Chief Inspector Saba Colbshallow sat down for breakfast.  He looked first to his left at his mother and then to his right at his daughter.

“And where’s the lady of the house?” he asked.

“Mummy says she doesn’t feel good,” said DeeDee.  “She’s going to stay in bed today.”

Saba clucked his teeth in annoyance as Risty scooped scrambled eggs with diced peppers and onions onto his plate next to the sausages.

“I’m sure she has a good reason,” offered his mother.

“I’m sure.”

“She’s been having a rough time lately.”

“No doubt.”

“I don’t like onions in my eggs,” said DeeDee.

“Yes you do,” said her father.  “Look at me. I’m eating them.  Eat some and then Risty will get you a crumpet.”

“Maybe she’s out of sorts because she’s expecting,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.

“And here I thought Kafira was the only Immaculate Conception,” he muttered. He took another bite and ignored his mother’s scandalized look.

The only other bit of breakfast conversation was when DeeDee demanded strawberry jam with her crumpet.  When they were done, Saba helped his daughter fasten on her shoes and then her bonnet.

“Come along girl.  Your tutor is awaiting.”

“Maybe you should go up and kiss your wife goodbye,” said his mother.

“I’m sure she’s very busy with the second coming and all,” he said, and guided DeeDee out the front door.

They walked across the street to the Dechantagne Staff estate, where the lizzie doorman let them enter.  Mrs. Dechantagne was alone in the parlor.

“Hello Saba,” she said, getting to her feet.

“Please don’t get up, Mrs. D.”

“Oh please don’t call me that.”  She sat the book that she had been reading down and stepped over to him. “You’ve known me all your life, we lived in the same house for years, and don’t forget you were my husband’s best man at my wedding.”

“I was just a witness, and I haven’t forgotten a single moment.”

“You’re so sweet,” she smiled.  “What can I do for you today.”

“DeeDee’s going to start on with Iolana.”

“You’re early.  They usually don’t start until 11:00.”

“Yes, well I was wondering if I could leave her early.  Her mother’s not feeling well.”

“Of course.  I’ll take her upstairs and she can play with Terra.  That girl could use some human companionship.”

“If you’re sure it’s not an inconvenience…”

“None at all.  But you have to do me a favor first.”

“What?” he asked.

“You must address me properly.”

“As you wish… Yuah.”  He blushed furiously.

“See, that didn’t hurt,” she said as she took DeeDee’s hand.

“Be a good girl,” Saba told his daughter.

“I will.”

Back outside, he crossed over to his own yard, but didn’t go into the house. He climbed into the steam carriage that the lizzies had already rolled from the machine shed and fired up. Putting it in gear, he pulled out onto the street and headed for downtown.

He arrived at the five-story police station five minutes later than his usual time. He had parked the car and quickly made his way up the walk when he almost collided with Eamon Shrubb, who was on his way out.  He was dressed not in his police uniform, but in a grey suit not too different from the one that Saba wore, with the exception that Eamon had a turquoise utahraptor feather stuck in the hatband of his bowler.

“What’s this then?” asked Saba, waving at the other man’s clothes. “Finally got canned?”

“Quite the reverse, actually,” said Eamon.

“What’s the reverse of canned?  You can’t have just got hired.  You already work here.”

Eamon reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a wallet, flipping it open to reveal a police inspector’s badge.

“Well, somebody has clearly cocked up,” said Saba.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Not me.  It’s Mayor Luebking.  He’s got it in his mind that you’ve done some decent police work, and I can’t seem to disabuse him of the notion.  The man’s going to run this town into the ground, I can tell you.  Well, no help for that.  Come upstairs with me and we’ll run through the open investigations.”

“Um, I’ll be back in a bit.  I have to go show Dot my new badge.”

“Oh leave the poor girl alone.  You’re going to knock her up again.”

“Too late,” said Eamon with a grin.

“Bloody Kafira.  You’re like some kind of animal.”  Saba shook his head.  “All right. Go show her your badge, if that’s what you’re calling it these days.  Be back in an hour.  We really do have work to do.”

Taking the elevator up to his office, Saba pulled all the relevant files from the cabinet and began reading over them.  There were quite a few unsolved cases, though that was not uncommon anywhere in the Brech Empire.  The purpose of the police department was to keep order.  Solving crimes was secondary.  Besides, Birmisia Colony only had three police inspectors, himself included—four now that Eamon was on board.  There were four unsolved murders, as well as the killing of a lizzie, which was considered a lesser crime.  There were several dozen burglaries, a few robberies, an arson, and of course the bombing of the shipyard.  Saba was so involved, that he hardly noticed when Eamon stepped into his office.

“That didn’t take long.”

“Dot’s sister was there—lucky for me.  You know how she gets when she’s preggers.”

“Hmm.”

“So what have we got?”

Hsrandtuss looked around.  Yessonarah didn’t look appreciatively different than it had yesterday, or the day before, or for that matter, ten days ago.  The dam was still under construction.  The roadway down to the river was still being lined with gravel from the riverbed.  There were more wooden houses situated around the hill—over a hundred, but the great buildings that he had envisioned were nothing but foundations, at the most. The lizzie population had grown though. He shook his head.

“What is the matter, my husband?” asked Szakhandu.

“Things are not moving fast enough.”

“We are making great progress.”

“It’s not fast enough.  We don’t even have enough houses for all our people yet.”  He pointed toward the hill.  “I’m supposed to be looking at Yessonarah there.  Does that look like a city worthy of the one remaining god to you?”

“Tsahloose was not built in a day.”

