Zeah Korlann watched as Miss Dechantagne spoke to the policeman.  If he had come home covered in blood, and then called the policeman to tell him that he had just shot two men in an alley, he would be sitting in the deepest darkest cell in Ravendeep by now.  Miss Dechantagne on the other hand, took a careful sip of her tea, keeping her pinky straight, from a teacup that matched her dressing gown, as she told the blue-clad officer of her “adventure.”  She then told him about how she had driven herself home and taken a long hot bath, after ordering her steam carriage cleaned and her clothing disposed of.   Maybe the key was not being nervous.  Policemen were used to dealing with guilty, twitchy, little people.  Miss Dechantagne never felt guilty about anything, she never twitched, and she was most definitely not one of the little people. Then again, the policeman probably wasn’t listening to a word she said.  She sat there with her luxurious auburn hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, her skin the very picture of porcelain perfection, her lips painted luscious red, and those unusual aquamarine eyes.  And she was wearing what? Certainly not a bustle or a corset, just yard after yard of violet and silver silk dressing gown, from her neck to the floor.  Maybe the key was that, as far as the policemen knew, there were no underclothes at all under that dressing gown.

“Normally in these situations,” said the policeman, “we would bring the journeyman wizard from Mernham Yard to cast a truth spell, but I really don’t see the need. Everything seems to be straight-forward enough.”

“Thank you officer,” said Miss Dechantagne.  “You have been most considerate.”

“My pleasure, Miss.”

“Would you please leave your name and address with my man before you leave?  I would like to send you a thank-you gift for your kindness in this trying time.”

“That won’t be necessary, Miss,” said the policeman, clicking his heels and bowing before he left, but he gave his name and address to Zeah anyway, revealing the true key to living an existence free from police trouble.  The officer would receive a gift basket filled with fresh fruit, expensive jams and jellies, canned kippers, loaves of rosemary and garlic bread, some very nice cheese, a sausage, and four or five hundred one mark banknotes.

When the head butler had closed the front door behind the policeman, he turned on a heel and walked back into the parlor.  Miss Dechantagne already seemed to have forgotten that she had been dealing with police business.  She continued to sip her tea, but now she did so while reading the latest issue of Brysin’s Weekly Ladies’ Journal.  Yuah entered carrying a small plate with three carefully arranged peppermint candies upon it.  She gave Zeah a quick wink.  It was just like the girl to get cheeky on her birthday.

“Are you ready to go about your duties for the day, Zeah?” asked Miss Dechantagne.

“Yes, Miss.”

“A little birdie has reminded me that it is your daughter’s birthday,” said Miss Dechantagne, biting into one of the peppermints candies.  “I do hope you have plans to celebrate it.”

“The staff will be presenting her with a cake at dinner,” said Zeah.

“Excellent,” said Miss Dechantagne, then turning to Yuah.  “Take the rest of the evening off.  I shan’t need you.”

“Very good, Miss,” said Yuah.

“Birthdays are important,” said Miss Dechantagne.  “They come only once every three hundred seventy-five days.”

“Yes, Miss,” said Yuah, and exited the room.

“Do you have a gift for her?” the lady asked the head butler.

“I’m picking up a scarf for her today.”

“Excellent. Pick up something appropriate from my brothers and me.  Charge it to my account.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“I’m sorry to ask you to make an additional stop today, Zeah.  I had planned on stopping by the docks this afternoon to consult with Captain Gurrman on how much space still remains in the cargo hold and what other equipment that we might need.  Unfortunately, my ‘adventure’ pushed those plans completely out of my mind.  I need you, after you have completed your other duties, to stop at the docks and complete this mission in my stead.  I trust this will not make you late for your daughter’s birthday party.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Miss,” he said.  He well knew that taking a side trip to the docks, in addition to everything else he had to do, would make him miss any birthday celebrations entirely.  What he couldn’t figure out was whether Miss Dechantagne didn’t understand the constraints of time on his schedule, or did understand and simply didn’t care.

