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.

Hsrandtuss opened his eyes and stretched.  He had to push both Ssu and Tokkenoht off of him before he could roll off his sleeping mat.  Only the latter female woke up.  He stretched again.  He felt better than he had in months, better than he had in years.  A lot of it had to do with the fact that he was sleeping much better.  He didn’t know if it was the proximity of the young god or the fact that for a change, things seemed to be going his way.

The other chiefs had all gone home.  The last to leave had been Tistakha.  Before Tistakha had left for Tuustutu, Hsrandtuss had managed a brief meeting.  To say they had formed an alliance would have been too much, but they did seem to have an understanding.  The two would work together to see that their trade with the soft-skins increased and that the plans of the God of the Sky were not disrupted by the likes of Szisz and his band of broken yokes in Suusiss.

“Your morning meal, Great King,” said Sszaxxanna, handing him a pomegranate.

“I don’t want another fruit,” said Hsrandtuss.  “Where is my meat?”

“Your bowels, Great King.”

“Never mind my bowels.  Find me a bird, or at the very least a nice fish.”

“The fish are not very plentiful here in the mountains, Great King,” said Sszaxxanna, with entirely too much sass.

He glared at her.

“I will try to find you a fish,” she said, scurrying off.

“See that you do.  And send Sirris in here!” he called after her.

Sirris hurried into the room.

“Paint me,” Hsrandtuss ordered.

“If you wish, Great King, but the God of the Sky is gone.”

“Gone?  What do you mean gone?”

“He flew north.  Kendra says he has gone to visit the soft-skins in their city.”

“Yes, I see.  That is good. What else does Kendra say?  What about Szisz?  Is he being watched?”

“Shouldn’t you wait and ask Sszaxxanna?” she asked quietly.

“You will never be first wife with an attitude like that,” he said.

“Kendra has trackers following him and his people.  They are halfway back to Suusiss.  She also says that there is a way for you to rise high in the esteem of the young god.  She says you should do it, but Sszaxxanna won’t…”

Suddenly Sszaxxanna was there, striking Sirris repeatedly with her clawed hands, driving her from the room.  Tokkenoht jumped up and hurried after her.  Ssu continued to snooze on the sleeping mat.

“I have a bird for you, Great King,” said wife number one, thrusting the charred carcass of a bambiraptor toward him.

“It’s cooked?”

“It will be easier on your stomach.”

“What was it that Kendra suggested?” he asked, taking the bird and biting off the top half.

“It is nothing.  It is ill conceived.”

“Would I not be a better judge of that than you?”

“Of course, Great King.  But the god already favors you.  You don’t need to risk yourself unnecessarily.”

“Bring her in here.  I want to hear it.”

“But Great King…”

“Now.”

“As you wish,” said Sszaxxanna, stomping sulkily through the doorway.  Hsrandtuss had no doubt that both Kendra and Sirris would be on the receiving end of Sszaxxanna’s claws later, but what was it to him how the females settled their differences?

Kendra entered and stepped very close to him.  She placed one hand, palm outward, on her dewlap in a sign of respect and reached out familiarly to touch him on the shoulder with the other.  She and Ssu were the youngest of his wives, and Kendra was very tiny, barely reaching up to Hsrandtuss’s shoulder.

“All right, what is this about improving my esteem?”

“There is a creature living beneath this fortress—a horrible creature.”

“Like the dead monster we saw when we arrived?”

“Much smaller than that one, but much more horrible.  It lives in a place the young god cannot reach.  One must pass through a narrow hallway and down a long flight of stairs.  The red-caped one has sent five groups of warriors to kill it and they have all been unsuccessful.  Most of them died.”

“So I am supposed to go down there and get myself killed too?  Is that what you want?”

“No, no, my husband.  You know that is not what I want.  You must know how proud I am to be your wife.”  She pressed her chin against his chest.  “You are a great warrior and Tokkenoht and I will go with you, in addition to your warriors.”

