There was a knock.

“Come in,” said Lady Iolana.

The door opened and her father peered inside. He paused for a second, seeing her still in bed, but then he closed the door behind him and stepped across the room to take a seat in the comfy chair by the fireplace.

“It’s unusual for you to be in bed at this hour,” he said. “Not ill, are you?”

“No. I’m just being indolent.”

“Well, you are entitled, I suppose. It’s not everyday you turn fourteen.”

“No, it isn’t, but it seems like my birthday comes quicker every year.”

“Wait until you’re my age,” he said. “They fly at you like freight trains. We missed you at breakfast.”

“Esther brought me breakfast in bed. But I’m about ready to get up and about now.”

“What are your plans today?”

Iolana pulled the book, heretofore unnoticed from her side, and placed a silver bookmark between its pages before setting it on the nightstand.

“We are having our little get-together tonight, and I have a date for tea with Dovie. I thought I would visit some friends this morning.”

Mr. Staff stood up and walked over to the bedside. He picked up the book as if he was reading the cover, though he didn’t really look at it.

“You’re a very busy young lady,” he said. “I suppose you soon won’t have any time for me at all.”

“Don’t be silly, Father. We’re going hunting three days hence. We have to get that therizinosaurus that you’ve been after. Besides, we’ll see each other tonight.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. Setting the book back down, he turned and walked to the door. He paused to look back over his shoulder. “You have a present waiting for you downstairs.”

“I can’t wait,” she said with a smile.

As soon as Mr. Staff left, Esther entered. She was wearing a cheerful blue sundress.

“Have you decided what you want to wear?” she asked.

“I don’t want to clash with you,” said Iolana. “Perhaps my teal skirt, with a white blouse. Do I have a teal tie?”

“Yes, but you don’t have a matching hat.”

“Find a bit of teal lace and put it around my white boater. I’m sure Auntie Yuah has some if I don’t.”

Thirty minutes later, properly attired, Iolana and Esther descended the stairs. As usual for that time of day, Kayden was manning the front door. He opened it and ushered them outside. Sitting right in front of the portico was a new Sawyer and Sons model 12b steam carriage with a large red bow attached to its shiny sky blue bonnet.

“Golly!” exclaimed Iolana.

“Home in time for dinner,” said Baxter, when he passed through the parlor. “That’s something new.”

“Just stopped by to clean up and change clothes. I’ve got a date with Abby tonight.”

“I like that girl. Shame she had to end up with you.”

“I feel the same way about you and Senta… and Senta,” said Peter. “Where is my niece, anyway?”

“I’m hiding under the table, Uncle Peter!” Though hiding, she was clearly visible once one knew where to look.”

“Why are you hiding under the table?”

“We’re playing Hide and Go Seek! Don’t tell Daddy where I am!”

“And if I don’t, how will he every find you?”

“Hurry up and get ready for your date,” said Baxter, “before that poor foolish girl figures out what she’s gotten herself into. I hope you’re taking her someplace nice.”

“Café Idella.”

“Well, perhaps the food will make up for the company.”

Peter jogged up the stairs to his room. Thirty minutes later, he descended, dressed in a sharp new black suit with a green waistcoat.

“How do I look?”

“You look great, Uncle,” said Sen, now in Baxter’s lap reading from a large picture book.

“You seem to have made yourself presentable, much to my surprise,” said Baxter. “Do you have enough money?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” said Peter, checking his pockets to make sure he had his watch and wallet. “Don’t wait up.”

“Is my rickshaw here?” he asked the majordomo. “I said 5:30.”

The lizzie nodded.

“Don’t wait up,” Peter called again, as he headed out the door.

He had hired the same lizzie rickshaw driver several times over the past few weeks. The big fellow was prompt, which was not always the case with the lizardmen. He had gone over the night’s itinerary when he had hired the lizzie, so as soon as he was situated, they started off. The Bassett home was not all that far from the foundry, so the trip covered much of the same territory that the young wizard had traveled only a short while before. This time it took longer, even though the distance was slightly less, because no matter how strong a lizzie puller might be, he couldn’t keep up with a lorry.

It was the end of Festuary, and unseasonably warm. All the snow had melted. It was still very nippy when the sun went down though. It was dark when they reached the Bassett home.

Peter knocked on the front door, which was opened by Mr. Bassett.

“Hello, my boy!” he boomed, slapping the young wizard on the shoulder. “How are you on this fine evening?”

“Good, sir. And you?”

“I’m always good. There’s no profit in being anything else.” He turned his head toward the stairs. “Abigail! Your young man is here!”

“He can sit down and wait, can’t he?” called back a shrill voice that could only have been Mrs. Bassett.

“Have a seat and relax,” said Mr. Bassett. “Can I offer you something to take the chill off?”

“Nothing too strong. I didn’t have time for tea today.”

“I’ve got just the thing—a little aperitif, as they say in Natine.” Mr. Bassett stepped to the wet bar and poured a concoction into a small glass, which he brought to the young wizard. “Sweet vermouth with seltzer, and a slice of pickled lemon. Not only will it warm you up, but it keeps away the intestinal parasites.”

“Well, I’m all for that,” said Peter, taking a sip.

He winced a bit at the taste. He was not a big drinker. Thankfully, he was saved from having to take another sip by the arrival of Abigail Bassett at the bottom of the stairs.

Abby was resplendent in a crimson evening gown, with a faux-corset lacing up her waist and a fall of black taffeta down the front. Black lace around the sleeves and collar matched the black underdress that just peeked out around her feet. Her long ash brown hair was up in an arrangement of bows and braids and swirls that was so complicated, it was almost impossible to grasp, let alone describe.

“Good evening,” she said. “I hope I look nice enough to dine at Café Idella.”

“If you were wearing the moon as a broach and stars as earrings, you couldn’t look more lovely than you do right now.”

“Ooh, a wizard and a poet,” said Mrs. Bassett descending the stairs behind her daughter.

“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.

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.

“It’s unnatural!” continued the visitor. “And it’s drawing away our females like moths to a fire pit.”

“If you can’t keep control of your females, it’s not my fault!” roared the Great King.

“Perhaps we should settle this with arms,” suggested the village king, “your greatest warrior against mine.”

“There’s no need for that!” cried Hsrandtuss, climbing over the table. “I’ll tear you apart myself with my bare claws!”