Zeah left the house on foot.  Anyone else might have called the abode a mansion, or a manse, or possibly even a palace, but Miss Dechantagne called it a house, and so it was a house.  He walked with the brisk pace of a much younger man.  He could have taken the steam carriage if he had wanted.  Miss Dechantagne would have allowed it without a second thought.  He had her complete confidence, as his family had held the complete confidence of her family for five generations.  But he had never learned to drive, and he was too old to learn now.  It didn’t matter.  With the breadth of the horse-drawn trolley system in the great city, under normal conditions, he didn’t have to have to walk very far. Going to the docks in the evening would complicate things of course.  He had carefully planned out his journey in his mind, to minimize his travel time and allow him the efficiency that always gave him comfort.  He would follow that plan to the exact step.  The first stop had to be the bank, and so he traveled due west.

“Uuthanum,” said the girl, and the teapot rose slowly up into the air and floated across to the other side of the table, coming to rest in front of Egeria Lusk.

“Brilliant!” said the short, fire-haired woman.  “I see you will soon be as great a sorceress as your guardian.”

Zeah Korlann sat back in amazement.  When he was Senta’s age, he had barely been able to write his own name. This child was some kind of magical prodigy.  Zeah had often heard of secret wizard colleges where young men and sometimes women, young adults really, at the age of majority, went to study magic. Afterwards they would presumably apprentice with a master wizard somewhere.  But he had never heard of a child casting magic spells.

“Where is your dragon today?” asked Miss Lusk

“He’s sleeping today.”

“All day?”

“Yup.  He stays awake for two days at a time, and then he likes to sleep for four or five.”

“He sleeps four or five days straight through?” wondered Zeah.

“Yup.  Zurfina says dragons sleep a lot.  The older they get, the longer they sleep.”

Miss Lusk picked up the tea pot and poured more tea into Zeah’s cup, then Senta’s, and finally her own.  She passed the plate around to each in turn, allowing them to take their share of the tiny sandwiches, made with meatless sausage and cheese between two crisps. They had biscuits for dessert. Miss Lusk had catered the whole tea herself.  Zeah marveled that a woman who could master complex mathematical equations and create what she called “programs” for the most advanced machine in the world, could also provide a fine repast, seemingly at the drop of a hat.  She had only learned that he would be available for tea the day before.  She had also invited the sorceress’s ward.  Had the two of them dined alone, people would have talked.

Tea with Miss Lusk presented a welcomed change for Zeah.  Each day seemed to be just like the day before it. Almost all of his time was spent organizing activities for the passengers, which would provide the necessities of life or a change of pace to prevent boredom or depression caused by long confinement on the ship.  The first two days after their departure from the island of Enclep, he had been occupied seeing to the inventorying and storage of the supplies purchased there. The following day, he had to arrange for the priests onboard and Dr. Kelloran to deal with a fungus infection that had broken out among many passengers and crew.  The day after that had been washing day, which always kept him busy.  It had ended with the death of Miss Kilmurray and the summary execution of Mr. Murty by Master Terrence.  Zeah would have liked to have seen Murty tried for his crimes, but he was as loud in his laudation for Master Terrence as anyone else on the ship.  His daughter could have easily have been Murty’s next target, or Miss Lusk.  The following day, Zeah had organized a memorial service for Miss Kilmurray.  Two days after that, when Lieutenant Staff had completed his investigation, Murty’s body, which had been kept on ice, was dumped unceremoniously over the side.

It was surprising to Zeah, who had expected that there would be a somber mood among the passengers following the memorial, but the atmosphere on the Minotaur actually seemed to lighten.  There had been a cloud hanging over the lives of everyone onboard since the murder of Miss Astley, though most had not realized at the time that the murder was one of a series.  Now with the murderer dead, people were much freer with their smiles, their attitudes, and their actions.  Zeah had originally planned a series of games and activities to slowly raise people’s spirits, but had changed his plans and instead scheduled a dance.  It took place the evening of Pentuary ninth, ten days after leaving Enclep.

The danced proved to be a great success and everyone who was there seemed to have a wonderful time.  Miss Dechantagne surprised everyone by attending.  She wore a beautiful royal blue evening gown with large balloon sleeves and a white satin belt with embroidered blue and silver silk flowers. She had a bouquet of fresh flowers at her waist and atop her curled auburn hair.  And the bare expanse of her shoulders and the choker of pearls she wore made her long, thin neck look even more so.

