The L.Z. Frühlingshuhn descended from the clouds toward Royal Tybalt Hall, the top stories of which had been converted ten years earlier to a dirigible port.  From the great window on the observation deck, Senta Bly watched as Brech City slid by below her.  The buildings all looked like toy models of themselves.  The boats in the Thiss and the carriages on the streets likewise looked like the playthings of children.  It was a sight well worth the cost of a ticket, even without the three-day voyage from Bangdorf.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?”

She turned to Kieran Baxter, who was sitting in one of the comfortable lounge chairs bouncing the baby on his knee.

“I never get tired of it,” she said.

“Funny, I wouldn’t think it would be that impressive to you… what with you being able to fly and everything.”

“Who said I could fly?”

“Can you?”

She shrugged.  “Sort of.”

“I knew it,” he said, hopping easily to his feet, still holding the child. He stopped next to the sorceress. “Look.  You can see right into the courtyard of Palace Eidenia.  I always wanted to look in there.  I expected piles of treasure or something equally grand.”

“Looks like they’re storing old trolley cars in there,” said Senta. “Quite the let-down, I’ll bet.”

“It always is when your fantasies meet your realities.  They just don’t hold up.”

She leaned in close to him.  Her hot breath reached his cheek and the side of his neck.

“Perhaps not in all cases,” he said.

The ship glided lower, turning so that Palace Eidenia was no longer visible. Instead they had a splendid view of the Palace of Ansegdniss, for 250 years the meeting place of the Parliament of Greater Brechalon.  The buildings below became larger and larger until suddenly they stopped being toys and became real full-sized structures.  The dirigible slowed to a stop and at last all they could see was the roof of Royal Tybalt Hall.

Though they had packed those belongings that had been in use during their three-day journey, Senta was in no mood to join the ranks of those passengers rushing to get out.  So she and Baxter continued to sit in the lounge for another hour.  He let the baby crawl a bit on the floor, though he didn’t allow her to get far, and she couldn’t have in any case.  Finally with him carrying little Senta and the sorceress carrying the animal carrier, they walked down the gangway, followed by two stewards with the luggage.  Quickly procuring a cab, they were on their way to The Clarkson House.

The Clarkson House was Brech City’s finest hotel.  It reigned over Avenue Boar with all the opulence of Palace Eidenia—more now that they had seen the old trolleys stored in the latter.  Once at the hotel they stepped across the black and white chessboard-like floor of the palatial lobby, past the gilded furnishings beneath the crystal chandeliers.  To Senta, who had stayed at the Clarkson for several weeks before traveling to Freedonia, and who had in fact given birth to her daughter there, it almost seemed like returning home.  It cemented in her mind the decision she had already made.

When they were safely settled in the imperial suite, Senta let the little dragon out of the carrier.  It immediately ran toward the baby.

“Back off you,” said Baxter, protectively pulling the child away.

“Good baby,” said the dragon.

“Kafira’s twat.  The bloody thing talks.”

“Yes, well, it’s about time that,” said Senta, opening the balcony door and looking at the beast.  “Go find yourself something to eat.  There are thousands of flying reptiles in this city that no one will miss.”

The creature took one bounce and was out the door—a coral-colored blur.

“You expected it to start speaking,” said Baxter.  “I take it your found out something in the library at Bangdorf.”

“I found exactly nothing.”  She turned to her companion.  “Have you decided if you are going to come with me to Birmisia?”

“I thought I didn’t have to decide for a while.”

“It seems you do.”  She waved her hand behind her and the several dozen buttons on the back of her dress unfastened themselves.  “I’ve decided it’s time to go home.”  She stepped out of the dress.  “I didn’t think I would miss it as much as I do.”

“Do you mean you miss him?”

She stepped toward him.  He sat the baby on the rug.  The dress flew of its own accord to the dressing room.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“No I don’t.  There’s a good reason for that.  You haven’t told me anything.”  Baxter crossed his arms.  “I didn’t press you about it, but I have to know where I stand before I decide if I’m going to Birmisia Colony or not.  I have to understand whether…”

“Whether you have me or not?”  She snaked her arms around his shoulders.  He uncrossed his arms and placed them on her waist, though he could feel nothing except the bones of her corset.  “You have me for as long as you want me.  It probably won’t be long.  There are many beautiful women in Port Dechantagne.  You’ll throw me over for one of them, I’m sure.”

