“First class cabin for two to St. Ulixes.”

“Not taking your personal train, Your Lordship?” asked the man behind the glass.

“It’s not my personal train,” said Radley Staff. “It belongs to M&S Coal, and our engineers have taken it south to survey possible mining areas.”

“As you say, Your Lordship.”

Staff looked at his daughter, standing next to him, and sighed.

“It’s not likely to get any better,” said Lady Iolana Staff. “It will continue until the day you die.”

Staff took the tickets that the clerk slid though the opening in the window. He waved the two household lizzies that had arrived with them, to load the luggage onto the train. Once they had done so, he gave them change to take the trolley back to the house, though he doubted they would actually use it. Then he and his daughter boarded.

The new first class coaches had come into service early the previous year. They were quite a step up from the old first class. Instead of having a bench seat and a bed in the sleeping car, enclosed only by a curtain, the new coaches featured individual cabins, each with a pair of plush chairs, two fold-down cots, and their own personal privies. Glancing at the tickets, Staff saw that they were in cabin three. The door was quickly located and he and Iolana stepped inside. Their luggage was awaiting them, and Staff wondered just how the lizzies knew where to put it. Shrugging off the thought, he sat down in one of the chairs. His daughter took the other.

“It appears we have a short wait before we leave,” said Staff, pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time. “Once we get out of town, we’ll go up to the dining car and have a nice lunch.”

“If you’re hungry now,” said Iolana, “cook gave me a cache of provisions.”

She opened her handbag and pulled out a small paper sack, which she peered into.

“I have a sandwich of some kind, three licorice whips, some hard candy, and an apple.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive until lunchtime. I was surprised that you decided to accompany me. You have so much going on with your friends, and of course, tutoring the children.”

“What? Miss a chance to get away from my life? I think not. I only wish that I had been able to go to Brechalon with you.”

“That was your mother’s decision, not mine,” said Mr. Staff.

“Don’t I know it! Heaven forbid that I should have any fun somewhere she wouldn’t be able to squash it.”

“You make you mother sound like an ogre.”

“Do I?” asked Iolana, rhetorically.

“I don’t know how much fun you’ll actually be able to have. I’ll be in meetings most of the two days we’re there, so you’ll be on your own.”

“I’m looking forward to a bit of sightseeing. I haven’t been to Mallontah since I was a small child. I don’t suppose St. Ulixes has changed nearly as much in that time as Port Dechantagne has, but then again, I’m sure there is quite a bit that I’ve forgotten.”

“I’m not too fond of the idea of you wandering around a strange city by yourself. Be sure you carry your pistol with you.”

“Of course, Father.”

The train whistle sounded and then with a sudden jerk, the cars lurched into motion. Father and daughter looked out the window as they pulled out of the station. Their cabin faced south, so they had a view of the switching area. Then a few moments later, they saw Lizzietown sliding past as the train gathered steam.

“Well, shall we?” asked Mr. Staff.

Iolana nodded and stood. Then she followed her father out into the hallway and up toward the front of the train. They passed through one other first class carriage before reaching the dining car. There was a rope barring the way in, but a waiter hurried over to move it aside.

“Are we too early?” asked Mr. Staff.

“We normally don’t start luncheon service until 11:30.”

“We could come back.”

“Nonsense, Sir Radley. It’s no trouble at all. Please sit where you like and I’ll bring you a menu.”

When the waiter returned, the two Staffs looked at the single sheet menu.

“This looks suspiciously like the menu at Finkler’s Bakery,” said Iolana.

“Mr. Finkler owns the license for all the dining cars on the M&B line,” said the waiter.

“That man is quite a success,” said Mr. Staff. “Too bad he’s already married, eh Iolana?”

His daughter shot daggers at him with her eyes. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the menu.

“I will have a Fostbeck sandwich, and I think, a doppelbock.”

“I will have a Fostbeck sandwich as well,” said Iolana, “however I would like white bread instead of rye, and please hold the mustard and sour kraut.”

“That’s not really a Fostbeck sandwich then, Dear.”

“I can get that though, can’t I?” Iolana asked the waiter.

“Of course, My Lady.”

“And a bottle of Billingbow’s, please.”