Everyone admired Miss Dechantagne’s beauty, but Zeah found Miss Lusk’s charms even richer.  She had arrived in a buttercup yellow gown with butterfly sleeves.  The skirt had little pleated waves of fabric falling straight on the sides, and was trimmed with vines of embroidery in gold and beads extending down each side of the front.  It was ornamented on one side with a velvet panel, and on the other with two large velvet bows.

Zeah had not yet spoken to either of the two women when Master Augie arrived with Dr. Kelloran.  Lieutenant Dechantagne was dressed in a fine cutaway coat, which exposed a red waistcoat embroidered with a dragon motif.  He had a new grey felt derby, which he must have purchased just before leaving Brech, with a red carnation in the band.  Dr. Kelloran’s Thiss-green silk gown might not have stood out as much as those of yellow or royal blue, but it was equally fine in an understated way. Decorated with beads of jade and tiger-eye, it was wonderfully offset by her long white suede gloves.

Every passenger attending, especially the women, came in their finest clothes.  It seemed less like a simple dance staged rather quickly aboard a crowded naval ship than the social event of the season.  More than a few officers and sailors attended as well, and all of them wore their dress-whites.  Notably absent was Lieutenant Staff, who was on duty that evening.  Master Terrence was not in attendance either.  Zeah thought that this was a shame, as seventy-four unmarried women, and more than a few who were married, all seemed to be looking for him.

The mood was light in Iolanthe Dechantagne’s tent.  It was a bright, sunny day outside, though not too hot.  A cool breeze was blowing in off the ocean. The colony had enjoyed a huge mid-day feast, and if eating the last of the fresh vegetables taken on at Enclep was not exactly a cause for celebration, at least everyone knew that they were safe from starvation.  The canned food stored at the colony would last a long time, and there was still the promise of trade with the natives.

Yuah Korlann, Merced Calliere, and Phillida Marjoram sat around the desk counting ballots for the election of the Colonial Council.  The paper slips upon which all adult members of the colony had written the name of their choice were divided up into piles.  Though there were more than two dozen piles, one for each candidate, it was soon obvious which four piles would end up being the tallest. Calliere’s final pronouncement was a mere formality.  The winners of the election and the chosen members of the Colonial Council were, in order of votes received: Zeah Korlann, Padgett Kelloran, Dudley Labrith, and in a surprise, a young Freedonian woman named Honor Hertling.

“Lovely,” said Iolanthe.  “I was sure that Zeah and Dr. Kelloran would be elected, but I’m surprised at the wizard. Does anyone know this Hertling person?”

Yuah and Calliere both shook their heads.

“I believe I know of her,” said Mrs. Marjoram.  “A dark-haired young woman, if I’m not mistaken.  Pretty, in that Zaeri sort of way.  I believe she’s known for her work helping the sick on that ship of theirs.  No doubt that’s why she was chosen.”

“So she’s from the Acorn?” asked Iolanthe, ignoring Yuah’s look of shock at Mrs. Marjoram.

“Yes, if she’s whom I’m thinking of.”  The woman seemed oblivious of the effect of her words.

“Excellent.  One more chance to get the Freedonians integrated into our society.  Before long, nobody will know they weren’t born Brechs.”

“Hmph,” said Mrs. Marjoram, but didn’t openly correct her.

“So it will be myself, Terrence and Augie, whoever replaces Father Ian, Zurfina, and these four.  I think we can work with that.

“Yuah, why don’t you go bring your father in here?  Mrs. Marjoram, would you be so kind to see if you can locate this Miss Hertling?  And Mercy, perhaps I can persuade you to bring Dr. Kelloran.”

Twenty minutes later the three of them had returned with the three newly elected leaders of the colony, Wizard Labrith, of course being on the military mission with the Iolanthe’s two brothers, was not present.  Zeah looked every bit the senior statesman, tall and straight in his charcoal suit.  Dr. Kelloran on the other hand looked tired and drawn.  Though still nicely dressed and stylishly coifed, she had lost weight since arriving in Birmisia and had dark circles under her eyes.

