Stepping out of the S.S. Arrow’s mid-deck hatch and onto the gangplank, Radley Staff looked around at the peninsula on which Port Dechantagne was built. He was amazed at the growth of the little colony. When he had left, a little more than three years ago, it was nothing but a few barracks buildings in a clearing in the woods. Now it was a real town. From where he stood, he could see hundreds of buildings, warehouses, apartment blocks, businesses, and the rooftops of more building off between the redwoods. A large dark cloud hung amid the white clouds, formed by hundreds of fireplaces and stoves. The smell of wood smoke overcame the smell of the seashore. He stopped for a moment and enjoyed the scene. Someone behind him cleared her throat. He turned around to find Miss Jindra, in a shimmering white and teal day dress with waves of white ruffles down the front. She wore a matching teal hat with a lace veil and carried a parasol, though she seemed unlikely to need one.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

“That’s quite alright, Mr. Staff. I’m surprised you haven’t debarked yet.”

“I waited to avoid the rush.”

“I’m afraid I was expecting more,” she said, looking with a raised brow at the nearby buildings.

He followed her gaze.

“Really? I was thinking just the opposite.”

He turned back around to face her and started. Miss Jindra was just where she had been, but a second woman stood directly behind her—a woman who hadn’t been there only a second before. Though her hairstyle was different, Staff remembered the charcoal circled grey eyes and the wry smile. He had thought he remembered her scandalous dress too, but what she had on now went beyond the bounds of decency. Black leather covered only the lower half of her breasts, leaving her two star tattoos clearly visible. The dress reached down only to the top of her thighs. Two thick straps attached to a tight leather collar which seemed to be holding the whole thing up. Forget fitting a corset beneath this ensemble. One would have been hard pressed to fit a piece of lace in there.

“Well, Lieutenant Staff, I do declare,” said Zurfina in her unforgettable sultry voice.

“That’s Mr. Staff,” he corrected.

Miss Jindra spun around, getting a piece of her voluminous dress caught on a spur of the railing. There was a loud ripping sound as a four inch tear was opened in the beautiful teal cloth.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” said Zurfina, placing a hand on each of Miss Jindra’s shoulders. Looking around the olive-skinned woman’s head, she said in a loud whisper. “Too long a dress. Bound to happen sooner or later.”

“What exactly do you want, Zurfina?” asked Staff. “I’m flattered, but surprised that you came to meet me.”

“Oh you are a pretty boy, but it’s your friend I’m here for.”

“Miss Jindra?”

Miss Jindra started to speak. “I don’t…”

“Don’t spoil the moment,” said Zurfina, placing a finger on the woman’s mouth.

“Perhaps I could bring her around to your home later,” said Staff.

Zurfina flashed him a smile that was only slightly more than a smirk. Then suddenly she was gone. Miss Jindra, her voluminous white and teal dress with matching teal hat and her parasol, were gone too. There was nothing to indicate that anyone had ever stood on the gangplank behind him, except for a single teal colored thread, clinging to a spur in the railing.

For a moment, Staff thought about finding Miss Jindra and rescuing her. On the other hand, she had never expressed a need or a desire for his protection. He didn’t really know her all that well. She was only a dinner companion, assigned by the ship’s purser at that. And it was not as if he had any knowledge of how to deal with a sorceress or knew Zurfina’s address. So he shrugged and continued down the gangplank, across the dock, and into the street beyond.

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The dinner bell rang and Staff said goodbye to his two employers and went to his table. The broken glass had been repaired and the dining room looked none the worse for wear. As usual, the darkly beautiful Amadea Jindra was already seated; her heavily laced white dress was a study in contrast with her dark olive skin. As Staff set down, he noticed the plunging back left both her shoulder blades sensuously exposed.

“Miss Jindra,” he said.

“Good Evening, Mr. Staff.”

The waiter brought a salad of leaf lettuce and thinly sliced fruit. It was garnished with a peach cut into the shape of a rose. A moment later, he returned with glasses of sparkling wine.

“You must come from a wealthy family, Miss Jindra,” he said. “To be able to travel first class passage alone to Birmisia.”

“It’s considered rude to ask a woman about her money.”

“That is true.” He shrugged. “I’m uncouth.”

“That’s alright. You were trying to make conversation, Mr. Staff. I think that is a move in the right direction.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re not very good at it, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I’ll wager you’ve not had to do it often.” She speared some lettuce on her fork. “I would suppose you get by mostly on your looks.”

