The rest of the week went quickly. Patience concentrated on Mike’s physical therapy, but she had time to babysit Selma one evening while Jack took Harriet to dinner, and to spend two afternoons with Wanda. Both times the other Daffodil reported that she had neither seen nor heard anything from Ryan’s ex-wife. Finally, Friday morning arrived and Patience loaded their luggage into the car. It had been decided that Ryan and Wanda, and the Smiths would each take their own cars to the Park-N-Ride station, and from there they would take the train to LAX. They were all booked on the same flight to Adelaide of course.

Mike let Patience drive to Riverside. Once at the station, they were able to quickly board the train, as the State of California had recently instituted Daffodil’s BRIID system. Merely arriving in the presence of your Daffodil meant that you could forgo ticketing, ID checks, and waiting in line. Mike picked his seat without much regard to anything other than making sure that he was facing forward. Patience though made sure to save a spot for Ryan and Wanda, who arrived about five minutes later.

“Did you bring your texTee?” Mike asked Ryan.

“I don’t really read much. I thought maybe we could just relax and talk on the way.”

“Two hours by train and then thirty-one by plane,” explained Mike. “I don’t care how sterling a conversationalist you are, I’m not talking to you the whole way. However I do intend to relax.”

“Do not worry, Ryan,” said Wanda. “I brought your texTee and I made sure it was filled with reading material you might enjoy—also movies.”

The train had been moving about ten minutes when Ryan spoke again.

“Do you want to play Last Supper?”

“Is that some kind of Jesus thing?” asked Mike. “Cause I already told you I was an atheist.”

“No, it’s not a… well… it is, but not really. You list what twelve people you would want to invite to a dinner party.”

“Me and twelve people in one room,” mused Mike. “That’s not The Last Supper; it’s Dante’s Inferno.”

“You don’t have to just pick people who are alive now. You can pick anyone who has ever lived.”

“All right. Go ahead. Dazzle me.”

“Well,” began Ryan. “Of course, first I would pick Jesus Christ.”

“Naturally.”

“Then George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Franklin Roosevelt, Thomas Edison,” Ryan counted off happily on his fingers. “Then it starts to get hard. Ronald Reagan, um… John F. Kennedy, Neil Armstrong… um… oh, Martin Luther King Jr., Albert Einstein, um… and Paul McCartney.”

“You still need one more,” said Mike.

“No, I’m the twelfth.

“No, you need twelve plus yourself—like Jesus and the twelve apostles.”

“Oh, um, then… Ringo Starr.”

“Well at least you won’t need an interpreter,” said Mike. “Everyone at your party speaks English, except Jesus.”

“Jesus can speak any language.”

“Of course he can. Maybe he can do some card tricks too, because your party is going to be boring as shit. You don’t have one single female, or married female for that matter.”

“There weren’t any women at The Last Supper.”

“Bull. Even I know that Mary Magdelaine was at the last supper,” said Mike. “And before you tell me that she had a minor role because all she did was wash feet, let me remind you that Jesus washed a few feet and nobody ever accuses him of having a minor role.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” said Ryan. “I didn’t know she was there.” He thought for a moment. “I do know the bible says ‘the devil can quote scripture to suit his own purpose’.”

“That’s not the bible. It’s Shakespeare, whom incidentally would be one of my guests. The Merchant of Venice. And perhaps the devil has to quote scripture when the faithful can’t.”

“You know people would like you more if you didn’t act so smart and superior all the time.”

“Good morning.”

Saba turned around to find Eamon Shrubb.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Well that’s a fine good morning.”

“Good morning then. What do you want?”

“Sergeant Clark requires you.”

Saba quickly finished his meal and followed. The two men walked past the warehouses and up Seventh and One Half Avenue to the militia base and into the office of Sergeant Clark. Militiamen, like everyone else, were enjoying the sunshine, rolling around in the snow and building snowmen and snow forts. A snowball narrowly missed Saba’s head as he walked into the building.

“What’s up,” asked Saba, brushing himself off inside.

Clark yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“I promised Mrs. Government that I would have someone meet with this hunter.”

“Haarhoff?”

“Yes, that’s him. He’s anxious to go out and shoot a dinosaur, so she wants someone to make sure that he has everything that he needs. And you know who her favorite soldier is.”

“You?”

“Not me.” Clark leaned back in his chair. “You.”

“Alright. Where is he? Building six?”

“Yes.”

To say that Haarhoff was anxious was an understatement. He and six other men were crowded into his room, leaning over a table with a large map spread across it. Lined up along the wall was a mountain of packs and equipment, ready to be carried into the Birmisian wilderness.

“Ah, young Corporal Colbshallow,” he said. “We are more than ready to set off. Will you be coming with us?”