The young woman who arrived with them was, if not beautiful, certainly striking in appearance.  She was so thin that Iolanthe thought her figure might have been mistaken for that of a boy without a corset and bustle.  Her wavy black hair reached well past her shoulders, and framed a cute face with a small nose and extremely large, sad eyes.  Her olive skin was far more tanned than was considered fashionable, no doubt due to the lengthy journey from Freedonia, and she had a deep scar across her left cheek down to her chin.

“Miss Hertling, I presume,” said Iolanthe, stepping forward to shake hands.

No sooner had she taken the young woman’s hand than a dozen gunshots rang out in the distance.  It was obvious that they came from beyond the protective wall.  Iolanthe broke into a broad smile.

“Wonderful,” she said.  “Zeah, it looks as though we will be having a celebration tonight.”

“Yes, Miss.  A welcome one.”

A young soldier burst into the tent, running into the back of Miss Hertling, and knocking her forward.  She would have fallen completely to the floor had not Professor Calliere caught her.

“Kafira’s eyes!” snapped Iolanthe.  “Don’t you know how to knock?”

“Sorry ma’am,” said the soldier, nervously.  “Sergeant Clark’s compliments, ma’am.  There is a large force of lizardmen approaching from the southeast.  The sergeant has already called for all troops to man the ramparts.  And the lizardmen have rifles, ma’am.”

“Where the hell did they get rifles?” wondered Calliere.

“From our troops,” said Iolanthe, gravely.  “How many lizardmen are there?”

“We don’t know, at least a thousand.”

“Tell the sergeant to hold the wall,” she ordered.  The soldier then ran out of the tent.  Turning to the women, she said, “Thirty-five men aren’t going to hold the wall for long.  Get everyone moving.  We’re evacuating out to the end of the peninsula.”

“What are we going to do there?” asked Dr. Kelloran.

“We’re going to make our stand.  Zeah, get some of the men and distribute as many guns and as much ammunition as we have.  Go. Mercy, come with me.”

Iolanthe stepped out of the tent and marched purposefully toward the wall. Professor Calliere followed along behind her.  When she reached the wall, she gathered up her dress and extensive petticoats into her left arm and used her right to climb up the ladder to the walkway that served as a firing platform twenty feet off the ground.  Sergeant Clark was there.

“Where are they?” she asked, panting for breath and peering out of a firing port.

“Still mostly in the trees, but they’re out there.”

“And your men?”

“I’ve got them spread out fifty feet apart, but that means we’ve only got a fifth of the wall covered.”

Many people on the shore were watching as the two ships steamed out of the bay and no doubt many people had many different emotions flowing around within them at the sight.  Some might have felt frightened with the realization that their last tenuous lifeline to the world of civilization was now severed.  Some might have been excited that the challenge of taming the new world was now theirs and theirs alone to pursue.  Zeah Korlann didn’t know what he felt.  He didn’t have time to dwell upon any feelings however, he had plenty to do.

By the time the sun set that evening, he had accomplished quite a bit. He had arranged for new work details for the former Freedonians.  Like the colonists who had arrived eight days before them, these individuals would be expected to provide six months of service to the colony.  After that, they could purchase land and begin whatever lives they wished.  That was the theory, anyway.  He had also overseen the clearing of the first bit of forest outside the protective wall.  The first shops and stores would be built here hopefully, when that six month period had ended.  Zeah looked forward to visiting a bakery there.  Inside the walls, they had finished constructing a large smokehouse. And finally, that afternoon, the colony’s first fishing boat had floated out into the bay.

Zeah had two stops to make after dinner and before he went back to his own apartment.  The first was to the headquarters tent of Miss Dechantagne.  He would have gone to report to her in any case, but he felt doubly obligated to stop because the Royal Colonial Governor was alone.  Her brothers had left at first light the day before with one hundred eighty soldiers and accompanied by a half dozen reptilian aborigines.  Their mission was to elevate one of the local chiefs to dominance, and at the same time show off modern Brech firepower—put the fear of God into the locals, let them know who was the boss.  Nobody expected stone spear equipped lizardmen to be able to face the power of four platoons of riflemen, and both brothers had spent their time in the army. Still, it was a combat mission, and things could happen.