“Was it built in ten days?” he asked.  “We’ve been here ten days now.”

She hissed mirthfully.  “No, Great King.  I don’t think it was built in ten days either.”

“I’m glad you find things so amusing.”

“My husband, you have to look at the positive side of things.  We have made contact with seven of the nearby villages and we’re already trading with three of them.  Game is plentiful.  We’re feeding all our people.  Workers are quarrying stone.  In another ten days, it will begin to look like a real city.”

“I don’t want to wait,” he said petulantly.

“Why don’t you take a walk?  That will make you feel better and it’s good for your health.”

Hsrandtuss grunted, but started down the path toward the river.  It was a hot, humid day.  Insects filled the air—more and more so as he approached the water.  He hadn’t even reached the edge of the trees before he spotted half a dozen feathered runners scavenging the refuse piles.  His people were dumping their garbage too close to the settlement.  The six velociraptors, as the humans called them, lifted their heads to watch him pass.  They didn’t approach, but they didn’t flee either.

When he reached the river bend, he stopped.  About a hundred lizzies were moving large stones into place.  The dam, having been started on this side, about halfway spanned the riverbed.  On the far side of the river, several channels detoured the water around the work area.  He didn’t see any crocodiles.  The hunters had killed one two days earlier and the others might have moved down river. Then again, maybe they were just hiding under the surface.  The gigantic beasts were known for their swift and savage attacks, but not their intelligence.

Turning southwest, Hsrandtuss followed the bank upstream.  As the forest grew a bit thicker, the patches of dappled sunlight grew less frequent.  Here he stopped to examine some blackberry bushes, but they had been denuded of fruit.

He heard the rustling of brush behind him and turned, expecting to find more of the raptors, but it was instead four lizzie males.  He didn’t recognize any of them.

“If it isn’t the great Hsrandtuss,” said one of the males, “out for a walk in the woods with no weapon.”

Without looking down, the king ran his hand along his belt.  It wasn’t completely true that he was weaponless. After all, he had his knife.  But he had gone and left his sword and spear at home.  He rested his hand on the knife handle, but didn’t pull the blade from its sheath. One of the males moved to the left, while two others moved to the right, so that they quickly had him surrounded.

“I think it’s time somebody showed you that you’re not so tough.  You can’t just move in wherever you want and take over the country.  People have already claimed this land.  It isn’t yours.”

Hsrandtuss hissed with annoyance.  He hated when they wanted to talk.  If he had his sword, he would have used the opportunity to attack, but since he didn’t, he had to wait for them to make the first move, and this warrior apparently thought he should give a speech first.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he said.  “You have weapons, but it seems you’ve decided to bore me to death.”

“Die invader!” hissed the warrior to Hsrandtuss’s right, thrusting his spear at the king.

Hsrandtuss sidestepped and grabbed the spear with his right hand, jerking the now off-balance warrior forward.  Spinning around, he unsheathed his knife and jabbed it into his attacker’s neck.  The talkative male jumped toward them with his sword raised above his head. Hsrandtuss shoved the wounded lizzie, a fountain of blood now spraying from his carotid artery, into the other’s path. Then he launched the spear he had taken at the male originally on his left.  It skewered him through the middle of the chest.  The lizzie with the sword tried to swing, but only managed to hit his already bloody companion.  As the poor wretch dropped to the ground, Hsrandtuss reached over him and stabbed the first warrior in the eye with his knife.

At that moment the king felt an impact on his back and a suddenly excruciating pain.  He knew the fourth lizzie had hit him with a sword.  Stabbing the first male again, he left his knife stuck in the warrior’s face and reaching up, took the hapless male’s sword.  Swinging it around, he decapitated the male who had hit him in the back.  Then spinning back around, he did the same to the warrior with the knife still stuck in his face.  A quick look at the other two told him they were in no shape to fight, though still alive. He retrieved his knife from the severed head.

Sitting down on a log, he felt his back.  There was a pretty deep slice, at least a foot long, which was bleeding freely. It was a recoverable wound, assuming he made it back home safely.  The smell of blood would attract predators.  After catching his breath, he stood up and stepped over to the warrior with the spear stuck through him.

“Where are you from?”

The warrior said nothing, just looked up with his yellow eyes.

“I can find out from your war paint, assuming the feathered runners leave enough of you for my people to find.”

“We are from Achocktah.”

“Did your chief send you?”

“No, it was Stohla.”  He looked at the body of the talkative lizzie.  “He wanted to be king.  Killing you would have given him much suuwasuu.”

Baxter leaned out as far as he could, looking at the beast swimming in the ocean two hundred feet below him.  Though a modern naval vessel, or for that matter the dirigible in which he now found himself would have dwarfed the marine reptile, it was still quite a monster. It had to be at least thirty feet long and it shot along the surface of the ocean like a dolphin.  It blew up water from its blowhole like one too.

“How soon before we reach Mallontah?” asked Senta, snaking her arm over his shoulder.

“Just after dinner this evening.  It will still be light out.  I understand it doesn’t get dark until after 9:00 this time of year.”

“That’s fine.”

“Where’s the baby?”

“She’s asleep.”

“I don’t like to leave her in the cabin alone.”  He turned and started toward the promenade door.

“She’s fine.  She has her babysitter.”

“And I don’t feel comfortable leaving her with that beast either.”

“It’s hard to believe you’re not her father.”  The words caused him to stop in his tracks.

“I’m very fond of her,” he said, turning.

“Oh, I know you are,” said the sorceress, sliding toward him.  “I think it’s very nice.  You’re a very good man, you know.”

“What’s your point?”

