The following day, Staff went to visit Iolanthe. He was aware that it might not be seemly, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t seen a glimpse of her in five days, eight hours. He hadn’t held her and kissed her in sixteen days, five hours. And he hadn’t made love to her in eighteen days, three hours. His plan to arrive when most members of the household were not up and about went awry when he forgot that it was the Zaeri Sabbath. As he was walking up the steps, the lizardman major-domo opened the front door and out stepped Yuah Dechantagne and another beautiful dark-haired woman.

“Good morning Mr. Staff,” said Yuah. “May I introduce my friend Honor Hertling?”

“Good morning ladies,” he replied.

“Don’t mind us. We’re on our way to Shrine.”

The two women went down the stairs and around the house, while Staff stepped in the open door and waited in the parlor as Iolanthe was informed by the servant of his arrival. When she entered the room she stole his breath away. She wore a pink dress, decorated all down the front with metallic brocade in the design of stems and leaves and inset with pearls where the blossoms would be. The collar was high in back, plunging down in front, revealing her long, thin neck to its best advantage. Her auburn hair had been carefully curled, long in the back and short curls falling across her forehead. The look was completed by a pink top hat with a gauzy veil which covered her face, but did not hide those remarkable aquamarine eyes.

“Going out?”

“I was,” she said. “I didn’t know when I was going to see you.”

“I didn’t know when I should come.”

“Anytime.”

Iolanthe held out her elbow and Staff took two steps forward to take it. The elbow wasn’t enough though and his left hand reached up to caress the side of her cheek. Her eyes opened wider, but she offered no protest. His hand followed up the line of her jaw.

“My God, you’ve pierced your ear.”

“Yes, both of them. I got the idea when we were in Enclep. All the women there have pierced ears.”

“They also carve magic runes into their breasts and rub ashes into the open wounds to make them stand out.”

“Well, maybe I’ll try that next week. You will note that I’m not the only one in town with my ears pierced. If both Senta and I do something, it’s sure to become the next big thing.”

“I’m surprised you are comparing yourself to Zurfina’s girl.”

“I am not comparing us. Still, there is no denying that the child is popular. Shall we take a walk around the yard?”

Staff led her by the elbow through the front door, held open for them by the same lizardman. Down the front steps, they turned left and followed the winding cobblestone pathway between the trees, rock gardens, and empty flower beds.

“This yard should finally look the way that I want it to this spring. I’ve spent a great many marks to get it ready.”

“You’ve spent a great many marks overall. I understand you’ve been paying for ships full of Zaeri refugees to escape Freedonia and come here to live. If you keep it up, you may lose your reputation as a heartless and manipulative bitch.”

“Oh, I doubt that will happen. Let’s sit down in the gazebo.

The small white gazebo on the west side of the yard had a two person porch swing suspended from lengths of small steel chain. Staff held the swing steady to allow Iolanthe to sit down, a purely chivalrous act since the chains were hung so that the swing moved only a few inches either way in any case. He then sat down beside her.

“I didn’t want the children playing on this swing, so I had it strung like this,” Iolanthe explained. “They have their own swing and a slide out back.”

“Are they safe for the children to play on?”

Iolanthe’s neck stiffened and she slowly turned to look searchingly at his face. She found what she was looking for.

“How long have you known?”

“That Iolana was mine? Since the first moment I saw her. She looks just like a picture I have of my sister, before she died. Except for the eyes.”

“Yes, she has my eyes.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Can you drive me now, Marzell?” Yuah asked the boy.

It might have been difficult to find humans in Birmisia who were willing to work as servants, but it was surprisingly simple to find young men willing to serve as drivers for one of only two steam carriages on the continent. Terrence had given out that the position was open and had faced an avalanche of applicants. He had narrowed the selection down to three boys, and had let Yuah choose her favorite. She had chosen one of the Zaeri boys from Freedonia. Marzell Lance was a serious young man of sixteen, with a shock of perpetually mussed black hair and brown eyes. He always seemed to be hungry. Though he had proven he could not only drive, but maintain the steam carriage, that was not why he had been chosen. He, like so many coming from Freedonia, had arrived alone. His sister, the only member of his family with him, had died on the ship.

Marzell jumped up and held open the outside door. Yuah walked through and he followed. The steam carriage was parked near one of the sheds. It looked as pristine as it had when it had arrived on the ship from Greater Brechalon. The minor damage caused by Yuah’s accidental diversion into a snow bank had been repaired, and from the rich black leather of the seats to the shining copper bonnet, it was clean and polished.