Knocking on the tent pole that served as a doorjamb, he was rewarded with a “Come in.”

Miss Dechantagne was not alone.  Zeah’s daughter Yuah was in the tent.  She was sitting in one of the folding chairs in front of Miss Dechantagne’s massive desk and Miss Dechantagne herself was sitting in the heavy oak swivel chair behind it.  The two women were sipping cups of tea.

“Hello Papa,” said his daughter, standing up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Good evening.  I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“We were just having tea,” said Miss Dechantagne.  “Would you like some?”

Only Zeah’s carefully regulated composure allowed him to reply without stuttering.  Miss Dechantagne inviting him to tea?  The heat must have somehow addled her.

“No, thank you.  I just wanted to check in and let you know that everything is on schedule.”

“I’m quite excited about the smokehouse, myself,” said Yuah.  “Mrs. Colbshallow is already planning sausages.”

Zeah looked at his daughter with a raised eyebrow.  It seemed that the governor was not the only one who had lost her mind.  Yuah was sipping tea and making small talk with Miss Dechantagne.

“Thank you Zeah,” said the governor.  “I’m pleased to see that our new arrivals are proving to be more of an asset than a hindrance.”

“Indeed.”  Zeah stood for a moment

“You should go get some rest.”

“Very well.  Good night.” He nodded to the women and stepped out the tent flap.  The two women laughed.  Zeah shook his head and walked off.

His second stop was to see Egeria Lusk.  She had completely recovered from her wounds at the hands of an unknown attacker and had in fact, spent much of the day supervising work on the Result Mechanism, though she had left the actual pressing of buttons and throwing of switches to someone else.  He knocked on the door of her apartment and again was asked to “come in” and again found two women sitting and sipping tea.  This time it was Egeria and Sister Auni, the Kafirite cleric.  Sister Auni rose as he entered.

“Good evening, Mr. Korlann,” she said.  “I was just leaving.”

“No need to leave on my account.”

“No, no.  We’ve had a lovely talk, but now I must get back to my own room.”

“Well, good night,” he said, as he held the door open for the clergywoman.

“I’m so glad you came by,” said Egeria, once Sister Auni had left.  “Please sit down.”

“Thank you.  What were you two talking about?”

“Oh, life, the universe, and everything.”

“And what was her take on it.”

“We were just chatting, really,” said Egeria.  “I was sorry that we didn’t get to have supper together.”

“I didn’t really have time for supper today,” said Zeah.  “I was hoping that you would join me tomorrow though.”

“I would be delighted,” she smiled.

Though he was quite as busy the next day as he had been the previous, Zeah had little thought for anything he was doing and much for that night’s supper.  He took a fine haddock from the first load of fish brought in on the new fishing boat.  Though Mrs. Colbshallow was not available, he found a Mrs. Finkler among the Freedonian immigrants, who by all accounts was a wonderful cook.  He paid her two marks to prepare roasted fish.  She proved to be as good as her reputation, and at the appointed time delivered not only two beautifully roasted fish fillets, but a large plate of potatoes, seasoned in a way that was completely new to former butler but was delicious, and roasted leeks covered in sweet butter.

“Look at all these lousy zeets,” said Graham Dokkins, as he and Senta walked between the hundreds of makeshift tents on the southwest side of the hill from the barracks.

“What are zeets?” asked Senta.

“That’s what they’re called.  My Da says they’re evil, and they don’t even believe in Kafira.”

“Zurfina doesn’t believe in Kafira either.  I mean, not like us.  She says the Church is all bullocks.”

“Yeah, well my Da says she’s evil too.”

If Senta was offended at the idea that anyone would call Zurfina evil, she didn’t let on.  She bounced ahead, her skipping steps seeming to defy gravity.  In one hand she carried a stick and in the other her doll. Graham stomped after her.

“Why do you gotta carry that doll everywhere?” he asked.

“Cause I’m a girl, stupid.”

They reached the edge of the tent village.  Some of the women from among the Freedonian refugees had set up a series of clotheslines and were hanging up clothes.  Almost every piece was black, white, or grey.

“They don’t seem any different to me,” said Senta.  “Except they talk funny.”