“You know, every time I have a Fostbeck sandwich, it reminds me of a time at sea, when a man shot at me,” said Mr. Staff. “He missed me, but sadly, killed my sandwich.”

Senta looked at the fortress at the top of the hill. Set against the shadows of the mountain, one could almost be forgiven for thinking it was part of the rocks. Ringing it for almost a mile in every direction was a sea of mud brick and stone buildings. They were homes of lizzies, but up here, where the only trees were scraggly dwarfs, they couldn’t use lumber as their primary building material. She looked back to see the coral dragon curled up in a ball, floating a foot above the ground. Zoey had been asleep for five days, relying on her mistress’s magical floating disk to convey her along.

“Wake up, you silly dragon. We’re here.”

“Whoop-tee-doop,” said Zoey, without opening her eyes.

“It’s quite an impressive fortress. It looks very different than when I was here last.”

“Yes, it’s crawling with lizzies now,” said the dragon, peering up with one eye. “And there’s a veritable stream of them coming up that road.”

“That’s the road of supplicants,” said Senta. “They’re coming to worship Bessemer.”

“No wonder he’s so full of himself.”

Senta waved her hands and the magical disk vanished, but like the proverbial cat, Zoey landed on her feet, seemingly with no effort. Senta continued on and the dragon followed. As they neared the road, Senta could see that Zoey had been correct. There were literally thousands of lizzies on it, making their way to the fortress and to the god who lived within. They weren’t all walking though. A mile from the great gate, there was an arch over the road. Upon reaching it, the pilgrims dropped down onto their bellies to crawl the rest of the way, dragging their tales behind them. As Senta approached, the line of lizzies came to a stop as they all watched her. She stepped up onto the road and strode through the archway, then stepped over the crawling lizzies. As she passed each one, he too stopped and stared up at her.

She was still walking up the road, her path weaving around prostrated reptilians when she spied a lizzie rushing down the path toward her. He was an ornately painted male, wearing a bright red cloth cape. He was hissing as he hurried. Senta reached up and plucked one of the glamours from around her head, activating the spell stored within. Once it was in effect, she could understand the lizzie’s words.

“You should not be on this road, human! What do you think you are doing?”

Suddenly the red-caped lizzie spotted the small dragon behind her. He was so startled that he tripped on one of the prostrate lizzies, falling in a heap at the sorceress’s feet.

“Now, what are you going on about?” asked Senta, looking down.

“You’re her?” said the lizzie, looking up from the dirt. “Yes of course you are. The Great God said you were coming, but I didn’t recognize your paint and feathers. I thought you were a male human.”

Senta looked down at herself. She was dressed in what she often still thought of as her Zurfina garb—black leather pants and high black boots, and a black leather bustier in place of a shirt. Of course the entire ensemble carried magic spells to make it her most comfortable set of clothing. She reached up and cupped her breasts.

“Yes, mammary glands, I see them now,” said the lizzie, rising to his feet, “but you have neither a very large bottom, nor a long tuft of hair.”

Senta ran a hand over her head. She was still wearing her blond hair in a man’s short style, parted on the side and razor-cut around the ears and neck. Of course, since she wasn’t wearing a dress, she didn’t have on the bustle that recent dress styles were requiring to be larger than ever.

The lizzie brushed himself off and then bowed.

“I am Khastla, the god’s most trusted. You should follow me. We will take the road of guests.

The red-caped male led the human and the dragon 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 Bessemer.

The fortress had been completely rebuilt from the ruin it had been when Senta had been there before. Inside the walls were numerous tall buildings, constructed with smooth façades, but featuring many window boxes filled with flowers. Between the buildings were flowerbeds, walkways of colorful pebbles shaded with fruit trees covered in blossoms, and fountains which sprayed out water that was collected into little gutters that wound in and out to feed the plants. Hundreds of lizzies were working, cleaning, polishing, and gardening.

“This is all quite lovely,” said Senta.

Zoey gave a dismissive snort, sending a little smoke ring out of her right nostril.

“Thank you for meeting me, Master Bell,” said Peter Bassington.

“Just Bell please, or Wizard Bell if you must,” said the man seated across the table from him. “Things aren’t as formal here as they are in Brechalon. Besides, you’re not an apprentice anymore.”