“I’ll have to fire up the boiler, Ma’am,” said Marzell.

“I know. That’s fine.”

Marzell held out a helping hand for Yuah, as she stepped up into the passenger seat. As she sat with folded hands in her lap, he stepped around to the back to light the boiler. He shoveled in several more scoops of coal for good measure as well. Then popping back around to the driver’s side, he climbed in.

“If I had known you were planning to go out, Ma’am, I would have fired it up earlier.”

“I know. It’s alright.”

“Where did you want to go, Ma’am?”

“Please stop saying ‘Ma’am’. I feel old enough as it is.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Where did you want to go, Ma… Mrs. Dechantagne.”

“Take me to Miss Hertling’s home, please.”

Shifting the vehicle into gear, Marzell stepped on the forward accelerator, but with a still relatively cool engine, the steam carriage rolled forward very slowly. It seemed as though it took at least five minutes to reach the gate, which was no more than fifty feet away. Once the young man had gotten out and opened the gate though, steam had built up enough that they were able to start down the road at a respectable speed. It was less than ten minutes later that Yuah was knocking on Honor’s door.

The front door of the small cottage opened and Honor stepped outside. She immediately pulled Yuah to her and enfolded her in her arms. Tears welled up in Yuah’s eyes, but she bit her lip and fought them back. By the time her friend let go of her, she had screwed her face back into order.

“Come in.”

“Just a minute. I didn’t know if you were here. I have to tell Marzell that I’ll be staying a few minutes.”

“Tell him you’ll be a couple of hours and that he should come back,” said Honor. “Don’t argue. Just do it.”

Yuah did as she was told, and as Marzell took off with a whoosh in the steam carriage, she stepped inside the Hertling house and closed the door behind her. Honor was stirring the contents of a large crockery bowl with a big wooden spoon. Her typical brown and black dress was covered by a white apron, now stained with a brown smear.

“I made Hertzal a cake last week, so now I’m making one for Hero.”

“Chocolate?”

“Yes. Cocoa isn’t as dear now that the ships are stopping at Enclep again.”

She tilted the bowl over and began scraping the contents with the spoon out into a cast iron pan. Then she carried the pan over to the stove, opened the oven door, and stuck her free hand inside. Judging that the coals were right, she slid the pan inside and shut the door.

“Come sit down,” said Honor. “We have half an hour before it’s done baking.”

She sat down on the rather worn couch that was the center piece of combination living room and kitchen. She patted the seat next to her, indicating where Yuah should sit. Yuah did so, sitting stiffly, her back several inches away from the couch’s back.

“You weren’t ready to attend shrine last Sabbath?” asked Honor.

“The dress wasn’t ready.”

“You don’t need the dress. You have plenty of clothes.”

“I have some old servant clothes. All of my new clothes, from the past year and a half, are way too ostentatious.”

“That’s one way to describe it. You could probably wear one of my dresses. Although I arrived on continent with a single shrine dress, I now have three.”

“You bought not one but two dresses?”

“Of course not. I made them.”

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Senta strolled down the white gravel street toward her home, singing the latest song to arrive from Brech. The wax cylinder had come by ship exactly one month before, and it was already almost worn smooth by constant playing on the music box in Parnorsham’s store.

I’ll pay you a pfennig for your dreams,

Dreaming’s not as easy as it seems,

Images of her, are keeping me awake,

And so I’ll have to pay a pfennig for your dreams.

When Senta sang it, she replaced “images of her” with “images of him”. She thought that it made more sense for a girl to be kept awake with images of a boy than the other way around. If it had been her choice, she would have chosen a girl to sing the song, rather than the somewhat effeminate-voiced man on the recording.

“Not a very catchy tune.”

Senta turned to see a man emerging from behind a tree along the east side of the road. It was the same tall, dark man that she had seen arriving on the Majestic. His long, black rifle frock coat had made him blend into the background of the woods in the shadows of the late afternoon. She didn’t need to guess that he was a wizard. She could see the magic aura amorphously floating around him. She wondered if he could see hers.

“I’ve been waiting quite a while for you, sorceress.” He smiled broadly, his thin-lipped mouth seeming abnormally wide across his heavy jaw line.

“I’m not a sorceress. I’m just a little girl and you should leave me alone.”

