The door opened, illuminating Senta in a rectangle of warm light spilling from within the house.  Benny Markham’s pleasant face looked out at her.

“Senta, what are you doing out this late?  Come in.  Come in.”

“Thank you, Benny,” said the sorceress, stepping inside.  “Am I too late for dinner?”

“No, we were just getting ready to sit down.  Come into the parlor.”

“Senta!” cried Hero, spying her from the other room, and rushing out to greet her.  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I should have.  It’s very rude of me just to drop in like this.”

“Nonsense.  You’re always welcome.”

Hero took her by the arm and guided her from the foyer and into the parlor.  The sofa and chairs were filled with family members.  In addition to the Markham children: fifteen-year-old Benny Jr., fourteen-year-old Hannabeth, and thirteen-year-old Honor, there were Benny’s brother Sam Markham and his wife Ernst, who just happened to be Senta’s cousin.  Their two sons were on the floor by the fireplace, stacking blocks with Bryony, the Markham’s youngest daughter.

Senta and Ernst were the only blondes in a room of brunettes.  In fact, the similarities in their appearance went far beyond hair color.  They looked enough alike to be sisters, though there were eight years between them.

“Hello, Senta,” waved Ernst.

“Hello, Ernst,” smiled Senta.  “Where is your new baby?”

“She’s in the other room asleep.”

“And Benny,” Senta continued.  “I understand that you’ve sold your oldest into bondage.”

“If you mean she has a job, then that’s right.  She’s working tonight at Café Idella.”

“What are you about, cuz?” wondered Ernst.

The sorceress waved her hand in a circle near her knees and a wooden chair with a bright red cushion on the seat appeared in the spot.  She sat primly.

“I was just in the mood to visit a friend, and I can always count on Hero to have something delicious planned for her family’s evening meal.”

“You won’t be sorry tonight,” said Benny.  “Hero’s made her famous sauerbraten.”

“I hope it turns out,” said Hero.

“I hope there’s enough,” said Senta.  “I wouldn’t want to take food out of your children’s mouths.”

“Oh, there’s more than enough,” said Hero, with a wave.  “We also have Potatoes Kasselburg, apple red cabbage, and pea fritters.”

“Pea fritters aren’t very Freedonian.”

“We’re Brech now, and besides, the children love them.”

“I’m not criticizing,” said Senta.  “I like pea fritters too.  Just don’t start making toad in the hole.  You know how I feel about it.”

“You just missed your daughter,” said Benny.  “She took Hannabeth and Honnie out to lunch.”

“Then we went for a boat ride in Radley Staff Park,” added Hannabeth.

“That sounds lovely,” said the sorceress.  “I wholeheartedly approve of my daughter having as much contact with young Markhams as possible.  I’m sure it’s a civilizing influence of which she is in sore need.”

“Sen’s a lovely girl,” said Hero.  “She’s just like you were at that age.  Now let me make sure that everything’s ready.”

As she hurried toward the kitchen, Ernst stood up as well.

“I’ve got to check on Tillie.”

“Let me go with you,” said Senta, following.

They stepped through a doorway to a bedroom, where the baby was lying in the center of a large bed.  She was still tiny, though almost five months old, with pink skin and fair hair.

“She’s very pretty for a baby,” said Senta, bending down to look at the tiny pink lips and long, dark lashes.

“Yes, she is,” agreed her mother.  “I was surprised that she has blond hair, since both the boys take after their father so much.”

“Is she his?”  Senta stood up to look into the shocked face of her cousin.

“Of course she is!” hissed Ernst.  “How could you even ask me that?”

“Please.  Don’t act all holy.” Senta leaned in close.  “I know you took a turn with your sister’s husband.”

“That was just the… well, three times, but that was years ago.  And Didrika has a big mouth.  I would never do that to Sam.”

“Do what?  Shag another man?”

“Yes.  Well, no.  I mean, I won’t do it again.  I mean I would never give him another man’s child.”

“I see.”

“Never speak of this again,” insisted Ernst.  “What if Sam were to come in here.”

“Oh, don’t worry.  No one can hear anything we say.  You could scream that I was murdering you and nobody would hear you.  It’s completely safe.  Anyway, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Well you did.  The whole subject upsets me.  I feel so guilty.  I love Sam so much now.  I mean I did before, but… I guess I forgot for a while.”

“I could take him for a ride—even things up, if that would make you feel any better,” said Senta.

Ernst looked at her for a long moment.

“Hmm.  Maybe.  I don’t think you would be able to seduce him though.  He’s a much better person than either of us.”

The lizzie butler led the Baxter family through the halls of the palatial Dechantagne mansion.  Bryony was so preoccupied looking at the portraits and landscape paintings that lined the hallway that her husband had to pull her along by the hand.  They finally stepped into the huge dining room with the great U-shaped table.  The other diners were already seated, but Lord Dechantagne and his wife both stood up and hurried over to greet their new arrivals.

“We’re sorry for being so late,” said Baxter.

“Oh, not at all,” said Lord Dechantagne.  “We’ve only just sat down.”

“Bring your lovely family right over here,” said Lady Dechantagne, taking Mrs. Baxter by the arm and leading her along.