Suddenly several of the women who had been hanging clothes began to scream and they all began to run toward the tents.  Looking up, the two children saw a steel colored streak flying downward from out of the sun.  The steel dragon buzzed the tops of the women’s heads and then zipped along parallel to the clothesline and with a flick of its tail, knocked every other piece of clothing from the line into the dirt.  Spreading its wings out to their full six-foot breadth, it stopped in mid-air and dropped to the ground at Senta’s feet.  It opened its mouth to the sky and a small puff of smoke shot out.

“Funneee,” said the dragon.

“It’s not either funny, you potty twonk.  You’re going to get everyone angry, and who’s going to get in trouble?  Not you.  Me, that’s who!”

Despite Senta’s declaration that the dragon’s actions were not funny, Graham was laughing heartily.  The dragon hopped over to his feet and rubbed his head against the boy’s leg as if to share in his mirth.  Graham, still laughing, slapped his knee.  The dragon suddenly bit his hand.

“Sod it!” shouted the boy, his laughter suddenly gone.

The dragon looked up in the air, with feigned innocence.

“See, now you’ve made Graham angry too,” said Senta.  Both the girl and the dragon looked at the boy, who had gone all white and sweaty.

“My Da didn’t say it, but I think dragons are evil.”

“Pet,” said the dragon, in a pleading tone.

“Yeah, all right,” Senta said, fishing a small brown bottle from the pocket of her baggy black dress.  “But if you bite anyone else, I’m going to need a new bottle of this.”

She poured the draught from the bottle onto the wound on Graham’s hand.  The liquid bubbled and fizzed on contact with the boy’s blood, but after a few moments nothing was left of the injury but a small scar.

Senta, Graham, and the dragon looked up to see they were completely surrounded by a crowd of people.  The reptile leapt to the girl’s shoulder in one swift motion and curled up around her neck. Graham stood up next to Senta and took her hand in his.  The people began to whisper amongst themselves.  Finally one of the women stepped forward.

“Sorry about your clothes,” said Senta.

“Der drache is, how you say, vunterfull,” said the woman.

“Oh yeah, he’s great,” said Graham, sarcastically.

“He is bootifull.  He is yours?”

“Yeah, sort of,” said Senta.

“You bet he’s hers,” said Graham.  “She’s a really powerful sorceress and he’s her dragon.  And they’re really scary and magical.  Just look at them.  And that’s her magic doll.”

He suddenly started laughing.  The dragon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a smirk.

“We’ve got to go now,” said Senta.  “I’ve got to lock up my dragon and my troll here.”

“Hey!” shouted Graham, following Senta who was already hurrying through the opening in the crowd that magically parted before her.  “Who you calling a troll, monkey face?”

The two children walked up to the top of the hill and parted without saying goodbye, but with the innocent expectation that they would see each other later and continue on just as they had.  Senta made her way to a quiet place that she had found next to the protective wall. She plopped down in the grass and the steel dragon climbed off her shoulders.  She stretched out and he curled up beside her and placed his whiskered snout on her stomach.

Senta held her doll up and looked at it.  The doll had on an outfit just like hers.  She called the dress she was wearing her doll dress for that very reason. The doll had the same hairstyle that she did.  She could almost imagine that the doll was made especially for her.  But it hadn’t been.  She had seen it many times in the toy store before she had purchased it.

“I wonder what Geert’s doing now?” she mused.  “He’s my cousin,” she explained to the dragon.

She heard the approach of voices and pushed the dragon’s face off of her stomach so that she could roll over and see who it was.  It was Miss Dechantagne.  She was walking along holding the arm of the blond officer from the ship. She had on a stunning yellow dress with white lace trim.  It had at least seven layers on the skirt, ruffles and fringes on the shoulders, and a magnificent bow on the bustle.  The matching hat trailed a long piece of yellow silk down her back.

“That’s the kind of dress I want,” said Senta quietly.

“No,” said the dragon.

