Edin Buttermore was a character I created for The Drache Girl.  I always had in mind that he would be a big part of the plot at some point.  While he has a few memorable scenes in The Young Sorceress, he doesn’t really have that much to do until The Two Dragons.  Here he explores the dragon fortress with Senta and Staff.

In the daylight it was plain that Brown had been bitten on the face by a spider, but he seemed to have no other wounds. Ivo Kane produced a tiny clear bottle of detoxicant, pouring it down the man’s throat, while his wife taped a plaster over the injury. They had between them already seen to Mr. Vever’s pains. His left arm was splinted and his right hand was bandaged.

“Here comes Staff,” said Werthimer, pointing to the back of the fortress courtyard.

Staff was indeed coming, followed by Buttermore, Wissinger, and Manring. When they reached the eight party members, the former naval officer looked at Bratihn questioningly. Later, Senta couldn’t remember exactly what Bratihn had said, but he seemed to sum up every detail of their adventures in remarkably few words. Croffut added one or two details. Staff nodded as if he had expected nothing less.

“And how did it go with you?” asked Kane.

“We made it to the top of the tower,” said Staff. “No problem, though we had to chase off a few pterosaurs.”

“It was a magnificent view,” said Buttermore. “I think I captured it.”

“It took us a while to set up Mr. Buttermore’s camera equipment,” said Wissinger. “Not that I’m criticizing.”

“We found treasure too,” said Buttermore.

“Really? Treasure?” Mr. Vever climbed unsteadily to his feet, accidentally kicking Brown in the head as he did so.

Staff set his rucksack down and opened it, withdrawing what appeared to be a very ornate necklace. It was made of copper and the metal was so green with corrosion that it had almost dissolved away. Clearly visible though were a number of large red gems.

“By Kafira, those are rubies,” said Ivo Kane.

“I think that copper is a loss,” said Vever. “But I could set those gems in gold settings and they would be fit for Prince Tybalt himself.”

“My plan is that when we return to Port Dechantagne you should do just that, Mr. Vever,” said Staff. “I count fifteen rubies. Maybe matching rings for all of us? I think we’ve earned it. And I imagine a set of earrings for the governor.”

Dot Shrubb is one of my favorite minor characters in Senta and the Steel Dragon.  I’m always looking for something to differentiate characters and Dot is separated from the others in the story because of her deafness.  As I have mentioned before, the idea for her came from the wife of a work friend I had years ago.  She too was deaf and had red hair.

Mrs. Loana Colbshallow was without a doubt the most beautiful woman in the café. Her multihued hair was swept back beneath a broad-brimmed, bright red hat with white flowers that matched her bright red dress. The plunging neckline showed a bit more skin than was current fashion, but neither her husband nor any other man in the establishment seemed to object. Directly across from Mrs. Colbshallow in a quite fetching sky blue gown, Mrs. Dot Shrubb clearly was bothered both by the lack of cloth which covered her dinner partner’s breasts and by the amount of breast which threatened to jump out at her. All through dinner she had stared at the prodigious amount of cleavage and scrunched her nose. Her husband seated to her right had been oblivious to this, and fortunately for him, seemed oblivious to the cleavage as well.

“I’ll say this,” he said. “If we had dined on this meal in Brech City, we would have had to pay a pretty pfennig for it.”

“I think we may very well pay a pretty pfennig tonight,” replied Saba. “Dining out is one of the few things that isn’t dirt cheap in Birmisia.”

“I hear the new café, Bonny Nurraty, is only half the price, because they employ a lizzie wait staff.”

“It’s Bonne Nourriture,” said Saba. “I also hear the food’s not half as good, though I’m sure that has nothing to do with the lizzies.”

“Unless my mother-in-law decides to open her own restaurant,” said Loana. “I don’t see anyone taking the fine dining crown away from Aalwijn Finkler.”

“And you can be bloody positive he won’t ever have a lizzie wait staff either,” added Eamon. “Actually it’s nice to have a place to come where there aren’t any.”

“What do you think about it, Dot?” asked Saba.

Dot just shrugged.

“Dot’s getting to be a lizzie-lover,” said Eamon, stroking his wife’s long coppery hair.

“You like her too,” said Dot, in the nasal voice that was the result of her deafness.

“Well, our lizzie is all right. She dotes on the boys—takes them for walks and plays her little block game with them.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it,” said Loana. “Everyone seems to like their own lizzie. They just don’t trust the rest of them. I have several to take care of things and one that comes in twice a week to clean and have never had any problem with any of them.”

“How are the boys, anyway?” said Saba, intentionally changing the subject.

“They’re fine. Young Saba showed me this week that he can do addition, and little Al isn’t far behind.”

“Alasdair,” corrected Dot, punching her husband on his meaty shoulder.

“And how is Darsham?”

“Wonderful. He follows Saba and Alasdair everywhere they go. Best dog I’ve ever seen.”

“You know he was going to name one of the boys Darsham,” Saba told his wife.

“That’s right,” said Eamon. “But I was overruled on account of my wife fancying your husband.”

Dot hit him again. “You named Saba. I named Alasdair.”