Thirteen-year-old Sen followed, leading five-year-old Kerry by the hand.  With a nod to the master of the house, Baxter finished up the procession, two-year-old Addy in his arms.  Five spaces had been saved just for them on the west side of the room.  There was even a highchair already in place in the middle.

The only other diner on their side of the table was a lizzie.  Baxter stopped and stared.  It wasn’t unusual seeing a lizzie.  There were probably tens of thousands of them in the city, working as laborers or servants.  This reptilian had painted its skin with yellow and blue designs, wore colorful feathers around its shoulders and waist, and had heavy necklaces and bracelets of what could only have been solid gold, all of which identified it as a wild lizzie from somewhere far beyond Birmisia Colony.  Why was it so close to his family when there was an empty chair on the other side of it?

Lord Dechantagne suddenly appeared between them.  He spoke in the lizzie dialect, only a few words of which Baxter could follow.

“This is Princess Tokkaran of Yessonarah.”

“Princess?” wondered Baxter.

“Well, they don’t really have a word for what she is, but she’s the offspring of kings, and she’s from the their most prominent house, so I took the liberty.”

“She’s awfully small.”

“Not to worry, she’s been tame for well over a year now.”

Baxter rearranged the seating, sending his wife to sit at the far end with Kerry, while he sat next to the lizzie, with Sen on his other side.  He knew enough to make a gesture of greeting, which he did, by placing his hand in front of his Adam’s apple, palm out.  The creature responded in kind.

Just around the corner of the table to Baxter’s right, and just beyond the lizzie was the aforementioned empty seat.  Beyond that, sat Yuah Dechantagne, Lord Dechantagne, and then his wife Maria, and finally Governor Dechantagne-Staff.  Mr. and Mrs. Vishmornan filled the last two seats on the south.  Baxter knew the Vishmornans well enough.  Mrs. Vishmornan was cousin to Sen’s sorceress mother.

Arrayed across the east side were Mr. and Mrs. Fitzroy Norich, and two of Mrs. Norich’s brothers—Claude and Julius Stephenson.  Both Stephenson boys had dates, pretty young women.  One, Baxter was sure he didn’t know, but he was surprised to recognize the other as DeeDee Colbshallow, Sen’s half-sister.  He looked to see if Sen had noticed and caught the two girls waving discreetly to each other.

“Sembor Uuthanum,” said Sen a moment later, touching him on shoulder.

“What was that about?”

“Now you can converse with your dinner companion.”

Baxter glanced back in the other direction to find the diminutive lizzie watching him.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said.

The lizzie hissed out a reply, but he could hear the translation in a voice that sounded very much like a teenaged girl.

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oops,” said Sen.

She got up and stepped around Baxter to cast the same spell on the lizzie, touching it on the shoulder.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he repeated.

“A respectful hello,” said the lizzie.  “This smaller one is a witch woman?”

“I suppose so,” he said, glancing back at Sen, who grinned at him.

“I have been to the site of Suusthek and have seen the destruction.  She is not the witch woman who brought down the sky upon it?”

“Um, no.  That was her grandmother.”

A line of lizzie servants carried out salads, which they placed before each of the diners.  It was not a traditional salad of greens, or even one of diced fruits or vegetables, but instead featured whole grapes, strawberries, orange wedges, and sliced bananas, interspersed with small cakes made with sweet potatoes.

“How interesting!” exclaimed Bryony from Baxter’s left.

The salad was certainly different.  Baxter enjoyed the sweet dressing covering the fruit but didn’t like the way it made the little cakes soggy.

He glanced over to the lizzie to see that she wasn’t eating much.

“Salad not to your liking?”

“It is delicious, but I have learned to eat sparingly at the human table, since we are fed so often.”

“Very judicious,” said Baxter.

“The Little King said that you were the chief archivist.  That is a very important position.”

“Yes, I suppose that describes what I do.”

“My mother is High Priestess as well as King, so I understand the importance of preserving knowledge.”

The Duke and Duchess of Argower breakfasted on the deck of H.M.S. Sovereignty.  They had spent the past several nights aboard the docked ship, after having stayed only one at the Portnoy Hotel.  Although it was the finest such establishment in St. Ulixes, it was far below acceptable standards, according to Princess Terra.  Prince Clitus would probably have endured it had he been traveling alone, but his pregnant wife’s comfort was uppermost in his mind.

“So, what are you about today, Brownie,” he asked her, aware that for the first time since they had arrived, they had a day free of ceremonial duties.

“After breakfast, I’m going to a dress fitting,” she said.  “In the early afternoon, I have several telephone calls scheduled, so I will be stopping at the telephone station.  I may do a bit of shopping while I’m there.  I understand that it’s not far from the market square.”

“Another dress fitting?  It seems to me you’ve had at least one dress fitting every day we’ve been in Mallontah.”

“You did promise me a thousand dresses, Bully.”

“I was using hyperbole,” he said.  “I didn’t expect you to actually want one thousand new dresses.”

“Well, as it turns out, I’m not buying a thousand,” she said, picking up a slice of bacon.  “I do think I shall end up with twenty or so.”

“Well, I suppose that’s all right.  I don’t know about you going to the local market though.  That might not be safe.”

“Did you want to criticize every bit of today’s itinerary?” she asked, frowning.  “Do you have something against telephone calls too?”

