Had her lavender top hat not been tied onto her head with a thick strand of lace, Yuah was sure that it would have been blown away and lost. The wind whipped around her face and she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Scenery was flying past her on both sides at an alarming pace—trees, houses, lizardmen, a group of playing boys. Suddenly something appeared at her left elbow. She carefully turned her eyes left without looking away from the road. One of the boys that she had passed was running beside the carriage. A second later, the others had caught up and were running along beside her as well.

“Hey lady!” yelled one boy. “Why don’t you open her up?”

“Yeah!” called another. “We want to see this thing go!”

Yuah turned her attention back to her driving. She was sure that the steam carriage would outpace the children shortly, but they stayed right at her side, encouraging her to increase her speed. When she finally pulled up to the front of Mrs. Bratihn’s, the boys gathered beside the vehicle, scarcely breathing hard.

“Why didn’t you go faster?”

“Yeah, how come?”

Tears welled up in Yuah’s eyes.

“I was going as fast as I could!” She let out a sob.

“Don’t cry, lady,” said the oldest boy, apparently the one who had called out first on the road. “Here. Let me open the relief cock for you.”

Yuah pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it to her face, as the boy moved around to the back of the vehicle and turned the lever.

“Be sure and don’t –sob– burn your fingers on the steam.”

“What are you boys doing here!” yelled Mrs. Bratihn, shooting out from the door of her shop with her own head of steam. “Get out of here and leave Mrs. Dechantagne alone!”

“We didn’t do nothing!” yelled back one small boy, but they never-the-less went running.

“What did they do to you, dear?” asked the older woman, placing her arm around Yuah’s shoulder, once she had climbed down.

“They didn’t do anything. It’s this damned steam carriage. I hate it, but Terrence wants me to drive it.”

“Did he tell you that you have to drive it?”

“No, but he brought it all the way here from Brech.”

“Come inside and have some tea.”

Yuah followed Mrs. Bratihn into her shop where they both sat down on the couch. Mrs. Luebking, who was already in the process of pouring tea, added another cup and handed one to each of the other women, then took the last for herself and sat down in a chair. Yuah sipped the tea and took a deep breath.

“Now tell me all about it,” said Mrs. Bratihn.

“You know I used to watch the steam carriages zipping around Brech every day and I always thought it would be just ace to have one of my own. But it’s just so bleeding complicated. You have to push in the clutch to shift gears and you have to press down on the forward accelerator just the right amount when you let the clutch out. And you always have to watch the steam gauge or the whole thing might explode. It’s just too much pressure.”

“You should just tell your husband that it’s too much for you,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “Men love it when you act helpless anyway.”

“That may be fine for most,” replied Yuah, putting away the handkerchief. “But I’m a Dechantagne. At least I am now. There are different expectations for me than there are for most women.”

“Maybe you could tell him that you want a driver,” suggested Mrs. Luebking. “Back in Brech, most of the ladies have drivers. After all, driving is a lot of manual labor.”

Yuah was thoughtful for a moment.

“That might work,” she said. “Mrs. Calliere is always saying that women of our station should do less.”

“Mrs. Calliere, your sister-in-law?”

“Oh no, the professor’s mother.”

“Ah,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “There you go. Tell him you need a driver and Bob’s your uncle. Now what else can we do for you today?”

“I need another new dress.”

“My dear, do you even have room in your closets?”

Yuah smiled slightly. “I have spent rather a lot on fashion in the past few months. But this one needs to be different. I need a dress for shrine. It needs to be a little more subdued.”

Mrs. Bratihn and Mrs. Luebking looked at one another.

“I’ll be quite frank, dear,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “I don’t know anything about the requirements of your religion and what might be appropriate for your shrine.”

“Oh, there’s nothing special really. I just need something nice, but simple, without a lot of extras—you know, no feathers or flowers, and not too much brocade.”

“I don’t know…”

“Here. Just a moment.”

Yuah sat down her tea cup, got up, and stepping out the door. She was back a moment later, having retrieved a periodical from the steam carriage. It was the Brysin’s Weekly Ladies’ Journal from Magnius of last year, the newest issue likely to be found in Birmisia. Flipping it open, she showed the dressmaker a photograph of a woman wearing a new creation from Freedonia. The dress was black and simple, featuring black lace around the waist and in a square collar around the neckline. Though it was swept up in back and emphasized with a massive bow, the bow too was black and didn’t stand out from the rest of the dress.

