The next few days grew progressively warmer. It was as if the land couldn’t wait for the return of spring. Senta certainly couldn’t wait. The snowdrifts between the great redwoods disappeared, and she began to wander through the forest around the tower. Sometimes Graham came with her, but it was impossible to coax Hero beyond the relative safety of the road or the yard.

Three days after Mr. Jex had completed Zurfina’s painting, Senta got up early in the morning and went to the Hertling home. She hoped that she could lend a hand with household chores, supposing that this might endear her to Hero’s sister Honor. She had forgotten though that it was the Zaeri Sabbath, and the Hertlings, like the other Zaeri, were attending shrine, or rather the neighborhood lot on which they hoped to have a shrine built sometime in the future. She considered joining them, as non-Zaeri were allowed to sit in the back, but the prospect of an hour or more of she-wasn’t-too-sure what in a dead language she couldn’t understand dissuaded her. She stopped by the Dokkins house hoping to find Graham, but he wasn’t home. More and more, he had been getting odd jobs around the dock, and a ship had come in from Freedonia the day before.

Senta skipped down Bay Street, which was one of the two parallel roadways that ran south from Town Square. The earliest flowers had popped their heads up to enjoy the new sun. Blue ones and white ones, they were all very tiny compared to the blossoms that would appear later. The girl didn’t know what they were called, but she instinctively knew that they heralded the return of spring, and this put lightness into her heart and step. In no time, she had gathered together quite a bouquet and had reached the southern limit of the road.

Beyond was the wilderness. It had been uninterrupted forest just a few years before, but now the land for several miles from where she stood was a ragged looking plain having been logged extensively by the colonists, with only a few copses of standing trees here and there.

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

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

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

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

“You would be surprised what can be done.”

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

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

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

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

“Good riddance then,” said Senta.

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

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

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

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

“Your lessons?”

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

“I do.”

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

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

“Upstairs.”

“Where upstairs?”

“Her room.”

“Is she alone?”

“No.”

“Is Jex with her?”

The dragon nodded.

“Again?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I could die,” she said aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Put on some clothes, Fina.”

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the week went quickly. Patience concentrated on Mike’s physical therapy, but she had time to babysit Selma one evening while Jack took Harriet to dinner, and to spend two afternoons with Wanda. Both times the other Daffodil reported that she had neither seen nor heard anything from Ryan’s ex-wife. Finally, Friday morning arrived and Patience loaded their luggage into the car. It had been decided that Ryan and Wanda, and the Smiths would each take their own cars to the Park-N-Ride station, and from there they would take the train to LAX. They were all booked on the same flight to Adelaide of course.

Mike let Patience drive to Riverside. Once at the station, they were able to quickly board the train, as the State of California had recently instituted Daffodil’s BRIID system. Merely arriving in the presence of your Daffodil meant that you could forgo ticketing, ID checks, and waiting in line. Mike picked his seat without much regard to anything other than making sure that he was facing forward. Patience though made sure to save a spot for Ryan and Wanda, who arrived about five minutes later.

“Did you bring your texTee?” Mike asked Ryan.

“I don’t really read much. I thought maybe we could just relax and talk on the way.”

“Two hours by train and then thirty-one by plane,” explained Mike. “I don’t care how sterling a conversationalist you are, I’m not talking to you the whole way. However I do intend to relax.”

“Do not worry, Ryan,” said Wanda. “I brought your texTee and I made sure it was filled with reading material you might enjoy—also movies.”

The train had been moving about ten minutes when Ryan spoke again.

“Do you want to play Last Supper?”

“Is that some kind of Jesus thing?” asked Mike. “Cause I already told you I was an atheist.”

“No, it’s not a… well… it is, but not really. You list what twelve people you would want to invite to a dinner party.”

“Me and twelve people in one room,” mused Mike. “That’s not The Last Supper; it’s Dante’s Inferno.”

“You don’t have to just pick people who are alive now. You can pick anyone who has ever lived.”

“All right. Go ahead. Dazzle me.”

“Well,” began Ryan. “Of course, first I would pick Jesus Christ.”