“Of course not.”  He paused to search for a slice of white pudding, but the last two were on his wife’s plate.  “I’m just concerned about my wife and unborn child.  That is a man’s prerogative.  If you want to go to the market, then go.  Just make sure to take adequate security with you.”

“I’m taking Ryan with me,” she said.

“Ryan?  Ryan Stigby, do you mean?”

“Do you know any other Ryans?”

“Yes,” he replied.  “I probably know eight or nine men called Ryan.”

“Are any of them here with us?”

“Well, no,” he admitted.  “It’s just that it’s not appropriate to call him by his first name.”

“We call Bob by his first name,” she pointed out.

“I’d prefer not to be dragged into your arguments, Your Highness,” said Bob, spreading lemon curd on his toast.

“Where is Stigby anyway?” wondered Clitus.

“I believe he left the ship to visit the post office,” said Bob.  “He wanted to send a package to Mrs. Stigby.”

“Mrs. Stigby?”

“His mother.  Lovely woman.  Makes a magnificent fish pie.”

“So, what do you have planned for the day, Bully?” asked Terra.

“I’m going to stay onboard and enjoy the peace and quiet this morning, but I have a hunting date with Lord Erstwhile tonight.  We’re having dinner together first.  Depending on how late we return, I’ll either come back here or spend the night at his house.  In any case, I have to be ready for the meeting with the aborigine leaders tomorrow morning.”

“It seems that you need more security than I do,” said Terra.  “The animals in Mallon are far more dangerous than any you might encounter in Sumir.  I imagine the most dangerous thing you could run across in Brechalon is a fox, whereas we have tyrannosauruses in Birmisia.  I understand they don’t live here in Mallontah, which is the only reason I shall agree to let you go without me.”

“What will people think if they find out that I need my pregnant wife to watch over my safety?”

“If they know your wife, they’ll think you’re pretty smart,” said Bob.  “Don’t worry, Your Highness.  I’ll be with him the whole time, and we’ll have a couple of savvy, well-armed sailors with us on the hunt.”

“Keep an eye on him,” said Terra.  “You know how he is.  He can’t help being heroic in the face of danger.  Hold him down if you must.  I don’t much care if people I don’t know are eaten, but I do care about him, and you too.”

“What did I miss?” asked Stigby, climbing up from the lower deck and sitting in the only empty chair.

“Well, you missed all the food, for one thing,” said Clitus.   “You also missed my wife’s instructions to Bob, but you are just in time for mine to you.  Keep an eye on the Princess today, particularly in the marketplace.  You know how she is.  She can’t help being impetuous.  Hold her down, gently, if you must.  Other people may be trampled, shot, kidnapped, beaten, or robbed, but bring her back safely.”

Terra gave her husband a bland look.

“People shop in the marketplace every day.  I doubt there will be much excitement to tell about.”

“Good to hear,” said Clitus.

“Surprise!” shouted well over a hundred people as Colonial Governor Iolanthe Staff stepped into the Dechantagne ballroom.

Purple and white streamers covered the walls and large arrangements of aster and anemone flowers were everywhere.  High up on the wall across from the entrance was a very large number 52, made of the latter.

Iolanthe looked around at almost everyone she knew.  Some were turning toward the lizzie servants who were passing out dinks, but most were watching her.  She could see Yuah and Gladys just at the left edge of her field of view.

“Thank you, everyone,” she said.  “Please drink and eat and enjoy yourselves.”  Turning and fixing a stern look at Yuah, she asked, “Whose idea was this?”

“It was Maria’s, of course,” said Gladys, nodding toward the far end of the room.  “She is the lady of the house.”

Iolanthe spotted Maria standing next to Augie, who was filling his plate from a wide variety of finger foods laid out on a long banquet table.  They were the center of a little group that included Zoantheria, the Stephenson boys, and a number of others in their age group.  Iolanthe strode quickly across the room.  She could sense Yuah and her partner in crime following.

“Maria,” Iolanthe snapped.  “What is the meaning of all this?”

“Well, it is your birthday, Auntie.  Such an event calls for a celebration.  I thought you would like it.”

“I don’t like it,” said Iolanthe.  “I love it.  Come and give me a hug.”

The two of them embraced and then kissed each other on the cheek.

“You are such a dear girl, really more of a daughter than a niece.”

“I feel the same way,” said Maria, “though I shall continue to call you Auntie.  Otherwise it would be confusing.  Isn’t that right, Mother?” she asked Yuah.

Yuah turned and started for the room exit, only to be intercepted by her father and his wife.  Gladys stared through her wire-framed glasses at Maria for a long moment before turning and following.

“The food is really excellent, Auntie,” said Augie.  “My wife will be happy to prepare a plate for you.”

“I shall eat in a bit, thank you, Augustus.  Right now, I have some people to visit with.”

“Oh, our musicians are ready!” cried Maria, hurrying to the southeast corner of the great room, where even now the members of a string quartet were taking their places.

Iolanthe turned and walked in the other direction toward a group that included her secretary Mrs. Wardlaw.

Zoantheria slid over and pressed herself against Augie’s side.  She picked up a tiny pasty from his plate and fed it to him.

“You’re Auntie seems pleased with the party.”

“I had my doubts,” he said, “but apparently Maria knew her mind on the subject after all.”