“Unlikely.  But I have to know…”

“I was very much in love,” said Senta.  “But he died, years ago.  I don’t think I’ll ever love like that again, but I do care about you.”

“What about the child’s father?”

“He’s in Birmisia.  I’m not in love with him.  Even if I was, he’s not available.”

“What if he was?”

“I said I’m not in love with him.”

“You also as much as said you’re not in love with me.  What if he was available?”

“Do you want me to tell you the truth or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?”

“I guess that’s my answer,” he said, reaching up and pulling her arms from around his neck.

He started to step away, when she grabbed the front of his shirt with her left hand and stuck her right index finger in front of his face.  It was a gesture that would have caused more than a few men to soil themselves.  He simply raised an eyebrow.

Chief Inspector Saba Colbshallow was dozing, only half awake, but happy in the knowledge that he had the day off.  Suddenly a weight of two and a half stone dropped into his lap, curling him up into a ball.  Now awake, Saba clutched at his attacker, which seemed all curly hair and giggles.

“You must be careful with your poor old father, DeeDee,” he gasped.

“Mummy says it’s time to get up,” returned what he still thought was the sweetest voice he had ever heard.

“Does Mummy know that I have the day off?”  He lifted the girl and held her up over his face.  Two large eyes, one brown and one hazel, looked back at him from beneath a pile of multihued curls.  “If you weren’t so horribly cute, I would throw you out with the rubbish.”

A chorus of giggles was the only reply.

“Maybe I’ll just throw you out with the rubbish anyway!”  Rolling to his feet, he tucked the now squealing child under his arm and headed for the window.  “Right out to the dump with you!”

“Saba!”  Saba stopped in his tracks and turned to find his wife standing in the bedroom doorway. “I’ve only just got her hair fixed!”

“Now you’ve gone and gotten me in trouble,” he told the little girl, setting her down beside him.

“Your breakfast is waiting, both of you.”

“Shouldn’t I dress first?”  He waved down at his nightshirt.

“You’re fine.  It’s only the four of us.”

“Come along, brick and mortar.”

“You know I don’t like you using that criminal slang with the child,” said his wife as he passed.  Then she stuck out her cheek and ordered, “Kiss.”

Obediently kissing his wife, Saba followed his daughter out of the room and down the stairs to the dining room.  His wife followed.

Loana Colbshallow was one of the most beautiful women in all of Birmisia Colony. Everyone agreed on that fact, even those who didn’t particularly care for her.  The features that were most often spoken of, when people described her, the heterochromia of both eyes and hair, she had passed to her daughter.  In addition, she possessed flawless skin and as near perfect features as could be imagined.  Of course her most noticeable traits were seldom mentioned, even if they were always noticed.  God had given Loana a slender waist and a bottom that seemed to hardly require a bustle. Her bosom was of such a proportion that it could astonish and yes, even frighten those who stood too close to her. This hadn’t been the case when she and Saba had met, but each year seemed to add onto her a few pounds, and they always seemed to end up in exactly the right places.

DeeDee was already at her seat when Saba reached the table.  Directly across from her was the elder Mrs. Colbshallow, Saba’s mother.

“Just what are you doing to make my lovely daughter-in-law yell?” she asked.

“I remember when I was the apple of her eye,” he said dryly to DeeDee.

“Daddy was just playing with me, Nan.”

Saba directed his attention to the food.  Scooping up large helpings of scrambled eggs, potatoes, and beans onto his and his daughter’s plates.

“Have some tomatoes,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.

“Do you want tomatoes?” he asked DeeDee.

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“You see how it is, Yadira,” said Loana, taking the last place at the table. “The two of them gang up on me all the time.  It’s always what they want and never what I want.”

Mrs. Colbshallow clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“Cucumbers, DeeDee?” asked Saba, ignoring both of the women.

“Yes please.”

“I thought I raised him better than this,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.

“Well, I guess you didn’t,” said Saba, winking at DeeDee, who giggled.

Seeing his pouting wife in the corner of his eye, he relented and scooped several cucumber slices onto her plate too.  “What do you have planned today that has me and my progeny up at such an ungodly hour.”