“I think we may be able to do that,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “Yes, yes, I quite like that. It’s simple but elegant. You may become a real trend-setter. I imagine with you wearing that, many women here will want to copy it. Of course you are always good for business, dear.”

“I’m going to need a new hip-bag,” said Yuah, pointing to the enormous back-side of the dress.

“Please,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “Call it a bustle if you must, but here in the store we like to call them dress improvers. We certainly do not call them hip-bags.”

“Well, I’m going to need quite an improvement to my ass, if this picture is any indication.”

The following day the party reached Tsuus. It was a large town on the edge of the river. Staff estimated that there were more than two hundred buildings constructed of wood. Two thirds of them were built on a small rise just off the shore. The others were constructed on stilts above the water. There were thousands of lizardmen here, their bodies painted with red ochre into dozens of designs. Few carried weapons, but those who did had long spears with enormous stone tips and the wooden swords lined with tiny chips of obsidian for which the reptilians were famous.

The seven humans and their three lizzie companions walked through the muddy streets between the wooden buildings, and Staff marveled at their construction. They were as solidly built as many of the homes in Port Dechantagne and looked as though they had stood where they were for dozens of generations. They were pieced together carefully and sealed with mud. Animal skins formed most of the doors, though a few doors were made of wood, attached with leather hinges. Smoke rose from the centers of the roofs. The black and yellow eyes of hundreds of lizardmen followed them as they made their way through the dirt streets.

The group without consciously following a specific course through the wooden buildings of the lizardmen, soon arrived in the center of the town, steered there by the placement of the structures. A group of colorfully painted lizardmen awaited them.

“That’s the chief and his witch doctor,” said Graham, indicating a singularly large and impressive reptilian, standing next to a very old and shrunken looking one.

The large lizardman raised his hand and pressed it to his neck, palm side out. Graham, the shortest person in the party and looking pitifully small beside the huge green-hued creatures did likewise. The chief hissed out a monologue several minutes long, pointing first at the humans and then the three lizardmen who traveled with them and then back again to the humans. Graham replied just as loquaciously, and then turned to inform Staff of the conversation.

“I’m not even going to try to pronounce the chief’s name. He’s given us a pretty standard greeting, though he’s not very happy to see us here. He knows we have suuwasuu.”

“What’s that?”

“Magic. His witch doctor can detect it. They use the same word for our guns too though. Anyway, he’s not too keen on us being here, but he’s not going to try anything. They still remember Great Suusthek, the Lizzie city-state.”

“They’re still afraid of us?”

“Well, really they’re afraid of Zurfina. Also, they weren’t too friendly with Suusthek anyway. Their king used to demand all kinds of tribute and prisoners. Compared to them, Port Dechantagne is a great neighbor.”

“Tell them we need passage across the river,” said Staff. “Tell them that we are looking for burning black rocks and that it will bring great prosperity to all of them.”

Graham began translating. It was clear that he was having a bit of trouble with concepts like prosperity, but at last he completed his statements to the reptilians and seemed pleased. The chief spoke again, and once again the boy translated.

“Tomorrow we will take you across the swift water. Tonight you will stay in the home of Sanjo’s family.” Of course the chief used Sanjo’s actual name, rather than the pseudonym crafted for him by humans. “If you can pay, we have many workers.”

“Tell the chief I have a present for him,” said Staff.

He dropped his pack from his shoulders and withdrew a small bag which he handed to Graham. The boy shook the bag, obviously full of coins, then stepped over to the chief and handed it to him. The lizardman opened the poke and poured some of the shiny copper pieces inside into his palm. He hissed, nodding his great head.

“He likes that,” said Graham. “They all like pfennigs. How many did you give him?”

“Ten marks worth,” replied Staff.

“That’s a king’s ransom for Lizzies,”

“Let’s hope nobody needs ransoming.”

The party was led to one of the large square wooden buildings. It, like the others around it, was roughly forty feet square, with a sloping roof. The door was an animal skin and there was only a dirt floor. The inside was all one large room and in the center was a stone hearth with a fire. The smoke escaped from a hole in the center of the ceiling. Seven lizardmen, in addition to the three they brought with them, joined the humans around the fire.