“Are you excited about your baby?”

“Yes, of course.  It’s still some months away.”

“And are you excited about seeing your sister?”

“Not in the same way.”  He smiled.  “I have to admit that I’m quite chuffed about Earthworm coming home. She’s been away too long.”

“You two were very close.”

“Closer than any brother and sister I’ve ever known.  A product, no doubt, of our being so close in age.  It will be good very to see her.”

Across the room, Iolanthe was finishing the small talk she had been engaged in with Mrs. Wardlaw and turned to see Yuah trying to disengage from her father so that she could leave the room.  She was about to follow her and force her to stay, when a hand on her shoulder stopped her.  She turned to find Senta in a green evening gown.

“Lovely party.  I admire the way you’ve embraced your years.”

“Senta.  This is perfect timing.  My sister-in-law is trying to sneak out.  Can you make her stay?”

“I could, but I like her… much more than I like you.”

“How about Gladys?” asked Iolanthe.  “How do you feel about her?”

“Oh, Miss Molly?” smirked the sorceress.  “I could definitely play with her a bit.  I suppose if Yuah gets caught in the crossfire, no real harm.”  She pointed toward the two women, who by this time had reached the exit.  “Uuthanum.”

Iolanthe watched as the two women stepped out the north entrance, only to immediately reenter the room from the east entrance, a good fifty feet away.  Yuah turned around immediately only to reappear again at the on the north side of the room.  Gladys apparently figured it out first and entered the room from where she was, to meet Yuah in the ballroom’s center.

The two consulted, casting sideways glances toward where Iolanthe still stood with Senta.  Then they stepped toward the food tables and began talking with Zoey.  The dragon in human form glanced toward the sorceress and then shook her head.

“Trying to get her to dispel my magic?” said Senta.  “I think not.  I think not.”

As the musicians began to play, Iolanthe and Senta were joined by Maria.

“Hello, Senta.  I’m so glad you were able to be here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“How was it, Auntie?  I’m sorry about advertising your age, but she did insist on it.”

“That’s all right,” said Iolanthe.  “It’s not as if it was a state secret.  Thank you for letting me in on their little plan to humiliate me.”

“You know it was that Gladys, really,” said Maria.

“Perhaps,” said Iolanthe.  “Don’t you worry about it.  Come.  Let’s go talk with the Stephensons.”

A hissing sound woke Senta up.  She was still on the sofa.  She must have fallen back asleep.  She looked up into the scaly face of her lizzie maid Thonass.

“What are you hissing about?”

The lizzie pointed toward the foyer.  Two men were standing there, their mouths hanging open.  The sorceress looked down at herself.  Her dressing gown had ridden up almost to her armpits, and with nothing on beneath it, it left almost everything below exposed.  She stood up and pushed down the layers of Mirsannan silk.  Then she snapped her fingers and she was once again attired in what so many referred to as her “scary sorceress clothes”—black leather bustier, with nothing over it, and a black pleated skirt short enough to leave quite a bit of exposed thigh between it and the tops of her leather knee-high boots.

“Get a good look, perverts?” she snarled.  “Why are you here in my house?”

“We were invited for tea,” said one of the two, a bald man with a goatee.

“You were?  Oh, you’re that sorcerer and his brother, the podiatrist.”

“Archaeologist,” corrected the man with a full head of hair and a mustache.

“Almost the same thing.”

“Not even remotely related,” he said.

“Thonass,” she said, turning to the lizzie.  “Tell Cook three for tea.”

The lizzie hissed in reply and turned toward the dining room.

“Come in and have a seat,” said Senta, waving toward the furniture.

The two men approached cautiously.  The man with the mustache took the chair that had earlier held Senta’s daughter, forcing his brother, the bald man with a goatee, to sit on the sofa with the sorceress.  She sat at the other end, leaving an empty cushion between them.

“It’s Vern and Percy, right?  Which one of you is the sorcerer?”

“It’s Karl and Willie,” said the man with the mustache: Karl, pointing to himself and his brother.  “He’s the sorcerer.”

“She knows,” said Willie.

“I did, though I confess to having forgotten your names.  So, what’s your story, gentlemen?  Karl, you sound like a right proper Brech fellow, but your bother has a bit of an accent.”

“We were born in West Brumming, just north of Brech City,” said Karl.  “I lived there until I went to university.  When we were young, Willie was taken away.”

“My father took me to Bordonia,” said Willie, “for my safety.  He took me to a woman there who taught me magic.”

“A sorceress?”

“An enchantress.  She practiced both sorcery and wizardry.”

“Interesting.  What was her name?”

“I would prefer not to say,” said the sorcerer.

“Oh, come come,” said Senta.  “It’s not like I go around killing other magic users, reducing them to a fine powder, and keeping their remains in snuff boxes in my library.”

“That sound like an awfully specific denial,” said Karl.

“I think tea is ready,” said Senta, noticing the lizzie in the doorway.

She stood up and led the two men past the foyer and into the dining room.  The table was set, and the lizzie cook was delivering platters of food.  Tiny egg salad sandwiches, fruit cake, berry scones, and gypsy tarts were all arrayed across the table.

“You’d better not be telling me there’s no chips,” Senta told the back of the lizzie.  “How can you have tea with no chips?”