“It’s nearly 10:00,” said Loana in a shocked voice.  “And you said you would take me to watch the rugby match.”

“And what about these two troublemakers?” he indicated his daughter and his mother.

“Well, they’re going too.”

“I won’t be joining you,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.  “I’m joining the Dechantagnes for luncheon.”

“Good Kafira, Mother.  You’d think you still lived over there.”

“They’ll be no blasphemy in this house.”

“My house,” said Saba without anger.  “My house, my mother, my wife, my daughter, my blasphemy, my breakfast. You three keep forgetting that I’m the man here.  Where’s the chutney?”

“I haven’t forgotten you’re the man, dear,” said Loana, getting up to bring the chutney to him, and then pausing to rub his shoulder.  “But you did promise rugby today.”

“Yes, yes.  Pass me some soldiers.”  He winked again at DeeDee.  “My potatoes need protecting.”

One of the lizzies placed a plate of toast in front of him.

“DeeDee, do you know the difference between toast and Mirsannans?”

“You can make soldiers out of toast,” she recited.

“That’s my girl.”

“Keep both eyes open and look carefully through the telescopic sight. Place the little intersecting lines directly in front of the creature’s breast.”

“Yes Father,” said eleven-year-old Iolana Livonia Dechantagne Staff, pressing her face against the cool wood of the rifle stock.

“How many do you count, dear?”

“I see six, Father.  How many should I shoot?”

“You’ll be lucky to hit even the one.”  Radley Staff bent down and kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “Achillobators are very fast.”

“Beautiful too.”

“Yes, beautiful too.”

“It seems a shame to shoot them.”

“Well perhaps, but they are very dangerous.  You wouldn’t want them coming around our house when your little cousins are outside, would you?”

“No, Father.”

“Alright, let’s see if you can shoot one.  Squeeze the trigger.  Don’t pull.”

“I know, Father.”  The girl jerked as the high-powered rifle let out a deafening report.  Then she quickly worked the action, bringing another round into the chamber.  She fired again, and cocking the weapon, fired a third time.  Then she stopped and looked up at her father, who was beside her, on his knees, peering through a pair of binoculars.  “I’m sorry Father.  The rest have fled.”

“No, no.  You did very well.”

He stood up and then reached down to help her up.  Once back on her feet, Iolana carefully smoothed out her dress. Though not burdened with the bustles and corsets of grown women, she was nevertheless covered from chin to ankle in the fashion appropriate to a girl of her age.  Plenty of white lace and brocade accented the light gold poplin. One of the lizzies picked up the rifle, while another rolled up the mat upon which the girl had been lying.

“Can we go gather some feathers, Father?  I would like some of them for a new hat.”

“Whatever you want.”

Staff waved his hands toward the lizzies, who quickly gathered up the rest of their gear.  Staff, his daughter, and the six reptilians were soon stalking through the brown grass of the vast open meadow.  He kept looking toward the girl to see if she needed any help, but the few times her dress became caught on a thorn, one of the lizzies jumped forward to unhook it before it tore the material.  At last they reached their destination.

Achillobators were feathered dinosaurs about the same size as utahraptors. The latter, covered in bright blue and turquoise feathers and hunting in pairs, had been common along the coastline when humans had arrived.  They were becoming increasingly scarce though as civilization spread into their habitat. On the other hand, achillobators were becoming more and more common.  Covered in bright crimson with a black breast, they hunted in packs of eight or more.

The three dead creatures were grouped close together.  One was as large a specimen as Staff had ever seen, more than twenty feet from nose to end of tail, over seven feet tall when it had stood. The other two were slightly smaller. All three were clean kills.

“Good hunt,” said Teska, the old lizzie hunter who usually accompanied Staff when he went out shooting.  A couple of the others hissed in agreement.

“Keep an eye out,” Staff told Teska.  “I don’t think the others will come back, but you never know.”

He wasn’t too worried.  Even five achillobators would have hesitated to attack six lizzies, though they wouldn’t have thought twice about taking on a similar number of humans.  The lizzies were powerful creatures in their own right, with thick powerful claws on their five-fingered hands and tough leathery hides. They were cold-blooded, and so slower than the dinosaurs, but they were highly intelligent, a fact that far too many humans forgot.