“Are these Sanjo’s family then?” Staff asked the boy.

“Not like we think of family. They’re more like roommates. The Lizzies lay eggs in big nests in the woods—lots of them together. When it’s time for the eggs to hatch, they go bring the babies home, but nobody really knows which babies belong to which mother.”

“Savages,” said Femke Kane. “Horrible savages.”

“That’s just the way they do things,” said Graham. “The little lizzies aren’t like our babies. They can run around and stuff.”

“How did you learn so much about them?” asked Miss Jindra.

“I’ve been working with them on the docks for about three years now. They’re just like anybody else. If they find somebody who’ll listen to them, they talk.”

“You know, I didn’t see any little ones when we came into town,” said Mrs. Kane.

“They’re hiding,” said Graham.

“Hiding from who?” wondered Miss Jindra.

“From us,” he replied. “From you mostly. You’re the one with the suuwasuu. I’ve never even seen a baby Lizzie. I’ve only ever talked to one person who has. I hope I get to see one before we leave.”

“I suppose we should eat and rest,” said Staff.

“Do you think we should take turns watching?” asked Mouliets. “They will probably try to kill us in our sleep.”

Graham made a dismissive gesture. “You’re safer here than you would be in Natine.”

Sanjo hissed something.

“We need to eat outside though,” Graham continued. “They don’t eat inside their houses, only sleep.”

“Alright,” said Staff. “Let’s lay down our gear here. We’ll go outside and eat. But we will keep a watch tonight. Kane, Mouliets, Glieberman, and myself—we’ll each take a two hour shift.”

After setting down their gear, they stepped back outside. Sanjo wandered about the area, interacting with other lizardmen, but Cheebie and Mimsie stayed close to the humans.

“They’re not from here,” explained Graham. “Their town is about thirty miles west.”

“Aren’t both towns an awfully long way to walk to work from?” asked Miss Jindra.

“The Lizzies come in and work in town for a week or so at a time. They sleep just outside of the town limits, usually in trees. Then a couple of times a month, they go back and take their money home. Of course there are a bunch of Lizzies that live in Port Dechantagne all the time now, mostly servants.”

“Are they still cordial with the transient lizardmen?” asked Mrs. Kane.

“Huh?”

“Are they still friendly with each other—the Lizzies that live in town and those here.”

“Not really. The Lizzies in different towns aren’t too friendly with each other anyway, so the ones that live in Port Dechantagne are in the same boat.”

A lizardman, a stranger, approached the humans with a large joint of meat skewered on a spear. He handed the meat to Staff and hissed out a long explanation, hand in hand with a series of gestures, which Graham translated.

“This is from the chief’s house. It really means we’re safe tonight. They don’t kill anybody they share food with—at least not that same day. They know that we like to cook our food, so they made a fire for us over there.”

The reptilians had prepared a large fire, and had even set up two forked sticks on either side of if, so that the spear with the meat skewered upon it, could be draped across the fire and roasted. It was obviously some kind of dinosaur meat, which only some members of the party had come to enjoy, but after half an hour, the smells coming from it made the mouth of even the most picky human among them water. When they all agreed that the meat looked done, Mouliets pulled out a huge knife and sliced off thin pieces for each of the party members, which they ate with their fingers. Here again, while Sanjo was presumably eating his meat raw among his brethren, both Cheebie and Mimsie ate with the humans, consuming the cooked meat without complaint. As they finished their meal, the daylight was beginning to wane.

Femke Kane, who was sitting between her husband and Graham, leaned over. Staff, who was sitting on the other side of the boy, could clearly hear her.

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” she said. “Just look over Mr. Glieberman’s right shoulder. There. In the doorway of that house.”

The house in question was like any other and like most had an animal skin hanging as a door. This door was pulled partially to one side though, and sticking out of the crack were two small, dark green snouts. They were less than a third the size of an adult lizardman’s face, and the creatures to which they belonged couldn’t have been more than three feet tall. Apparently they were lying down inside the house now, taking advantage of the rare chance to see some of the mammalian invaders to their country.

“Wicked,” said Graham, smiling happily. “They’re so small. They must have just been captured.”

