“You think I’m an idiot?” demanded Senta.

“I didn’t say anything of the kind,” replied Zurfina calmly.

“I know a fylfot when I see one!”

“Don’t be so defensive, Pet. I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. I merely pointed out that I have been all over this town in the past few weeks and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of this wizard of yours.”

“Well I saw him. I’ve been keeping tabs on him since he got here and I even talked to him.”

“I don’t doubt you,” said Zurfina, in a remarkably soothing voice, “but the level of residual magic around town is no more than I would expect from you and your everyday antics.”

“Are you sure you didn’t miss some?”

“Now who’s being insulting?” The sorceress’s voice suddenly flared louder. “If I didn’t detect it, it wasn’t there.”

“Hmph!” said Senta, and crossing her arms, turned to face the door.

Zurfina sighed. “Children are so difficult. Is it any wonder that I never wanted one of my own?”

“Maybe you should just get rid of me like everybody else does,” said Senta quietly.

Zurfina crossed from the kitchen to the other side of the stairs and put an arm around Senta’s shoulders.

“You’re far too interesting for me to get rid of now. Look, this wizard of yours is obviously far too insignificant for me to concern myself with. You’ll have to take care of him.”

“Me? I’m just a little kid.”

“You know something?” said Zurfina, taking her arm from around Senta and grasping her by the shoulders. “Nobody believes that—least of all me. There’s not a journeyman wizard this side of Xygia who can do what you can do with magic.”

“Really?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Of course you would.”

“Well…” Zurfina shrugged. “Keep an eye on your wizard, and if he turns out to be a threat to us, neutralize him.”

“What if you’re wrong and he magics the crap out of me?” wondered Senta.

“Then I’ll know better with my next apprentice,” replied Zurfina. “Do you want a sandwich?”

“Yes.”

Zurfina waved her finger in the air and, as the contents of the froredor began to fly out to the table and assemble themselves into sandwiches, she started up the stairs.

“Bring my meal up to the top floor. Leave it on the step outside the door. Don’t come in.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” said Senta, watching mayonnaise being spread across a freshly cut piece of bread.

Cissy was getting quite used to her new role. The work she did, while not physically demanding, was at least varied enough to keep her attention. She enjoyed watching the humans and learning about their strange activities. She enjoyed earning many copper bits and spending some of them to buy things. She liked the human houses, especially now with four feet of snow on the ground outside and more coming down all the time. Unused rooms in the big house could become as drafty as the huts in lizzie villages, but there were so many fireplaces constantly burning that it was easy to find a place to warm up. And her own place, in the room she now shared with four other females, in the back of the motorshed, was kept toasty warm in the evening.

“Pay attention Cissy,” said Mrs. Dechantagne.

Cissy was lacing up the back of the strange undergarment that squeezed the human woman’s waist. Cissy now knew Mrs. Dechantagne’s name, and indeed the names of the other members of the household, though the intricacies of their familial connections still baffled her. Nor could she pronounce most of the names, but fortunately speech on her part was seldom needed. She liked Mrs. Dechantagne almost as much as she liked Mrs. Colbshallow. Neither woman hit the lizzies and Mrs. Dechantagne didn’t yell at them overmuch. While Mrs. Colbshallow did on occasion raise her voice, she alone among the humans had learned the lizzie language, and offered affection toward the lizzies.

Cissy found herself starting to think in Brech, rather than her native language. She had learned so many words for things that there were no words for among the lizzies. She had stopped thinking of her race as “the people” and now just thought of them as lizzies, and more often than not, when she thought of herself, the name Cissy came to mind rather than Ssissiatok.

She pulled the corset strings tightly through they eyelets and pulled down on them, locking them into position, so that she could then tie them into a knot. Once that was done, Mrs. Dechantagne turned around to examine her work in the cheval glass.

“Yes, that’s fine. Now help me into the dress.”