The shouting and gunfire brought Terrence out of the white opthalium induced state.  He was sitting on the ground with his back to a massive redwood tree.  It was in fact, that first tree that Iolanthe had tagged with a ribbon to save its life.  It was completely dark all around him, and at first the lapping of the waves nearby was the only sound that registered with his befuddled mind.  When he again heard the shouts and gunfire at the far end of the compound and he recognized them for what they were, he was actually happy. It meant that he hadn’t been awakened by someone discovering him while he was seeing.

Could you call it “seeing” if you didn’t really see anything?  Terrence had used the drug from the small blue bottle several times since the arrival in Birmisia, but he had seen nothing in the other world except that endless fields of the ever-present purple flowers. Never before had he been there without meeting Pantagria.  Now he searched for her and she was nowhere to be found.

Terrence picked up his helmet, which was sitting next to him, and then stood up and began trudging up the hill at a modest pace.  When he saw a blood covered Zeah Korlann being escorted by two riflemen into Iolanthe’s headquarters tent, he ran the rest of the way.

“What’s going on?” he asked, as he burst into the tent.  He stopped short when he saw Miss Lusk, lying on her side, bloodied, on the dirt floor.  “Let’s get Father Ian in here.”

“Father Ian isn’t coming,” said Zeah shakily.

“Sister Auni, go get another acolyte to cast a cure wounds spell,” ordered Iolanthe.  Then she opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a brown bottle.  “Soak her bandages in this and poor the rest down her throat.”

She handed the bottle to Dr. Kelloran, who was kneeling over the red-haired woman’s prone form.  The doctor did as directed and a moment later was rewarded with Miss Lusk opening her eyes. Sister Auni arrived after a few minutes with Brother Galen, who followed the exact same procedure that she had in casting a spell.  Color returned to Miss Lusk’s face and she began to breathe freely.

“Who did this to you?” asked Iolanthe.

“I didn’t see them,” said Miss Lusk.  It was an obvious labor to speak.  “Someone was running the Result Mechanism.  I went around the corner to see who it was, but…”

“There were papers coming out of the machine,” said Zeah.

“Go find those papers,” Iolanthe ordered her brother.  “Maybe we can find out who was using it.”

Terrence nodded and left the tent.  He picked up a gas lantern nearby and stomped down the hill toward the still chugging and clanking Result Mechanism.  Just before he reached it, the machine stopped, letting out a long whistle of leftover steam.  He pulled out one of his nickel-plated .45 revolvers and circled around the huge device. Standing at the controls was his brother Augie.

“What’s going on, old man?” said Augie, when he noticed Terrence.

“What are you doing here?” Terrence asked.

“You know you really shouldn’t answer a question with a question,” Augie replied.  “The machine was running and nobody was here, so I shut it down.”

“You didn’t see anybody here?”

“No, and I waited around for a couple of minutes too.”

“Are there any papers coming out of the slot on the side of the machine?”

They both stepped around to the far side, where the printing slot was located, but there were no papers either sticking out of the slot or on the ground below.

“You don’t have anything to do with this, do you?” asked Terrence.

“Anything to do with what?  A bloody machine making a bunch of racket?”

“The stabbing.”

“Stabbing?  What stabbing?”

“Egeria Lusk has been stabbed.  Right over there, by the look of the ground.”

“Kafira!  And you think I had something to do with it?”

“No.  But you were at three of the crime scenes, at least three, so some people are going to get the idea you could be involved.”

“What do you mean three?  The murders on the ship?  I thought you pegged Murty for that, and pegged him good too, I might add.”

“Yes, I did.  And Murty was a bad sort; I don’t doubt it for a moment.”

“You know I wouldn’t stab a woman.  What’s that all about?  I was very fond of Danika.”

“Danika?”

“Miss Kilmurray.”

“Oh, Kafira.  You knew her?”

“I knew her, but I didn’t do anything to hurt her.  I certainly never killed her, and I didn’t kill Miss Lusk.”

“Miss Lusk is alive.”

“Well, thank heavens.  Now she can tell you I didn’t stab her.”

“She doesn’t need to tell me,” said Terrence.  “I know you didn’t stab her.”

“Good.  A brother should trust a brother.”

“You don’t have any blood on you.”

“Oh.”  Augie looked down at his clean clothes.  “I could have changed clothes.”

“You don’t have any blood on your shoes or your face or your hair.”

“So you trust me.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”