Police Constable Saba Colbshallow and Police Constable Eamon Shrubb led the three men down Seventh and One Half Avenue toward the docks. Though they had stopped short of getting the service revolvers out of the gun case, both policemen carried their truncheons on open display. For their part, the three men looked nervously in every direction. Several times, one of them shrieked when he saw a little blond girl walk by.

“Kafira,” said Eamon. “Buck up, man. She’s not even the right little girl.”

“Keep walking,” said Saba.

Saba had come in first thing that morning to find Eamon slumped over asleep at his typewriter. That was not particularly significant in and of itself, but when he found out that the last thing the other constable remembered was a visit by a certain young sorceress, things looked more ominous. Lon Fonstan in cell one was asleep, and upon waking at first, claimed not to have seen anyone at all.

“Maybe we can have a little magic tell us what you’re not remembering?” Saba had said.

“Oh yeah,” Fonstan sneered. “Who you going to get to do that?”

“Maybe Zurfina.”

“I don’t think so,” had said Fonstan.

“I’ll bet Mother Linton could do it.”

Fonstan had chewed on the possibility for a moment.

“Well, Senta came in to say hello. She was only here for a minute. Gave me her best. Said goodnight. End of story.”

“And you didn’t see or hear anything unusual in the cell next door?”

“I was busy reading the book you gave me,” said Fonstan, holding up Pilgrimage into Danger. “I quite like the part where they have to fight off the adulterous women.”

“It’s supposed to be metaphorical,” Saba had suggested.

“Well, I didn’t see or hear nothing.”

Saba suspected that his double negative hid the truth in plain sight.

As for the three men in cell number two, they all had seemed in perfectly good health, with the exception that all three had soiled their pants sometime during the night. The stories they had told of the demon child who had visited them with plagues, while fantastic, were not dismissed by the police constables. All three were adamant about booking passage on the S.S. Majestic as soon as it came into port, an idea both PCs thought had merit with or without sorcery. The men had demanded protection on their way to the ship.

The formation reached the dock area, where they were met by a fourth man. He had been present for the first run-in with the Lizzies, which the constables had managed to stop, but apparently was at home when the second incident involving the slapping of the lad had occurred. He had arrived in Birmisia with his three friends and had decided that if they were leaving, he would leave as well.

“Oh blooming heck!” said one of the men in custody, scrambling at once to hide behind his fellows. “There she is.”

Sitting on a wooden crate not fifty feet away, wearing a multihued blue dress, was a twelve year old blond girl. She had her hands crossed in front of her chest and her feet crossed at the ankles. She definitely had her eye on the four men.

“You’re the law!” squealed one of the men. “You’ve got to protect us!”

“Eamon, take them and see that they are able to purchase steerage class passage back to Brech,” said Saba. “I’ll see about our little friend.

He walked across to stand in front of where Senta sat.

“You know you could be charged with assault, aggravated assault, assault on a police constable, interfering with a police investigation, and illegal entry into a secure facility. I imagine I could find several more charges if I opened up the Corpus Juris.”

“I doubt you’d be able to hold me.”

“Don’t get too cocky. Mayor Korlann and his daughter may be very fond of you…”

“That’s not what I mean,” said Senta. “I doubt your jail would be able to hold me. And if by some chance it did hold me, how long do you think Zurfina would allow it?”

“Zurfina has to follow the law, just like everyone else.”

“That’s why you were at our house about to experience life as a marsupial or a toad. But you’re about the only one in Birmisia with bullocks like that. Zurfina exterminated what… a hundred thousand Lizzies? Nobody has come to call her on that.”

“That was a time of war.”

“Yes, sort of. Well, I’m done being afraid of anyone because they’re bigger or stronger, or because the law says I have to be. If somebody gets in my way, I’m going to knock them down, hard.”

“These men aren’t in your way,” said Saba. “In fact, they’re doing their damnedest to get out of your way. They’re leaving the continent. Leave them alone.”

“I’m not even here for them,” said Senta.

“Then what, pray tell, are you here for?”

“I want to see who gets off the ship. There’s another practitioner of the arts aboard.”

“Great. You going to kidnap them, like Zurfina did?”

“Probably not. This one’s a great deal more powerful that Miss Jindra. I just want to get a butchers.”

Saba sighed.