“I am supposed to take two females into battle?”

“I have been on many hunts, and Tokkenoht has great magic.  We can both aid you.”

Realizing that he still had half a bambiraptor in his hand, Hsrandtuss tossed it in his mouth and chewed.  He did want to show Yessonar his worth, and Kendra was right that this might do so. And he was feeling better since he had been here.  Maybe this was just what he needed to get back to his old self—a good battle.  Yes, he decided.  He would do it.

The entire fortress was a whirlwind of activity.  The wall that had been completely disassembled when the group from Hiissiera had arrived was now almost completely rebuilt.  Now a pair of high towers was being constructed just inside the walls.  Wooden ladders and braces acted as an exoskeleton for the stone spires that when completed would house spiral staircases.  Hsrandtuss found the god’s red-caped envoy easily enough.  He had learned the important lizzie went by the name of Khastla.

“I hear that you have a problem beast.”

Khastla hissed slowly and eyed the king.  “You speak of the vile creature below ground.”

“What can you tell me about it?”

The L.Z. Frühlingshuhn descended from the clouds toward Royal Tybalt Hall, the top stories of which had been converted ten years earlier to a dirigible port.  From the great window on the observation deck, Senta Bly watched as Brech City slid by below her.  The buildings all looked like toy models of themselves.  The boats in the Thiss and the carriages on the streets likewise looked like the playthings of children.  It was a sight well worth the cost of a ticket, even without the three-day voyage from Bangdorf.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?”

She turned to Kieran Baxter, who was sitting in one of the comfortable lounge chairs bouncing the baby on his knee.

“I never get tired of it,” she said.

“Funny, I wouldn’t think it would be that impressive to you… what with you being able to fly and everything.”

“Who said I could fly?”

“Can you?”

She shrugged.  “Sort of.”

“I knew it,” he said, hopping easily to his feet, still holding the child. He stopped next to the sorceress. “Look.  You can see right into the courtyard of Palace Eidenia.  I always wanted to look in there.  I expected piles of treasure or something equally grand.”

“Looks like they’re storing old trolley cars in there,” said Senta. “Quite the let-down, I’ll bet.”

“It always is when your fantasies meet your realities.  They just don’t hold up.”

She leaned in close to him.  Her hot breath reached his cheek and the side of his neck.

“Perhaps not in all cases,” he said.

The ship glided lower, turning so that Palace Eidenia was no longer visible. Instead they had a splendid view of the Palace of Ansegdniss, for 250 years the meeting place of the Parliament of Greater Brechalon.  The buildings below became larger and larger until suddenly they stopped being toys and became real full-sized structures.  The dirigible slowed to a stop and at last all they could see was the roof of Royal Tybalt Hall.

Though they had packed those belongings that had been in use during their three-day journey, Senta was in no mood to join the ranks of those passengers rushing to get out.  So she and Baxter continued to sit in the lounge for another hour.  He let the baby crawl a bit on the floor, though he didn’t allow her to get far, and she couldn’t have in any case.  Finally with him carrying little Senta and the sorceress carrying the animal carrier, they walked down the gangway, followed by two stewards with the luggage.  Quickly procuring a cab, they were on their way to The Clarkson House.

The Clarkson House was Brech City’s finest hotel.  It reigned over Avenue Boar with all the opulence of Palace Eidenia—more now that they had seen the old trolleys stored in the latter.  Once at the hotel they stepped across the black and white chessboard-like floor of the palatial lobby, past the gilded furnishings beneath the crystal chandeliers.  To Senta, who had stayed at the Clarkson for several weeks before traveling to Freedonia, and who had in fact given birth to her daughter there, it almost seemed like returning home.  It cemented in her mind the decision she had already made.

When they were safely settled in the imperial suite, Senta let the little dragon out of the carrier.  It immediately ran toward the baby.

“Back off you,” said Baxter, protectively pulling the child away.

“Good baby,” said the dragon.

“Kafira’s twat.  The bloody thing talks.”