“Ah, I know that game.” He pulled the horn-rimmed spectacles from his upturned nose and wiped first his eyes and then the lenses with a handkerchief, replacing the glasses on his face and the handkerchief in his pocket. “You make three statements. One is true and the other two are lies. Then I have to guess which is true. Right? Then I will have to say, you are a little girl.”

Senta crossed her arms and rocked back onto the heels of her shoes.

“My turn,” said the wizard. “My name is Smedley Bassington. I was born in Natine, Mirsanna. I know nothing about magic.”

“That’s too easy,” said Senta. “Smedley.”

“You should say Mr. Bassington. After all, I am your elder. One mustn’t be rude.”

“Okay, this one is harder,” replied Senta. “I’m going to have to say, number two, you are my elder.”

Bassington took a step forward, and then another.

“Uuthanum,” said Senta, waving her hand.

“Uuthanum,” said Bassington, waving his hand in an almost identical motion.

It might have seemed as though the two were exchanging some kind of secret greeting. In actuality, Senta had cast an invisible protective barrier between them. Bassington had dispelled the magic, destroying the barrier.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, the chosen apprentice of the most powerful sorceress in the world. That is, after I found out Zurfina was here. I had no idea where she had gotten to. Here I was, checking out that idiot and his machine, and instead I find the two of you.”

“I think that’s too many statements,” said Senta.

He stopped in the middle of the road about five feet away from her. A little wisp of wind whipped his short graying hair.

“Did she leave you here alone to take care of yourself? That’s just what she does, you know? She’s totally unreliable.”

“Are you allowed to use questions?” asked Senta, thinking to herself that this wizard did indeed seem to have her guardian pegged.

“Let’s not play that game,” said Bassington. “Let’s play something a little better suited to our unique abilities.”

He held out his hand, waist high, palm down and said. “Maiius Uuthanum nejor.”

Red smoke rose up from the ground just below his hand. It swirled and coalesced into a shape. The shape became a wolf. Its red eyes seemed to glow and the hair on its back and shoulders stood up as it bared its dripping fangs and snarled at Senta. She held out her own hand, palm pointed down.

“Maiius Uuthanum,” she said.

Green smoke rose from the ground below her hand, swirling around in a little cloud, finally billowing away to reveal a velociraptor with bright green and red feathers.

“A bird?” said Bassington, derisively.

The wolf lunged forward, snapping its teeth. The velociraptor clamped its long jaw shut on the wolf’s snout, and grasped its head in its front claws. The huge curved claw on the velociraptor’s hind foot slid down the canine’s belly, slicing it open and spilling steaming entrails out onto the gravel. A moment later, in a swirl of multihued smoke, both creatures disappeared again.

“Prestus Uuthanum,” said Bassington, placing his right palm on his chest, and casting a spell of protection on his own body.

“Uuthanum uusteros pestor,” said Senta, spreading her arms out wide. She seemed to split down the center as she stepped both right and left at the same time. Where there had been one twelve year old girl a moment ago, there were now four twelve year old girls who looked exactly the same.

The wizard waved his hand and said. “Ariana Uuthanum sembor.” All four Sentas found themselves stuck in a mass of giant, sticky spider webs.

One of the blond girls fell down. One of them pulled vainly at the webbing. The third picked up a rock from the ground and threw it with all of her might at Bassington hitting him just above the temple. The fourth waved her hand, saying the magic word “uuthanum”, and dispelling the webs. The girl who had pulled at the webbing helped the fallen girl stand up, and then the two of them merged together. The other two girls merged into her, and once again, there was only one Senta.

“Uuthanum uusteros vadia,” said Bassington and he disappeared.

Senta stood there for a moment, and then out of the corner of her eye, she saw several pieces of gravel shift on the ground to her left. She pointed her finger in the direction.

“Uuthanum Regnum,” she said.

A ray of colorful, sparkling light sprayed from her fingertip in the direction she pointed. Bassington cried out in surprise and reappeared, though he didn’t seem to suffer any ill effects of the spell, which usually left its victims covered in painful rashes.

“Erros Uuthanum tijiia,” he said.

A huge spectral hand, more than five feet across, appeared in the air in front of Senta. The middle finger was bent back beneath the thumb, and then flicked Senta in the chest. She fell backwards onto her bottom, crunching her bustle, and sliding several feet across the gravel road. She struggled to suck in a breath.