“That remains to be seen. What I need to know right now is whether you have everything that you need.”

“We have tents, equipment, supplies, cold weather gear, and ammunition. All we need is a native guide to get us to this Iguanodon Heath, and of course some bearers to help carry all the equipment.”

“That won’t be any problem. There are always plenty of lizzies ready to work. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait until the snow is gone, at least.”

“We have been waiting long enough. We have all been hunting in the snow before. Collinghouse here was with me when we hunted gharhast apes in the Daglars.”

“That’s right,” said the man on the other side of the table. “It was so cold that the bullets froze as they were coming out of the gun barrels.”

The other men in the room laughed.

“Alright,” said Saba. I’m sure that I can have a guide and thirty bearers ready by tomorrow morning. Will that be enough?”

“That will be enough,” said Harhoff. “But we will want to leave at first light.”

“Fine.”

Saba left the barracks apartment and crossed the militia base to find Private Woodrow Manring sitting at the admissions desk, waiting for new lizzies to be brought in and registered. Standing near him was Private Willy Cornish.

“Hello boys. Do we have any short timers standing around?”

“Sure,” replied Manring. “You finally going to get started on your house?”

“You know I wouldn’t let lizzies build my home. No, we need about thirty to carry supplies for the hunting expedition that’s heading out to Iguanodon Heath. I expect it will be about three or four weeks work.”

“Looks like we’ve got about thirty over with that lot,” said Cornish, pointing to a group of reptilians waiting for prospective employers.

“You want old Kendric as a guide though,” said Manring. “Or at least one of his crew.”

“I wouldn’t mind going out to Iguanodon Heath, just to look around, you know,” said Cornish.

“I’d go,” said Manring.

“Me too,” said a voice behind Saba. He turned around to find Shrubb standing there.

“Fine.” Saba rolled his head around to release the tension in his neck. “Shrubb, you go pick out thirty strong looking lizzies and tell them they’re hired. Have them meet Haarhoff’s team before first light. The four of us will go out to the Heath with the hunters and then come back on our own. Of course, we’ll all have to get Clark’s permission. Now, I’m going to go see Kendric.”

Cissy returned to the Dechantagne estate after delivering the message to Saba Colbshallow. Cissy couldn’t read the scrawling script of the message like she could the printed words in books, but she knew what it said. It informed the young corporal that Mr. Streck was off the premises and that he should be watched. It was amazing what could be discovered by standing and listening. The humans usually treated the lizzies as though they were furniture.

Tisson was at his usual place by the front door and Cissy stopped for a moment to speak to him. She placed the back of her hand on her dewlap in greeting and the gesture was returned.

“You were not gone long,” said Tisson.

“It was a simple errand.”

“Did you receive any extra copper bits?”

“Not this time.”

It had taken a while for the lizardmen to realize that the humans would often give them additional copper bits as a bonus when some tasks were completed. The humans called these “tips.” Now the lizzies looked for them.

“Kheesie was looking for you earlier.”

“Why?”

“She wants you to take your turn caring for the young one.”

Cissy bobbed her head up and down in the human fashion and started for the door.

“Ssissiatok?”

“Yes?” asked Cissy, turning around, slightly surprised by the use of her lizzie name.

“Some of the others are talking. They say Ssterrost will not let you return to Tserich.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go back either.”

“I don’t. But I am old. You are still young. You could have returned with all your wealth and had a good life. But now they are saying that you are ‘khikheto tonahass hoonan’.”

“Maybe I am human on the inside.”

Inside the house, Cissy found Kheesie.

“Thank Hissussisthiss you are back. I haven’t had a chance to sleep since yesterday.”

“The god of forests had nothing to do with it. Where is the child?”

“The thin white and brown one has it.”

“Her,” corrected Cissy. “Where are they?”

“They are in the great room, but don’t go there. The matriarch is there and so are the blind warrior and the old frightened one.”

“It is fine. You may go rest. I will watch the child.” Cissy squinted, amused.

Cissy made her way into the parlor and took a place quietly in the corner. She was not afraid of the humans in question. In fact, she found them fascinating. All of the individuals described were present—Mr. and Mrs. Dechantagne, Governor Dechantagne-Calliere, Mrs. Godwin, and of course Iolana. The lizzies had their own descriptive names for all of them; the names Kheesie had used. Professor Calliere, whom they called “the tall one who makes no sense”, was not present. Mrs. Colbshallow, whom they simply called by the human word “lady”, was in the kitchen as usual.

“I think I should have something to say about it,” Mrs. Dechantagne was saying, “because of my unique situation in this house.”