“Yes, well, it’s about time that,” said Senta, opening the balcony door and looking at the beast.  “Go find yourself something to eat.  There are thousands of flying reptiles in this city that no one will miss.”

The creature took one bounce and was out the door—a coral-colored blur.

“You expected it to start speaking,” said Baxter.  “I take it your found out something in the library at Bangdorf.”

“I found exactly nothing.”  She turned to her companion.  “Have you decided if you are going to come with me to Birmisia?”

“I thought I didn’t have to decide for a while.”

“It seems you do.”  She waved her hand behind her and the several dozen buttons on the back of her dress unfastened themselves.  “I’ve decided it’s time to go home.”  She stepped out of the dress.  “I didn’t think I would miss it as much as I do.”

“Do you mean you miss him?”

She stepped toward him.  He sat the baby on the rug.  The dress flew of its own accord to the dressing room.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“No I don’t.  There’s a good reason for that.  You haven’t told me anything.”  Baxter crossed his arms.  “I didn’t press you about it, but I have to know where I stand before I decide if I’m going to Birmisia Colony or not.  I have to understand whether…”

“Whether you have me or not?”  She snaked her arms around his shoulders.  He uncrossed his arms and placed them on her waist, though he could feel nothing except the bones of her corset.  “You have me for as long as you want me.  It probably won’t be long.  There are many beautiful women in Port Dechantagne.  You’ll throw me over for one of them, I’m sure.”

“Unlikely.  But I have to know…”

“I was very much in love,” said Senta.  “But he died, years ago.  I don’t think I’ll ever love like that again, but I do care about you.”

“What about the child’s father?”

“He’s in Birmisia.  I’m not in love with him.  Even if I was, he’s not available.”

“What if he was?”

“I said I’m not in love with him.”

“You also as much as said you’re not in love with me.  What if he was available?”

“Do you want me to tell you the truth or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?”

“I guess that’s my answer,” he said, reaching up and pulling her arms from around his neck.

He started to step away, when she grabbed the front of his shirt with her left hand and stuck her right index finger in front of his face.  It was a gesture that would have caused more than a few men to soil themselves.  He simply raised an eyebrow.

Chief Inspector Saba Colbshallow was dozing, only half awake, but happy in the knowledge that he had the day off.  Suddenly a weight of two and a half stone dropped into his lap, curling him up into a ball.  Now awake, Saba clutched at his attacker, which seemed all curly hair and giggles.

“You must be careful with your poor old father, DeeDee,” he gasped.

“Mummy says it’s time to get up,” returned what he still thought was the sweetest voice he had ever heard.

“Does Mummy know that I have the day off?”  He lifted the girl and held her up over his face.  Two large eyes, one brown and one hazel, looked back at him from beneath a pile of multihued curls.  “If you weren’t so horribly cute, I would throw you out with the rubbish.”

A chorus of giggles was the only reply.

“Maybe I’ll just throw you out with the rubbish anyway!”  Rolling to his feet, he tucked the now squealing child under his arm and headed for the window.  “Right out to the dump with you!”

“Saba!”  Saba stopped in his tracks and turned to find his wife standing in the bedroom doorway. “I’ve only just got her hair fixed!”

“Now you’ve gone and gotten me in trouble,” he told the little girl, setting her down beside him.

“Your breakfast is waiting, both of you.”

“Shouldn’t I dress first?”  He waved down at his nightshirt.

“You’re fine.  It’s only the four of us.”

“Come along, brick and mortar.”

“You know I don’t like you using that criminal slang with the child,” said his wife as he passed.  Then she stuck out her cheek and ordered, “Kiss.”

Obediently kissing his wife, Saba followed his daughter out of the room and down the stairs to the dining room.  His wife followed.

