Smedley Bassington is a character that appears in Senta and the Steel Dragon.  He originally appeared in book 3: The Drache Girl.  I expanded his story a bit and added him to book 0: Brechalon.  Bassington is a wizard for the Brech War Ministry.  He’s shown himself to be devoted to their service, even when it conflicts with his own life, or the life of a loved one.  Here he is with Senta in The Two Dragons.

Café Etta was one of two new eating establishments opened by Aalwijn Finkler as an expansion of the bakery business that he had inherited from his now retired mother.  It sat on the corner of the Boulevard and Forest Avenue, and featured a large awning-covered outdoor dining area.  There was a queue of patrons waiting to be seated, though the maitre d’ ushered Senta and her guest inside first and no one waiting complained.  Once seated on finely crafted wrought iron chairs from Mirsanna, they ordered the house specialty and got down to business.

“Zurfina wants to stay away from service to the King, but she can’t anymore,” said Bassington.  “War is coming.  It’s going to come to Brechalon and it’s going to come to Birmisia as well.”

“We’re on the other side of the world from Greater Brechalon,” replied Senta.  “And from Freedonia.”

“So you’re not completely ignorant of what’s going on.”

“I know that Brechalon and Freedonia have broken off diplomatic relations.  It’s in the papers.  And I’ve dealt with Freedonian wizards before.”

“I’m only too aware of that,” said Bassington.  “Who do you think kept you out of prison?  You didn’t think it was Zurfina, did you?  What’s not in the papers is that Freedonia has ten million men under arms—the largest army assembled in the history of the world.”

“Brechalon has you though.  You’re the Great Wizard Bassington.  Just how good a wizard are you anyway?  You can’t be all that if you get yourself tied up in a barn.”

“I’m a third level Master Wizard,” said Bassington, waving his hand and lowering his eyes in what, Senta was sure, was false modesty.  “I do quite well.  But there is nobody on the planet today with Zurfina’s power.  That’s why she’s needed.  You’re needed too.  Don’t think that Freedonia doesn’t have plenty more wizards of its own.  It has many of them, and magical weapons too.  When war comes, it will involve the whole world.”

“Zurfina says that she and I don’t have to worry about countries and kings.  And I don’t think she has to worry about any wizard.”

“What about Suvir Kesi?”

“He was a bug,” sneered Senta.  “He got lucky.”

“Lucky or not, he could have killed her… and you.”

“Zurfina won’t let her guard down again.”

“You may be right, but what about other people?  Do you know what they’re doing to the Zaeri in Freedonia?”

“Yes, Mr. Wissinger, the writer, told me about the ghettos.  But the Zaeri are mistreated everywhere.  They are mistreated in Brechalon.”

“In Freedonia, they are being rounded up and put in cages—far worse than the ghettos.  All their possessions are taken away and sold.  They are worked to death in labor camps.”

“Well what is Zurfina supposed to do about that?” wondered Senta.  “What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Get ready.  The governor of Birmisia is sending an expedition to Tsahloose to establish trade relations.  They won’t be able to.  The Freedonians already have a foothold there.  Go with the expedition and see for yourself.  While you are there, if you find out anything interesting about Freedonian forces in Mallon, give that information to the governor.  She’ll contact me.”

“What makes you think Zurfina will let me go three hundred miles into dangerous territory, to a lizzie city?”

“Ask her.  If she says no, don’t go.”  Bassington smiled slyly.  “Do you think she’ll say no?”

Senta pursed her lips.  “Probably not.”

The waiter brought their food just as the sun was going down below the tall redwoods and another waiter was lighting the gas lights strung along the edges of the awning that covered the diners.  The wizard and the sorceress faced two great platters of pork chops with brown pudding, green beans, polenta, boiled potatoes, sliced tomatoes, and the course, dark bread for which the Finkler family was famous.  Senta picked at her food a bit, but Bassington dived in.

Senta leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.  “You said you would answer any questions I had.”

“That’s right,” he said, carving his pork chop.

Iolana Staff is one of the characters in Senta and the Steel Dragon.  In book 5, The Two Dragons, she is just a child of 7.  It’s particularly fun for me to look back at her, as I’ve just finished writing an 11 year old Iolana in The Sorceress and her Lovers.  This is a pretty typical domestic scene in the Staff home.

“Augie and Terra are with their grandmother again today.”  A strange look passed over Mrs. Colbshallow’s face.  It was a combination of impish humor that Egeria Korlann, barely thirty-five and looking twenty-five should be called a grandmother, and discomfort that she herself at fifty-two did not yet warrant the title.  “Iolana is in the library, I believe.”

“She didn’t want to go?”

“I’m sure she was invited.  I think she wanted to stay home and read her book.”

“That girl reads too much,” opined Iolanthe.  “I don’t remember reading at all when I was eight years old.”

“She reminds me of Master Terrence when he was a boy.”

“Yes, well…”  Iolanthe untied the ribbon below her chin and took off her hat.  She handed it to Skye, who had just walked in, then turned to Ursal.  “You’re staying for dinner?”

“Thank you.  I will accept your invitation.”

Sweeping through the kitchen and down the hallway, Iolanthe made her way to the library.  Sure enough, Iolana was sitting in the overstuffed chair that her uncle had so often occupied.  Her feet were propped up on the antique tuffet and a massive book was splayed across her lap.

“Good afternoon, Iolana.”

The head of thick blond hair rocked back revealing the bow-shaped mouth, small freckled nose and striking aquamarine eyes.  Those eyes darted to the cuckoo clock on the wall and then back.

“Good afternoon, Mother.”

“How long have you been in here reading?” asked Iolanthe, stepping across the floor as a hunter approaches a doe.

“About three hours.”

“You shouldn’t read so much.  You should go upstairs and paint.”

“I don’t like to paint.”

“Why didn’t you go to Egeria’s?”  Iolanthe cupped the girl’s chin and tilted it up toward her face.  “You could have played her piano.”

“I wanted to read my book.”

“What is it that has you so engrossed?”

“It’s called “Steam”.

“Garstone?  In this house?”  She lifted the heavy volume out of the girl’s lap and turned to the inside cover.  In a careful scrawl across the page, was the barely legible signature of Kasia Garstone.  The corner of a white paper stuck out of the flap of the book jacket.  She pulled it out and found it was a receipt.  “Breeding Booksellers Limited.  Second of Hamonth, 1902.  Terrence Dechantagne.  Signed Garstone first edition.  Four thousand one hundred twenty-five marks!”

She sat the book down on her daughter’s knee.  “Is it any good?”

“Oh yes.”

“Have you given any thought to your party?”

“Um… not really.”

“Have you at least thought of a theme?” wondered Iolanthe.

“I thought maybe… goodbye to summer?”

“It’s three months till fall.  How about Accord Day?  That will give you almost a month.”

“Can we have fireworks?”

“There won’t be time to order any from Brech, but I’m sure we can find some, if not in town, then in Mallontah.”  Iolanthe cupped the girl’s chin again.  “I want a guest list tomorrow.  We’ll need to send it to the stationer by the end of the week.  And talk to Auntie Yadira about the food.  I’ve already spoken to Mr. Ghent about the music.”

“Yes Mother.”

“And thank you Mother,” prompted Iolanthe.

“Thank you Mother.”

“Don’t be late for dinner.”

“I won’t Mother.”