Wizard Bell picked up the cream and poured a small bit into his tea. He was a thin, pasty-skinned man, his blue police uniform seemingly two sizes too large for him. On his shirt, where most constables wore their badge, he had a hexagram, a symbol of his art.

“Well, thank you. I needed some advice and with my sister gone, and you the only master wizard in the colony…”

“I am happy to be of service, of course. You don’t have a way to contact your sister?”

“I can contact her if necessary. I would prefer not to bother her with this.”

Bell sipped his tea and waited.

“I’ve leased out the new foundry.”

“That must have been expensive.”

“Yes, it was. But I didn’t have any choice. I’ve got to melt down some metal, mostly copper and steel, to ingots.” Peter looked around to make sure he wasn’t being overheard. There was no one close to the two wizards and nobody suspicious-looking to be seen. “What I need to know is whether I need any special precautions, since the metal carries a strong enchantment.”

Bell nodded. “It’s the Result Mechanism.”

“How did you know that?” Peter demanded.

“One can’t be much of a wizard if he has walked this town for the past three years and not noticed the thickest aura of magic around that particular building. Have you been to take a look at it? The feeling is palpable.”

“Yes, I’ve been there.”

“Melting it won’t remove the enchantment, you know. I don’t know that it will even be weakened.”

“We expect as much. But at least it won’t be used to mass produce magic spells.”

“I don’t know that anyone has melted down so much enchanted metal, ever,” said Bell. “I don’t really know what might happen. My suggestion is to be ready to dispel anything that might pop up.”

“That’s kind of what I thought. No other advice?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, shall we just enjoy our dinner then?”

An hour later, Peter stood in the shadow beneath a large oak tree and watched as Wizard Bell walked briskly down the sidewalk. He hadn’t needed the older man’s advice about magical metal. Neither did he need confirmation that the wizard knew about the Result Mechanism. He had seen him at the warehouse building where the great machine was stored. What he needed was more opportunity to figure out what the fellow was up to.

Bell walked to the end of the block and turned left. Peter decided that he must be headed for his apartment on Pine. Spying the trolley approaching, the young wizard stepped out of the shadows and quickly crossed the street to the trolley stop.

The city of Port Dechantagne maintained a trolley system that was constantly expanding. New lines were being laid, and they supported twelve trolley cars, each pulled by a huge, three-horned triceratops. Recently two additional trolley cars had arrived by ship from Brechalon, and now awaited the addition of at least two more dinosaurs to pull them.

The triceratops brought her vehicle to a stop, and the driver climbed down to feed her from a large bin filled with shrubbery. Stepping up into the vehicle, Peter dropped a pfennig in the glass box near the driver’s seat, and then sat down to wait. The light in the west was fading and dark clouds gave the city a gloomy feel. The lamplighters were busy, but the yellow globes of illumination did little to brighten up the landscape. Two middle-aged women climbed into the trolley cab and took seats a few feet away from Peter.

“Such a terrible thing,” said one.

“Yes it is. Nothing to be done about it, though. It’s all a part of God’s plan.”

“Terrible thing for the young mother though. Terrible thing. At least she’s got her little girl.”

“Excuse me, ladies,” said Peter. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I couldn’t help but overhear. What is it that has happened?”

“It’s the Colbshallows,” said the first woman. “Do you know them?”

“The chief inspector, do you mean?”

“Yes. Their wee baby has passed. Crib death, you see.”

“What a terrible thing for a young mother,” the other woman repeated.

“A terrible thing for anyone,” said Peter.

The lizzies of Yessonarah lined the streets and watched in fascination as the embassies from ten nearby villages paraded down the central avenue. Each consisted of a village king, a witch doctor, and some fifty or more warriors, all wearing the paint and feathers of their people. As they passed the great temple pyramid, each looked up to the top. Tokkenoht stood at the top of the steps, her bright blue form standing out clearly in front of the granite and stone structure behind her. She didn’t mislead herself into thinking that they were looking at her though. They were looking at the god.

She peered back at the scaly form draped over the building, just as he gave a great snore. Yessonar had been asleep for more than a week. Occasionally he would snore, exhale a cloud of smoke, or roll over, but otherwise he was just like a giant statue of himself.