“Naturally.”

“Then George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Franklin Roosevelt, Thomas Edison,” Ryan counted off happily on his fingers. “Then it starts to get hard. Ronald Reagan, um… John F. Kennedy, Neil Armstrong… um… oh, Martin Luther King Jr., Albert Einstein, um… and Paul McCartney.”

“You still need one more,” said Mike.

“No, I’m the twelfth.

“No, you need twelve plus yourself—like Jesus and the twelve apostles.”

“Oh, um, then… Ringo Starr.”

“Well at least you won’t need an interpreter,” said Mike. “Everyone at your party speaks English, except Jesus.”

“Jesus can speak any language.”

“Of course he can. Maybe he can do some card tricks too, because your party is going to be boring as shit. You don’t have one single female, or married female for that matter.”

“There weren’t any women at The Last Supper.”

“Bull. Even I know that Mary Magdelaine was at the last supper,” said Mike. “And before you tell me that she had a minor role because all she did was wash feet, let me remind you that Jesus washed a few feet and nobody ever accuses him of having a minor role.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” said Ryan. “I didn’t know she was there.” He thought for a moment. “I do know the bible says ‘the devil can quote scripture to suit his own purpose’.”

“That’s not the bible. It’s Shakespeare, whom incidentally would be one of my guests. The Merchant of Venice. And perhaps the devil has to quote scripture when the faithful can’t.”

“You know people would like you more if you didn’t act so smart and superior all the time.”

“Good morning.”

Saba turned around to find Eamon Shrubb.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Well that’s a fine good morning.”

“Good morning then. What do you want?”

“Sergeant Clark requires you.”

Saba quickly finished his meal and followed. The two men walked past the warehouses and up Seventh and One Half Avenue to the militia base and into the office of Sergeant Clark. Militiamen, like everyone else, were enjoying the sunshine, rolling around in the snow and building snowmen and snow forts. A snowball narrowly missed Saba’s head as he walked into the building.

“What’s up,” asked Saba, brushing himself off inside.

Clark yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“I promised Mrs. Government that I would have someone meet with this hunter.”

“Haarhoff?”

“Yes, that’s him. He’s anxious to go out and shoot a dinosaur, so she wants someone to make sure that he has everything that he needs. And you know who her favorite soldier is.”

“You?”

“Not me.” Clark leaned back in his chair. “You.”

“Alright. Where is he? Building six?”

“Yes.”

To say that Haarhoff was anxious was an understatement. He and six other men were crowded into his room, leaning over a table with a large map spread across it. Lined up along the wall was a mountain of packs and equipment, ready to be carried into the Birmisian wilderness.

“Ah, young Corporal Colbshallow,” he said. “We are more than ready to set off. Will you be coming with us?”

“That remains to be seen. What I need to know right now is whether you have everything that you need.”

“We have tents, equipment, supplies, cold weather gear, and ammunition. All we need is a native guide to get us to this Iguanodon Heath, and of course some bearers to help carry all the equipment.”

“That won’t be any problem. There are always plenty of lizzies ready to work. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait until the snow is gone, at least.”

“We have been waiting long enough. We have all been hunting in the snow before. Collinghouse here was with me when we hunted gharhast apes in the Daglars.”

“That’s right,” said the man on the other side of the table. “It was so cold that the bullets froze as they were coming out of the gun barrels.”

The other men in the room laughed.

“Alright,” said Saba. I’m sure that I can have a guide and thirty bearers ready by tomorrow morning. Will that be enough?”

“That will be enough,” said Harhoff. “But we will want to leave at first light.”

“Fine.”

Saba left the barracks apartment and crossed the militia base to find Private Woodrow Manring sitting at the admissions desk, waiting for new lizzies to be brought in and registered. Standing near him was Private Willy Cornish.

“Hello boys. Do we have any short timers standing around?”

“Sure,” replied Manring. “You finally going to get started on your house?”

“You know I wouldn’t let lizzies build my home. No, we need about thirty to carry supplies for the hunting expedition that’s heading out to Iguanodon Heath. I expect it will be about three or four weeks work.”