Cissy was fascinated by the ornate dresses that the human females wore, and this dress was no exception. It was the color of an angry sunset and was made of enough material to have clothed a dozen men and women. Covered with coral roses and pink bows, it had to be carefully held so that Mrs. Dechantagne could step into it. Then it was fastened up the back with more than forty tiny buttons, which Cissy could barely manipulate even with a buttonhook in her clawed fingers. There was no way that the woman could have put it on by herself and there was no way that she would be able to get out of it either. Of course Cissy had her own skirt, but it was just a wide piece of material wrapped around her above the tail, a mere homage to the dresses worn by the human women of the house.

Once Mrs. Dechantagne was in her dress, Cissy had to kneel down to put the woman’s shoes on her feet, using the same buttonhook to slip the twenty-four buttons on each shoe into their correct spot. Before she could stand up she heard a shrieking sound from the doorway to the right. She turned to see elderly Mrs. Godwin leaning against the doorframe with her hand on her breast.

“Are you alright Mrs. Godwin?” asked Mrs. Dechantagne.

“I thought for a moment you were being attacked… by an alligator.”

“Did you forget your glasses again, Mrs. G?”

“Of course I didn’t.   I have them… oh…” Mrs. Godwin felt her face, and not finding any glasses there, turned and wandered off down the hallway.

“You do rather look like an alligator,” said the young woman, looking down at Cissy.

“Alligator?”

“Yes. Well, I’ve never seen one in real life. Just in books. Um, they say you have crocodiles that are very similar. Do you know crocodiles?”

Cissy shook her head.

“Oh well. Get up off the floor. I’m done with you for now. Go down and see what Mrs. Colbshallow has for you.”

Mike washed his hair, rinsed his head and his body, and then turned off the water. Patience handed him a towel as he opened the door. While he dried himself, she set his clothes out on the bed and then hopped downstairs to the kitchen to serve his blueberry waffle. She poured herself a glass of water and poured a glass of milk for Mike, set his breakfast at his place, and then sat down to wait for him. Seventy six point three seconds later, Mike entered and sat down.

“You are not wearing the right shirt,” said Patience. “I laid out your beige shirt. It matches your slacks.”

“This is fine,” he replied, cutting a piece of waffle with his fork.

“But that is your blue shirt. It doesn’t match your slacks.”

He leaned over sideways and looked at what she was wearing. Her sleeveless yellow blouse and miniskirt combination matched her yellow semi-wedge sandals with four and half inch heels. They made her slender legs seem to go on forever.

“What are we getting dressed up for?”

“You’re taking me to the art exposition at the community center.”

“All right.” He took a bite, still looking at her. “You did your hair different.”

“Yes, I pinned it back behind my left ear. I thought about pinning it back behind my right ear, but in the end I changed my mind. Do you like it?”

“You look gorgeous, as always. Are you sure you want to be seen with an old man like me?”

Patience stood up and walked around behind him. She watched as he cut another piece of waffle and brought it to his mouth, before cupping her hands under his chin, tilting his head back, and kissing him on the lips.

“You are not old.”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“You’re fifty-six, but you are very handsome.” She kissed him again. “Hurry and eat your breakfast. I told Wanda that we would meet them at ten.”

“Who’s Wanda… shit!”

“What’s the matter, Mike?”

“I dribbled syrup on my shirt.”

“Now you can change into one that matches.”

Thirty minutes later, Mike maneuvered his Chevy through the narrow downtown streets of Springdale, California. He turned left and slowed as they passed over the speed bump at the entrance to the community center’s parking lot. He turned and smiled at Patience, to find her glaring at him.

“What?”

“You know what.”

Mike was wearing a beige shirt, but it wasn’t the one that his wife had selected for him.

“I like this shirt better. It’s more comfortable, and it matches. Doesn’t it?” He steered into a parking space near the entrance.

“You should park farther away.”

“You just have an opinion about everything today, don’t you?” he said.

Sliding the gearshift into park, Mike unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out. He had taken three long strides toward the front entrance before he realized that Patience hadn’t moved from the passenger side. Stepping around, he opened the door for her. She slid her legs out the door and then stood up.

“Thank you.”