Walking around the corner of the vault, she looked out away from the city, past the lake, to the woods through which the lower portion of the River Ssukhas flowed. She could see, rising up above the trees, smoke from the camps of the humans who were searching the river for gold.

“How many are there?” came a deep rumbling voice from behind her.

“I do not know, Great Yessonar.”

“I count about five thousand. Are they causing any trouble?’

“Not really, Great Yessonar. Our king suspects they are not paying all their taxes. It is hard for our warriors to collect the king’s share of gold, because the humans all look alike to us.”

“Then perhaps you need some way to distinguish them.” He rose up on his four legs and stretched out his great wings. “I’m going to eat and then I must visit Tsahloose before I can fly back to my fortress. I will return in a few weeks time.”

“As you will, Great Yessonar,” said Tokkenoht with a bow.

The dragon usually shot into the sky so fast when he took off that it was impossible for one’s eyes to follow him. Not this time. He pushed off the top of the temple and glided over the forest, with only a couple of lazy wing beats. Flying over the lower river, he gracefully turned and headed west, before suddenly shooting up into the clouds. Only when the magnificent beast was no longer visible, did she turn and make her way down the great staircase.

When Tokkenoht reached the palace, it was a swarm of activity. A line of a hundred lizzies was carrying in great quantities of food through the side gate, and just inside, a makeshift kitchen was preparing that food and placing it on great platters to be brought into the throne room. The high priestess followed the line of servers carrying the platters into the largest room of the palace. It had been converted to a great dining hall. The king, his wives, and his advisors sat at a long table up on the dais, while the visitors from ten villages filled the rest of the hall. All four walls were lined with warriors of Yessonarah, each holding an upright spear. Already the assembly was becoming loud and boisterous.

“More ssukhas!” shouted Hsrandtuss, raising his cup.

Tokkenoht lifted a pitcher full of the intoxicating liquor from the platter of a food bearer, and carried it the length of the room to the dais. She filled the king’s cup, sat the pitcher down in front of him, and then reached up to straiten his gold crown. Then she sat down in the empty chair between him and Ssu.

“The king has had much wine already,” said Ssu, leaning over in confidence. “Perhaps you should not have filled his cup.”

“You will tell him he’s had enough then?” countered Tokkenoht.

Ssu hunkered down in submission.

Leaning back, Tokkenoht looked at Szakhandu, seated on the other side of the king. She rarely wore paint, but she was completely made up this evening. Her right half from the waist up, was bright red, while her left half from the waist up, the side facing Tokkenoht, was tar black. Her bottom half was reversed. She wasn’t wearing the gold necklace that she usually had on, and the priestess thought she saw it around Kendra’s neck. Instead, Szakhandu wore a necklace of gorgosaurus teeth, a symbol of strength that few females would have been allowed.

The king stood up, leaning over his table.

“What say my friends?” he shouted out, and the noise of so many voices slowly died down. “More food and more ssukhas?”

“We have food and ssukhas!” a voice shouted back.

Tokkenoht stared down from the dais as one of the village kings slowly got to his feet. He was a young, muscular male, with a very handsome tail.

“We have food and ssukhas at home!” Several lizzies around the village king hissed in agreement. “What we want is what we came for!”

Szakhandu stood up.

“What is it you came for, King Thikkik of Ar-kussthek?”

“We came for our females!” shouted the king. A dozen warriors around him stood up and hissed.

“What in the name of Hissussisthiss’s whiskers are you talking about?” demanded Hsrandtuss. “I haven’t raided any of your villages.”

“You have lured away our females with your unnatural, soft-skin inspired ideas about child rearing.”

“The way we raise offspring has nothing to do with humans!” growled Hsrandtuss. “It was my idea!”

Raising their own offspring, rather than leaving them to the mercy of predators, had in fact been Szakhandu’s and Kendra’s idea, but Tokkenoht certainly wasn’t going to contradict the king.

The horrible red head turned toward them. Lady Iolana Staff felt a thrill of fear as the great yellow eyes met her own. It was by far the closest she’d ever been to a tyrannosaurus. The great black body pivoted toward them and took a single step in their direction. She could hear it sucking air through its fist-sized nostrils even at a hundred yards away.