“Time to say ‘uncle’, don’t you think?” Bassington crossed his arms.

Senta tilted her head back and at last managed to pull some air into her lungs. The wizard waited.

“Well,” he said, finally.

“The sky is purple,” said Senta. “My dress is orange, and my dragon is going to bite your head off.”

Bassington stared for only a moment at Senta’s blue dress, before diving out of the way, just as Bessemer landed with a huge whomp right where he had been standing.

Had her lavender top hat not been tied onto her head with a thick strand of lace, Yuah was sure that it would have been blown away and lost. The wind whipped around her face and she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Scenery was flying past her on both sides at an alarming pace—trees, houses, lizardmen, a group of playing boys. Suddenly something appeared at her left elbow. She carefully turned her eyes left without looking away from the road. One of the boys that she had passed was running beside the carriage. A second later, the others had caught up and were running along beside her as well.

“Hey lady!” yelled one boy. “Why don’t you open her up?”

“Yeah!” called another. “We want to see this thing go!”

Yuah turned her attention back to her driving. She was sure that the steam carriage would outpace the children shortly, but they stayed right at her side, encouraging her to increase her speed. When she finally pulled up to the front of Mrs. Bratihn’s, the boys gathered beside the vehicle, scarcely breathing hard.

“Why didn’t you go faster?”

“Yeah, how come?”

Tears welled up in Yuah’s eyes.

“I was going as fast as I could!” She let out a sob.

“Don’t cry, lady,” said the oldest boy, apparently the one who had called out first on the road. “Here. Let me open the relief cock for you.”

Yuah pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it to her face, as the boy moved around to the back of the vehicle and turned the lever.

“Be sure and don’t –sob– burn your fingers on the steam.”

“What are you boys doing here!” yelled Mrs. Bratihn, shooting out from the door of her shop with her own head of steam. “Get out of here and leave Mrs. Dechantagne alone!”

“We didn’t do nothing!” yelled back one small boy, but they never-the-less went running.

“What did they do to you, dear?” asked the older woman, placing her arm around Yuah’s shoulder, once she had climbed down.

“They didn’t do anything. It’s this damned steam carriage. I hate it, but Terrence wants me to drive it.”

“Did he tell you that you have to drive it?”

“No, but he brought it all the way here from Brech.”

“Come inside and have some tea.”

Yuah followed Mrs. Bratihn into her shop where they both sat down on the couch. Mrs. Luebking, who was already in the process of pouring tea, added another cup and handed one to each of the other women, then took the last for herself and sat down in a chair. Yuah sipped the tea and took a deep breath.

“Now tell me all about it,” said Mrs. Bratihn.

“You know I used to watch the steam carriages zipping around Brech every day and I always thought it would be just ace to have one of my own. But it’s just so bleeding complicated. You have to push in the clutch to shift gears and you have to press down on the forward accelerator just the right amount when you let the clutch out. And you always have to watch the steam gauge or the whole thing might explode. It’s just too much pressure.”

“You should just tell your husband that it’s too much for you,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “Men love it when you act helpless anyway.”

“That may be fine for most,” replied Yuah, putting away the handkerchief. “But I’m a Dechantagne. At least I am now. There are different expectations for me than there are for most women.”

“Maybe you could tell him that you want a driver,” suggested Mrs. Luebking. “Back in Brech, most of the ladies have drivers. After all, driving is a lot of manual labor.”

Yuah was thoughtful for a moment.

“That might work,” she said. “Mrs. Calliere is always saying that women of our station should do less.”

“Mrs. Calliere, your sister-in-law?”

“Oh no, the professor’s mother.”

“Ah,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “There you go. Tell him you need a driver and Bob’s your uncle. Now what else can we do for you today?”

“I need another new dress.”

“My dear, do you even have room in your closets?”

Yuah smiled slightly. “I have spent rather a lot on fashion in the past few months. But this one needs to be different. I need a dress for shrine. It needs to be a little more subdued.”

Mrs. Bratihn and Mrs. Luebking looked at one another.

“I’ll be quite frank, dear,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “I don’t know anything about the requirements of your religion and what might be appropriate for your shrine.”

“Oh, there’s nothing special really. I just need something nice, but simple, without a lot of extras—you know, no feathers or flowers, and not too much brocade.”

“I don’t know…”

“Here. Just a moment.”