“Can we gather the feathers now, Father?”

“Show Esther which ones you want, and have her pluck them for you.”

Esther, a young female reptilian, jumped at hearing her name, but then hurried over to the human girl and followed her to the largest dead dinosaur. “Hsst ss, hsst stt,” said Iolana, pointing.  The sounds she made were the lizzie language equivalents of “this one and that one.” She spoke their language better than any human that her father knew, with the sole exception of her younger cousin. She certainly spoke it better than any lizzie could speak Brech.  In a few minutes, Iolana had all the feathers that she wanted.

“Should we harvest some of the meat?” she asked.  “It seems such a waste not to.”

“Not today,” said her father.  “But don’t worry.  I doubt it will go to waste.”

He pointed to a spot a hundred yards away, where a large group of velociraptors was forming.

Taking his daughter’s hand, he led her across the open ground, following the game trails.  The six lizzies fell in behind them.  Two miles away, they found the small train waiting exactly where they had left it, steam still puffing from its funnel stack.  The train was nothing but an engine with a single rail coach.  It belonged to M&S Coal Co. and since Mr. Staff was the president of that firm, he had it at his disposal.  A little more than an hour after killing the achillobators, all eight members of the party were seated in the coach. Iolana and her father sat in comfortable chairs near the center of the room.  Esther sat on a chair immediately behind the human girl, sideways so that she could accommodate her tail.  The other lizzies occupied a place on the floor near the back.

“I’m glad you came with me today, dear,” said Staff.  “I know you don’t like to be away from your studies.”

“I’m always happy to go hunting with you, Father.  I wonder that you asked me instead of Augie.  Isn’t he your usual companion?”

“I wanted to spend some time with my daughter,” he said, slightly chastened. “You don’t mind that I take Augie hunting, do you?  After all, he is a boy, and since he’s without a father, it naturally falls to me to step in.”

“Of course I don’t mind, Father.  Perhaps next time we can all go together.  We can take Terra too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” asked Sszaxxanna.

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

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

Hsrandtuss stared.

“Come with me,” said the envoy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tokkenoht and Sirris both looked suitably chastened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We had a history,” she said.

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“About him dying.”

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

“And how do you feel about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was just wondering…”

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

“What is it, Pet?”

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

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

“Yes, I know.”

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

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

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

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

Staff nodded.

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

“All right.”

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

“Are you ready?”

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

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

“New pet?” wondered Senta.

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

“Really?  Only three thousand?”

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

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

“She does have the Colonial Guard with her.”

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

“The plan?”

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

“How far away are they?”

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

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

“Do you know Mrs. Hollerith?”

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

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

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

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

“How high are we going?” she wondered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.  Can you see me?”

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

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

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

“What’s the situation there?”

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

“Yes.”

“Good.  Make me proud.”

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

“It’s beginning to look a bit bleak.”

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

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

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

“I hope so.”

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

“Strategic thinking.”

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

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

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

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

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

“These are exquisite,” said Iolanthe.

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

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

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This was closer.”

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

“Absolutely not.”

He smiled.  She smiled back at him.

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

“Good day, Mother Linton.  How lovely that you could join me this afternoon.”  Iolanthe wore, for her, an unusual day dress.  It was light blue satin with a dark velvet mock-coat.  The front left far more cleavage than she was used to wearing, but the bouquet of flowers gently tucked at the base and flaring outward covered some of that.  She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman seated in Bonne Nourriture. She stood up to shake hands with the priest.

Mother Linton accepted her hand.  She wore her traditional robe, black with one white stripe running down from each shoulder.  Her hair had grown quite long and straight since coming to Birmisia and it had gone completely grey.  Sitting down, she added the white linen napkin to her lap.

“Don’t you prefer Café Etta?” asked the priest.

“I thought this was more appropriate.”

A lizzie, wearing a white apron, handed each of the women a paper menu. “Ssessial is glazed iguanodon.”

Mother Linton curled her lip.  “I’ll have the chicken salad.”

“The same for me,” said Iolanthe, and smiling, handed back the menu.  She watched the reptilian waiter depart. “You do know there are no chickens in Birmisia, don’t you?  Our salad will most likely be velociraptor.”

