He did too, but it didn’t help. My mother got sicker and sicker until she died. My father of course, refused to allow a Kafirite Priest to bless her.”

“Do you think a Kafirite Priest could have healed her?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve seen so many people healed by their priests. If Kafira is not the daughter of God, how can they work such miracles?”

It was the second day of Hamonth, the first day of winter, and a chilly breeze blew across the bay and into the bustling colony of Port Dechantagne. A ship, the S.S. Mistress of Brechbay had docked at the recently upgraded port and a row of happy immigrants were descending down the gangplank. They stared with fascination, mixed with a small amount of fear at the dockworkers below them. Dozens of lizardmen served at the port. Sluggish now that the cooler weather had arrived, they used heavy winches to lift cargo from the deck of the ship and deposit it on the gravel road beside the dock. Other lizardmen then scooped up the crates, boxes, and barrels with hand-trucks and ferried them to the nearby warehouses. Both groups of lizardmen were supervised by human foremen.

People all along the dock stopped and stared as Senta walked by. Hundreds of passengers leaned over the railing of the ship and others on the gangplank pointed and gaped with open mouths. Senta carried herself with a bounce that made her long blond hair sail behind her like a proud banner in the wind. She dreadfully skinny, though the bustle beneath her yellow dress gave her a little bit of a figure. She was a child soon to become a young woman, and she was brimming with confidence. She was well known in the colony and she thought that she was quite pretty too. She had to admit though, that the people were probably not gawking at her, but at the dragon which walked along next to her. It was the size of a small pony, covered in scales the color of polished steel. Every step it took was a study in grace, and from the tip of its whiskered snout, past its folded wings, to the tip of its barbed tail, it seemed to just flow along.

“They look as though they’ve never seen a dragon before,” said the dragon. Had someone heard his voice without seeing him, they would have thought it was a young gentleman speaking. It was a rich voice, but still young.

“They probably haven’t,” replied Senta. “Dragons are pretty rare.”

“Rare and very beautiful…”

“Oh do shut up,” said the girl, and then. “There he is. Hey Graham!”

A boy about the same age as the girl and about twice as heavy even though he was almost a head shorter, ran toward them. He had on the dungarees and heavy shirt of a dock worker, and both were stained here and there, no doubt from just such a form of labor. His unkempt brown hair and freckled face made his smile seem all the more genuine.

“Hey Senta. Hey Bessemer.”

“Hello Graham,” said the dragon.

“You look a mess,” said Senta. “You did remember that we were supposed to go for lunch?”

“Sorry, I can’t go. I gotta work. I can’t leave my crew alone.” He gestured over his shoulder at the group of five lizardmen awaiting his return. Looking like a cross between an upright alligator and an iguana, with skin ranging in color from a mottled olive to a deep forest green, the reptilians was two feet taller than the boy. They stood waiting, scarcely moving, and giving the dragon and his companion surreptitious looks.

“I don’t care for those reptiles,” said Bessemer.

Graham snorted.

“What?”

“It cracks me up every time you say that,” Graham told the dragon. “Besides, you know they think you’re a god or something?”

“I didn’t say they didn’t have taste.”

“Come on,” said Senta. “I’ve heard this entire conversation already twenty times. If you can’t come with us, we’ll just go get lunch ourselves.”

One of the lizardmen hissed something, and then two others began replying in the local reptilian dialect.

“Up your trolley!” yelled Graham at them, and then he too began to hiss in the native tongue.

The lizardmen turned and walked back over to a pallet full of cargo, which they had evidently been in the process of carrying to the warehouse. With what seemed to be a great deal of unhappiness, but not a great deal of speed, they returned to work. One of them hissed again.

“That’s right you! You keep your pecker on!” yelled Graham. He looked at Senta and flushed slightly. “Sorry. Ma says I shouldn’t use the language from the dock around the young ladies.” He said the words ‘young ladies’ in a strained falsetto imitation of his mother. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go. I didn’t know the Mistress was going to be docking today.”

“Fine,” said Senta. “I’ll just dine with Hero and Hertzel.”