“Looks like we’ve got about thirty over with that lot,” said Cornish, pointing to a group of reptilians waiting for prospective employers.

“You want old Kendric as a guide though,” said Manring. “Or at least one of his crew.”

“I wouldn’t mind going out to Iguanodon Heath, just to look around, you know,” said Cornish.

“I’d go,” said Manring.

“Me too,” said a voice behind Saba. He turned around to find Shrubb standing there.

“Fine.” Saba rolled his head around to release the tension in his neck. “Shrubb, you go pick out thirty strong looking lizzies and tell them they’re hired. Have them meet Haarhoff’s team before first light. The four of us will go out to the Heath with the hunters and then come back on our own. Of course, we’ll all have to get Clark’s permission. Now, I’m going to go see Kendric.”

Cissy returned to the Dechantagne estate after delivering the message to Saba Colbshallow. Cissy couldn’t read the scrawling script of the message like she could the printed words in books, but she knew what it said. It informed the young corporal that Mr. Streck was off the premises and that he should be watched. It was amazing what could be discovered by standing and listening. The humans usually treated the lizzies as though they were furniture.

Tisson was at his usual place by the front door and Cissy stopped for a moment to speak to him. She placed the back of her hand on her dewlap in greeting and the gesture was returned.

“You were not gone long,” said Tisson.

“It was a simple errand.”

“Did you receive any extra copper bits?”

“Not this time.”

It had taken a while for the lizardmen to realize that the humans would often give them additional copper bits as a bonus when some tasks were completed. The humans called these “tips.” Now the lizzies looked for them.

“Kheesie was looking for you earlier.”

“Why?”

“She wants you to take your turn caring for the young one.”

Cissy bobbed her head up and down in the human fashion and started for the door.

“Ssissiatok?”

“Yes?” asked Cissy, turning around, slightly surprised by the use of her lizzie name.

“Some of the others are talking. They say Ssterrost will not let you return to Tserich.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go back either.”

“I don’t. But I am old. You are still young. You could have returned with all your wealth and had a good life. But now they are saying that you are ‘khikheto tonahass hoonan’.”

“Maybe I am human on the inside.”

Inside the house, Cissy found Kheesie.

“Thank Hissussisthiss you are back. I haven’t had a chance to sleep since yesterday.”

“The god of forests had nothing to do with it. Where is the child?”

“The thin white and brown one has it.”

“Her,” corrected Cissy. “Where are they?”

“They are in the great room, but don’t go there. The matriarch is there and so are the blind warrior and the old frightened one.”

“It is fine. You may go rest. I will watch the child.” Cissy squinted, amused.

Cissy made her way into the parlor and took a place quietly in the corner. She was not afraid of the humans in question. In fact, she found them fascinating. All of the individuals described were present—Mr. and Mrs. Dechantagne, Governor Dechantagne-Calliere, Mrs. Godwin, and of course Iolana. The lizzies had their own descriptive names for all of them; the names Kheesie had used. Professor Calliere, whom they called “the tall one who makes no sense”, was not present. Mrs. Colbshallow, whom they simply called by the human word “lady”, was in the kitchen as usual.

“I think I should have something to say about it,” Mrs. Dechantagne was saying, “because of my unique situation in this house.”

“I am well aware that you are the lady of the house now,” replied Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere sharply. “Are you trying to rub my nose in it?”

“No! I don’t… that’s not the position to which I was referring.”

“My wife is alluding to the fact that she is the only Zaeri in the house,” said Mr. Dechantagne.

“Really? I suppose I just assumed that she was going to convert.”

“Leave that alone, Iolanthe. You know she has no desire to convert and you know that I wouldn’t have asked it of her.”

“I will leave this alone. And she must leave that alone. Mercy and his… solicitor are my concern, and I am more than capable of dealing with it.”

Mr. Dechantagne turned back to his wife, though of course he could not see her. “She’s right Yuah. You should stay out of this. You get too worked up over it. You’re too emotional.”

