Saba Colbshallow is an important character in Senta and the Steel Dragon.  He’s been particularly fun to write because he changes so much.  He starts out as  a kid in Brechalon, is a servant in The Voyage of the Minotaur, a militiaman in The Dark and Forbidding Land, and a police inspector in The Two Dragons.

Here is a scene of domestic conflict as Saba negotiates his way through his friends and his wife.

Café Etta was shaded by the tall pines, which grew majestically in most of the city’s vacant land.  The summer sun was still well above the horizon.  White clad waiters with red checked aprons ran everywhere: lighting lanterns hanging around the edge of the awning, showing guests to their tables, cleaning up after guests who had left, and bringing great trays of food out to those who had already ordered.  One waiter, a tall thin young man with black hair and the beginnings of a mustache carried a dessert tray to a table in the back of the café.  Carefully balancing it in one hand, he lowered plates of cheese, sliced apples, butter biscuits, grapes, and thickly sliced gingerbread onto the cloth-covered surface.  Replacing these on the tray with the last of the dirty dinner dishes, he nodded to the four seated patrons and headed for the kitchen.

“I don’t think I have room for another bite,” said Saba Colbshallow, leaning back from the table.  He patted the waistcoat of his charcoal grey suit to show how full he was.

“It was a lovely meal,” said his wife, reaching over and popping a pair of large grapes into her mouth.  “This new chef really can do wonders with a pork roast.”

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.”

Saba, Eamon, and Loana all laughed.  Dot scrunched up her nose.  Aalwijn Finkler stepped up to the table between Saba and his wife.

“Inspector, Sergeant, ladies.  How was your dinner this evening?”

“Dinner was lovely,” replied Loana.

“Wonderful,” said Aalwijn.  “And what are we celebrating?”

“We’re celebrating being able to afford to go out for dinner,” replied Saba.

“I’ve always said the police were underpaid.  I’m having a very nice sparkling wine brought out.  It’s on the house.”

“I hope this isn’t a bribe,” said Eamon, grinning.

“Nonsense,” replied Aalwijn.  “Everyone says that Inspector Colbshallow is above such things, and I don’t expect that you could be bought for less than three bottles.”

Saba burst out laughing.  Eamon’s grin dropped to a rather uncomfortable smile.  As Aalwijn walked away, he said, “What do you suppose he meant by that?”

“He was just joking,” said Saba.  “Everyone knows you’re honest to a fault.”

“It’s just that you accept quite a few gifts,” said Loana.

The smiles on both men’s faces were wiped away.  Dot, noticing a sudden change in the mood though she had not followed all the conversation, looked from one to another of her fellow diners.

“Well, you do accept gifts,” repeated Loana. 

“There’s nothing wrong with a police constable receiving a gratuity now and then,” said Saba.

“But you never do it.”

“I don’t, well that is… I don’t have any opportunity.  I don’t walk a tour anymore.”

Loana batted her eyes at him and said. “You didn’t when you were a PC either.”

“I um… hmm.”

Eamon looked at him, but Saba just shrugged.  The rest of dessert was eaten in silence.  At least what dessert was eaten, was eaten in silence.  Loana sampled something of everything and was especially fond of the fruit.  Dot halfheartedly nibbled a biscuit.  Neither Saba nor Eamon touched anything.  When the waiter arrived with the check, Eamon snatched it out of his hand.

“Hold off,” said Saba.  “It’s my turn to pay for dinner.”

“I’m paying for Dot and me,” said Eamon.  “I don’t take anything that’s not properly mine.”

“Don’t be that way Eamon.”

Eamon scrunched up his face a bit as he figured out what half of seventeen marks eighty-two pfennigs was.  Then he stood up and whipped his wallet from the breast pocket of his pin-striped suit.  Fishing out four one mark notes and a five upon which the face of Princess Aarya had been given a blue ink mustache, he tossed them down between the empty fruit plate and the almost full cheese dish.

“Come on, mate,” said Saba.