“Oh, I don’t think I have one.”  She wrapped her arms around his neck and licked from his chin to his nose.

He pulled her arms from around him and left the promenade, hurrying down the hallway to their cabin.  Opening the door, he found the baby asleep in the middle of the bed.  Perched on the corner of the bedstead was the coral dragon.

“Good baby,” it said.

Hurrying over to the bedside, Baxter quickly examined the sleeping child. Nothing seemed amiss.  He tucked her blanket around her and scowled at the little reptile.

“You see?  Nothing to worry about.”

He turned around to find the sorceress stepping out of the dress that was now in a pile around her feet.  She was still clad in her undergarments, though she wore fewer than most Brech women.

“You really are a horrible woman, you know.”

“I have my moments,” she smiled.

They spent most of the next hour making love, after which Senta curled up on the bed next to her daughter and went to sleep.  Baxter lit a cigarette and sat down in a chair, less comfortable than it looked, against the wall.  His eyes went from the woman to the child to the dragon, though he wasn’t conscious of any particular thoughts about them.  Just after he finished the cigarette, baby Senta fussed in her sleep. He stepped over to the bed and picked her up, taking her back to the chair and holding her against his chest. She stopped fussing and went back to sleep.  He smelled the baby’s blond hair.  She needed a bath.

His attention was drawn back to the dragon as it slithered down from the bedpost to the mattress.  Its little forked tongue played across the sorceress short hair for just a moment and then it bit her on the ear.

“Ow!  Kafira! You bloody twat!”  She backhanded the little dragon across the snout with her right hand, while cupping her ear with the left.  A thin trickle of blood dripped between her fingers.

“You horrible, vicious…”  She rolled off the bed and bent down in front of the cheval glass to examine herself. “Sweet Kafira Kristos, look at my ear! It’s full of holes!”

“Shh,” soothed Baxter as the baby, disturbed by the noise wriggled.  He kept his voice low as he spoke to her mother. “Maybe you could just put earrings in the holes.”

“I don’t have that many earrings,” growled the sorceress.  “My ear looks like a Mirsannan cheese.”

“Get your healing draught,” said Baxter, getting up and setting the baby in the chair.

When Senta had retrieved the brown bottle from her luggage in the other room, he had her bend her head over while he poured the clear liquid over the wounds. It fizzed a bit and then ran clear. When he wiped the remains away with a handkerchief, her ear was as cute and unblemished as it had been before.

“You!” said Senta, looking at the dragon, which withered under her gaze.

“Mirsannan cheese,” it said.

“Get in your carrier!”  She pointed to the still open connecting door.

The coral reptile flew off the bed and through the door, opened the animal carrier door itself and climbed inside, shutting the door behind it.

“I told you I didn’t trust that creature,” said Baxter.

Senta waved a hand dismissively.  “It’s just one of those things when you’re dealing with dragons. Bessemer must have bitten me a hundred times when I was a kid.”

“You’ll still have that attitude when it eats your baby, will you?”

“She couldn’t eat all of her.  Still, I suppose it’s better if we don’t leave them alone together… for now.”

“Goo.”  They turned to see the baby, awake and sitting up in the chair, watching them with her large grey eyes.

“At least the dragon can speak,” said the sorceress.

“You said the dragon’s four years old.  Senta’s only nine months,” said Baxter.  “Besides, she can speak.  She just said ‘goo’.”

“Good Kafira,” said Peter, when the three of them sat down to tea at his table in the dining room.  “If this voyage goes on much longer I’m going to go out of my mind.  I’m so incredibly bored.”

“You were at sea longer than this when you came to Birmisia before,” said Senta.

“Yes, but I had the other guys with me.  We played games and practiced our magic… chased a few girls… all right, we talked about chasing a few girls.  All I’ve done this trip is eat and sit in my stateroom.”

“I’m sorry we’ve been neglecting you,” she said.

“It’s all right.  I understand you want to be alone and all.”

“Good morning, Iolana,” said Radley Staff as he entered the library.

“Good morning, Father,” replied Iolana, turning to the next page of The Girl from Beneath the Earth.

“Still working your way through Inspector Colbshallow’s books?”

“Yes, Father,” she said, turning the page.

“I wouldn’t think you would find them all that interesting.  They’re written for young men.”

“They just speak to me,” she said, turning the page.

“Are you actually reading that?”

“Yes, Father,” she said, turning the page.

“How can you read that fast?  Do you skim through the words?”

Iolana stopped and took the sterling silver bookmark embossed with the Dechantagne family crest from the lamp table, placing it between pages 44-45 of the tattered paperback, which she set next to the unlit lamp.

“No, I don’t skim.  It’s all about training one’s mind to recognize an entire sentence at a time instead of only a single word.  People do it occasionally without even realizing it.  It comes naturally.  For instance, you may read the letters B A S S, but how do you know if that word rhymes with ace or ass?  Your brain tells you because it sees ahead to the rest of the sentence.  So you read ‘the bass is the largest instrument in the orchestra,” or “the bass fishing is best in the lakes of Booth.”

“I see.”  He sat down in the other chair.  “So what is this book about?”

“They’re all essentially the same.  A plucky Brech hero must make his way through dangerous terrain, fight hordes of frightening monsters, and defeat evil masterminds in order to rescue an exotic princess.  This particular princess comes from a hidden world beneath the surface where humans are enslaved by a race of intelligent but evil burrowing insects.”

Mr. Staff laughed.  “And this speaks to you?  Do you identify with the princess or the hero?”

Iolana shrugged.  “All I can say is that I don’t see myself as a burrowing insect.”