Yuah sat down her tea cup, got up, and stepping out the door. She was back a moment later, having retrieved a periodical from the steam carriage. It was the Brysin’s Weekly Ladies’ Journal from Magnius of last year, the newest issue likely to be found in Birmisia. Flipping it open, she showed the dressmaker a photograph of a woman wearing a new creation from Freedonia. The dress was black and simple, featuring black lace around the waist and in a square collar around the neckline. Though it was swept up in back and emphasized with a massive bow, the bow too was black and didn’t stand out from the rest of the dress.

“I think we may be able to do that,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “Yes, yes, I quite like that. It’s simple but elegant. You may become a real trend-setter. I imagine with you wearing that, many women here will want to copy it. Of course you are always good for business, dear.”

“I’m going to need a new hip-bag,” said Yuah, pointing to the enormous back-side of the dress.

“Please,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “Call it a bustle if you must, but here in the store we like to call them dress improvers. We certainly do not call them hip-bags.”

“Well, I’m going to need quite an improvement to my ass, if this picture is any indication.”

The following day the party reached Tsuus. It was a large town on the edge of the river. Staff estimated that there were more than two hundred buildings constructed of wood. Two thirds of them were built on a small rise just off the shore. The others were constructed on stilts above the water. There were thousands of lizardmen here, their bodies painted with red ochre into dozens of designs. Few carried weapons, but those who did had long spears with enormous stone tips and the wooden swords lined with tiny chips of obsidian for which the reptilians were famous.

The seven humans and their three lizzie companions walked through the muddy streets between the wooden buildings, and Staff marveled at their construction. They were as solidly built as many of the homes in Port Dechantagne and looked as though they had stood where they were for dozens of generations. They were pieced together carefully and sealed with mud. Animal skins formed most of the doors, though a few doors were made of wood, attached with leather hinges. Smoke rose from the centers of the roofs. The black and yellow eyes of hundreds of lizardmen followed them as they made their way through the dirt streets.

The group without consciously following a specific course through the wooden buildings of the lizardmen, soon arrived in the center of the town, steered there by the placement of the structures. A group of colorfully painted lizardmen awaited them.

“That’s the chief and his witch doctor,” said Graham, indicating a singularly large and impressive reptilian, standing next to a very old and shrunken looking one.

The large lizardman raised his hand and pressed it to his neck, palm side out. Graham, the shortest person in the party and looking pitifully small beside the huge green-hued creatures did likewise. The chief hissed out a monologue several minutes long, pointing first at the humans and then the three lizardmen who traveled with them and then back again to the humans. Graham replied just as loquaciously, and then turned to inform Staff of the conversation.

“I’m not even going to try to pronounce the chief’s name. He’s given us a pretty standard greeting, though he’s not very happy to see us here. He knows we have suuwasuu.”

“What’s that?”

“Magic. His witch doctor can detect it. They use the same word for our guns too though. Anyway, he’s not too keen on us being here, but he’s not going to try anything. They still remember Great Suusthek, the Lizzie city-state.”

“They’re still afraid of us?”

“Well, really they’re afraid of Zurfina. Also, they weren’t too friendly with Suusthek anyway. Their king used to demand all kinds of tribute and prisoners. Compared to them, Port Dechantagne is a great neighbor.”

“Tell them we need passage across the river,” said Staff. “Tell them that we are looking for burning black rocks and that it will bring great prosperity to all of them.”

Graham began translating. It was clear that he was having a bit of trouble with concepts like prosperity, but at last he completed his statements to the reptilians and seemed pleased. The chief spoke again, and once again the boy translated.

“Tomorrow we will take you across the swift water. Tonight you will stay in the home of Sanjo’s family.” Of course the chief used Sanjo’s actual name, rather than the pseudonym crafted for him by humans. “If you can pay, we have many workers.”

“Tell the chief I have a present for him,” said Staff.

He dropped his pack from his shoulders and withdrew a small bag which he handed to Graham. The boy shook the bag, obviously full of coins, then stepped over to the chief and handed it to him. The lizardman opened the poke and poured some of the shiny copper pieces inside into his palm. He hissed, nodding his great head.

“He likes that,” said Graham. “They all like pfennigs. How many did you give him?”

“Ten marks worth,” replied Staff.

“That’s a king’s ransom for Lizzies,”

“Let’s hope nobody needs ransoming.”

