The main part of writing The Young Sorceress, was squeezing in some additional background on characters who appeared in The Two Dragons, which I had already written.  One of the main characters was completely different.  I already knew what I wanted to write for Book 6: The Sorceress and her Lovers, so I used the opportunity to build some background for a character who would play a big part in that book– Kieran Baxter.  Up to that point, he had only appeared as a very minor character in book 1.  Here he is in book 4.

Baxter was the latest of His Majesty’s ships to take this duty.  She was a battle sloop and though larger than wooden sailing ships of old bearing the same designation, she was one of the smaller vessels in the Royal Navy.  It was Baxter’s opinion that she was too small for her current assignment, though he would never have admitted such.  At 990 tons, she was just exactly 250 feet long and drew a beam of 36 feet.  With a single machinegun and no ship to ship weapons, she had to rely on her speed to get her 93 crewmen to safety—no match for a frigate and certainly not a cruiser.  Her three anti-airship guns could take on any dirigible, but while her two depth charge throwers and two torpedo tubes made her a menace to a submersible, Freedonian unterseeboots usually traveled in packs.

This day had been like every other one of the past three weeks.  The Snowflake had circled one of the smaller Mulliens, looking for any sign of Freedonian or Mirsannan influence and generally ignoring any ships from Enclep.  In this case there had been none.  There was nothing to distinguish this particular island from the hundreds of others in the area.  It didn’t even have a name on the charts.  It was large enough to have a couple of peaks, no doubt volcanic, though if they were active there was no sign of it.  Thick tropical forests grew right up the edge of the beach all the way around.  There was no sign of even the most rudimentary civilized life.  There was in fact no sign of human life what-so-ever.

Baxter stood along the aft railing and watched the sun dip below the waves.  He felt the comforting thrum of the twin steam turbines beneath his feet.  Relaxing here before retiring had become his nightly routine, something of which his steward was well aware.

“Tea Captain?” asked the sailor, holding a cup for him.

“Thank you.”  Baxter took a sip and sighed.

It was at that moment that he saw them and for a split second he thought they were simply the last bits of light reflecting off the waves.  They weren’t.  They were two torpedoes and they hit at almost the same instant not fifty feet forward from where he stood.  Suddenly he was flying through the air.  Then he was underwater, struggling to breathe.  Just as he reached the surface, something crashed into the waves two feet away, creating a huge splash.  Baxter turned in the water, looking for the Snowflake.  He found her just in time to see a tremendous blast rip the ship apart as the cold seawater hit the steaming boilers.

Baxter swam toward the ship, but it disappeared below the waves long before he was able to close half the distance.  As the thought that his first command was now gone registered in his brain, so for the first time did the fact that he himself was in serious trouble.  He was already exhausted and though he knew there was land close by, he had lost all sense of direction and no longer had the light in which to see it.  He was wearing his boots and they were filled with water, dragging him down.  He thought about removing them, but didn’t think he could stay afloat while he did so.  Debris was floating all around, but most of it was tiny.  He grabbed the first thing he saw floating that was larger than he was and pulled his body onto it, grinning mirthlessly when he realized it was part of a lifeboat.

Holding on for his life, Baxter spent the night being tossed about like a cork.  He was sure that he hadn’t fallen asleep.  He couldn’t have.  Yet sunrise appeared far sooner than it should have.  As it did so, it framed the shape of the island that Snowflake had circumnavigated the day before.  It looked less than a mile away.  There was nothing else to do but make for it.  Finally able to remove his boots, Baxter tied them by the shoelaces to the single metal cleat on the remains of the lifeboat.  Then lying on his stomach, he kicked with his feet toward land.

Hero is a character who is a lot of fun to write.  She remains pretty much normal– a dull brown next to Senta’s gold.  She doesn’t really have a story arc of her own, at least until book 5 (and beyond).  She’s there strictly in a supporting role.  Here she is doing just that in The Young Sorceress.

Hero had been Senta’s best friend for more than five years now.  While they had once been nearly the same height, Hero was now noticeably shorter than the young sorceress.  She was in fact, quite a bit shorter now than her own twin.  Other than height though, Hertzal and Hero looked very much alike.  They both had large expressive eyes.  They both had thick dark hair, Hero’s long and naturally curly, Hertzal’s short and razor cut above the ears.

“Senta!” squealed Hero, hopping two steps across the tiny room to give her friend a great hug.  “What are you doing here?”

Hertzal smiled happily.  He had never spoken as long as the sorceress had known him, but he had his own ways of making himself understood.

“I’m taking you all to dinner at Finkler’s.”

“We haven’t decided for sure…” started Honor.

“That’s ace,” said Hero.  “We could smell Mrs. Finkler’s stew all over the square.  Oh, here’s your thread, Honor.”