Loana Colbshallow was one of the most beautiful women in all of Birmisia Colony. Everyone agreed on that fact, even those who didn’t particularly care for her.  The features that were most often spoken of, when people described her, the heterochromia of both eyes and hair, she had passed to her daughter.  In addition, she possessed flawless skin and as near perfect features as could be imagined.  Of course her most noticeable traits were seldom mentioned, even if they were always noticed.  God had given Loana a slender waist and a bottom that seemed to hardly require a bustle. Her bosom was of such a proportion that it could astonish and yes, even frighten those who stood too close to her. This hadn’t been the case when she and Saba had met, but each year seemed to add onto her a few pounds, and they always seemed to end up in exactly the right places.

DeeDee was already at her seat when Saba reached the table.  Directly across from her was the elder Mrs. Colbshallow, Saba’s mother.

“Just what are you doing to make my lovely daughter-in-law yell?” she asked.

“I remember when I was the apple of her eye,” he said dryly to DeeDee.

“Daddy was just playing with me, Nan.”

Saba directed his attention to the food.  Scooping up large helpings of scrambled eggs, potatoes, and beans onto his and his daughter’s plates.

“Have some tomatoes,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.

“Do you want tomatoes?” he asked DeeDee.

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“You see how it is, Yadira,” said Loana, taking the last place at the table. “The two of them gang up on me all the time.  It’s always what they want and never what I want.”

Mrs. Colbshallow clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“Cucumbers, DeeDee?” asked Saba, ignoring both of the women.

“Yes please.”

“I thought I raised him better than this,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.

“Well, I guess you didn’t,” said Saba, winking at DeeDee, who giggled.

Seeing his pouting wife in the corner of his eye, he relented and scooped several cucumber slices onto her plate too.  “What do you have planned today that has me and my progeny up at such an ungodly hour.”

“It’s nearly 10:00,” said Loana in a shocked voice.  “And you said you would take me to watch the rugby match.”

“And what about these two troublemakers?” he indicated his daughter and his mother.

“Well, they’re going too.”

“I won’t be joining you,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.  “I’m joining the Dechantagnes for luncheon.”

“Good Kafira, Mother.  You’d think you still lived over there.”

“They’ll be no blasphemy in this house.”

“My house,” said Saba without anger.  “My house, my mother, my wife, my daughter, my blasphemy, my breakfast. You three keep forgetting that I’m the man here.  Where’s the chutney?”

“I haven’t forgotten you’re the man, dear,” said Loana, getting up to bring the chutney to him, and then pausing to rub his shoulder.  “But you did promise rugby today.”

“Yes, yes.  Pass me some soldiers.”  He winked again at DeeDee.  “My potatoes need protecting.”

One of the lizzies placed a plate of toast in front of him.

“DeeDee, do you know the difference between toast and Mirsannans?”

“You can make soldiers out of toast,” she recited.

“That’s my girl.”

“Keep both eyes open and look carefully through the telescopic sight. Place the little intersecting lines directly in front of the creature’s breast.”

“Yes Father,” said eleven-year-old Iolana Livonia Dechantagne Staff, pressing her face against the cool wood of the rifle stock.

“How many do you count, dear?”

“I see six, Father.  How many should I shoot?”

“You’ll be lucky to hit even the one.”  Radley Staff bent down and kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “Achillobators are very fast.”

“Beautiful too.”

“Yes, beautiful too.”

“It seems a shame to shoot them.”

“Well perhaps, but they are very dangerous.  You wouldn’t want them coming around our house when your little cousins are outside, would you?”

“No, Father.”

“Alright, let’s see if you can shoot one.  Squeeze the trigger.  Don’t pull.”

“I know, Father.”  The girl jerked as the high-powered rifle let out a deafening report.  Then she quickly worked the action, bringing another round into the chamber.  She fired again, and cocking the weapon, fired a third time.  Then she stopped and looked up at her father, who was beside her, on his knees, peering through a pair of binoculars.  “I’m sorry Father.  The rest have fled.”

“No, no.  You did very well.”