Shutting the car door with a sigh, Mike offered her his arm, which she took. They walked the short distance to the building’s entryway. Though it was not yet 10 AM, the temperature had already surpassed the century mark, and that was beneath the large orange awning that covered most of downtown. Stepping inside though, they found an entirely different experience. It was dark and the air conditioners seemed to be working overtime.

“Damn, it’s cold in here,” said Mike. “I wish I’d worn my other shirt. You must be freezing in that little outfit.”

Patience stopped and stared at him.

“Yes, I get it. You set out the shirt I should have worn and your temperature range is blawdy blawdy blawdy.”

Senta looked through the glass of the small clear bottle at the milky green liquid inside. She swirled it around. It was just thick enough that the potion coated the inside of the glass.

“So if I drink this, I’ll be beautiful?” she wondered.

“I would be most surprised,” said Zurfina the Magnificent, who was lying naked across the divan. “You haven’t done it properly. It’s supposed to be a lovely forest green—not a putrid olive.”

“I used all the right ingredients and I put them in, in the right order.”

“But you didn’t maintain the necessary aura.”

“Aura? Kafira’s fanny! I didn’t need to worry about the aura when I was making happiness potion.”

“Trained lizzies could mix blessudine. It’s the easiest potion to make. Hermosatin is twice as difficult, amorazine more difficult than that, and dionoserin more difficult still.”

“Alright,” huffed Senta. “In exactly which part did I let my aura drop?”

“The rose petals.”

“Well, I can’t do it again. I don’t have any more rose petals. Why do you need rose petals anyway? I can understand cucumbers. Cucumbers are vegetables and vegetables are supposed to be good for you. I’ve never heard roses were good for you. I don’t even think you’re supposed to eat them.”

“Do you want to be a sorceress or a chemist?” said Zurfina, sitting up. “Do you think this is a science experiment? Cucumber is essential, but not because it’s good for you. It represents a man.”

“A man?”

“A specific part of a man anyway.”

“His todger?” asked Senta, incredulously.

“Yes, of course. And the rose petals represent the woman.”

“Her fanny? His todger and her fanny? And I’m supposed to drink this?”

“Relax,” said Zurfina, rising to her feet. “It’s not like it has the real bits in it. They are just representatives. That’s what magic is about. Dionoserin doesn’t have walnuts because they have any real connection to your brain. They just sort of look like a brain when you take them out of their shell.”

“I’ve had enough for today.”

“Yes, so have I,” said Zurfina, heading for the staircase. “Your ineptitude has completely worn me out. I’m going to take my beauty sleep. You should read your primer. You’ve been neglecting your studies.”

“What will happen if I drink this?” asked Senta, holding up the small bottle.

“It might be interesting to find out,” said her mistress, stopping on the first step to watch. “Go ahead and drink it.”

The girl tilted the bottle to her lips and swallowed the contents down. She licked her lips and waited, but nothing seemed to happen.

“It tastes alright,” she said.

“That’s the spearmint.”

“What does it represent?”

“It doesn’t represent anything,” said Zurfina, ascending the stairs. “It just makes it taste good.”

Senta followed Zurfina up the stairs, but stopped at her own room as the sorceress continued on. Going to the bookcase, she pulled out primer number six. She plopped herself onto her bed and began reading about the classification of animals. The people who had put the book together had obviously never been to Birmisia. They had the animals of the world divided into nice neat categories— invertebrates, fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, and mammals. The deinonychus and velociraptors that wandered around the edges of Port Dechantagne had feathers, so they must be birds. Yet they seemed to have much more in common with the iguanodons that had moved south into the forest. They were reptiles, weren’t they? Senta decided to think more on the topic at a later time. She was running around in her unders and right now she was starting to feel the cold creep in around her. She went to the cast iron stove and tossed a few more logs in. The firebox on this floor was almost empty and it was her job to keep it full. One of these days Zurfina would teach her a spell for filling the firebox, or at least for carrying big piles of wood easily up the stairs.

She went to the window and peered out. The sun was going down and it was all grey and white amid the trees. The wind whistled on the other side of the thin pane of glass. Five days earlier the storm had rolled in from the north and it hadn’t let up since. She hadn’t been outside in that whole time and no one had come to visit her either. Senta resolved to go visiting on the morrow regardless of the weather. She opened the primer again, but ten minutes passed without her reading another word.