She handed her sister a small cloth bag.

“Well, I suppose I should get my shawl,” said Honor.  “You two bundle up.  It’s still warm out, but it will be quite cool when we come home.”

She cast an eye in Senta’s direction.

“This is surprisingly warm,” said the sorceress, gesturing to her own unusual clothing.

The four of them walked west down First Avenue toward the square.  The three teens carried on an animated conversation, oblivious to almost anything else.  The eldest of the group carried a kerosene lantern in one hand and a lizzie sword in one hand.  The flat weapon looked a lot like a cricket bat, but was encrusted around the edges with small, very sharp pieces of obsidian.

There was a short line at the bakery, as the eating establishment featured only seven tables, three on the inside, and four on the outside.  When Senta and her friends joined the queue though, it became much shorter.  They could hear several people whispering “the Drache Girl” as they suddenly decided to eat at either the new beanery or Café Ada.

“It seems like a lot of people are afraid of you,” said Hero to Senta, as they took one of the outdoor tables.

“Well, that’s just good sense,” Senta replied.

One person that was apparently not afraid was the waitress.

“Well, if it isn’t three of the four biggest trouble makers in town,” she said, setting down a pot of tea and four cups.  “Hello Honor.”

“Shouldn’t you be at home with your kids?” asked Senta.

Gaylene Finkler made a face.  She was the wife of restaurateur Aalwijn Finkler, not to mention sister of Senta’s boyfriend, Graham.  Though she was only seventeen, she was already the mother of two.  Her eyes looked tired as she ran a hand through her sandy hair. 

“I had to get out.  Ma is taking care of the kids.  Another five minutes in the house and I would have taken an axe to everyone in it, and that includes your boyfriend.”

“Maybe you should have a rest instead of working,” offered Honor.

“We’re short of help.  Besides, when I’m here I get a chance to waffle with my friends.”  She waved a hand to Dutty Speel at another table, and who waved back.  “So what do you want?”

“How about some lovely stew?” said Senta.

“Right.  Stew.  Fresh bread.  Relish platter.  Anything else?”

“How about four Billingbow’s?”

“Just water for me,” said Honor.

“Got it,” said Gaylene; then she was off.

“Say, is that Zurfina over there?” asked Hero.

Lovable police constable Eamon Shrubb returns in The Young Sorceress.  He makes a great side-kick for Saba Colbshallow, and is constantly needling him about his relationship with all the powerful women of the colony.  My favorite recurring line of his is “Violators call me Police Constable Shrubb.”  Here he uses it on Senta.

Senta stepped out of the store with the candy in one hand and the soda water in the other.  Turning to the right, she passed the dress shop, heading for the opening in the Emergency Wall.  She hadn’t gone too far when she practically walked into two young men.  They were both at least six feet tall and broad shouldered, and when they stood next to each other they completely blocked the entire walkway.  The young sorceress was momentarily startled.  She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had blocked her path.

“What have we here,” said one of the young men to the other.

He looked to be nearly twenty.  His hair was long and messy, but he was not bad looking otherwise.  His friend though had a nasty leer on his face that looked like it never went away—that and a red scar across his chin.  They were both well-muscled and wore the clothing of merchant seamen.  That explained a lot.

“Looks like a little bird got out of her nest.”

Senta stuck the end of the licorice into her mouth and yanked on it till a piece broke off.  The men didn’t seem to notice her nonchalance.

“Maybe she could show us what they do for fun in this God forsaken country,” continued the second man.  “Could you do that honey?  Could you show us some fun?”

Senta took another bite of licorice.

“You know it’s not even tea time, right?” she asked.  “Don’t hoodlums usually wait until nightfall before assaulting young women?  Aren’t you worried about the coppers getting after you?”

“I don’t see any coppers, do you?” asked the man.

“As a matter of fact, I do.  He’s right over there.”

The two men looked across the square and indeed a uniformed police constable was striding swiftly toward them.  He was much larger than even the sailors and he carried a heavy wooden truncheon in one hand.  The two men quickly stepped around Senta and disappeared down the alley between shops.

“Hello Eamon,” said Senta when Police Constable Shrubb stopped on the spot so recently vacated by the two hoodlums.

“Violators call me PC Shrubb.”

“What?”

“Miss Senta Bly, I have a warrant for your arrest.”

“You have a what now?”

“A warrant.  Mr. Eden Buttermore has sworn out a complaint against you for attacking him at the bakery café.”

“I didn’t do any such thing.”

“There are sworn statements from six witnesses.”

“Six, huh?”

“That’s right.  Now come along quietly lass, and I won’t have to put you in the cuffs.”

“Now Eamon, you know that if I wanted to attack someone, he’d be in no condition to swear out a complaint.”