He stood up and then reached down to help her up.  Once back on her feet, Iolana carefully smoothed out her dress. Though not burdened with the bustles and corsets of grown women, she was nevertheless covered from chin to ankle in the fashion appropriate to a girl of her age.  Plenty of white lace and brocade accented the light gold poplin. One of the lizzies picked up the rifle, while another rolled up the mat upon which the girl had been lying.

“Can we go gather some feathers, Father?  I would like some of them for a new hat.”

“Whatever you want.”

Staff waved his hands toward the lizzies, who quickly gathered up the rest of their gear.  Staff, his daughter, and the six reptilians were soon stalking through the brown grass of the vast open meadow.  He kept looking toward the girl to see if she needed any help, but the few times her dress became caught on a thorn, one of the lizzies jumped forward to unhook it before it tore the material.  At last they reached their destination.

Achillobators were feathered dinosaurs about the same size as utahraptors. The latter, covered in bright blue and turquoise feathers and hunting in pairs, had been common along the coastline when humans had arrived.  They were becoming increasingly scarce though as civilization spread into their habitat. On the other hand, achillobators were becoming more and more common.  Covered in bright crimson with a black breast, they hunted in packs of eight or more.

The three dead creatures were grouped close together.  One was as large a specimen as Staff had ever seen, more than twenty feet from nose to end of tail, over seven feet tall when it had stood. The other two were slightly smaller. All three were clean kills.

“Good hunt,” said Teska, the old lizzie hunter who usually accompanied Staff when he went out shooting.  A couple of the others hissed in agreement.

“Keep an eye out,” Staff told Teska.  “I don’t think the others will come back, but you never know.”

He wasn’t too worried.  Even five achillobators would have hesitated to attack six lizzies, though they wouldn’t have thought twice about taking on a similar number of humans.  The lizzies were powerful creatures in their own right, with thick powerful claws on their five-fingered hands and tough leathery hides. They were cold-blooded, and so slower than the dinosaurs, but they were highly intelligent, a fact that far too many humans forgot.

“Can we gather the feathers now, Father?”

“Show Esther which ones you want, and have her pluck them for you.”

Esther, a young female reptilian, jumped at hearing her name, but then hurried over to the human girl and followed her to the largest dead dinosaur. “Hsst ss, hsst stt,” said Iolana, pointing.  The sounds she made were the lizzie language equivalents of “this one and that one.” She spoke their language better than any human that her father knew, with the sole exception of her younger cousin. She certainly spoke it better than any lizzie could speak Brech.  In a few minutes, Iolana had all the feathers that she wanted.

“Should we harvest some of the meat?” she asked.  “It seems such a waste not to.”

“Not today,” said her father.  “But don’t worry.  I doubt it will go to waste.”

He pointed to a spot a hundred yards away, where a large group of velociraptors was forming.

Taking his daughter’s hand, he led her across the open ground, following the game trails.  The six lizzies fell in behind them.  Two miles away, they found the small train waiting exactly where they had left it, steam still puffing from its funnel stack.  The train was nothing but an engine with a single rail coach.  It belonged to M&S Coal Co. and since Mr. Staff was the president of that firm, he had it at his disposal.  A little more than an hour after killing the achillobators, all eight members of the party were seated in the coach. Iolana and her father sat in comfortable chairs near the center of the room.  Esther sat on a chair immediately behind the human girl, sideways so that she could accommodate her tail.  The other lizzies occupied a place on the floor near the back.

“I’m glad you came with me today, dear,” said Staff.  “I know you don’t like to be away from your studies.”

“I’m always happy to go hunting with you, Father.  I wonder that you asked me instead of Augie.  Isn’t he your usual companion?”

“I wanted to spend some time with my daughter,” he said, slightly chastened. “You don’t mind that I take Augie hunting, do you?  After all, he is a boy, and since he’s without a father, it naturally falls to me to step in.”

“Of course I don’t mind, Father.  Perhaps next time we can all go together.  We can take Terra too.”

