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 he was followed by a woman in a khaki dress and blouse.

“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?”  Senta 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.”

Senta grasped her face in both hands as she stared at the photograph hanging above Zurfina’s bed.  What could she have been thinking?  Photographs were by their very nature limited to black, white, and shades of grey.  This picture however had been hand colored over the image, so that the result was much more real than a painting.  In front of a lush green forest backdrop was a Mirsannan divan with long wooden legs and large lazy padded arms but no back.  Reclining across its width, one arm draped over the end, one leg bent lazily at the knee was Zurfina, naked, not even a feather boa, silk stockings, or a piece of jewelry to clothe her.  And lying across the divan in the other direction, in a mirrored pose, was Senta—just as naked.  Her front bits were hidden behind Zurfina’s flaring hips, but her bosoms were right there for God and everyone to see.

“Well honestly, Pet, I’m chuffed.  I don’t think it could have come out any better.”

“I…”

“You love it too.”

“I… somehow thought that painting over it would… obnubilate it… a bit.”

“Why would we want that?  Look how lovely you look.”

“No one can ever see this,” said Senta.

“No one will see it.  It’s here above my bed.  Who could possibly see it?”

“Every man in Port Dechantagne.”

“Cheeky twonk!  I’ve been virtually celibate these last few years.”

“Well, now you have a reason to stay that way.”

“Quite the reverse.  I think viewing this picture might add to the… flavor of a gentleman’s visit.”

“Eww!”

“Isaak appreciated it.”

“Eww.  You mean Isaak Wissinger?”

Zurfina nodded.

“Double Eww!”

“Well, surely you’ll show it to…” Zurfina snapped her fingers, searching her memory.

“Graham.”

“Yes, surely you’ll show him?”

“No.”

“But didn’t he propose marriage?”

“How did you know about that?”

Zurfina cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, alright.  You know every intimate detail of our conversation but you can’t remember his name.  But, no, he didn’t propose.  We’re just promised.  And no, I’m never going to show him this picture.”

“He will see your fanny eventually.”

“Of course he will, but he doesn’t need to see yours.”

“I think Smedley would like it as well.”

“Bloody hell!  That’s just disturbing.  You will hide this whenever you have anyone, man or woman, in this room.  Cast one of your famous obfuscations on it.  Otherwise… I’ll pinch you… hard.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

“Fine.  It seems such a waste to have this wonderful picture if I’m the only one who gets to see it.”

“You should have thought of that before you talked me into posing with you.”

“Well, enough of this,” said Zurfina, stepping across the room to her dresser and opening the top drawer.  “I have something for you.”

She returned with two small identical hand mirrors.  Handing one of them to Senta, she said. “These will allow us to communicate and to observe.”

Senta examined her mirror.  It seemed unremarkable.  “Uuthanum,” she said.

The image in the mirror changed from one of her face to a view looking down upon Zurfina from above and in front.  She could see her own legs in the corner of the glass.

“You see?” said Zurfina, looking up and therefore out of the mirror, though not quite meeting Senta’s eyes.

“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 some of that was covered by the bouquet of flowers gently tucked at the base and flaring outward.  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?”

“What would you have me do?” asked Mother Linton sullenly.

“Do what you should be doing.  I don’t care whether you let lizzies in the church or not—I gather there aren’t that many interested anyway.  Just let those mixed families like the Finklers and the Korlanns attend church together.  You might even find a new convert.  You will need someone to replace Yuan Weiss after all.”

There were about two dozen guests at Iolana Staff’s Accord Day party, ranging in age from the girl’s contemporaries like Willa Tice to young adults like Saba and his wife.  It was an odd sort of grouping, Saba thought, and he asked his mother about it when he saw her poke her head out of the kitchen.

“The girl reads too much,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.  “She doesn’t have much in common with the other children her age.  I think she would have invited only adults if she had her druthers.”

“How is Mrs. Dechantagne?  I hear she’s not feeling well.”

“She’s taking the cure.”

“Taking the cure?  From what… drink?”

“First things first,” replied his mother.  “Governor Staff is taking good care of her.  She won’t let her out of her sight.”

“Did you have to make all the food?”  Saba watched the lizzies, wearing red, white, and blue aprons passing out finger foods.

“Oh heavens no,” his mother replied.  “It’s all catered.”

One of the lizzies waved an appetizer tray in his direction and Saba examined the tiny sausages, little cheese pies, dainty meat pasties, and roasted shrimps.  With her free hand, the servant passed him a small plate, and he picked one of each of the items.

“Get an extra sausage,” advised Shemar Morris, scooping up several sausages for himself.  “They’re fantastic.”

Saba wondered if he should gather a plate for Loana, but looking around, he didn’t see her.