“Good evening, Inspector Colbshallow, Mrs. Colbshallow.”  Dot was at his elbow in an instant and they turned and swept out of the café.

“What the hell?” Saba demanded of his wife.

One of the main character spots in books 0-5 are filled by either Iolanthe or Yuah.  They alternate, because they are intertwined so much in each other’s lives.  I always enjoy writing the scenes where they appear together.  In chapter 4 of The Two Dragons, Iolanthe finds Yuah wallowing in a drug induced stupor.

“Do you want to play jacks with us after breakfast, Auntie Iolanthe?” asked Terra in her peculiar little voice.

“You have your tutor, don’t you?”

“No, Mother.  Master Brown is gone with Father to Tsahloose,” said Iolana.  “We have independent study until he returns.”

“Oh yes, I had forgotten.  In answer to your query Terra, I have to be at my office.  Perhaps Cissy will play with you—or your mother.  Where is your mother?”

“She’s not feeling well again today,” said Augie.

Iolanthe wiped her mouth with her napkin, and then placed it on her plate.  Before she could push the chair back on her own, Garrah was pulling it out for her.  She stomped to the doorway with the foyer and turned back around to look at her daughter.

“Independent study still means study.”

“Don’t worry Mother.  I plan to study.”

“I have no doubt of that.  Make sure that your cousins do too.”

“Blinking heck!” said Augie.

“You watch your mouth young man,” said Mrs. Colbshallow.  “I will have Garrah wash it out with soap.”

Iolanthe was already halfway up the stairs.  When she reached the top, she turned once again toward Yuah’s door.  When she knocked, she received the same reply that she had the previous day.  She balled up her fist and pounded.  There was still no answer.  Retracing her steps back a few feet, she opened the tiny drawer in the occasional table against the wall between the door to Yuah’s room and the door to the nursery.  The drawer was empty but for a large brass key.  Taking the key, she went back and stuck it in the keyhole just above the doorknob, turned it, and then pushed the door open. 

Yuah’s bedroom was probably the most luxurious in the house.  Terrence had denied her nothing while he was alive, though even Iolanthe admitted in her own thoughts that he could have shown the girl more affection.  The wallpaper, with its intricate pattern of pink roses between golden bars, was difficult to see.  The color of the carpet was indistinguishable.  The pink lace curtains on both the windows had been covered over with heavy blankets and very little light entered the room.  Yuah was lying on the bed, eyes half closed.  For a moment, Iolanthe thought she was dead, but then saw her breathing. 

“Yuah?”

Her sister-in-law didn’t move.  Iolanthe crossed to the window and pulled one of the heavy blankets away, allowing a bright beam of morning light to enter.  It fell directly across Yuah’s face, but she didn’t react.

“Yuah!”

On the intricately wrought stand in the corner was the antique washbasin.  Though it had not been used, the pitcher was still filled with cool clear water from the night before.  Iolanthe grabbed the pitcher by the handle and dumped it over Yuah’s head.

“Ack!  Bloody hell!” sputtered Yuah, and then jumped to her feet.  “You stupid cow!  What do you think you’re doing?”

“Are you bladdered, Yuah?”

“No.  I just don’t feel well.  Now get out.”

“You are bladdered.  You have yesterday’s dress on, your eyes are bloodshot, and you smell like you’ve peed yourself.  You’re ass over tit and it’s not even nine o’clock!”

With the suddenness of a viper strike, Yuah’s arm lashed out, her hand slapping Iolanthe solidly across the face, with a smack that could be heard all over the upper floor of the house.  A tiny fraction of a second had passed before Iolanthe’s left hand returned the favor, leaving its bright red impression across Yuah’s pale cheek.  Yuah balled up her fist and hit, stepping into the punch like a prizefighter.  She struck her sister-in-law in the right eye.  Iolanthe fell back down onto her bustle and rolled backwards, smacking both her head and the pitcher in her right hand onto the floor.  The antique porcelain exploded into a mass of white and cornflower blue pieces.