Hsrandtuss stopped halfway up the hillside and leaned wearily on his staff. Glancing behind him, he saw that his six wives and twenty warriors were not having nearly as difficult a time with the climb as he was.  Looking up the other direction he saw the massive fortress at the top of the hill. It was covered with wooden scaffolding for renovation and hundreds of small square wooden houses surrounded it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to his first wife Sszaxxanna.  She pointed off to the right.

Hsrandtuss, his wives, and his warriors were all members of the cold-blooded reptilian native race of the continent of Birmisia.  The humans called them lizzies.  Ranging in color from light olive to deep forest green, they gave the appearance of an alligator crossed with an iguana, if either had been able to walk around on their hind legs.  Thick tails followed behind them, the tips a few inches off the ground.

“That is the road of supplicants, my king,” she said.

He nodded and started off in that direction, leading his small column along.

As they neared the road, they could see that literally thousands of people were upon it, making their way to the fortress and to the god who lived within. They were not all walking though. About one mile from the great gate, there was an arch over the road.  Upon reaching the arch, travelers dropped down onto their bellies, crawling the rest of the way, dragging their tales behind them.  Hsrandtuss stopped at the archway.  He was torn.  He needed to go on, but it was unseemly for a king to crawl.

“Hsrandtuss,” called a voice, just as he had decided that he had better get down on his belly.

He looked up to see an ornately painted male, wearing a bright red cape. He started when he noticed that the cape was made not of feathers, but of the smooth cloth woven by the soft-skins to the north.  He nodded at the male.

“You need not enter through this gate. Bring your people and follow me.”

The red-caped male led them up a path paved with shiny river stones.  It wound up the hill, sometimes approaching the main road and sometimes veering farther away.  Finally it led to a small but beautiful gate in the cyclopean fortress wall.  It was not as large as the main gate, but was lined with two beautifully carved statues of the god.

Close up, it was easy to see that the fortress was more than undergoing a simple renovation.  One entire wall in the rear of the structure was gone and another had just been rebuilt. Buildings inside the walls were being remade.  Every brick was being replaced.  Thousands of males and females were laying bricks, hauling stones, or pushing wheelbarrows.  Hsrandtuss hadn’t seen so many people since he had visited Suusthek as a child.

Tokkenoht, the king’s third wife, gave a low hiss and Hsrandtuss turned to see what had drawn her attention.

The body of a huge creature lay on its back, rotting in the sun.  It was over fifty feet long, easily as large as a tyrannosaurus, though it was obviously a quadruped.  A thick armadillo-like armor that had once protected the mighty back, now seemed to weigh the body down to the ground, and the gigantic head, attached with almost no neck, now gazed at the sky with empty eye sockets.

“What is it?” asked Sszaxxanna.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Hsrandtuss replied.

“It was a magic beast,” said the red-caped envoy.  “The god killed it.”

Hsrandtuss stared.

“Come with me,” said the envoy.

He led them to a one of the few completed structures near the newly rebuilt wall.  Tall and boxy, the building was covered on all sides by hanging pots, from which grew flowering vines.  Beneath the windows were more flowers growing in heavy stone window boxes.

“This is the style popular in the south,” said Sszaxxanna.

Hsrandtuss nodded.  He didn’t ask her how she knew such a thing.

“Make yourself at home,” came the order, before the caped one left.

Seconds later four females entered through the same door that both the party and the envoy had used.  They carried huge platters of food—raw meat, cut into fist-sized pieces, and fresh fruit. As the females placed the platters on the floor, the warriors all looked at their king, waiting for him to choose the best for himself.

“Remember your bowels,” whispered Sszaxxanna, leaning her long snout near his earhole.  “Just have some fruit.”

“I’m too tired to eat,” he sighed, and then turned to his warriors.  “Feast my friends.”

The warriors went right after the slabs of meat.  Two of his wives did too, but Sszaxxanna quickly put an end to that.

“Get over here,” she hissed.  “The king needs to be rubbed with oil while he relaxes.”