“Glad to hear it.  Remember, we are going hunting tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I will go this time.  I have too much to do.”

“You have to go.  I planned this trip weeks ago, and besides, it was your idea.  What exactly is monopolizing your time lately?  I feel like I hardly ever see you anymore.”

“I’ve been spending time with my friends.”

“It’s not a boy, is it?  Do I have to start sending a chaperone with you everywhere you go?”

“I assure you Father, there is no boy interested in me.  I’m either too young, or too smart, or too famous, or too stuck-up, or too ugly to be bothered with.”

“You aren’t ugly, Iolana,” he said.  “But the rest of those are all true.  So you will be ready to go tomorrow at 7:00 AM.”

“As you say, Father,” she said, taking up her book again.

“You must help me see to Terra.  I’m still not sure about taking her with us.  I had the devil’s own time convincing her mother that she should be let out, so you will need to help me.”  He stood up. “Still, she seemed more worried about Augie.  I think she’s had a premonition that he will die young.”

“That’s silly.”

“Of course it is.”

“It’s far more likely that Augie will outlive Terra or me.”

“Why do you say that?  Women usually live longer.”

“I wasn’t speaking of men and women, but of Dechantagnes,” Iolana explained. “Mother was the middle child and she outlived Uncle Terrence and Uncle Augie.  Our grandfather was a middle child, the second of four.  His older brother was killed in the Bordonian War, while his younger sister died of a fever and his younger brother was shot in a disagreement over a gambling debt.  If one were to extrapolate from history, one would have to assume that Augie was destined to survive both his sister and me.”

“Don’t forget, you’re a Staff,” said her father, before he exited the room.

“At least according to my mother and Zurfina,” said Iolana quietly.  “Two women, neither noted for their adherence to the truth.”

Sixteen minutes later, Iolana closed The Girl from Beneath the Earthand returned it to the crate sitting along the south wall.  She skimmed through the container for the book she would read tomorrow, finally picking up Slave Girl Captive of the Piratesbefore tossing it back into the box with the realization that she wouldn’t have time for it the following day.  The rest of her morning reading was cut short too.

“Kayden!” she shouted out the library door.  “Where in Kafira’s name is my Gazette?”

The lizzie major-domo stepped close to her.  “Khikhiino tacktotott.”

“No one is to get that paper before me.  Khikhiino Iolana.”

“Tacktotott?”

“Not even my mother.”

“You whant I get?”

“No, there’s no sense you getting fired over my newspaper.  If you see her set it aside, grab it and save it for me. I’ll read it tonight.”

“Yess Stahwasuwasu Zrant.”

“My name is Iolana.  I know you can say it.”

“Lizzie name is Stahwasuwasu Zrant.”

“While I admit that ‘Child of the Sunrise’ has a certain ring to it, I’m only too aware that the same words also mean ‘Pest of the Sunrise.”

Avoiding both the dining room and the family at breakfast, Iolana cut through the kitchen from the back hallway, grabbing a crumpet on the way though. Once out the back door, she ordered a pair of lizzies to wheel the steam cabriolet out of the machine shed.  Much smaller than the other cars, the cabriolet had come all the way from Mirsanna.  With two large wheels just behind the driver, just in front of the engine, it had two very tiny wheels out in front and was steered not with a steering wheel but with a tiller.  Though it officially belonged to her mother, Iolana was the only one who used it, and it was the only vehicle she was allowed to drive herself.  The lizzies topped off the water, but Iolana started the coal fire.

“Going?”

“We have arrived!” said Hsrandtuss loudly, as he waved at the land ahead.

From the small hillock upon which he stood, he could see a long, flat plain, and beyond that a large hill with a rocky outcropping on one side and upon the other a gentle slope down toward the shores of the briskly flowing river.  In the distance was the vast forest of pine trees and maples, as well as sussata, for which the humans had no name.  A great herd of sauroposeidon roamed along the forest edge, while closer were huge numbers of iguanodons and triceratops.

“We can all see that we are here,” he heard someone mutter behind him.  He thought it was Szakhandu.

“Shut up,” ordered Sszaxxanna, cuffing whoever it was with a clawed hand. “This is a great moment.”

They had left the dragon fortress a full thirty days earlier with a mission to found a new city to the east, not far from the ruins of Suusthek.  Suusthek had been a great city, but its ruler Ssithtsutsu had overstepped himself when he had tried to wipe out the soft-skins. Even without the aid of the young god, the humans had wiped out his warriors, and their witch-woman had left nothing where Suusthek had been but a very large smoking crater.

It had taken Hsrandtuss a few days to recover from his ordeal beneath the ancient stones of the fortress.  Afterwards he spent several more days in celebratory feasting and drinking, and it took a few days to recover from that too.  Then Yessonar had met with him alone.  He could still remember the heat radiating from the dragon as he stood beside the great head, which lay upon a huge pillow of tyrannosaurus skin.

“That was quite a show of bravery, and totally unnecessary, I might add.”

“It was nothing,” said the king, but he couldn’t help but flush his dewlap.

“There is no other of your race that I trust more than you.  Did you know that, Hsrandtuss?”

“I don’t know what to say, Great Yessonar.”

“It is twice as important to listen as it is to speak.  That is why you have two ears and only one mouth.  I have seen something in the future, and I need your help to turn the events the direction I desire.  I am sending you east on a great mission.  It will be difficult, but you can succeed.”

“I will succeed,” Hsrandtuss had proclaimed.

“Is this where we are going to build Zis Suusthek?” asked Ssu, stepping close to her husband, and forcing his mind to return to the present.