He followed Shemar around the corner and saw him begin to circle the group of girls in the parlor, like a predator trying to separate one from the pack.  From the flash of eyes and the giggles, he knew that the girls had spotted their would-be hunter and were not overly worried.  Gabrielle Bassett, Dutty Speel, and Hero Hertling all undoubtedly knew the truth: that the real threat was from each other.  In a land where women outnumbered men, the young ladies wielded their charms like fishing lures.  Gabby with sparkling blue eyes and a face like an angel, and Hero with her long raven locks and thick exotic lips, both had the advantage over the rather blank looking Dutty.  Eleven year old Sherree Glieberman, standing next to the three older girls, tried to continue whatever conversation they had been having, but their attention was all on Shemar.

Continuing through the house, Saba found his wife in close consultation with Wenda Lanier.  He walked up to ask her if he could bring her a plate of food, but she spoke before he had a chance to.

“Saba, there is a rumor that Billingbow’s is being served in the foyer.  Be a dear and bring me one.”

Saba nodded and turned on his heel to head toward the foyer.  There was no soda water there, but the front door was open and on the front portico, he found a large barrel filled with ice, frosty bottlenecks sticking out.  He pulled out three—one for Loana and one for himself, and an extra in case Wenda wanted one.

As he turned to step back inside, he noticed a huddle of young men near the corner of the house.  Stepping toward them, he caught a snippet of the conversation.

“It’s on for the tenth.  Then it’s smooth sailing…”

The face of Walter Charmley turned toward Saba, then turned back to shush the speaker.  The rest of the group faced the police inspector and it was as if the fates had conspired to place in one small spot all the mischief making talent of Port Dechantagne.  Warden Charmley was next to his brother, along with young Ascan Tice, newcomer Maro McCoort, Hertzal Hertling, and the obvious ringleader Graham Dokkins.

“Just what are you young gentlemen planning?” wondered Saba.

“Nothing that concerns the police,” said Graham, who had been the one speaking before.

“You’re not planning any more dinosaur races are you Graham?”

“Like I said, nothing that concerns the police.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt is all—you or Walter or these other boys.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Walter.  “It was Warden.”

“Shut up,” said Warden.

“Just be careful boys.”  Saba turned and went for the front door.

“Saba.”  The police inspector turned back around.  Graham stepped very close to him.

“You haven’t heard anything about Staff’s expedition, have you?  About Senta?”

“No.”

“Well… because Maro is worried, and all.”

“I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”

Back inside, Saba was looking for his wife who seemed to have disappeared again, when he almost literally ran into Dot Shrubb.  Wearing a bright pink dress, her copper hair parted in the middle and pulled back in long curls, Dot stood out in a not unpleasant way.

“Hello.  I didn’t know you were here,” said Saba.  “Is Eamon with you?”

Dot shook her head.  “Working.”

“How are you?”

She shrugged.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Iolana.”

“Church.”

“Oh, I see.  Um, have you seen my wife?”

“Out back.  WC.”

“Oh.”

“Everyone!” Iolana Staff called from the edge of the room.  “It’s time to go to the garden for games.”

She shot out the door, trailed by Willa Tice and four other girls as well as a single nine year old boy.  The older guests followed along.  Saba noticed that Shemar Morris had been landed by Gabrielle Bassett.  All was not lost for the other girls though.  Dutty Speel walked arm in arm with Benny Markham, and Hero Hertling held hands with Marzell Lance.  Of the group, only Sherree Glieberman was unescorted.  Saba followed along with everyone else and found Loana waiting outside.

In the garden, party goers played croquet or Hightower, and then the girls watched the boys run sack races.  The lizzies brought out cucumber sandwiches and lemonade and they all ate sitting on folding wooden chairs around the gazebo, while they listened to music from a mechanical player.  Afterwards, they played Doggy Doggy and Honey, Do You Love Me, and just as the sun was going down No Ghost Out Tonight.

Then it was time for dinner.  In the back of the house a long table had been set up with thirteen chairs down each side and one at the table’s head.  Each place was labeled.  In addition to the party guests, Iolana’s mother the Governor, Saba’s mother, and Cissy the lizzie joined the group.  Saba and Loana were seated at the far end from the young hostess, who sat at the head.  This was fine, as far as Saba was concerned, but his wife immediately hissed at him.

“Why is she seated there?”

Saba looked where Loana indicated and saw Dot Shrubb seated between Iolanthe and his mother, not a seat that he would have chosen for himself.  But he had to admit that it did show some status.

“Well, Dot’s well thought of,” he said.

The evening was topped off with fireworks.  The party was a great success.  All in all it was one of the most memorable Accord Days that Saba had ever experienced.