Radley Staff is a very important character in The Drache Girl. He appears in a minor role in The Voyage of the Minotaur, and I believe is only mentioned once it The Dark and Forbidding Land, because he is away in the navy. His return here in book 3 is a pretty major plot point for the whole series. If they someday make a movie or mini-series of Senta and the Steel Dragon, you can expect a big name star to have Staff’s part. He’s just larger than life. In a way, he takes Terrence Dechantagne’s place in the second half of the series– interesting since they both arrive together on the S.S. Arrow in this book. There are many scenes I love with Staff, but my favorite is his complex romantic escapades on ship.
With dinner over, he excused himself and walked outside. He leaned over the railing and watched as a pod of ichthyosaurs raced along beside the ship. They were so much like the porpoises of home waters, except for the vertical tails. After a few moments, he felt a warm body next to him and turned to see Miss Jindra in her deep purple dress.
“Mr. Staff,” she said.
“Miss Jindra.”
“I gathered earlier that you had a rather poor opinion of practitioners of the art.”
He shrugged.
“Have you known many?”
“I’ve known a few—a few sorceresses and quite a few wizards. You run across a lot of wizards in the service.”
“And you don’t like them?”
He shrugged again.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess I find them to be self-important.”
“Is it self-important magic wielders who bother you? Or self-important women?”
He shrugged again.
“Birmisia is not the place to go if you don’t like powerful women.”
“Don’t I know it?”
“Is it magic you are afraid of, Mr. Staff? You know there is a sorceress in Birmisia who may be the most powerful in the world. She is said to have destroyed an entire city with a single spell.”
“That’s probably exaggerated,” said Staff. “She didn’t do anything particularly amazing when I knew her.”
“You know her?”
“Knew her.”
“So you really are not afraid of magic.”
“I’m not afraid of magic. I’m also not afraid of a steam train. That doesn’t mean I would stand in front of one.” He tried to change the subject. “You have an interesting accent, Miss Jindra.”
“My father was a Brech, but my mother was from Argrathia.”
Argrathia, in the southeast corner of Sumir, was one of the cradles of civilization thousands of years before Magnus the Great had conquered the world. But now it was a backwater country ruled by petty nobles and warlords. Its only revenue was the plundering of its past.
Miss Jindra’s eyes shifted to look past him. Staff turned to see Mrs. Marchond standing behind him.
“Mr. Staff, I was wondering if you could join me for a drink.”
“Your husband?”
“Raoul has retired for the evening. He gets weary on these long days at sea. Miss Jindra, you could accompany us.”
“I think that I too shall retire,” said Miss Jindra.
“Good night then,” said Staff to Miss Jindra, and offering Mrs. Marchond his arm, he led her forward toward the first class lounge.
It was three in the morning when Matie Marchond climbed out of his small bed and stepped back into her gown. She didn’t bother putting on her bustle or her other undergarments. She simply rolled them into a ball, and tucked them under her arm. Then she bent down to kiss him, biting his lower lip hard enough, he thought, to draw blood. Then she stepped out into the corridor and was gone. Staff waited a few discreet moments and then stepped out the door, walking down the hall to the bathroom. Taking a quick shower, he put on one of the complimentary robes stacked on the small shelf, and then carried his clothes back to his room. There were no others in the hallway, and the gas lights were very dim.
Staff slept in late the following morning, having drunk more than he was used to, and having been up very late. When he finally crawled out of bed, he found his clothing hanging on the inside doorknob, pressed, and his other shoes just inside the cabin on the floor, polished. After he dressed, he walked down the hallway to the bathroom, where he shaved. Breakfast was long past and he didn’t feel like eating lunch, so he went to the stern of the ship and sat on a folding chair on the sun deck.
The day was anything but sunny. The wind was up, just as it had been the day before. The sky was already overcast, and as Staff sat, the temperature dropped steadily until he judged that it was below forty. No other passengers showed themselves, but the weather did not stop a waiter from coming out and asking the gentleman if he wanted anything, in a decidedly Mirsannan accent.
“What do you have for a hangover?”
“I’ll see what I can find, sir.”
A few minutes later the waiter returned with a glass filled with a thick, red concoction. Staff sipped it.
“Kafira’s fanny! What the hell is in here?”
“Two eggs, two anchovies, a clove of garlic, a hot pepper, tomato juice, a twist of lemon, and a splash of healing draught.”
“That’s supposed to cure a hangover?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wouldn’t the healing draught by itself do just as well?”
“Probably sir, but it would not be nearly as beautiful.”
City of Amathar 