She heard the front door a level below open and slam shut. It never occurred to her that someone would enter who had no business being there. This was Zurfina the Magnificent’s home and such an action would have been more than reckless– it would have been suicidal. She turned her head toward the stairway and watched until the graceful form of the steel dragon danced over the top step.

“Pet,” said Bessemer.

“Come here and warm me up,” Senta commanded.

The dragon’s long, lithe body crossed the room in two quick steps and hopped onto the bed with her. A moment later his body was on top of hers, his neck was wrapped around hers, with his head resting on her chest, and his long tail was wrapped around her right leg. His scaly skin felt hard and smooth, but he was exceptionally warm. It was like having a big scaly hot water bottle.

“Well, I can’t see how anyone or anything could have deserved that,” said Yuah. “Having the skin scourged off your back for a few marks?”

“You have to set an example,” said Terrence. “They will recover. The same can’t be said for Mrs. Gompers or that Wills fellow.”

“Yes, that was unfortunate about Mrs. Gompers. She just startled that lizzie and was badly bit for it. But who knows what Mr. Wills was doing to get clawed in the face? You can bet he was doing something that no decent person would do. That man should never have been allowed in the colony.”

“Well, I don’t know him,” said Terrence begrudgingly. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Well, you can rest…” Terrence suddenly felt Yuah stiffen. She turned around to look behind her, and then came to a halt, halting him as well.

“What is it?”

“It’s those horrible birds. There’s a pack of them following us. I just saw one off to the left and there are two more behind us.”

“Velociraptors?”

“No, the bigger ones. The ones with the brown feathers.”

“Deinonychus. You can bet that if you see three, there are three around here that you can’t see.”

“Will they attack?”

“Maybe. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Terrence reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a .45 caliber revolver.”

“Wonderful,” said Yuah. “It’s enough I have to worry about killer birds. And now a blind man with a gun.”

“It’s not a gun. It’s a pistol,” said Terrence. “And I’m not going to shoot it. You are.”

“I can’t shoot a gun… a pistol.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through it.” He took her by the wrist and placed the revolver, handle first, into her small hand. “Where are they now?”

“Two are in the road about thirty feet back. I don’t see the one in the woods anymore.”

At that moment a squawk came from the woods to the left, and was answered by a similar call in the woods to the right.

“Well, we know they’re there. Hold the pistol in your right hand, and cup your left hand under the grip.”

Terrence stepped behind her and reached around to hold her hands in his. His body pressed against her backside so that her bustle collapsed inward and her dress ballooned out somewhat in front. She could feel his breath on her neck.

“Pick a target and line it up with the sight at the end of the barrel. Do you have it?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry. I have you. Do you have the bird lined up?”

“Yes.”

“Then gently squeeze. Don’t pull on the trigger. Just squeeze.”

There was a tremendous boom and a cloud of metallic smoke. The gun’s kick had pushed Yuah back, but Terrence’s body hadn’t moved. She leaned backwards into him.

“Did you hit it?”

Yuah opened the eyes that she hadn’t even realized she had closed.

“Oh, no. Now there are three of them.”

“Do you see any in the woods?”

She glanced to either side. “No.”

“How about behind us?”

“No. I hear something moving in the woods now though.”

“Yes, I hear it too. Let’s take aim again at the one we missed.”

“I don’t know which one it is.”

“Just aim at one Yuah.”

Yuah took aim down the barrel of the pistol at the deinonychus that was closest to the center of the road, and just as Terrence had instructed before, squeezed the trigger. Again there was a tremendous boom and a cloud of smoke. This time as the gun pushed her back, Yuah leaned into Terrence’s body. He didn’t move. The birdlike creature that she had aimed at was hit. Its chest exploded and it was flipped end on end.

“We got it,” said Yuah turning her head so that her face was only an inch from Terrence’s.

“Good,” he said, but made no move to take his arms from around her shoulders or to turn his face away from hers.

“Should we shoot another one?”