“I am well aware that you are the lady of the house now,” replied Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere sharply. “Are you trying to rub my nose in it?”

“No! I don’t… that’s not the position to which I was referring.”

“My wife is alluding to the fact that she is the only Zaeri in the house,” said Mr. Dechantagne.

“Really? I suppose I just assumed that she was going to convert.”

“Leave that alone, Iolanthe. You know she has no desire to convert and you know that I wouldn’t have asked it of her.”

“I will leave this alone. And she must leave that alone. Mercy and his… solicitor are my concern, and I am more than capable of dealing with it.”

Mr. Dechantagne turned back to his wife, though of course he could not see her. “She’s right Yuah. You should stay out of this. You get too worked up over it. You’re too emotional.”

“I’m emotional?” cried Mrs. Dechantagne, jumping to her feet. “I’m the least emotional person in this house!

She stomped her foot twice, and marched out of the room.

“Oh, well done sister,” said Mr. Dechantagne. “Now I have absolutely no chance of a decent night’s sleep.”

“That’s your own fault. I didn’t tell you to marry her.”

A moment later though, the mystery was solved. The three Hertling siblings came walking down the road from the east. Hero and Hertzel carried large baskets filled with foliage, while their older sister had something that looked like a cricket bat casually slung over her shoulder. The twins saw their friends and waved, calling out greetings. Hero ran ahead and Senta met her at the road, giving her a great hug. Though he waved to his friends, Graham’s eyes were fixed on the instrument that Honor carried. When she was close enough that he could see it clearly, he found that it was not a cricket bat at all, but a lizzie sword. The main hand to hand combat weapon of the lizardmen was a thick sword made of wood but encrusted all around the edges with flint, obsidian, or sometimes even shark’s teeth. This one had shiny black obsidian flakes that appeared razor sharp.

“Where’d you get that?” asked Graham enviously.

“It was a gift,” Honor replied. “The chief of Tserich gave one to each of the members of the Colonial Council. I imagine most of them are hanging on display somewhere, but I like to carry mine when I have to go away from the town.”

“So where have you all been then?” asked Senta.

“We went to gather winter berries,” replied Hero.

“Perfect, we can have them for tea.”

“Oh, you can’t eat them,” said Honor. “They’re for decoration only.”

“We had loads of them hanging all around our house,” said Graham. “But it’s way past Kafira Mass now.”

Senta shot him a frown.

“What?”

“As a matter of fact,” continued Honor. “I got the idea from your mother, Graham. I think the red and green will brighten up the house and as I understand it, according to Brech tradition, they are often kept over the winter and not just on, um… holidays.”

“Can we go inside now,” asked Hero. “I’m just frozen.”

Honor opened the front door and they all stepped inside the home, which was only marginally warmer than the outside. Hertzel, with Graham help, got right to work lighting a fire in the stove, while the girls went into the other room and exchanged damp clothing for dry and wrapped up in thick blankets. Hero lent Senta one of her two housedresses, which was only slightly baggy and only slightly too short. The boys removed only their boots and socks, which they dried by the stove once the fire was going, but Hero brought each of them a blanket, and in a few minutes they too were feeling warm and cozy. The four ten-year-olds sat around the stove, Senta and Hero sharing a chair, while Honor placed the green branches filled with red berries festively around the small room.

“I brought bread and butter for tea,” said Graham at last.

“That’s his way of telling you that he’s hungry,” said Senta.

“No it isn’t.”

“That’s lovely Graham,” said Honor. “I was going to make some butter this week, but we’ve all been so busy that I just haven’t found the time. Hero, come help me prepare tea.”

“Let me help instead,” said Senta. “Hero’s not warmed up yet.”

“I’m fine, really,” said Hero, though she made no move to unwrap the blanket from around her.

“It would not be passend… um, proper. You are a guest in our house.”

“Please.”

“Very well then. Join me in the kitchen.”

Joining Honor in the kitchen meant taking three steps from where she was. Once there, Senta helped the eldest Hertling by slicing the bread that Graham had brought, which was then toasted on the stove.   Then they sliced cheese and apples and sausages, and these were served along with the toast and tea at the table.

“What has you so busy this week,” asked Senta, when they were halfway through the meal.

“Hmm?”

“What has you so busy that you weren’t able to make butter.”

“Besides council business,” replied Honor, “I’m spending quite a bit of time at the base trying to help those poor people off the ships get themselves situated. I barely have time to see to Hero and Hertzel’s schooling, let alone make butter or darn clothes. Fortunately my brother and sister have stepped up to do their part.”

“I could help.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’m sure. Besides, you must have plenty of your own work to keep you busy.”

“Not really,” said Senta. “Everything pretty much gets magiced at our house.”