She raised her hand and the constable stepped back, but the sorceress just took another bite of licorice.

“Well, let’s get going,” she said.  “I don’t want to spend all day at the police station.”

It was a twenty minute walk to the new police station and court house which sat alone in a forested lot just east of the train depot.  It had been built of sharp red brick almost two years before, with white stonework at the corners and above the windows and doors.  It was a square five story building.  On the arch above the door was carved in large letters “POLICE” and just below it, the police motto “punishment follows swift on guilt.”  The colony now boasted half a dozen police constables, but only one was present in the main office.  When Senta entered the front door just ahead of Eamon, the young PC jumped up, knocking his chair over.  The girl sat her empty soda bottle on the counter and smiled at him.

“Take it easy lad,” said Eamon.  “Just toss me the key.”

“Oh hey!  You’re not tossing me in the clinker!”

“Only until the Justice of the Peace can get here.”

“Um,” said the young constable.  “He’s already here.  He’s upstairs in his office.”

“Fine then.”  Eamon led the way to the elevator.

Graham Dokkins is one character who really gets a demotion in The Young Sorceress.  After showcasing him so much in book 2 and book 3, it feels kind of strange that he is in the background in book 4 so much.  There really isn’t much place for him though.  I think you really see who Graham is in the parts in which he appears.  Here he comes to the rescue of Harriet the Triceratops.

After arranging for the rental of the warehouse, Senta started back the way she had come.  The trolley was right where she had left it, but now there was some kind of kerfuffle going on.  It was difficult to see just what it was as a crowd had gathered around, but the honking cries echoing between the buildings made it clear that Harriet was unhappy.

“Hey give-over!” said Senta, pushing her way past two men.

As soon as others began noticing who she was, a path parted before her, revealing an angry triceratops struggling against the harness that attached her to the trolley.  Harriet had already turned to one side, pulling the wheels from the rails and now several men were pulling at ropes tied around her horns.  The great boney frill surrounding her head was flushed bright red.

“Hey! Knock that off, you wankers!” shouted a familiar voice from across the crowd.  “Those horns aren’t for yankin’ on.”

Senta looked to see her boyfriend Graham pushing past several new arrivals.  He was about the same age that she was, though the dungarees and heavy shirt made him look older.  He was almost a head shorter than Senta, with unkempt brown hair and a freckled face that was usually smiling, but which right now was twisted into a snarl.  He jumped forward and pulled the rope away from the hands of one of the men and moved toward the dinosaur, murmuring soothing words.  Harriet was in no mood now to be comforted though, and took a bite at him with her great beaked mouth.

“Teiius Uuthanum,” said Senta, spreading her hands toward the enraged dinosaur.

Almost immediately Harriet stopped twisting and pulling on the ropes, and two seconds later her massive head slumped as she closed her eyes.  She remained standing, but slept, even giving a single honking snore.

“Those horns aren’t for pulling on!” Graham shouted again at the men.  “They’re for display!  They’ll break off!”

He threw the rope on the ground and stomped away.  Senta hurried after him, catching up about halfway down the hill.

“Graham,” she called.

He half turned and scowled at her and then continued on.

“Hey!”

She ran after him and grasping him by the shoulder, turned him around.

“What gives?” she asked.

“Oh, you want to see me now?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We were supposed to meet last evening.  I was going to buy you dinner at the new restaurant.   I’ve been saving for weeks.  Any of this sound familiar?  Instead I ate beef in a boot by myself.”

“Beef in a boot?  You mean filet de boeuf en croute?  Seems like I should be the one who is angry.  All I had was a sandwich.”

“Hardly my fault,” said Graham.  “I had to eat mine alone with all the people in Café Ada watching me.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.  Your brother-in-law took care of you, didn’t he?”

“More like he took pity on me, just like everyone else did for the poor tosser that got himself stood up by his girl.”

“I’m sorry, all right?  I had a thing with Zurfina.  You have to make allowances.”

“I make all kinds of allowances, but even I can only take so much.”

“I will make it up to you,” said Senta.  “We’ll go on a pic-nic together tomorrow.  You still have roast beef left over, don’t you?”

The boy nodded.

“Good.  We can eat it cold.  I’ll pack tea and biscuits and we’ll have a nice day in the park.”

“All right,” said Graham begrudgingly.  “I’ll pick you up at your house—eleven sharp.”

“I’ll be ready,” promised Senta.

Saba Colbshallow’s part in The Young Sorceress is mostly official, in that he is fulfilling his job as a Police Inspector.  He still has his moments with Senta, of course.  All that plays into the larger story going on in the series.  Here Saba and his wife have Senta to tea.

“Senta!”