“I’m emotional?” cried Mrs. Dechantagne, jumping to her feet. “I’m the least emotional person in this house!

She stomped her foot twice, and marched out of the room.

“Oh, well done sister,” said Mr. Dechantagne. “Now I have absolutely no chance of a decent night’s sleep.”

“That’s your own fault. I didn’t tell you to marry her.”

A moment later though, the mystery was solved. The three Hertling siblings came walking down the road from the east. Hero and Hertzel carried large baskets filled with foliage, while their older sister had something that looked like a cricket bat casually slung over her shoulder. The twins saw their friends and waved, calling out greetings. Hero ran ahead and Senta met her at the road, giving her a great hug. Though he waved to his friends, Graham’s eyes were fixed on the instrument that Honor carried. When she was close enough that he could see it clearly, he found that it was not a cricket bat at all, but a lizzie sword. The main hand to hand combat weapon of the lizardmen was a thick sword made of wood but encrusted all around the edges with flint, obsidian, or sometimes even shark’s teeth. This one had shiny black obsidian flakes that appeared razor sharp.

“Where’d you get that?” asked Graham enviously.

“It was a gift,” Honor replied. “The chief of Tserich gave one to each of the members of the Colonial Council. I imagine most of them are hanging on display somewhere, but I like to carry mine when I have to go away from the town.”

“So where have you all been then?” asked Senta.

“We went to gather winter berries,” replied Hero.

“Perfect, we can have them for tea.”

“Oh, you can’t eat them,” said Honor. “They’re for decoration only.”

“We had loads of them hanging all around our house,” said Graham. “But it’s way past Kafira Mass now.”

Senta shot him a frown.

“What?”

“As a matter of fact,” continued Honor. “I got the idea from your mother, Graham. I think the red and green will brighten up the house and as I understand it, according to Brech tradition, they are often kept over the winter and not just on, um… holidays.”

“Can we go inside now,” asked Hero. “I’m just frozen.”

Honor opened the front door and they all stepped inside the home, which was only marginally warmer than the outside. Hertzel, with Graham help, got right to work lighting a fire in the stove, while the girls went into the other room and exchanged damp clothing for dry and wrapped up in thick blankets. Hero lent Senta one of her two housedresses, which was only slightly baggy and only slightly too short. The boys removed only their boots and socks, which they dried by the stove once the fire was going, but Hero brought each of them a blanket, and in a few minutes they too were feeling warm and cozy. The four ten-year-olds sat around the stove, Senta and Hero sharing a chair, while Honor placed the green branches filled with red berries festively around the small room.

“I brought bread and butter for tea,” said Graham at last.

“That’s his way of telling you that he’s hungry,” said Senta.

“No it isn’t.”

“That’s lovely Graham,” said Honor. “I was going to make some butter this week, but we’ve all been so busy that I just haven’t found the time. Hero, come help me prepare tea.”

“Let me help instead,” said Senta. “Hero’s not warmed up yet.”

“I’m fine, really,” said Hero, though she made no move to unwrap the blanket from around her.

“It would not be passend… um, proper. You are a guest in our house.”

“Please.”

“Very well then. Join me in the kitchen.”

Joining Honor in the kitchen meant taking three steps from where she was. Once there, Senta helped the eldest Hertling by slicing the bread that Graham had brought, which was then toasted on the stove.   Then they sliced cheese and apples and sausages, and these were served along with the toast and tea at the table.

“What has you so busy this week,” asked Senta, when they were halfway through the meal.

“Hmm?”

“What has you so busy that you weren’t able to make butter.”

“Besides council business,” replied Honor, “I’m spending quite a bit of time at the base trying to help those poor people off the ships get themselves situated. I barely have time to see to Hero and Hertzel’s schooling, let alone make butter or darn clothes. Fortunately my brother and sister have stepped up to do their part.”

“I could help.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’m sure. Besides, you must have plenty of your own work to keep you busy.”

“Not really,” said Senta. “Everything pretty much gets magiced at our house.”

“That must be nice,” said Honor dryly.