“That must be nice,” said Honor dryly.

The Dechantagne dining room table looked extremely empty this morning. Mrs. Godwin was in her usual spot, as was Mrs. Colbshallow. Professor Calliere was there and his solicitor Mr. Streck was still visiting. Yuah sat to the right of her husband. But there were four empty chairs. Saba Colbshallow had not stopped by for breakfast with his mother for several days and the empty spot so often filled with an ad-hoc dining guest was unoccupied. Little Iolana was sleeping in and so was not in her highchair. But it was Iolanthe’s absence which made the table seem much emptier than it would if anyone else happened to be gone. It was quite a boring meal, aside from Mr. Streck spilling his tea in his lap. Yuah was picking at her eggs, sausages, and white pudding not because of her sister-in-law’s absence, but because of the unpleasant cramping she felt in her abdomen.

After the family had finished breakfast and everyone got up from the table, Yuah took Terrence’s arm.

“Where did you want to go?” she asked.

“Blind man or no, I can find my way around my own house.”

“I’m sure you can. I was just trying to be helpful.” She let go of his arm. “I suppose you are going to the parlor to just sit.”

“I don’t know. What are you going to do?”

“I thought I would go upstairs and lie down for a bit.”

“Do you want company?” he asked, smiling suggestively.

“No I don’t, you horrible, insatiable man.”

“You didn’t want me just sitting around in the parlor.”

“I’m going upstairs to lie down because I have a headache,” said Yuah.

“I don’t think I’m any more insatiable than any other man.”

“If that is true,” she said, leaving him at the bottom of the stairs, “then your whole race is horrible.”

At the top of the stairs, Yuah turned left. It was a short walk past the balcony on the left side and Mrs. Colbshallow’s room and the nursery on the right. Her own room was at the end of the hallway. She thought of it as her own room despite the fact that Terrence shared it with her. Neither was inclined to follow the custom among the upper class of having separate bedrooms for husband and wife. She was already looking at wallpaper and other furnishings, though she had to do so from catalogs brought all the way from Brechalon. She knew she wanted pink with lots of lace and she knew that her brass bed would have curtains around it that matched the curtains on the window. At this moment though the bed was a simple wooden frame holding up a single very simple mattress and the only curtains on the windows were a pair of old sheets that she had cut and hemmed.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and tossed herself back upon it, her arms stretched out above her head. The ceiling above her was smooth white plaster, just like the bare walls. She felt another tug in her abdomen. It was the thirteenth of Festuary. She had been married for twenty-three days. She and Terrence had already been together as man and wife at least fifteen times. Yuah was sure that was more than most people did it in their entire lifetime. Why wasn’t she pregnant already? Who could she ask about it? She could ask Mrs. C or Mrs. G, but then she would have to look at them every day after having asked them. Mrs. Bratihn might be a good person to talk to about it. She’d been married twice and had several children. Or maybe Mrs. Leubking.

The baby started to cry in the next room, and Yuah pulled herself up and walked in to check on her. She turned the corner in the nursery and jumped as she saw the reptilian creature leaning over the crib. But the tiny yellow fringe of a skirt told her that it was one of the nanny lizzies.

“You there. What are you doing? Which one are you?”

The lizzies didn’t seem to startle the way the humans so often did, but even so the creature turned around quickly. As soon as it did, she could tell by the coloring that it was the one called Kheesie. The creature rolled its eyes around in a way that Yuah was beginning to recognize as fear, or at least nervousness. Stepping quickly past Kheesie, Yuah looked down into the crib. Iolana was red-faced with anger at having her diaper changed, but was otherwise unhurt.

“I’ll take it from here,” she said.

Cleaning the baby’s bottom with the washrag, she tossed it and the old diaper into the ceramic chamber pot under the crib, which she then handed to the lizzie. She powdered Iolana and then pinned on a new diaper. Picking up the still crying child, she pressed her to her shoulder and turned around to find the lizardman still there.

“Are you going to stand there looking stupid all day, or are you going to take that out and empty it?”

Kheesie stared blankly.

“Take it out!” and as the creature hurried out of the room, she called after her, “And clean it properly.”

She patted Iolana on the back and bounced her up and down.

“It’s so hard to find good help.” Then she burst out laughing at herself. How quickly she was turning into Iolanthe. My, what a horrible thought.

She pulled the baby away from her shoulder and looked into her face. Iolana was giving her a puzzled look in return.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know Auntie Yuah. I’m your favorite.”

Iolana blew a spit bubble.

“Look at you, you are so advanced. Already walking and now you’re going to talk to Auntie Yuah, aren’t you?”

The child made a valiant effort at speaking by saying “boo-uh.”