The party was led to one of the large square wooden buildings. It, like the others around it, was roughly forty feet square, with a sloping roof. The door was an animal skin and there was only a dirt floor. The inside was all one large room and in the center was a stone hearth with a fire. The smoke escaped from a hole in the center of the ceiling. Seven lizardmen, in addition to the three they brought with them, joined the humans around the fire.

“Are these Sanjo’s family then?” Staff asked the boy.

“Not like we think of family. They’re more like roommates. The Lizzies lay eggs in big nests in the woods—lots of them together. When it’s time for the eggs to hatch, they go bring the babies home, but nobody really knows which babies belong to which mother.”

“Savages,” said Femke Kane. “Horrible savages.”

“That’s just the way they do things,” said Graham. “The little lizzies aren’t like our babies. They can run around and stuff.”

“How did you learn so much about them?” asked Miss Jindra.

“I’ve been working with them on the docks for about three years now. They’re just like anybody else. If they find somebody who’ll listen to them, they talk.”

“You know, I didn’t see any little ones when we came into town,” said Mrs. Kane.

“They’re hiding,” said Graham.

“Hiding from who?” wondered Miss Jindra.

“From us,” he replied. “From you mostly. You’re the one with the suuwasuu. I’ve never even seen a baby Lizzie. I’ve only ever talked to one person who has. I hope I get to see one before we leave.”

“I suppose we should eat and rest,” said Staff.

“Do you think we should take turns watching?” asked Mouliets. “They will probably try to kill us in our sleep.”

Graham made a dismissive gesture. “You’re safer here than you would be in Natine.”

Sanjo hissed something.

“We need to eat outside though,” Graham continued. “They don’t eat inside their houses, only sleep.”

“Alright,” said Staff. “Let’s lay down our gear here. We’ll go outside and eat. But we will keep a watch tonight. Kane, Mouliets, Glieberman, and myself—we’ll each take a two hour shift.”

After setting down their gear, they stepped back outside. Sanjo wandered about the area, interacting with other lizardmen, but Cheebie and Mimsie stayed close to the humans.

“They’re not from here,” explained Graham. “Their town is about thirty miles west.”

“Aren’t both towns an awfully long way to walk to work from?” asked Miss Jindra.

“The Lizzies come in and work in town for a week or so at a time. They sleep just outside of the town limits, usually in trees. Then a couple of times a month, they go back and take their money home. Of course there are a bunch of Lizzies that live in Port Dechantagne all the time now, mostly servants.”

“Are they still cordial with the transient lizardmen?” asked Mrs. Kane.

“Huh?”

“Are they still friendly with each other—the Lizzies that live in town and those here.”

“Not really. The Lizzies in different towns aren’t too friendly with each other anyway, so the ones that live in Port Dechantagne are in the same boat.”

A lizardman, a stranger, approached the humans with a large joint of meat skewered on a spear. He handed the meat to Staff and hissed out a long explanation, hand in hand with a series of gestures, which Graham translated.

“This is from the chief’s house. It really means we’re safe tonight. They don’t kill anybody they share food with—at least not that same day. They know that we like to cook our food, so they made a fire for us over there.”

The reptilians had prepared a large fire, and had even set up two forked sticks on either side of if, so that the spear with the meat skewered upon it, could be draped across the fire and roasted. It was obviously some kind of dinosaur meat, which only some members of the party had come to enjoy, but after half an hour, the smells coming from it made the mouth of even the most picky human among them water. When they all agreed that the meat looked done, Mouliets pulled out a huge knife and sliced off thin pieces for each of the party members, which they ate with their fingers. Here again, while Sanjo was presumably eating his meat raw among his brethren, both Cheebie and Mimsie ate with the humans, consuming the cooked meat without complaint. As they finished their meal, the daylight was beginning to wane.

Femke Kane, who was sitting between her husband and Graham, leaned over. Staff, who was sitting on the other side of the boy, could clearly hear her.

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” she said. “Just look over Mr. Glieberman’s right shoulder. There. In the doorway of that house.”

The house in question was like any other and like most had an animal skin hanging as a door. This door was pulled partially to one side though, and sticking out of the crack were two small, dark green snouts. They were less than a third the size of an adult lizardman’s face, and the creatures to which they belonged couldn’t have been more than three feet tall. Apparently they were lying down inside the house now, taking advantage of the rare chance to see some of the mammalian invaders to their country.