The young sorceress turned to see Saba Colbshallow walking toward her, only then realizing that she was right in front of his house.  The Colbshallow home was a large, beautiful red brick house sitting back from the road in the shade of large pines and maples on a large fenced estate.  A team of lizzies was busy planting apple trees, which the young police sergeant had apparently been supervising.

“Hey Saba.”

“I was just getting ready to run your birthday gift over to you.”

“You got me a present too?”

“Loana and I got you a present.  Now we can give it to your in person.  She’s just getting ready for tea in the garden.  Come join us.”

“Who’s living in your old house then?” asked Senta.

The small A-frame house, which had been Saba’s first home and stood on the corner of the property, looked like a storage shed next to the newly finished home.  But Senta could see through the window that someone was moving about inside. 

“I’m renting it.”

“I assumed that, since I can see someone has moved in.  I suppose you can use the rent money to lavish your wife with imported fruit trees.  So just who is it that you have living here?”

“It’s Mr. Clipers, the Zaeri Imam.”

“And that’s not making your wife crazy?”

“Of course not.  She hasn’t been around many Zaeri, but now that she’s here, she’s become more cosmopolitan.  Talking of which, when I first saw you I thought you were one of the Zaeri girls on her way home.”

“Oh?  How’s that?”

“With your brown and white dress.  It’s just the sort of thing they would wear.  Anyway, come on back.  Loana will be so excited you’re here.”

Loana was in fact, not excited to see Senta there, though she covered it well.  With a quick admonition to the lizzies to keep working, Saba had led Senta to the garden behind the house.  Here a white wrought iron table had been set for tea.  Two matching chairs were in place, but Saba had quickly added a third.  He was pulling out the chair for the young sorceress just as his wife stepped out of the garden door followed by a lizzie carrying a tray of food.

“I didn’t know you had invited a guest,” said the new Mrs. Colbshallow, a smile tightly affixed to her mouth.

“I just saw her walking down the road,” explained Saba.  “Knowing how much you wanted to get together with her, I thought this was the perfect opportunity.”

“Yes indeed.”

Loana took the tray from the lizzie and sat it on the table, smoothed out her dress, and then waited for her husband to pull out a chair for her.  He did and then sat down himself.  Loana was wearing a lovely dress, pink with black brocade and a low neckline which was trimmed with a dozen large bows.  It displayed her charms nicely.  Loana was as perfect a beauty as could be found in all of Birmisia.  Her chin, her nose, her waist—each of these might have been found in an encyclopedia showing the perfect version of that body part.  Her hair was unusual, arranged in a very complex style, with each strand seemingly a different shade from very light blond to coppery red.  Her eyes were also multihued, one deep brown and the other hazel.

“I made plenty of food.  My Saba always has a healthy appetite.”  Senta thought she perhaps placed a little too much emphasis on the possessive.

“Your garden is lovely,” she said.

“Thank you.  It takes so much effort and it’s hard to keep up on a police sergeant’s salary.  Tomato?”

Sliced tomatoes were only the beginning of a lovely tea.  There was asparagus soup, turnip pasties, and a salad of mint, orange slices, and nettles.  Though not the overabundance that Loana seemed to hint at, there was enough for the three diners.

“So Senta,” said Loana.  “I understand there was some sort of disturbance at Finkler’s yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“How come I didn’t hear anything about it?” asked Saba.

“I’m sure that it was nothing that would involve the police,” continued Loana.  “Just a bit of shouting between two young women over a young man.”

“People are crazy,” said Senta.

“Yes they are,” agreed Loana.  “Some people hinted that you might know something about it, even that you might have been involved—you and a girl named Nellie something, arguing over your boyfriend?”

“Nellie Swenson.  Yeah, I met her yesterday down by the docks.  So we’re supposed to have yelled at each other or something?”

“Yes.”  Loana seemed to be losing some of her steam.

“People make up stuff about me all the time.  Mind you, if I found out Graham was spending too much time with her I might have something to say about it.  He gave me this you know.”  She held up the necklace.

“That reminds me,” said Saba, casting a glare at his wife and getting up from the table.  “Let me get your present.”

“You really shouldn’t have,” Senta told Loana.

“Oh Saba is very attached to you.  He thinks of you like a little sister.”

Saba returned carrying a small box with a bow.  Opening it, Senta found a pair of simple earrings decorated with tiny pieces of amber.

“They’re beautiful,” said Senta, pulling first one and then the other out of the box and fitting them into the holes in her earlobes.

“They weren’t expensive,” he said.

“When Saba told me you had pierced ears, I just knew we had to get them for you,” said Loana.  “I once thought of getting mine pierced, but I didn’t want to look like a tart.”

“You’re just as thoughtful and nice as everyone says,” replied the sorceress.