“This is where we will build our city.  But it will not be called Zis Suusthek.  Ssithtsutsu ruined that name forever, may a curse be upon the eggs of all his females.  We shall call our city Yessonarah after the young god, to show that we are favored by him above all others.”  He turned to Sszaxxanna.  “Have the captains bring their people to that hill.  We will make our camp tonight on the site of our city.”

When they had left, they had taken almost every lizzie at the fortress, though Yessonar would not have to go without worshippers for long.  The line of supplicants was just as long on their way out as it had been on their way in.  Looking at the great dragon curled up at the base of the large outdoor amphitheater, Hsrandtuss thought that he looked pleased to be left alone if only for a few minutes.  Of course even as they were leaving, Khastla the envoy was making his way down the steps to task the god with something else.  Five thousand lizardmen had been divided mostly along clan lines into ten groups, each led by a captain who reported directly to the king.  Yes, Hsrandtuss was used to hearing “great king” from his wives.  Now he would hear it from everybody.

It was growing dark before the last of the great pilgrimage arrived on the hill. Huge bonfires had already been set up by the first arrivals to help deter any predators, though even the family of gorgosaurs spotted late in the afternoon would have thought twice before approaching such a large group of Hsrandtuss’s people.  The king lay down near the largest fire and pointed his nose toward the flame.  Soon Kendra and Ssu were on either side of him and he could see the other wives taking their places nearby.  Except for Sszaxxanna.  She was somewhere, bringing some plot or other into fruition, or starting a new one. Hsrandtuss didn’t give her a lot of thought.  He just closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Then next morning, the king met with all of the captains.  He assigned each of them a job to oversee.  Some were responsible for locating the appropriate stone for wall construction and to start quarrying it.  Others were responsible for felling trees and cutting them into logs, which would be even more vital.  Still others organized workers to dam the river and to cut irrigation canals. A particularly large individual named Straatin was placed in charge of the hunters who would supply the meat necessary to fill so many bellies.  Finally, an old and grizzled veteran named Hunssuss was held back to consult with the king on the layout of the new city.  They discussed what buildings needed to be constructed where, while a group of warriors used shovels and spears to gouge out the outlines of the buildings in the earth.

By the end of their first full day on the site of Yessonarah, there were already huge piles of cut logs and hundreds of fires around the hill illuminating thousands of lizzies feasting on raw meat as they were warmed by the flames. Hsrandtuss was pleased.

After eating a pomegranate and a bit of iguanodon for breakfast, the king climbed to his feet and looked around.  The only one of his wives nearby was Szakhandu.

“Come and walk with me,” he ordered her.

She fell into step behind him as he walked down the hill and toward the river. The trees on either side of the game trail had already been cut and it was easy to see the best spot for the dam, right where the two banks came closest to one another, just after the river had made a lazy turn to the left.  Workers were already creating a roadway that would lead to the site.

“So what do you think, Szakhandu?” asked Hsrandtuss, breaking the silence.

“Think about what, Great King?”

“About the site of our new city.”

“It is not for me to say, Great King.”

“Stop dipping my tail in the lake with this ‘great king’.  I know what you think of me.  I’m just a half wild brute that took you away from your comfortable home in Tsahloose.  I know you say as much when you are among the other females.”

He glanced at her.  She opened her mouth, ready to plead her innocence, but then closed it and dropped her chin.

Baxter threw the child up into the air as she squealed.  He caught her, and holding her at arm’s length, made a silly face. Then he did the whole thing over again. Senta glided up behind them and wrapped a long white arm around his shoulder.

“I’m going to be jealous if you spend all the time with the child.”

“Children need attention if you don’t want them to grow up to be sociopaths,” he said, at last pulling baby Senta in and blowing on her neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You don’t know how much a person can miss human companionship until you’re in that situation.”  He placed the little girl on the floor and stood up.  Turning around, he took the woman in his arms and kissed her deeply. “I suppose I should pay you some attention too.  Why don’t I show you right now?”

“Now?” she pretended to be shocked.  “Right here in the daylight?  With the baby watching?”

“It won’t harm her to see two adults showing affection.”

“I meant that baby.”  She pointed to the tiny coral-colored dragon balanced on the corner post of the bed.

“Gawp,” it said.

“Why don’t you put that damned animal back in its carrier?” he said, releasing her from his arms and stepping back, careful that the child was out from under his foot.

“Don’t be cross,” said Senta.  “I’ll put her in the other room, then I’ll feed little Senta.  She’ll fall right asleep and then we’ll have two or three hours all to ourselves.”

“Fine,” he said, only slightly mollified.

The sorceress ordered the dragon into the adjoining room, which was little more than a closet really.  Even though they had the largest suite on the S.S. Windlass, which was the largest Brech dirigible—quite a bit bigger than the Frühlingshuhn—it was still only a collection of three very small rooms.  Then she sat down with the baby and attempted to give her a bottle.  She did take it, but fussed when her mother tried to burp her, until she was given over to Baxter, who completed the job and had her asleep inside of five minutes.

“Now where were we?” he asked, unbuttoning his shirt.

“I hate to spoil the mood,” she said, “but there is a man spying on us outside that door.”

“What kind of man?”

“A wizard.”

“A government wizard or a freelancer who’s out to get you?”

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“It does to me.  King and country and all still means something to me.”

“Very well,” she sighed.  “Uuthanum.” She waved a finger toward the door. “He’s from the Ministry of War.”

“All right.”  Baxter went into the third room of the suite, the tiny parlor, and then out the door from there to the hall.  Senta could hear a brief tussle in the hallway outside.  Then Baxter entered through the bedroom door from the corridor. In his right fist he carried a man in pin stripes by the scruff of the neck.  The man was clutching at his throat and fighting for breath.