“Hertzal’s working too. I just saw him take his crew up on the crane. It’s probably going to be a late night and we’ll probably be working this schedule for the next four days. Look, I’m sorry. But I’ll make it up to you next week, Okay?”

“Fine,” said Senta, unhappily, and Graham set off back toward his cold-blooded staff members.

“Don’t be so sad,” said the dragon. “You can have a ladies’ luncheon. You can be all hoity-toity and proper. You know how much you love that.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going hunting for my own lunch.”

“Just be careful. Watch out for predators that are bigger and scarier than you.”

“There may be bigger, but there are none scarier!” He emphasized his last four words for the crowd of immigrants fresh off the ship who were forming around for their first look at a living dragon. Bessemer took a deep breath and blew three small smoke rings in their direction. The crowd, moving as one, took a step backwards, even though none of them had approached within a twenty foot radius of him anyway. Then, with one swift motion, the steel dragon shot into the sky like an artillery shell and disappeared.

“You shouldn’t be out alone,” said a heavily accented voice. She didn’t need to turn around to recognize its owner, but turn around she did.

“I thought you were hiding in your apartment,” she told Streck. “I heard you got quite a scare on your hunting trip.”

“This place is a hell-hole. It’s not fit for a civilized man, and it won’t be until the monsters and the Eidechse are wiped out.”

“The Eidechse? You mean the lizzies? You can’t wipe all of them out. There are millions, not just the lot around here. They have some big cities to the south and west. I’ve seen one.”

“You would be surprised what can be done.”

“What do you want anyway? You want to finish our duel?”

“Oh, I have seen your shield spell and I am suitably impressed. It is clear you are a gifted, if boastful, child.”

“I think I asked already… what is it you want?”

“I’m just here to say goodbye, little bit.” Streck smiled. “My ship is here and I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Good riddance then,” said Senta.

Steck’s face turned even more sour. “I am inviting you to come with me. Not only will you learn to respect your elders, you will learn the true magic—far more than you will ever learn with your Zurfina.”

“What is it with you exactly?” asked the girl. “Do you want to open up my brain and scoop out the magic, or are you one of those weirdoes that like little girls?”

“I want to join the Reine Zauberei.”

“I thought you were one already.”

“I was, but I didn’t advance as fast as I should have… as fast as I could have. They suspended my studies and I was left to work as a solicitor. But now I have a chance to return, you see. The Reine Zauberei will appreciate you. They appreciate power, and you have more power than I at first thought. Even if you can’t do all that you say you can, a shield spell from one so young will be impressive enough. And in return for my bringing you to them, I will be reinstated.”

“So, you want to use me for your own benefits.”

“Oh, it will be good for you too, little bit. In the Reine Zauberei, you will…”

Steck’s voice trailed off and his mouth went slack. All the color drained from his face. At the moment Senta realized that he was looking at something behind her, she heard the tremendous bellow. Turning around, she saw not one, but two tyrannosaurs striding quickly toward them. One was smaller, perhaps only ten feet tall and thirty five feet long. The other was a huge fifty-footer, and judging by the scarred and uglier-than-usual face, it had to be the one that she had hit with the fireball a month earlier. It opened its mouth wide and roared, its teeth looking like a hundred daggers.

“Run, you wanker!” shouted Senta, rushing past Streck and making a diagonal path toward the edge of the road.

Senta closed the door behind her and stomped the damp snow off of her overs. It was getting near dusk and the lower room of the tower was filled with shadows. Pointing at the lamp beside the chair, she brought it to life with a word. Several other lamps followed. The room, now bathed in warm light revealed its contents, including the steel dragon lying in the corner.

“Hey,” Senta called. “You’ve been asleep for two days. Wake up.”

Bessemer opened his eyes and yawned. “What?”

“You sleep too much, that’s all.”

“I am a dragon.”

Senta plopped down in the chair and kicked her overs off, followed by her shoes and her socks. Tucking her legs up under her, she wrapped her coat tightly around her.

“It’s too cold.”