The reptilian returned with two platters of golden chips.

“That’s better,” said Senta, as she took her place at the head of the table.

She waved toward chairs on either side that had place settings in front of them.  Both men sat, Willie to her left and Karl walking around the table and taking the chair on her right.

“They’re fascinating,” he said.

“What is?” wondered the sorceress warily.

“The lizardmen.”

“Oh, yeah.  I suppose.  You said you wanted to get a look at them, right?  You can stare at the ones here, I guess.”

“I was hoping to learn about their culture—maybe take a trip out to one of their cities.  I hear they’re spectacular.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Senta, scooping chips onto her plate.  “You really should take your brother along with you.  Some of the wild ones can be dangerous.  Don’t stand on ceremony.  Help yourselves.”

The men nodded and began picking items from the platters.

“So, Willy,” said Senta.  “You’re quite a surprise to me.  You’re very powerful, aren’t you?”

“I think I could hold my own against just about any wizard,” he said, pausing to stroke his close-cropped beard.  “I’m obviously not in your league.”

“Willie was shocked when you met us on the boat,” said his brother.  “Something about you not saying your magic words.  I have some understanding of how magic works, but I don’t really understand the details.”

“A thousand years ago,” said Willie, “and for thousands of years before that, magic users needed three things to cast a spell.  They needed a gesture, a word, and an item to focus their power.  Ancient wizards carried around pockets of holly berries, ground mummy, lotus petals, and the like.  Then, like I said, a thousand years ago, some spellcasters realized that they didn’t need these items.  They could focus all their magic with just a gesture and a word.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Senta.

“It’s in Matter and the Elements.”

“Yes, well I skimmed most of that.”

“I guess you didn’t need it.  You can cast your spells with only a gesture.”

“I still usually say the words though,” smiled the sorceress.  “Otherwise it’s too much concentration.  Do you want to know a secret?  No, I shouldn’t tell you.  But it’s just too juicy not to tell someone who can appreciate it like you can.  So, I’ll tell you.  But, just be aware, if you tell anyone, and I’m not joking when I say anyone, I will kill you both.”

The two men looked across the table at one another.

“Okay,” said Karl.

Senta looked at him and suddenly he and his chair rose up from the ground and floated toward the ceiling.  He grasped the chair arms frantically, and kicked out his feet for balance, as he teetered first one way and then the other.

“You don’t need a gesture or a word?” gasped Willie.

“I know,” she grinned.  “Isn’t it fun?”

The newest addition to the growing public library system in Birmisia Colony was in Port Dechantagne’s southeastern most neighborhood.  It was known to the residents as Woodstead and was made up of rows of three-story brownstones, with businesses on the ground floor or the basement, and apartments above.  The library building was a modest structure, two stories, but overlooking a long sloping hill, recently denuded of trees but otherwise undeveloped.  The wide panoramic window offered a beautiful view from the lower level, but it paled in comparison to the view from the Library Director’s office above.

Kieran Baxter stared out from his office.  He had started out watching the conchoraptors hunting among the leaves at the forest’s edge.  It was too early for pinecones, but it was a good spot for mice or lizards.  Before long though, he had stopped looking at anything at all, as his mind wandered.  A knock at the door returned him suddenly to the present.  His secretary poked her head into the room.

“Someone to see you, Mr. Baxter.”

She then opened the door wide and a thirteen-year-old girl walked in past her.

“Thank you, Miss Kulp,” said Baxter, as she closed the door.

“Hi, Daddy,” said the girl, bouncing up to him and wrapping her arms around him.

She was tall for her age, lanky, just like her mother.  Her medium length blond hair had been curled.  She wore a grey shirtwaist over a white skirt, a straw boater was balanced on her head, and she carried a small grey and white striped handbag.

“You’re old enough to call me Dad now, or Father.”

“I have a father,” she said squeezing him, “but you will always be my Daddy.  Dad’s not too bad though.”

“What can I do for you today, my dear?  I could count on one hand how many times you’ve visited me in my office.”

“I wanted to talk to you about money.”  She looked toward the chair.  “Can we sit down?”

“Oh, is this an official meeting then?” he laughed and stepped around behind the large pine desk to take his seat.  “I thought your mother had you on an allowance.”

“Oh, she does.  In fact, it’s really starting to pile up.  I can’t seem to spend it fast enough.”

“Would that were a problem we all had.”

“I know.  That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it.  I want to give you some money.”

“You don’t have to do that, Sweetheart.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.  You and Bryony have treated me like I was your own child, and I’m not.  You’ve known me since I was a baby, but I’m not your flesh and blood.  You just had the bad luck of meeting my mother when she was pregnant with me.”

“I consider that very good luck,” he said, sincerely, “if for no other reason than I get to be your dad.”

“But poor Bryony.  She marries you and she gets me foisted upon her—the child of your old chatelaine.”

“That’s not how I would characterize your mother.”

“In any case,” she continued.  “I’ve lived with the two of you for five years now.”

“It can’t be that long.  Can it?”

“It’s well over five years.  And here I have all this money that I can’t use.  I want to give it to you.  You can pay off the loan on your house.”

“I thought you had a better grasp of money than that,” he said with a frown.  “Why, we must still owe five thousand to the Bank of Birmisia.”