“Pick which road you walk down carefully, Senta.”

It was ten days later, on the fifth of Festuary that the construction train, loaded with hundreds of workmen and laying track as it went, reached Port Dechantagne. By the time the train was within eyesight of the station, there were already more than two hundred people standing by to watch history in the making, and when the last track was laid that would bring the train and all future vehicles like it, parallel to the station, there were more than twenty thousand spectators, standing on the station platform, filling the entire clearing, and lining the street in both direction as far as the eye could see. Most of those present were unable to see much of anything because of the crowds, however many of the children and a few of the adults discovered that climbing a large pine tree offered an excellent viewing opportunity. Forty feet off the ground, in the massive pine directly across Forest Avenue from the train station, four twelve year old children and a large steel-colored dragon perched on branches and watched the activity below.

“I’ve never seen so many people in one place before,” said Hero.

“It’s a pretty big crowd,” agreed Graham. “I’d rather come back when the first real train pulls in. Trains are ace, but this one hardly moves.”

“How fast do they go?” wondered Bessemer.

“Really fast. On a straight shot with full steam, I’ll bet you couldn’t even catch it.”

“Hey you guys, be quiet,” said Senta. “Mrs. Government is going to speak.”

The royal governor was indeed standing on the station platform ready to address the crowd. She wore a bright blue dress with a tuft of brilliant white lace over the bustle and cascades of white lace down the skirt. She was flanked on either side by the other movers and shakers of the colony including Mayor Korlann, Miss Lusk, Dr. Kelloran, Terrence and Yuah Dechantagne, and Hero’s sister Honor, as well as the new High Priest, Mother Linton. Even Zurfina, who usually eschewed crowded gatherings, was present. It was she who had provided the magical megaphone which Governor Dechantagne Calliere now brought to her mouth. It was much smaller than similar devices Senta had seen used by ship crews and officials at cricket matches, only about eight inches long, but when she spoke into it, everyone in the area could clearly hear the governor’s voice.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” she said. “Welcome to the dedication of the Port Dechantagne train station. I have a few very brief remarks.”

“Oh boy, here we go,” said Graham. “Any time they say they’re going to be brief, they’re not.”

“They who?” wondered Senta.

“Speech-makers, that’s who.”

As far as the children were concerned, Graham’s suspicions were well-founded. Mrs. Dechantagne Calliere spoke for more than twenty minutes, recounting the history of the colony from the arrival of the battleship Minotaur, followed by the refugee ship Acorn, through the great battles with lizardmen and the destruction of the lizardman city-state to the southeast. She went on to the recent expansion of the town, and continued with a list of the businesses that would soon be opening in the colony and the benefits that each would receive from the arrival of the railroad line from St. Ulixes. By the time she was done, all four of the children were completely bored. They were certainly in no mood to listen to additional speeches, but more speeches seemed to be on the agenda, because no sooner had the Governor stopped, than she passed the megaphone to Mother Linton.

“This is bloody awful,” said Graham. “Let’s go do something else.”

Hertzel nodded his agreement, though whether he was agreeing that it was awful, or that he wanted to do something else, or both, was unclear.

“What do you want to do?” wondered Senta.

“Let’s go ride the dinosaurs,” suggested Graham.

Hertzel nodded again.

“I don’t think that’s safe,” said Hero.

“Of course it’s not safe,” replied Graham. “It wouldn’t be any fun if it was safe.”

“Alright,” said Senta. “But you boys have to help us down.”

The two boys helped Senta and Hero, both of whom were prevented from being truly arboreal by their large dresses, from branch to branch, finally lowering them to the ground, by their hands. A moment later the boys dropped down beside them.

“Are you coming?” Senta called up to the steel dragon.

“No, I’m going to listen to the speeches.”

Shaking their heads at the inscrutability of dragons, the four children tromped through the snow, walking between the trees of the forest lot so that they could come out on the street beyond the massive throng of people. They stepped out onto Bay Street about a mile north of the station and they followed it another mile till they reached the town square, which was as empty of human life as they had ever seen it. A single lizardman was crossing from east to west, carrying a little package.

Saba Colbshallow rapped his knuckles on the front door of the five story structure, again, louder than he had before, but there was just as little response as there had been the first time.