The dragon rose from his spot by the stove and climbed up onto the chair. He draped his body over the chair back and wrapped his tail around her. Curling his long neck around so that he could look her in the face, he asked. “What is the matter?”

“I worked all day making those potions.” She pointed to several small vials on the kitchen table. “So when I finally get a chance to go out and play, everyone has gone home for the night. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Your lessons?”

“Oh, you’re a big help. Why don’t you do my lessons if they’re so great?”

“I do.”

Senta stuck out her tongue. Bessemer mirrored her action. She frowned at him for a moment, but then grabbed him around the neck and pulled his scaly face to hers.

“I’m sorry. I’m just bored and tired, and I’m really ready for winter to be over. It’s too damn cold. By the way, where is Zurfina? She’s supposed to tell me whether my dionoserin is any good.”

“Upstairs.”

“Where upstairs?”

“Her room.”

“Is she alone?”

“No.”

“Is Jex with her?”

The dragon nodded.

“Again?”

He nodded again. Then he climbed down from the chair and headed for the door.

“Happy hunting,” said Senta, though she herself seemed anything but happy.

“Toodle pip,” said Bessemer, and then he was gone.

Senta made her way up the stairs, past the rooms designated for Bessemer but almost never used, up to her own room. She peeled off her clothes and ran a hot bath for herself. Once she was clean and warm, she put on her warmest night clothes and headed back down to the kitchen for something to eat. She stoked the fire in the stove and added two logs before heading for the froredor. But something stopped her.

Sitting there on the kitchen table, just where she had left in that afternoon, was the small clear vial filled with silvery liquid. Dionoserin. A bottle just that big sold for thousands of marks. Of course it was illegal in Brechalon, but they weren’t in Brechalon anymore. Did it work? Did she grind the walnuts up enough? Did she maintain her aura? Taking two quick steps to the table, she snatched up the bottle, pulled off the cork stopper, and drank it down. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Well, I could die,” she said aloud.

She didn’t wait to see if she would die though. She ran up the two flights of stairs to her room, and then crept up one more flight stopping just before she reached the level. She slowly peered over the top step and into Zurfina’s room. She had a good idea what to expect. Senta had lived with the sorceress almost two years now. During that time Zurfina had entertained a number of male admirers.

The first thing that Senta saw was Mr. Jex, standing in the middle of the room. She was happy to see that he was fully clothed. The second thing Senta saw was Zurfina, and she was not. She was posed upon her bed, her head hanging over the edge, so that she was looking at Mr. Jex and everything else upside down. Her blond hair draped down almost to the floor, hiding her little bald spot. Her crossed legs were sticking straight up in the air. Mr. Jex stared at her for a moment before turning back to a large canvas and poking at it with the paint brush. He was standing between Senta and the painting, but she didn’t need to see it to know what it was. Zurfina was having another nude painting done of herself.

Senta slowly climbed the last four steps and walked around Mr. Jex so that she could see the painting. He really was quite good.

“What do you think Pet?” asked Zurfina, without moving from her pose.

Startled, Jex turned around to look at her. He had a small paint pallet in his right hand.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” said Senta.

Jex looked like he was going to say something, but then stopped and setting his pallet and brush on the floor, turned and went swiftly down the stairs. Just as the sound of the front door closing echoed back up, Zurfina sat upright and in a fluid cat-like motion got up from the bed.

“Put on some clothes, Fina.”

The sorceress made the smallest of gestures with her right hand and suddenly she was clad in a long, silky, black dressing gown.

“Are you ready for something to eat, Pet?”

“Yes,” replied Senta, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “I don’t think you should magic it though. I think it would be nice if you made me supper with your own hands.”

Zurfina walked slowly across the room and then bent down so that their noses were just inches apart.

“It seems to me like the Drache Girl is getting a bit big for her knickers,” she said without a hint of a smile.

“Um… my dionoserin didn’t work?”

“It worked. Did you not see Mr. Jex scurry out of the room like a frightened buitreraptor?”

“But you’re not going to make me supper, are you?”

“Did you actually believe that you could dominate me with a potion? Me? ME!”

“No supper then?”