“I doubt he’ll say any magic words for a minute or two.  I don’t suppose he’ll be able to answer any questions either.”

“Oh, I don’t want to interrogate him.  I just want him to go away.”  She raised her hands above her head.  “Rezesic edios uuthanum illiam vor.”

The man in the pin stripes disappeared with a pop.

“Where did he go?” asked Baxter, looking at his right hand.

“Away.”

“I was holding him.”

“Don’t worry.  I don’t miss.”

“Did he make it back to Greater Brechalon?”

“Probably.  If not, then somewhere between here and there.”

“We’re a hundred miles out to sea.”

“Then he picked an extremely poor time to spy at my door,” said Senta.

Once again she snaked her arms around his neck and moved her face very close to his.  She breathed on his mouth, but waited for him to kiss her.  He did.  Then stepping away, he quickly undressed, but not before creating a little bed on the floor with two blankets and placing the sleeping baby there, safely out of the way. Senta snapped her fingers and seven layers of clothing seemed to just fall off of her and onto the floor.  She was reclining naked on the bed when he joined her.  They made love.  She enjoyed the way that he made love to her.  It was never the same way twice.  Never the same touches.  Never the same order.  He must have had a lot of practice, she thought, though that didn’t bother her. As she lay bathing in the warm afterglow, just dozing off, it occurred to her that she might never get tired of this. She suddenly woke when he took her by her shoulder and thigh, flipped her onto her stomach, and pulled her to her knees.  No, she might never get tired of this, she decided.

It was almost two hours later when she woke up.  Baxter’s face was right in front of hers and he was awake, staring at her. She smiled.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“What are you talking about?  I don’t enjoy that.  It’s horrible and I just put up with it because you’re a man and you have those horrible urges.”

“That wasn’t what it sounded like.”

“That was all for your benefit as well.”

Suddenly there was a crash and little Senta began crying.  Both adults sat up to see that she had pulled a lamp off the occasional table along the wall and onto her head.  The glass had shattered upon hitting the floor.

“Kafira damn it all!” shouted Baxter, jumping up, and in three quick steps scooping the baby into his arms.

With a wave of her index finger, the sorceress sent the pieces of the lamp back up onto the table where it reassembled itself.

“There.  All better.”

“I wasn’t worried about the bloody lamp,” he said, examining the growing lump on the child’s head.  “What if that thing had been lit?”

“Then we would have all died in a horrible conflagration.  You know the lamps on airships don’t even have oil in them.  Calm down.”

“Why must you embarrass me in front of the governor?”

“What are you on about now, Loana?” asked Saba Colbshallow.

“You, discussing those horrible books.”

“Well at least I didn’t bring up Sable Agria.  Why don’t you go on up to your room before you get yourself any more worked up than you are already?”

Saba’s mother had turned in an hour earlier, and the remainder of the family had sat quietly listening to the mechanical music box as DeeDee’s eyes slowly glazed over.  Now she was asleep in her father’s arms.

“Aren’t you coming up?”

“Yes, I’ll be along shortly.  I just want to listen to this song one more time.”

Loana gave a curt nod before turning and starting up the stairs.  Saba watched her enormous bustle, sway from left to right as she negotiated the steps.  As soon as she was out of eyesight, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.  Risty, their lizzie butler, quickly slipped a cold bottle of Billingbow’s into his hand, the cork already removed.  Then he rewound the music box and placed the needle back at the start of the cylinder. Saba finished his soda water just as the music finished, and Risty was there to take the bottle away.  Rising to his feet, only difficult because of the added weight of his daughter, Saba headed for the stairs.  DeeDee had her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist.  Placing a hand under her bottom, he stepped slowly upward.

Sandy, the nurse lizzie, was there to change DeeDee into her night clothes when Saba set her on her bed.  He kissed her on the forehead and rounded the corner to his own room.  Slipping into his nightshirt, he slid beneath the cool sheets, not even glancing at the door to his wife’s adjoining room.

Saba left early the next morning, before anyone in his family was stirring, including his mother.  Even the five-story police station was quiet.  The night shift was still on duty, and it would be another hour before the morning shift arrived.  The desk sergeant, Corman, leaned against the counter, half asleep.  A PC, Loewy, was taking notes from two women, apparently working girls, seated on the bench in the lobby.  He gave a sloppy salute as Saba passed him on the way to the elevator. Throwing the lever, Saba sent the elevator car upwards to the second floor.

The chief inspector’s office was a large, beautifully paneled room with several huge windows along the outside wall.  Another wall, this one behind the desk, was covered with photographs of Saba with various city officials at groundbreaking ceremonies and the like. Walking around the large desk, he sat down on the plush leather chair.  Sitting on the right corner of the otherwise mostly clear wooden surface was a stack of folders.  Each held the case files for an unfinished investigation.  He pulled the top one from the stack and opened it, skimming the summary.

Nothing new had been discovered about the bomb that had been set off at the shipyard.  Constables had found and questioned the lizzie that had placed it.  He couldn’t identify the human that had hired him. To most of the lizzies, the humans were just as hard to tell apart as the lizzies were to most humans.  Pieces of the bomb had been recovered, but they had led to nothing.  All they had to go on was Wizard Bell’s description of a man about forty, with dark hair, whose name began with an “s” sound.

A knock at the door was quickly followed by it opening and Wizard Bell sticking his head inside.

“Are you busy, Chief Inspector?”