“Wicked,” said Graham, smiling happily. “They’re so small. They must have just been captured.”

Police Constable Saba Colbshallow and Police Constable Eamon Shrubb led the three men down Seventh and One Half Avenue toward the docks. Though they had stopped short of getting the service revolvers out of the gun case, both policemen carried their truncheons on open display. For their part, the three men looked nervously in every direction. Several times, one of them shrieked when he saw a little blond girl walk by.

“Kafira,” said Eamon. “Buck up, man. She’s not even the right little girl.”

“Keep walking,” said Saba.

Saba had come in first thing that morning to find Eamon slumped over asleep at his typewriter. That was not particularly significant in and of itself, but when he found out that the last thing the other constable remembered was a visit by a certain young sorceress, things looked more ominous. Lon Fonstan in cell one was asleep, and upon waking at first, claimed not to have seen anyone at all.

“Maybe we can have a little magic tell us what you’re not remembering?” Saba had said.

“Oh yeah,” Fonstan sneered. “Who you going to get to do that?”

“Maybe Zurfina.”

“I don’t think so,” had said Fonstan.

“I’ll bet Mother Linton could do it.”

Fonstan had chewed on the possibility for a moment.

“Well, Senta came in to say hello. She was only here for a minute. Gave me her best. Said goodnight. End of story.”

“And you didn’t see or hear anything unusual in the cell next door?”

“I was busy reading the book you gave me,” said Fonstan, holding up Pilgrimage into Danger. “I quite like the part where they have to fight off the adulterous women.”

“It’s supposed to be metaphorical,” Saba had suggested.

“Well, I didn’t see or hear nothing.”

Saba suspected that his double negative hid the truth in plain sight.

As for the three men in cell number two, they all had seemed in perfectly good health, with the exception that all three had soiled their pants sometime during the night. The stories they had told of the demon child who had visited them with plagues, while fantastic, were not dismissed by the police constables. All three were adamant about booking passage on the S.S. Majestic as soon as it came into port, an idea both PCs thought had merit with or without sorcery. The men had demanded protection on their way to the ship.

The formation reached the dock area, where they were met by a fourth man. He had been present for the first run-in with the Lizzies, which the constables had managed to stop, but apparently was at home when the second incident involving the slapping of the lad had occurred. He had arrived in Birmisia with his three friends and had decided that if they were leaving, he would leave as well.

“Oh blooming heck!” said one of the men in custody, scrambling at once to hide behind his fellows. “There she is.”

Sitting on a wooden crate not fifty feet away, wearing a multihued blue dress, was a twelve year old blond girl. She had her hands crossed in front of her chest and her feet crossed at the ankles. She definitely had her eye on the four men.

“You’re the law!” squealed one of the men. “You’ve got to protect us!”

“Eamon, take them and see that they are able to purchase steerage class passage back to Brech,” said Saba. “I’ll see about our little friend.

He walked across to stand in front of where Senta sat.

“You know you could be charged with assault, aggravated assault, assault on a police constable, interfering with a police investigation, and illegal entry into a secure facility. I imagine I could find several more charges if I opened up the Corpus Juris.”

“I doubt you’d be able to hold me.”

“Don’t get too cocky. Mayor Korlann and his daughter may be very fond of you…”

“That’s not what I mean,” said Senta. “I doubt your jail would be able to hold me. And if by some chance it did hold me, how long do you think Zurfina would allow it?”

“Zurfina has to follow the law, just like everyone else.”

“That’s why you were at our house about to experience life as a marsupial or a toad. But you’re about the only one in Birmisia with bullocks like that. Zurfina exterminated what… a hundred thousand Lizzies? Nobody has come to call her on that.”

“That was a time of war.”

“Yes, sort of. Well, I’m done being afraid of anyone because they’re bigger or stronger, or because the law says I have to be. If somebody gets in my way, I’m going to knock them down, hard.”

“These men aren’t in your way,” said Saba. “In fact, they’re doing their damnedest to get out of your way. They’re leaving the continent. Leave them alone.”

“I’m not even here for them,” said Senta.

“Then what, pray tell, are you here for?”

“I want to see who gets off the ship. There’s another practitioner of the arts aboard.”

“Great. You going to kidnap them, like Zurfina did?”

“Probably not. This one’s a great deal more powerful that Miss Jindra. I just want to get a butchers.”

Saba sighed.

“Pick which road you walk down carefully, Senta.”