“Police constable!” he called. He waited a bit longer, and was just about to leave when he heard a distinctly sultry voice from inside.

“Who is it?”

“Police constable,” he said again.

The door opened and Zurfina stood in the doorway, her strange little leather dress displaying a good portion of her breasts with their star tattoos as well as her long legs. Her thigh high boots had such high heels that she could almost look Saba in the eye.

“Yes? What is it?” she said, with the air of someone who had just been interrupted in the middle of something vitally important.

“May I come in?” he asked.

With an exaggerated sigh, the sorceress turned her back and walked into the house, leaving the door wide open. Saba followed her in and looked around the large room that formed the lower level of the structure. It was, he thought, a surprisingly mundane looking combination of kitchen, parlor, and dining room. The place was tidy and organized, none of the furnishings looking particularly worn or new, expensive or poor. Zurfina waved her hand and the door slammed shut behind him, causing him to jump a little.

“Well?”

Saba swallowed. He had known Zurfina for four years now, and found her just as wondrous, mysterious, and fascinating as he had when he was sixteen. He had of course grown up to be a police constable, but she had grown to be a legend. She was an attractive woman: not as beautiful as Mrs. Dechantagne of course, not as charming as Mrs. Dechantagne Calliere was at least capable of being, and nowhere near as adorable as Miss Lusk. Neither did she have the curvaceous figure of Dr. Kelloran. But as writer Geert Resnick wrote in his novel “The Pale Sun”, “the painting that most draws one to it, is not the most beautiful, but the one hanging to the wall by the most tenuous thread.” Zurfina held the same appeal as a fast horse, an unstable bomb, or a canoe in a river filled with crocodiles. And there was power. Power was always appealing.

Zurfina sensed his hesitation and moved to stand very close to him.

“Now, little Saba,” she said, with exaggerated slowness. “What brings you to see Zurfina the Magnificent.”

Saba had perfected his stare, a piercing look that let those he was interviewing know that he would brook no nonsense. He gave the sorceress one of these stares, but it didn’t seem to work as well as it was supposed to. She stepped a little closer and he suddenly realized he could smell her breath. It was minty.

“Little Saba.” Her charcoaled grey eyes seemed to be looking at something just below the surface of his face.

He swallowed.

“Police Constable Colbshallow,” he corrected.

She leaned forward so that the tip of her nose was only an inch from his.

“Little Saba,” she repeated. “There’s something you’ve been dying to tell me.”

“No there isn’t.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here about a Miss Amadea Jindra.”

Zurfina leaned back and scrunched up her nose. “Now what business is that of yours?”

He retrieved the notepad from his coat pocket and flipped it open. Turning so that he had better light to read by, he took the opportunity step away from the sorceress.

“It was reported that you kidnapped, um… acquired Miss Jindra from the deck of the S.S. Arrow four days ago, and no one has seen her since.”

“I say again, what business is it of yours?” Zurfina spoke distinctly, chopping each word as if came out of her mouth. The temperature of the room dropped several degrees.

“You cannot simply snatch people off the street…” His voice trailed off as he noticed the sorceress’s eyes flashing.

Zurfina folded her arms across her chest and raised one eyebrow. At that moment the door swung open and Senta walked in. Her bright pink dress peaked out from beneath a heavy white overcoat, with a fur trimmed hood. She was carrying a large bed pillow under each arm. She kicked the door shut with the heel of her shoe, and walked over to stand next to the sorceress. She looked first at Zurfina and then at Saba.

“Okay,” said Senta. “What’s going on?”

“Little Saba was just telling me what I can and cannot do.”

“Well, this isn’t going to end up well, and you know who will have to clean up the mess? Me, that’s who. Here are your pillows,” Senta shoved the pillows into Zurfina’s hands.

Once the sorceress had taken the pillows, Senta took Saba by the hand and led him toward the front door.

“Let’s talk outside. I love the smell of pine trees and chimney smoke.” She led him outside, closing the front door behind her. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Conducting police business.”

“Stopping me from taking care of those wankers who shot Bessemer has gone to your head, eh?”

“This is my job. This is what I do,” said Saba. I protect the public peace.”

“And do you ever think about how you would do that job if you were turned into, say, I don’t know, a pig?”

“A pig?”

