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.

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.”

“She’s just a little girl.”

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.

“The little hand is on the claw, Great King,” said Sszaxxanna, from the next sleeping mat to the left. “The big hand is past the ladle. It is on the stacked boulders.”

“Fine, fine.” Hsrandtuss pushed his fourth wife aside and stood up. He stretched out his arms and hissed in pleasant surprise. “I feel good. I feel rested. Find me some of that meat.”

The sun was low in the sky over Bangdorf, igniting gold fire on the spires of the Kaiserlicher Palast and the tall, thin, single tower of the Kirche Unserer Heiligen Mutter. The red and white roofs of the many other buildings were less striking but no less beautiful. Senta Bly pulled a wayward blond curl back behind her ear as she stared out the large window on the twelfth floor of the Kanalgeschäfts Hotel, as she often did at this time of day. She had been in Bangdorf for a fortnight after six months of touring much of Sumir. She thought Bangdorf was the most beautiful city that she had ever seen. Smaller than Brech and much newer, it was laid out with wide streets and broad, lush parks. If it had been anywhere else in the world, she could have seen herself staying there.

She swiftly turned and walked down the hallway to the door of the Imperial suite and opening it, stepped inside. The large parlor was empty, so she continued on into the master bedroom. Reclining on the bed, wearing nothing but his slacks and a white undershirt, was her companion Kieran Baxter. Retrieving a lit cigarette from the ashtray on the nightstand, he took a long drag and blew out a thick stream of smoke.

“Dress shopping again?” he asked.

“Yes.” She spun around. “Does this dress make my bottom look big?”

“Huge.”

“Good. This is the latest thing in lady’s undergarments. It’s called a table-top bustle.”

“I can see why.” He took a last puff from the cigarette, before mashing it into the ashtray. “I could lay out a seven course meal on your ass.”

“Don’t say ‘ass’,” Senta hissed. “It’s uncouth.”

Baxter shrugged, then spun his legs off the bed and sat up. He cared little for ladies’ fashions. Senta on the other hand, spent a great deal of time shopping. This particular dress, newly in from Mirsanna, had a high collar in front, though it was cut low in the back. Gold, trimmed with black brocade, it had puffs of black lace at the wrists.

“Are we going out tonight?” asked Baxter.

“Of course. We only have four more days.”

“I’d better get dressed then, hadn’t I?”

A sudden loud “gawp” could be heard through the side door. Senta quickly crossed the room and opened the door to reveal a large closet. Curled up into a neat circle, just inside the door, was a dragon. No bigger than a medium sized dog, the beast was covered with coral tinted metallic scales. Its long thin snout was resting on its forearms. Its long whip-like tail, tipped with a spade-shaped barb, was wrapped around its body.

“Poor baby,” said Senta, leaning down and reaching out a hand to the little coral dragon. “Did the bad man lock you up in the closet all day?”

A thin forked tongue quickly licked the woman’s fingers, and then suddenly the mouth full of needle sharp teeth bit down upon the fleshy part of her hand.

“Ouch! You horrible little twonk!”

“You shouldn’t say ‘twonk’,” said Baxter dryly. “It’s uncouth. And that’s why she’s been locked up all day.”

“She hasn’t been out in forever,” said Senta, pausing to lick the blood off her hand. “She has so much pent up energy.”

“Indeed.”

“Come along, Pet,” she said, scooping up the dragon into her arms.

The little beast allowed itself to be cuddled for just a moment before slithering up her sleeve and taking a spot on her shoulder. The sorceress crossed the room and opened the doors to the balcony.

“Go on,” said Senta. “Fly, but be back by morning.”

The little dragon shot into the sky with so much force, it sent her staggering backwards several steps. Once inside again, she shut the doors. Baxter was now in the closet putting on a newly starched white shirt. Senta walked up behind him and snaked her arms around his waist.

“You do look handsome when you get dressed up.”

“Thank you.” He unfastened his pants and tucked in the shirttail. “I worry about letting her out. We’ve already had two shooting attempts. It seems careless to chance a third.”

“Yes, but both of those times they were trying to shoot me,” Senta pointed out. “I doubt anyone will even notice her and I don’t think a bullet would permanently harm her anyway. I’m much more concerned about her growth. By this age, Bessemer was nearly the size of a pony.”