Tokkenoht and Sirris both looked suitably chastened.

“Oh, let them eat,” said Hsrandtuss.  “I just want to go lie down for a bit.”

He opened the tiny pouch on his belt and pulled out a golden pocket watch that he had purchased from the soft-skin city trader for 2,500 copper bits. He held it in front of his first wife’s face and pointed to it.

“The little hand is on the river and the big hand is on the tree by the river. I want to get up when the little hand is on the claw and the big hand is on the ladle.”  He handed her the watch.

“It will be done, Great King,” she said, and then snapped her fingers, calling his second wife.  “Ssu will sleep with you and make sure you are comfortable.”

Hsrandtuss nodded.  Ssu was good for little else, but she did a good job of seeing to his comfort.

“The sleeping room will be through there,” Ssaxxanna pointed.

Hsrandtuss found a large, well appointed chamber set up in the usual style.  A fire pit burned in the center of the floor, surrounded by comfortable sleeping mats.  The king climbed down onto one of the mats, pausing to appreciate its craftsmanship. Then descending to his stomach, he put his snout near the burning fire.  Ssu settled next to him, on the same mat, placing her snout over his, and pressing her stomach to his side.  He scratched her belly idly before drifting off to sleep.  When he woke Ssu was gone, but Tokkenoht was in her place, in exactly the same position.

Staff stood in the observation tower, three hundred feet above the ground, and looked across Iguanodon Heath through his binoculars.  The invading army had not begun to move toward the Brech defensive position, but they were there.  The bulk of the lizzies were beyond the tree line, but every once in a while one would pop out, moving from place to place in the lines.  He wondered if they had heard yet about their friends on the other side of Port Dechantagne.  If they hadn’t, they would soon.  He had just received the message by telegraph.  Three thousand lizzies and that bloody great dragon defeated, and less than fifty men lost.  True, one of them had been an important wizard, but it was still a favorable exchange.

Three others occupied the small covered room at the top of the three-legged structure—two colonial guardsmen, wearing khaki fatigues and pith helmets, and the sorceress Zurfina, wearing a short black leather dress and high black leather boots.  She had her arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Did you know Wizard Bassington well?” he asked her.

“We had a history,” she said.

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“About him dying.”

“Oh yes,” she said.  “I’m sure his masters in the War Ministry will be very disappointed.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

She turned toward him and cocked an eyebrow.  “Is this your attempt to chat me up, Mr. Staff?  Because I’m really not in the mood right now.  You could come by the day after tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t trying to chat you up.  You said that you and Wizard Bassington had a history.  I was just expressing my condolences.”

“Well then, thank you.  I do feel quite a loss.  He was a gifted… man.”

“And we will probably be in the midst of battle the day after tomorrow, if we can hold them off that long.”

“Pish-posh.  The day after tomorrow the lizzies and the Freedonians will all be gone, and I will be at home—all alone and naked.”

“May I ask you what you were looking so pensive about?”

“I was just wondering…”

“Fina.”  The disembodied voice of Senta Bly interrupted her mistress.

“What is it, Pet?”

“I’m walking Bessemer home.  They say the train is not heading your way for an hour.  They want to get as many volunteers on it as possible.”

“That’s fine.  Take our boy home put him in his bed.  He’s going to need a good long sleep to recover.  You know how dragons are.”

“Yes, I know.”

Staff waited for a moment for the sorceress to convey any additional message, but apparently the connection was severed.

“Well then,” said Zurfina.  “Shall we go down?”

Without waiting for an answer, she lowered herself through the hole in the wooden floor and began climbing down the long ladder.  Staff followed.  When he finally reached the ground, his arms and legs felt shaky.  He couldn’t imagine how a woman wearing a corset could have made it down without passing out.  He looked at the sorceress appraisingly.  Yes, she was wearing a corset.

“I’m feeling a little peckish,” said Zurfina.  “How about you?”

Staff nodded.

“Shall we go back to your headquarters and have a bite?”

“All right.”