“Come in,” said Saba.  “Now I know you’re a wizard, Bell.  I was just thinking about you and here you are.”

“Fortunate happenstance,” replied the wizard, closing the door and starting across the room.

Bell wasn’t wearing his helmet and his uniform seemed, if anything, even looser than the last time that Saba had seen him.  He sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk.

“I was just going over the case file for the bombing,” said Saba.

“Nothing new on that front.”

“Do you think our Mr. S managed to get out of the colony?  Maybe he was on his way before the blast.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Have you learned anything else with your magic?”

“I have scried several times but haven’t been able to find out anything more,” said the wizard.  “It’s more of a feeling that I have.  I think he’s still here in Port Dechantagne.”

“I just hope we can find him before anyone else gets killed.”

Bell nodded his agreement.

“Have you eaten?”

“This morning?”

“This year.  You look thin.”

“I’ve lost a bit of weight.  It’s the magic.  It puts me off my meals.”

“What would you say to a bit of breakfast now.”

“I suppose that would be all right.”

Stepping around the desk and walking to the door, Saba grabbed his coat and hat from the rack where they had been hanging for several days.  He usually wanted them on the way to work this time of year, but didn’t need them in the afternoon when he went home, and so often forgot to take them.  Bell followed as they travelled the length of the hallway and stepped into the elevator. At the bottom of the stairs they ran into Eamon Shrubb.

“We’re going to breakfast,” said Saba.  “Interested?”

“I’m just coming on.  I’ve got to take the desk.”

“Get Wilkes to take it,” said Saba.

“Well, if it’s an order.”

Iolana opened her eyes to see another pair of eyes, these deep brown, staring back at her from a distance of six inches.  She blinked twice and then leaned her head back far enough that her seven-year-old cousin’s face could come into focus.

“What are you doing in my room?”

“I want you to play with me.”

“I can’t play with you.  I’m not allowed to interact with you until 11:00.”

Iolana had been placed on restriction.  She wasn’t allowed to leave the house without permission.  She wasn’t allowed to see any of her friends.  The only time she could interact with Augie and Terra was during their tutoring sessions.  And she had not been allowed to take meals with the family.  She had endured this punishment for nine days, spending her time writing long letters to Dovie and Willa and reading everything she could on the early days of the colony in preparation for her book.  She had even written to Sherree Glieberman, though that had only been to politely decline an invitation to a slumber party. She wouldn’t have been allowed that, even had she wanted to go.

“I don’t want to wait and I don’t want to do my times tables,” said Terra’s scratchy little voice.  “I want to play Argrathian checkers.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed.”

“Yes you are.”

“What?”

“You’re not on restriction anymore.”

Iolana sat up and looked toward her desk.

“I gave your mother the letter,” said Terra.

“You what?”

Iolana’s father had made it very clear.  She wouldn’t be allowed back to resume her life until she had apologized to her mother.  Two days earlier, in a week moment, she had composed the required document.

Mother,

I regret my actions of last week.

Sincerely,

1. Staff

Mr. Staff would have never accepted such a letter, but Iolana knew that her mother would find it adequate.  She had decided though not to send it.  She would endure her punishment until her father broke down and gave in.  Iolana expected him to crack any day now.  She was surprised he had lasted this long.

“You little bint!  I’m going to fix you.”

Terra squeaked, jumped from the bed, and ran from the room.  Iolana climbed out of bed and stomped around in a circle for a minute, not remembering that she could have chased after the girl if she wanted.  Then she stopped and placed her hands on her hips.  Well, what was done, was done.  No sense moping about it.

“Esther!”

The young lizzie entered through the still open door.

“Help me get dressed.”

The clothing that young girls wore in traditional Brech society was almost as heavily layered and almost as complicated as that worn by grown women. Though she was able to eschew the double layer of brassieres, a bustle, and a corset, most of Iolana’s dresses required at least four petticoats and more usually six.  She also wore a shift and a double set of bloomers.  Once all the underwear was on, it was time to step into the dress.  Her charcoal day dress, like almost all of her dresses, fastened up the back with dozens of small buttons.  She could almost reach them all using the fermeture, a magical button fastener, but let Esther use it on her.  It was simply a matter of running the device up the row of buttons, which magically jumped into their hooks.  Running it downward likewise unfastened them.

“Have they served breakfast yet?”

“In ten,” replied the lizzie.

“Good.  Let’s go down.”

The only diners in the Dechantagne Staff home that morning proved to be the three children of the house.  Each took their traditional spots, widely spaced around the table, despite the many other empty places.

“Where is everyone?” Iolana wondered.

“Your parents are both working,” said Augie.  “Mother is doing some charity work this morning with her friends from shrine.”

“Honor McCoort, do you mean?  She doesn’t have any other friends.  None of us really have many friends.”

“I do,” said the eight-year-old boy.  “I’m quite well thought of.”

As one of the lizzies set down a plate with eggs, sausages, and beans in front of her, Iolana looked carefully at her cousin.  He seemed to have grown just since she had seen him three days before. Of course it might have been the khaki gear he was wearing.

“What have you been up to then?”

“I just went for a walk in the woods across the road.”

“You’ll get yourself eaten.  There are velociraptors and who-knows-what in those woods.”

“I need some soldiers here,” Augie ordered the servant, and then looked back at Iolana.  “Not to worry.  I took two of the lizzies with me, and I took my rifle.”

“Your mother will have a fit if she finds out you were using a weapon without father there.”

“Then don’t tell her,” he replied calmly, before stabbing a sausage.

“I won’t.”

“I’ll tell her,” said Terra, her little voice almost shouting.