“You mustn’t be frightened,” said her father’s voice at her shoulder. “You must never be frightened.”

“I can be frightened, can’t I?” wondered Benny Markham.

“Quiet,” said Mr. Staff. “Everyone take careful aim. Remember what we talked about. You want the spot right between those useless little arms. I shall be very cross if anyone shoots it in the head and ruins the trophy.

Iolana raised her rifle to her shoulder just as the monster took a second step toward the group of humans and lizzies. In her peripheral vision, she could see Benny, Walter, and Augie doing the same thing. Although just outside the range of her eyes, she knew that Ascan was as well.

“Not yet,” said Mr. Staff. “Let’s see if she’ll get a little closer.”

It seemed as if the creature simply went from standing still one moment, to running at them with the speed of a locomotive. Opening its great jaws, it unleashed the most horrible roar that could be imagined. All four of the others began firing, but even with the tyrannosaurus bearing down upon them, Iolana could feel her father’s eyes watching her rather than the beast. She fired ten perfectly centered rounds in eight seconds, before calmly dropping the clip from the bottom of the rifle and slapping in another. The second clip proved entirely unnecessary, as the monster dropped to the ground, her massive blood-red head still fifteen feet away.

Iolana flipped on the safety and slung the rifle to her shoulder before turning to Mr. Staff, who stood smiling at her, his own firearm still cradled, unused, in his arm.

“Well done,” he said.

“Sweet Kafira, full of grace, thanks for our protection,” whispered Walter Charmley.

“No offense to your beliefs,” said Benny, “but I’d like to thank whoever invented the repeating rifle.”

“Oliver Winston-Davies,” said Iolana, stepping away from the others and toward the tyrannosaurus. “In 1855. Thankfully ours are rather improved over his model.”

“Be careful Iolana,” called Ascan Tice. “Make sure it’s dead before you get too close.”

“She’s dead,” replied Iolana, reaching down and placing her palm against the blood red skin just behind the creature’s still open yellow eye.

The monstrous hind leg kicked into the air. Several of the others jumped, and Benny let out a squeak.

“It’s nothing but her reflexes,” said Iolana. “You were the queen of your world, weren’t you?”

She then turned and sat on the creature’s neck. “Let’s have a photograph, then. Are you ready, Mr. Buttermore?” She placed the butt of her rifle on the dinosaur’s jaw, holding it upright beside her. She lifted her chin and smiled with only a little bit of a smirk.

Edin Buttermore was indeed setting up the hatbox-sized camera on its tripod.

“Almost ready for you, My Lady. Let’s adjust the focal length. Here we go. Now hold still… There we have it. That will make a spectacular print.”

“I’m surprised you were willing to carry all that equipment out here into the wilderness,” said Benny.

“These are some of the first good dinosaur pictures,” said Buttermore. “I could get famous from these. Besides, I thought it would be a good idea to be out of town until the Drache Girl left.”

“It’s not your fault that her picture just appeared in all of those books,” Benny replied. “She knows that. Senta’s quite reasonable. Not that I’m saying I wouldn’t have chosen to get out of town, had I been in your position.”

“I knew that photo would be trouble years ago when I took it. I didn’t even want to. But how do you say no to Zurfina?”

“A naked Zurfina, at that,” added Ascan.

“Yes, well, even Senta couldn’t say no to her. As I recall, she didn’t want to sit for the picture, and it turns out, I suppose, she had good reason.”

Iolana stepped away from the dead tyrannosaurus as the lizzies hurried forward and began hacking at the neck.

“Careful there!” yelled Staff. “Cut down a little lower!”

“All in all, I think it’s been a very satisfactory day,” said Augie.

“That it has, Lord Dechantagne,” said Benny.

“The proper address is ‘My Lord’,” said Augie.

“We don’t bother with all of that,” said Staff.

“No, we don’t need to bother with all that,” said Augie.

“The next man who calls me Sir Radley may wind up with my boot stuck up his keister,” continued Staff.

Both Benny and Ascan glanced at Iolana to see if she would blush at her father’s colorful language, but she just grinned.