I enjoyed The Two Dragons very much because it is the book in which Zurfina’s secrets are finally revealed.  I should say that they are finally revealed to Senta.  I revealed some of them in Book 0.  Believe me, I had a hard time deciding if that was the right thing to do.  In chapter four, we discover the secret of Zurfina’s mysterious tattoos.

The next morning, Senta was pressed so tightly between the dragon’s body and his head, that she had to fight to extricate herself.  Sometime during the night he had covered her with the barbed tip of his tail and now she was drenched in perspiration.  Who would have though a scaly reptile could produce so much body heat?  At last she made her way down onto the wooden floor of the barn.  Bessemer blew smoke from both his nostrils but gave no other indication that he had noticed her going.  She felt a now familiar stinging sensation just below the clavicle on the left and the right side of her chest.  Pulling the neck of the dress as far out as possible, she peered down inside to confirm her fears.  A two-inch star tattoo stood at the top of each of her small breasts.

“Blinking heck!”

Senta walked to the house and opened the front door to find Geert and Maro sitting at the table, staring in rapt attention at Hero, who was cooking at the stove.  Geert looked to the door when it opened and smiled at his cousin, but his younger brother refused to take his eyes off of the dark haired beauty cracking eggs into a cast iron skillet.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Hero.

“Making breakfast.”

“I remember a time when you wouldn’t have given me a glib reply.”

“And I remember a time when you slept indoors.”

Senta shrugged and sat down at the table.

“How come you were sleeping outside anyway?” asked Geert.

“I didn’t sleep outside.  I was just checking on something.”

Hero brought three plates to the table loaded with eggs over hard, sausages, black pudding, beans, and muffins.  She sat one in front of Senta and then one in front of each of the young men.

“No fourth plate?” asked Geert. “Aren’t you eating with us?”

“I ate already.”

“Then I hope there is a fourth plate for me,” said Zurfina’s sultry voice from the bottom of the stairs.

Both Hero and Geert visibly started.  Maro’s head for the first time turned away from Hero’s direction.  Senta was sure he was looking to see if the sorceress really did like to run around the house naked.  To his disappointment and her surprise, Zurfina was as clothed as she had ever been.  Her gown was a silky smooth purple one that Senta wouldn’t have been surprised to see Mrs. Dechantagne or Governor Staff wearing, despite its quite low neckline.  When Zurfina turned toward the stove however, everyone in the room could see that the dress had no side from the armpits to the waist, and Senta saw enough of the sorceress’s breast to remind her of the tattoos on her own chest.  She jumped up from her seat and pinching Zurfina under the arm, pushed her across the room into the far corner.

“Hey, what is… ow!  You little bint, that hurts.”

“What are you doing to me?” hissed Senta, pulling the top of her nightdress away from her body.  “Piercing my ears was one thing, but this…”

“Why didn’t you tell me your sigils are coming in?”

“My what now?”

“Oh my,” Zurfina smirked.  “Oh I had nothing to do with this, Pet.  Okay, well maybe it is a bit my fault.  But it’s really you.  Did you think I had someone tattoo me?  Did you think I had them sneak in and tattoo you?”

“Well… yes.”

“These are sigils, my dear girl.  They are a product of the magic you are using—specifically the high level conjuring and evocation spells.  It’s been my experience that enchantments and transmutations don’t leave much of a mark, but create, teleport, or summon and there you go.  Don’t worry.  I only have eight sigils and I doubt you’ll ever achieve the level of my art.”  She paused and rubbed her chin thoughtfully.  “How many do you have?”

“Three.”

“Three?  Already?  Well I may be wrong.  It just goes to show that you never can tell.  I wasn’t even sure it was about you, but now…”

“What was about me?  What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when you grow up.”

“I’m grown up now.”

“Fifteen is not grown up.”

“I’m seventeen,” said Senta.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then it really is time we had a talk.”

“I know!”  Senta said, loud enough for everyone in the house to hear.