“Don’t,” said Iolana.  “It will only upset her for nothing.  Besides the three of us should stick together.  We’re the three heirs—like my mother, and your father, and Uncle Augie.”

“Then you have to play with me,” said Terra.

“I will, but after lessons.”

“And I don’t want eggs.  I want porridge.”

“Get my sister some porridge,” Augie ordered another servant.

“I don’t think you want to move that piece there,” said Iolana, peering across the vast gaming table.

Dozens of square wooden playing pieces were arrayed across the oak surface, only half of which faced her.  The other pieces belonged to her opponent.  Esther hissed softly and moved the piece back to its original spot.

The gaming table sat along the west wall of Iolana’s bedroom, the largest bedroom in the house.  Just behind Iolana’s seat was a stone fireplace, and beyond that was a writing desk with chair, and in the corner a cheval glass.  Across the room from the fireplace was a beautiful canopy bed, the cover and the drapes of which matched the Thiss green area rug beneath it. Rich oak nightstands, hand-crafted here in Birmisia, matched the oak chest of drawers and the six tall bookcases. At the other end of the room, a comfortable sofa, striped green and gold, sat facing two comfy armchairs. Beside them was a hutch filled with dolls and toys and a mechanical music box, which even now was playing a Freedonian waltz.

The lizzie placed her chin on the table and hissed again.

“You see I’ve got you beat, don’t you?” said Iolana.  “Unless you have Insane Witch Woman, there is no way you can win.”

“Cheat,” said Esther quietly.

“How dare you!” growled Iolana, jumping to her feet.

“Ssiss zat techiss szessit suuwasuu dakkuk wasuu wasuu eesousztekhau.”

“Well of course I do.  Who’s going to make the pieces for the game if I don’t?  Answer me that.”  The human girl put her hands on her hips.  “All the other players in town copy my pieces and nobody has complained that they weren’t fair, ssisthusso very much.”

The lizzie slid her chin off the table and climbed beneath it.

“Oh, do get up.  Maybe I should let you win sometimes.  Perhaps that would be good for your self-esteem, but it just sends the wrong message, doesn’t it?  How would you ever know if you truly were good enough to beat me?”

The door suddenly burst open and Iolana’s cousin Terra came shooting in. Though dressed in a frilly little outfit of burgundy and silver, the seven-year-old was barefoot and both her hands and feet were extremely grimy.  Her thick brown hair was a mess.  Iolana held up her hand like a traffic cop.

“You know you’re supposed to knock before you come in that door.”

“I only want to play with your lizzie,” said Terra’s scratchy little voice.

“How in Kafira’s name did you get so dirty?  Your mother is going to have a dinosaur when she sees you.”

“I want to play with your lizzie,” Terra repeated.  “Can I take her out to the swings?”

Iolana tilted her head to look under the table.  “Do you want to go outside with Terra?”

Esther bobbed her head up and down.

“Say the word.”

“Yess.”

“All right then,” she told her cousin, “but don’t bring her back all dirty.”

“Come on, lizzie,” called Terra, as Esther scrambled out from under the table and followed the girl out the door.

After carefully washing her hands in the basin on her nightstand, Iolana checked her dress in the cheval that stood in the corner.  Then she retrieved a straw boater from her closet and added a small red achillobator feather that just matched her red dress.  Leaving her room, she ran into her mother’s dressing maid at the top of the stairs.

“Narsa, have one of the males go watch Terra and Esther.  They’re playing out in the garden.  And when they’re done, have them cleaned up, preferably before Auntie Yuah sees them.”

“Yess.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Iolana passed through the dining room where several servants were cleaning up after luncheon and getting the room ready for tea. In the kitchen, others were already preparing finger sandwiches.  Here she found Walworth Partridge, sitting on a stool, stuffing his face with them. Walworth, a somewhat gangly youth of seventeen, was the latest of a string of young men who had worked for the Dechantagne and Staff families as drivers.

“Fancy driving me to the pfennig store, Wally?”

“That’s what they pay me for,” he said, shoving the last little sandwich into his mouth whole and hopping to his feet.

He started for the back door and Iolana followed.

“I lit the boiler while ago,” he said over his shoulder, his mouth still full. “Should be nice and ready.”

The shiny red steam carriage, one of seven cars in the family’s possession, poured out black smoke from its chimney and steam from the pressure relief. As Iolana climbed into the passenger seat, Walworth made the necessary checks and adjustments to the engine before climbing into the driver’s side.

“Which store did you want?”

“Let’s go to the new one at Clark and Forest.”

“By the Gazette?”

“Um, yes.  I suppose so.”

Though traffic was sparse around her home, once they had passed Town Square the streets became crowded with steam carriages, pedestrians, and lizzies pulling rickshaws.  At Clark and First, they came upon the scene of a traffic accident.  Though it was hard to tell exactly what had happened, it had obviously involved a car and two or more rickshaws.  There seemed to be no one seriously injured, but it took more than fifteen minutes to get past the intersection.  Finally Walworth brought the vehicle to a stop at the curb in front of one of the newer business buildings.

J.D. Kinney’s 5 and 10 Pfennig Dry Goods and Sundries occupied the largest part of the building.  The remainder held Doreen’s Millinery and Friese and Son’s Imported Foods and Beverages.  Separated only by an alleyway was another business building just to the left, containing Buttermore’s Photography, Mademoiselle Joliet’s Dress Shop, Tint’s Haberdashery, and McCoort & McCoort Print Shop and Publishing. Just beyond that was a third building, just as large as the first two, which was devoted entirely to the Birmisia Gazette.