“Maybe the females are just smaller, or maybe her kind of dragon doesn’t grow as big.”

“Maybe, maybe. That’s why I’ve decided to spend tomorrow at the library.”

“I thought we were taking the river cruise tomorrow.” He turned around so that she could tie the bowtie he had just wrapped around his neck.

“You can still go.”

“By myself?”

“I doubt you’ll suffer from a lack of female companionship.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” he asked. “If I were to take the cruise with a lovely Freedonian girl?”

“As long as I don’t see you, you’ll both probably survive,” said Senta. “Just remember, the women here are desperate for you lot.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“It’s not mine,” said Senta. “Everybody seems to forget that. I had nothing to do with that bit. Now put your jacket on and let’s go.”

“Don’t you want to see the baby?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

Baxter put on his jacket as he crossed room, stepped out into the parlor, and opened the nursery door. Senta followed.

“Bringen sie das kind ins wohnzimmer, bitte fraulein.”

Two women stepped out into the parlor. Both were quite young. The first was a dark-haired beauty with flashing eyes, dressed in a simple black and brown dress. The other, who carried a sleeping baby wrapped in pink blankets, was blond and blue-eyed, with a colorful floral-patterned dress.

“She looks just precious when she’s asleep, doesn’t she?” said Senta, as she took the child from the other blonde.

“She is precious,” said Baxter. “You should spend more time with her.”

Saba led the seven uniformed police officers, each of them armed with rifles through the back door of Mayor and Mrs. Korlann’s house. The small entryway and cloakroom led to a well-appointed den. Here amid countless books and artworks was a grisly scene. The lizzie butler Chunny had been hacked nearly to pieces, just as Mrs. Dechantagne’s dressing maid Cissy had been. Red blood was splattered everywhere. A trail of dripping crimson led out the other door and toward the front of the house.

Interrogating lizzies at the station, Saba had learned that a gang was responsible for not only the murder of Cissy, but of terrorizing lizardman throughout the town, particularly those who became too close to humans, or even worse, who began to take on human affectations. He remembered Cissy’s hat and her fondness for Billingbow’s. There were several dozen members of the group, but the four ringleaders, four young toughs, were all employed at the Dechantagne home. With two of them in custody, Saba had rushed out with a team of men, only to find that the other two, Skye and Starr, gone. A hurried interrogation had uncovered their plans to make another example of the Mayor’s lizzie, Chunny.

Signaling three of his officers to cut through the kitchen, Saba and the other four followed the bloody trail through the parlor. It was far too much to have dripped from a blade, even a wood and obsidian sword. One of the attackers must have been injured. He turned around and pointed his rifle at the stairway. Two lizardmen, covered in the raiment of their gory work stood on the landing.

“Halt,” he shouted.

One lizzie turned and hissed at him, brandishing a sword, while the other sped up the steps. All five policemen fired and the hissing reptile fell back against the wall, blood spraying all over several fine paintings behind him. Saba ran up the steps, leaping over the reptilian body. The blood trail continued. At the top of the stairs, it led him down the hall and through a doorway into a bedroom. He could hear the others coming up behind him.

In the bedroom was the other lizzie. He held Egeria Korlann in front of him like a shield. The clawed fingers of his left hand were enmeshed in her flaming red hair. In his right hand, he held a kitchen carving knife to her throat. Blood ran in small rivulets from several cuts on the lizzie’s arms down onto Mrs. Korlann’s light blue dressing gown.

“You have two seconds to decide,” Saba told the lizzie as he looked down the rifle sights.

“I kill.”

The bullet hit the lizardman in the right eye, knocking him backwards. He fell into a small bookcase, which crashed to the ground on top of him. Mrs. Korlann stood statue-like with horror written across her pretty face and a single drop of blood on her neck. For a horrible moment, Saba thought the attacker had sliced her throat as he had fallen. Then she burst into sobs. The single drop of blood was the only one that escaped the veins of her long white neck.

Saba took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. He led her down the hall to another bedroom and sat her on the bed. He looked out into the hall just long enough to see that his men were removing the bodies. Once they had done so, he guided her downstairs, though she nearly swooned at the blood covered landing. Outside, he had PC Gorman drive her to the Dechantagne house so that her daughter-in-law could look after her.