“I don’t know. What are the others doing?”

“The other two on the road are sniffing it. Wait… three more are coming out of the woods, but they’re not looking at us. Do you think they’ll eat their friend?”

“Maybe. Proper animals wouldn’t resort to cannibalism, but these Birmisian creatures… Let’s get out of here anyway. If they don’t decide to eat it, they might come after us yet. And something else might come along.”

Ssissiatok shuffled down the road and through the gate in the great wooden wall. On either side, groups of soft-skins watched her and the other people. The people walked slowly as they always did in the cold. This was not to say they could only walk slowly in the cold, but Ssterrost had reminded all of them coming from Tserich how they were to act. They were to act slow and they were to act simple and they were not to show the newcomers anything they weren’t expecting. Most of the people in this group were from Tserich, but there were a few others. Ssissiatok recognized the tribal symbol of Tuustutu on the shoulder of one very tall male in the back of the group.

Ssissiatok herself was slightly less than six feet in height, about average for members of her sex and species. She was young and didn’t have the mottled skin and scars of most of her elders. Her face and the top of her head were a deep forest green, which ran down her back, punctuated with darker stripes just below her shoulders. Beneath her long powerful jaw, on her dewlap, and extending down her front, was a lighter, pale green. Her most attractive feature, her long powerful tail, followed her just a few inches above the ground.

The line of people filed through the wall and between the large square huts of the soft-skins. Though she had heard elders telling stories of the great cities of Suusthek, Tsotollah, and Tsahloose, this softskin village was the largest community that Ssissiatok had ever seen. More and more of the soft-skins lined the road to gawk and to jabber with their little mouths, as the people reached the bigger buildings that were “the base.” Ssissiatok knew “base” and many other human words.

The line stopped and a softskin ahead was shouting. “You lizzies move on up here.”

Ssissiatok and the other people moved forward into a group.

“You will step up to the table and give the soldier your name and information. Then you will be given your identification and you will wait on the seats over there until the employers come to select you.”

Ssissiatok fell in line behind Tissonisuk, an older male she knew from the village. Unlike most of the others, Tissonisuk was not hunkering down to make himself look smaller for the soft-skins. He was standing up at his full six foot seven height. The line moved forward until Tissonisuk reached the table with the softskin seated behind it.

“Name? Oh, hey. I know you, don’t I? Tisson. Right?”

Tissonisuk bobbed his head up and down in the way that the soft-skins did.

“Come to sign on permanent, eh? Good for you. Hold out your hand. Keep this identification bracelet on at all times.”

Tissonisuk, now just Tisson, stepped away from the table. Ssissiatok stepped forward.

“Hey now. You’re a short one, aren’t you? Are you a girl?”

Ssissiatok didn’t know this word.

“Female?”

Ssissiatok hissed in the affirmative, but the softskin didn’t understand, and lowered his hand to the weapon on his belt.

“Fee nail. Fee nail,” said Ssissiatok quickly.

“That’s better. And you can talk too. A little feisty. Don’t worry. We’ll work that out of you in no time. Hold your hand out.”

Ssissiatok did as directed and the softskin tied an identification bracelet around her wrist. She looked at the strange symbols on it.

“Want to know what it says? That’s your number now—295. And it says you can talk, so you can’t fool us. Don’t even try. What’s your name Little Miss Lizzie?”

“Ssissiatok.”

“Cissy. Perfect.”

“Ssissiatok.”

“You’re Cissy now, got it? And I’ve got just the place for you. Go stand over with that lot there.”

The softskin pointed to where Tissonisuk sat. Ssissiatok walked over to them. She recognized Hekheesiatu, another female just older than she, but from a house with slightly less status. The third person she didn’t recognize. He was an average looking male with mottled yellow skin and brown stripes on his back.

“Tissonisuk,” she said, raising the back of her hand to her dewlap.

“No,” he replied in the human language. “Not Tissonisuk. Tisson. Only the hoonan name. Kheesie,” he said, pointing at Hekheesiatu, and then pointing at the person Ssissiatok didn’t know, he said, “Sirruk.”