“Bryony says it’s more than six thousand, and I have almost ten thousand marks right here.”  She held up her handbag.

“Ten thousand… You’re carrying around ten thousand marks?”

“Yes.  Mother is giving me five hundred a month, and I just don’t have that many expenses.  I take my friends out sometimes, and I go out to lunch.  I buy a dress every now and then.  I want to give you and Bryony the rest.”

“Good grief,” he sighed.  “Does your mother have to do everything so ham–handed?  She can’t… Oh never mind.  In any case, I’m not taking your money.  I will, however, take you to the bank after I’m done here for the day, and we will open a bank account for you.  You can save your money for the future.  You can use it to attend University, and maybe buy your own house someday.”

“Mother says I don’t need any university.  She says that all that education is a waste.  I’m going to be a great sorceress, like her.”

“Is that what you want?  To be like her?”

“Well, I do think I’ll be a sorceress.  It’s in me whether I want it or not.  But I don’t want to be a twat like her.”

“Senta!  You will not use language like that.”

She grinned back at him.  “I’ve heard you call her that same thing.”

“Well,” he said through gritted teeth.  “Do as I say, not as I do.  Now go down and look through the book stacks, and I’ll wrap up my business.  Then we’ll go to the bank.”

She hopped up and skipped around the great desk to his side, kissing him on the cheek.

“I love you more than anything, you know, Dad,” she said.

“I love you too.”

On almost the exact opposite side of the world from Birmisia Colony was the mother country of Greater Brechalon and its capital Brech City.  Its heart was the Old City, filled with majestic buildings that were only slightly less grand than the palaces dotted among them.  Many of these great buildings, all originally homes of the rich and powerful, had been subdivided into apartments, and places of business.  The house at Number One, Avenue Dragon, four stories tall and occupying a full city block, was still intact, though it had been modernized with gas lights, indoor plumbing, and even an elevator.  It was the Dechantagne house in Brech City, though the sole member of the family occupying it at present was Iolanthe’s daughter, twenty-four-year-old Iolana Staff.

It was well past midnight, but Iolana found herself unable to sleep.  She stared across her bedroom at the evening post, sitting upon its silver tray, on the mantle above the cold fireplace.  With a sigh, she stood up, slipped her feet into her house slippers, and threw a robe over her already voluminous nightdress.  Then she stepped across the room to the fireplace.  She brushed aside half a dozen letters and picked up a large envelope.

Leaving her rooms, she followed the corridor all the way to the back of the house.  It seemed like miles away and in reality, was almost the length of a football pitch, but at last she reached the correct door.  She knocked quietly and then entered, closing the door behind her.

Birmisia Colony was thick with lizzies, but in Brech City, or for that matter the country of Greater Brechalon, or for that matter the entire continent of Sumir, the population of lizzies was limited to one individual.  At that moment, that one lizzie was sleeping in the bedroom Iolana had entered, the great toothy mouth wide open and an open book hanging from one clawed hand.  The lizzie in question was Esther, whom Iolana had raised from a baby, and who consequently seemed far more human than lizzie, at least when awake.

Esther started and blinked when Iolana sat on the bed beside her.

“What?  What’s the matter?”

“You’ve gone to sleep while reading again.”  Iolana took the book out of her hand, closed it and looked at the cover.  “You’re behind.  I gave you this two days ago.”

“I’m sorry.  I have fallen behind.  I was out late last night with Willa, so I didn’t get a chance to do my nightly reading.”

“Where did you go?” wondered Iolana.

“We went to a very interesting pub, where a woman was singing while playing something called an accordion.”

“Sounds dreadful.”

“I thought it was lovely,” said Esther.

“You could take your friend to the opera.  She might appreciate having her musical experience expanded.  I doubt that, as a maid, she gets asked to go very often.”

“You didn’t wake me up just to show me how toploftical you are, did you?”

“I couldn’t sleep, and I needed my sister,” said Iolana, sticking out her lower lip.

The lizzie blinked.

“Something has your nerves shattered if you’re calling me your sister.  I was always under the impression that I was your favorite pet.”

“You know I’ve never thought of you that way.”

Esther slid over to the other side of the bed and held the blankets up.  Iolana climbed in beside her and snuggled up into the lizzie’s shoulder.  They were quiet for several minutes.

“I have a wonderful life here in the capital.  Everyone respects me.  My book is bringing in enough money that I haven’t touched my allowance in months.  I’m an associate professor of literature.  In another five years, I could be the youngest full professor in the history of University of Brechalon.  You are my closest family, and you’re here.  When Terra gets back from her trip, she’ll be less than a hundred miles away, just a few hours by train.  I have everything I want right here.”

“Then why are you awake in the middle of the night?” wondered Esther.

Iolana was quiet for a moment.  Then she handed Esther the envelope.  It had previously been opened, so the lizzie easily removed the official looking letter inside.  Unfolding it, she held it up to the light.

“They’re offering you a full professorship at University of Birmisia.”

“There’s more.”

“You would be head of the literature department and…”

“Yes.”

“And you would be on track to become University President.  That’s quite something.”

“Yes, but it’s probably all my mother’s doing.  She probably wants me closer so she can control every aspect of my life.”