“Hmph.  I don’t get the opportunity to eat out very often.”

“That’s a shame.  I find it advantageous.  It gives me a chance to take the pulse of the community.”

“I don’t need to know the pulse of the community.  I am not a politician.”

“At least not a very accomplished one,” said Iolanthe.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, Mother Linton, that this business with the Zaeri has grown tiresome. Despite the fact that I have no strong religious feelings, I understand that you do.  That, and the fact that I respect strength in a woman, is why I’ve not interfered with you leading your flock.  But now you are becoming a danger to this colony.  If you drive wedges between the Kafirites, the Zaeri, and the lizzies now, we may not be able to unite against Freedonia.”

“The lizardmen are nothing more than animals, and the Zaeri are infidels. They killed Kafira.”

“Well yes.  Some of the Zaeri did kill her.  Some of the Zaeri were her followers.  Some of them were her apostles.  And as you priests so often seem to forget, Kafira herself was a Zaeri.”

“Don’t presume to teach doctrine to me.”

“Fine.  Politics then.  If I have to, I will have you removed from Birmisia and sent back to Brech.”

“There is a word for defying the authority of the Church,” hissed Mother Linton. “It’s heresy.”

“Yes.  I could be burnt at the stake,” said Iolanthe, “if it were three hundred years ago. There’s a word for defying my authority too.  It’s called treason, and they hang people for it.  Still.”

“You care nothing for Kafira or the Church.”

“You are absolutely correct, Mother Linton.  I care only for Birmisia Colony.”

“You care only for your family name.”

“One is the same as the other,” said Iolanthe, her voice cold steel.

“I’ll have you excommunicated.  How will your family name look then?”

“I doubt the Church hierarchy will be so inclined when I show them the evidence that you had Yuan Weiss try to assassinate me.”

“I…”  Mother Linton gulped for air.  “I never did any such thing.”

“Oh, I admit that some of the evidence had to be manufactured, but it is very convincing.  Here comes our ‘chicken salad’.”

The lizzie waiter returned and placed a large plate in front of each woman. Iolanthe picked up her fork and took a bite.

“No,” she said.  “This is nowhere near as fine as Café Etta.  Aalwijn Finkler knows how to run a top-notch establishment.  You know, I believe he is a Zaeri.  And if I’m not mistaken, he married a nice Kafirite girl. I wonder.  Do they attend your church or do they go to shrine?”

Mother Linton glared back.  She had not touched her food.  Iolanthe took another bite.

“Do you know what they have done to the Zaeri in Freedonia?” she asked. “They chased most of them out. Those who couldn’t get out, they herded into work camps.  They murdered tens of thousands of them.”

“That’s just propaganda.”

“No it isn’t.  It’s the truth.  And after the war is over and the extent of the Freedonian atrocities is revealed, good compassionate Kafirites everywhere are going to be shocked and angered at what was done in their name.  Freedonia will become synonymous with prejudice, hatred, and evil.  And the world will look at Birmisia, and what will they see?”

Mother Linton said nothing.

“They will see harmony.  They will see Kafirites and Zaeri working together for the greater good of Brechalon. And they will see my family as the architects of this veritable utopia.  But there will be plenty of rewards to go around.  I offer you a part of this.  You don’t have to let go of your prejudice and hatred.  You just have to swallow it way down inside, and not let it back out.”

“For all your arrogance, you cannot see the future,” said Mother Linton.  “The Freedonians may march right over this city tomorrow.”

“I do not think so.”

“Are you counting on your Zaeri witch to save you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.  What are you counting on?”

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

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

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

“Halt,” he shouted.

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

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

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

“I kill.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Eamon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They all drank.

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

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

“Preggers,” said Dot.

“Who?” asked Saba.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go back outside and come in again properly.”

“What?”

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

“Come on!”

She raised her eyebrow.

“Fine.”

He went back outside and closed the door after him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good day ladies.”

“Good day sir,” said Senta.

“Hey Graham,” said Hero.

“I, um… have some news.”

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As long as you’re doing your part.”

“Is Hertzel going with you?” asked Hero.

“Of course he is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well… I don’t know…” said Senta.

“Oh come on!  It’s the best one yet.”

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

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

“And a silver page marker,” finished Senta.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See ya,” he waved.

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

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

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