“Maybe a pig. Could be anything really. I thought I was about to see a Police Constable shaped lawn ornament. But then I don’t have Zurfina’s wide experience and peculiar wit.”

“Well I have to go back in and talk to her.”

“Did they have to take your brain out to make that helmet fit?”

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.

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The dinner bell rang and Staff said goodbye to his two employers and went to his table. The broken glass had been repaired and the dining room looked none the worse for wear. As usual, the darkly beautiful Amadea Jindra was already seated; her heavily laced white dress was a study in contrast with her dark olive skin. As Staff set down, he noticed the plunging back left both her shoulder blades sensuously exposed.

“Miss Jindra,” he said.

“Good Evening, Mr. Staff.”

The waiter brought a salad of leaf lettuce and thinly sliced fruit. It was garnished with a peach cut into the shape of a rose. A moment later, he returned with glasses of sparkling wine.

“You must come from a wealthy family, Miss Jindra,” he said. “To be able to travel first class passage alone to Birmisia.”

“It’s considered rude to ask a woman about her money.”

“That is true.” He shrugged. “I’m uncouth.”

“That’s alright. You were trying to make conversation, Mr. Staff. I think that is a move in the right direction.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re not very good at it, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I’ll wager you’ve not had to do it often.” She speared some lettuce on her fork. “I would suppose you get by mostly on your looks.”

“Polite dinner conversation is not really a major requirement of naval service,” said Staff. “Neither are looks. But what I was really getting at, is whether you might be looking for employment once we arrive in Birmisia. You’re specialty is scrying…”

“Spying on people?”

“Perhaps that was unfair.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “I must admit that my finances aren’t what they could be. I spent everything I had for this passage.”

“Maybe I can help then. I suppose you can use you magic abilities to search for natural resourses?”

“I can find the location of anything,” she said. “I see no reason that…coal?”

“Yes, coal.”

“I see no reason that coal should thwart me.”

The waiter brought out a fine grilled sea bass, with roasted vegetables, and a crisp white wine. The dessert was vanilla ice cream, served with tea. Feeling quite full and satisfied, Staff bid good night to Miss Jindra, and made his way back to his cabin. He peeled off his clothes and hung them on the hook on the back of the cabin door, then lay down and immediately passed into sleep.

It was the middle of the night when knocking woke Staff up. He stepped through the darkness and opened the door, allowing the dim light of the hallway to spill inside. Matie Marchond stood outside, looking just as strikingly beautiful in her black mourning dress and veil as she had in evening clothes. She pressed her face close to his.

“May I come in?”

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”

“Just for a minute.”

He opened the door enough for her to pass through and then closed it behind her. He found his matches in the dark and lit one of the lamps, then turned to face Mrs. Marchond, who was admiring his mostly unclad body.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” she said.

“Are you really?”

She shrugged. “Not really, I suppose.”

“You had your husband try to kill me.”

“I was angry,” she said. “No woman likes to be spurned.”

“Yes, well…”

“Now we can be free to enjoy each other’s company. We still need to maintain a sense of decorum, at least until I get back to Brech for the reading of the will. But we can at least continue to see each other.”

“It’s my general understanding that when a woman tries to have you killed, the relationship has reached a downturn.”

“I didn’t try to have you killed, not really. Raoul found out from someone that I had been to your room. I told him that you tried to seduce me, but I turned you down. I didn’t know the old idiot would try to shoot you. Still, no harm done.”

“No harm? He’s dead.”

“I mean no harm to you. He had been having chest pains for some time. I fully expected him to die sometime on the trip.”

“It doesn’t bother you that he’s dead?”

“Bother me? I’m overjoyed. I put in my time. Twelve years I’ve had to live with that old windbag and his disgusting habits. Now I’m finally free.”

Staff nodded thoughtfully.

“And here we are.” She turned around and presented him with the long row of shiny black buttons from the top of her neck to the top of her bustle. Staff paused for a moment. Matie Marchond was certainly beautiful. She looked back over her shoulder, and then stuck out her lip when she saw that he wasn’t reaching to unfasten her.

“You’re not still mad at me are you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then why not? I know you find me attractive.”

“You’re beautiful. But you no longer have the one quality that made you perfect.”

She frowned. “And what’s that?”

“You’re no longer married.”

“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?”