“Do you think so?  She never seemed to pay all that much attention to you before, except when you went out of your way to provoke her.  I would have thought that she would just as soon have you here, far away from her.  Maybe it was Augie.  He’s practically paying for that school out of his own pocket.  At least that’s what I hear.”

“Oh, I don’t think he cares where I am,” said Iolana.

“Didn’t you say that confusing book you wrote would have every institute of learning sending offers?”

“Yes.  Odyssey has been well received.”

“And have you gotten other offers?”

“Yes.  St. Dante.  Ponte-a-Verne.  Wissenschaften.”

“Well, there you go,” said Esther.  “It must be down to that.”

Thousands of miles to the west of Birmisia Colony, the royal yacht H.M.S. Sovereignty was steaming past the Mullien Islands.  The sleek-looking modern vessel was on loan from His Majesty King Tybalt III to his youngest son and his wife.  Prince Clitus, the Duke of Argower, and his wife Princess Terra, were sailing east to visit the royal colonies in Mallon, of which the princess was a native.   In the unlikely event that the king been on such a trip, the small ship would have been accompanied by a flotilla, or more likely, the king would have been aboard a battleship, and Sovereignty would have been left at home.  As it was, only a destroyer, H.M.S. Fearless, accompanied the yacht.

His Royal Highness Clitus, the Duke of Argower, looked at himself in the mirror.  He had grown up wearing uniforms of the various branches of the royal military, but he had happily set them aside after his wedding a year and a half earlier.  His father had given him a duchy as a wedding present, and there was apparently less need of a duke to be on constant parade than a prince.  Clitus didn’t miss the stiff uniform tunics.  Even now, aboard ship, he was able to move and breathe in the much less stiff number four uniform.

He stepped away from the mirror and out of the stateroom.  Though his wife had slept with him, he hadn’t seen her since getting up.  He hoped she was at breakfast.  He was famished.  Taking the stairs up the dining room, he found the table set and servants waiting, but no one seated.

“Have you seen the duchess this morning?” he asked Clark, one of the servers.

“I believe she’s on the aft deck, Your Highness.”

“Thank you.”

Clitus made his way through the room and out the sliding door that faced aft.  This put him on the balcony overlooking the deck, where he saw his wife and two of his body men.

Sergeant Ryan Stigby of Mernham Yard had been the police sergeant assigned to protect Clitus for almost ten years.  He had proven time and again his willingness to lay down his life for his charge.  The other man was Bob.  For lack of a better term, Bob was Clitus’s fixer.  It was he who made embarrassing or difficult situations go away—sometimes by utilizing money, sometimes threats, sometimes God-only-knew-what.  Bob had been with Clitus longer than Stigby, and unlike almost every man in the Kingdom, he went by his Kafirite name rather than his surname.  Clitus would have bet that even Stigby didn’t know Bob’s last name.  Clitus knew it.  It was Fitzroy.  Bob was the grandson of the bastard son of Clitus’s great-grandfather King Tybalt I.  The two of them were fourth cousins.

Just then, Stigby threw something toward a post that had been erected at the very stern of the vessel.  When it hit, Clitus could see that it was a large knife.

“Just what is going on here, gentlemen?” he called.

All three turned around, but only Stigby had the decency to look embarrassed.  Bob was grinning widely, while the princess maintained her usual, rather blank resting face.

“Um, good morning, Your Royal Highness,” said the copper.  “The duchess was just showing us… um, how to throw knives.  You never know when that might come in handy.”

“Especially in the wilds of Mallon,” added Bob.

“Come up and have breakfast, Brownie,” the prince told his wife.  “After that, you can teach all three of us.”

The three stepped into the doorway below Clitus’s feet.  He turned and went back to the table, arriving just as the other three entered by way of the staircase.  Though they waited for prince and the princess to sit first, the other two men followed suit.  They had long been in the habit of sitting down to dine with Clitus in private.

“So, whose idea was knife fighting?”

“Knife throwing, Bully,” said the duchess, the former Lady Terra Posthuma Korlann Dechantagne, using her pet name for him.  “I’m still working to master knife fighting.”

He chuckled but noted that she kept a straight face.

The duchess picked up a plate of basted eggs, taking one for herself, and then passing it on to Bob.  Clitus followed suit with the bacon.  Terra had insisted that the food be set on the table for them to serve themselves, rather than having the servers constantly buzzing around.  The prince thought it rather a waste of time, but acceded to her wishes, as he did in almost everything.

“Why didn’t you wake me up, Brownie?” he asked, after scraping a large serving of hash brown potatoes onto his plate.

“I wanted you to sleep in today,” she said.  “We have an exciting day ahead of us.”

“We do?  I was unaware of anything very different from every other day since we left Enclep.”

“We are stopping at Terra Island.”

“We’re only stopping to take on water.”

“We shall see,” she replied.

“Besides, the island has no official name, and since we didn’t discover it, we don’t get to name it.”

“Ships have been stopping here for years,” she said.  “Obviously, it was awaiting an appropriate name.”

Stigby changed the subject to Mallontah, or tried to, but none of the others wanted to think about it yet.  It was weeks away, and it sounded unpleasant.

When they had all finished, they returned to the aft deck, where Terra continued her tutoring of knife throwing technique, adding Clitus as a pupil.

“There are several things to keep in mind when throwing a knife,” she said.  “The heavier part of the knife should be thrown first.  If you are throwing one with a heavy blade, hold it by the handle.  Likewise, if your knife is handle-heavy, hold it by the blade with a pinch-finger grip.  Mine are heavier of blade, so you may hold them by the handle.  Grip them as you would a hammer.”

The dockyards sat at the northern tip of Port Dechantagne.  To the southeast, along First Avenue were the homes of the rich and important of the city, including the colony’s two largest homes.  Both the mansion of the Dechantagnes and the home created for Zoantheria Hexacorallia next to it, were less than two years old.  The eastern face of Zoantheria’s home was very much the same style as the Dechantagne home it faced—three stories, columned, and classically inspired.  It’s western half however, looked like nothing so much as the massive constructs used to house dirigibles.  It was a home designed with the dichotomy of its mistress’s life in mind.  In other words, it was built for a dragon, one who lived much of her life in the form of a human being.

On this morning, Zoey was entertaining another woman in her beautifully appointed breakfast nook.  One wall of the small room was completely taken up with a large window that looked out over a garden filled with yellow roses.  The walls to either side were covered with portraits, many of them paintings, but some photographs.  On the remaining wall, on either side of the open doorway, were cabinets filled with fine porcelain dinnerware.  On the small table, between the two women, were a set of teacups and teapot matching the dishes in the cabinet, and a large platter containing three different kinds of biscuits.

Zoey daintily procured a chocolate biscuit from the platter and brought it to her thick lips.  Her eyes lit up as she tasted the buttery treat.  She shifted in her seat.  Her yellow day dress, which was one of the new styles, having no bustle, was trimmed with white bows.  She ran a hand over her breast to brush away nonexistent crumbs.

“I could never have imagined,” said the other woman, the former Maria Bertha Jerome Workville.  “If you had told me three years ago that I would be living in Birmisia and that my very best friend in the world would be a dragon, well, I would have thought you were insane.  I would have called for a constable.  That’s what I would have done.”

Maria too wore the latest style of day dress, hers white with pink ribbons.  She was shorter than the dragon in human form, with reddish blond hair and only a few freckles across her otherwise alabaster face.  As she formed her relatively thin lips into a smile, her large green eyes sparkled.  Picking up the teacup, she carefully sipped.

“I don’t mean to be rude, Zoey, but it’s still too hot for me.”

“Perhaps if you had some cream?” suggested the hostess, reaching for the creamer.

“No.  I shall wait until it cools.  I don’t mind.  The water must have been extraordinarily hot when it arrived.  I wonder that the teapot didn’t melt.”

“I’m sorry, Maria.  The servants are used to making it that way for me.  I should have thought to have them adjust things.  In point of fact however, water can’t get hot enough to melt porcelain.  It has a finite upper temperature.”

“You would know better than I do, I’m sure.  Don’t worry though.  The tea will be cool soon enough.”  She smiled again and arched one carefully sculpted brow.  “Does it seem cool already to you?”

“I do prefer mine scaldingly hot.”  Zoey tossed the remainder of the biscuit into her mouth.  “So how is life in the big house?”

“Oh, it’s interesting.  I can safely say that.  It took me a while, but I finally feel like I know my way around.  I get along with the aunt fairly well now.  She doesn’t say much to me, but that’s just as well.  The mother is nice enough, I suppose.  It’s that Gladys that I find the most difficult.  You’d think she was the lady of the house, the way she goes on, instead of a perpetual houseguest, which is what she really is.”

“Don’t let her push you around.”

“I try not to, and I’m standing up for myself now.  Unfortunately, it took me a while to get to this point and they’ve all gotten used to running right over me.”

“I could come and put the fear of goddess in them, if you want me too,” said Zoey.  “They’re already afraid I’m going to eat one of them.”

“No, no,” Maria waved her hand.  “I’ll manage.  Mind you, I really do enjoy seeing your dragon form.  She is just so beautiful.”

“Not she.  Me.  It’s still me.  I’m the dragon.”

“Yes, I know.  It’s rather hard to remember.  Looking at you now, no one would imagine you weren’t a natural born human being.”

“Thank you.  I work very hard at it.  I’ve spent more time perfecting that spell than all the other magic put together.”

“Well, it shows.  I’m sure Augustus appreciates it.”

“I hope so,” said Zoey.

“He loves you so very much.  Anyone can see it, the way he looks at you.  You two make such a cute couple.  Will you be seeing him this evening?”

“Probably.  Anyway,” said Zoey, changing the subject.  “You said you wanted a favor, and if it isn’t eating some person or other, then what is it?”

“Well, it is a delicate subject, but I feel sure that you can help me.”

“All right.”

“I’ve been married for more than a year and a half now,” said Maria.

“Yes?”

“Two years next Restuary.”

“Yes?”

“Almost two years and I’m not with child.”

“I have to say,” said Zoey, “I’m not particularly versed in this area of human biology, but I do understand that sometimes it takes a bit of time.”

“I understand that,” said Maria.  “I also understand that it may take considerably longer if the husband does not visit his wife in her bedchamber.”

“He’s not…”

“No.  Not in weeks and weeks.”

“Oh, I… um,” the dragon in human form paused to sip her tea.