“Polite dinner conversation is not really a major requirement of naval service,” said Staff. “Neither are looks. But what I was really getting at, is whether you might be looking for employment once we arrive in Birmisia. You’re specialty is scrying…”

“Spying on people?”

“Perhaps that was unfair.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “I must admit that my finances aren’t what they could be. I spent everything I had for this passage.”

“Maybe I can help then. I suppose you can use you magic abilities to search for natural resourses?”

“I can find the location of anything,” she said. “I see no reason that…coal?”

“Yes, coal.”

“I see no reason that coal should thwart me.”

The waiter brought out a fine grilled sea bass, with roasted vegetables, and a crisp white wine. The dessert was vanilla ice cream, served with tea. Feeling quite full and satisfied, Staff bid good night to Miss Jindra, and made his way back to his cabin. He peeled off his clothes and hung them on the hook on the back of the cabin door, then lay down and immediately passed into sleep.

It was the middle of the night when knocking woke Staff up. He stepped through the darkness and opened the door, allowing the dim light of the hallway to spill inside. Matie Marchond stood outside, looking just as strikingly beautiful in her black mourning dress and veil as she had in evening clothes. She pressed her face close to his.

“May I come in?”

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”

“Just for a minute.”

He opened the door enough for her to pass through and then closed it behind her. He found his matches in the dark and lit one of the lamps, then turned to face Mrs. Marchond, who was admiring his mostly unclad body.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” she said.

“Are you really?”

She shrugged. “Not really, I suppose.”

“You had your husband try to kill me.”

“I was angry,” she said. “No woman likes to be spurned.”

“Yes, well…”

“Now we can be free to enjoy each other’s company. We still need to maintain a sense of decorum, at least until I get back to Brech for the reading of the will. But we can at least continue to see each other.”

“It’s my general understanding that when a woman tries to have you killed, the relationship has reached a downturn.”

“I didn’t try to have you killed, not really. Raoul found out from someone that I had been to your room. I told him that you tried to seduce me, but I turned you down. I didn’t know the old idiot would try to shoot you. Still, no harm done.”

“No harm? He’s dead.”

“I mean no harm to you. He had been having chest pains for some time. I fully expected him to die sometime on the trip.”

“It doesn’t bother you that he’s dead?”

“Bother me? I’m overjoyed. I put in my time. Twelve years I’ve had to live with that old windbag and his disgusting habits. Now I’m finally free.”

Staff nodded thoughtfully.

“And here we are.” She turned around and presented him with the long row of shiny black buttons from the top of her neck to the top of her bustle. Staff paused for a moment. Matie Marchond was certainly beautiful. She looked back over her shoulder, and then stuck out her lip when she saw that he wasn’t reaching to unfasten her.

“You’re not still mad at me are you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then why not? I know you find me attractive.”

“You’re beautiful. But you no longer have the one quality that made you perfect.”

She frowned. “And what’s that?”

“You’re no longer married.”

“I’m full up, Mother,” said her son.

Saba Colbshallow was full up, too. He had eaten a full breakfast this morning at the Dechantagne family home, and sat back to enjoy his morning tea. Around the large pine table sat his mother, Mrs. Dechantagne, Mrs. Godwin, little Iolana Calliere and at the head of the table Professor Merced Calliere. Mrs. Dechantagne’s baby was in the next room, being rocked in a cradle by one of the reptilian servants, and Mrs. Dechantagne Calliere, who normally sat at the other end of the table from her husband, was not present at breakfast this morning.

“I’m sorry that I missed Mrs. C,” said Saba, though he wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. He had known her all his life, and had been in love with her from the time he was five and she was a striking, sixteen year old beauty, until he was seven and she was a very bossy eighteen year old. Then his affections had been switched to Mrs. Dechantagne, who back then had just been Yuah Korlann, and who had grown up to be a bit prettier and much nicer.

“She’s quite busy this morning,” said the professor, setting aside the book that he had been reading. “You’ll be quite busy too, I dare say. Another ship came in last night.”

“So I heard. Mirsannan freighter. Mostly cargo, but I bet there’ll be a couple of poofs out causing trouble.”

“Quite,” said the professor, saluting with his teacup. “Don’t let us keep you from your duty then officer.”

“Right.” Saba drained his teacup and stood up, pushing in the chair as he left the table. He picked up his constabulary helmet from the small table in front of the window. It had gold braid around its base, a large gold star on the front, and a gold spike on the very top. Of course it was navy blue, just like his uniform.

“Look at my boy,” said his mother. “He looks like a right man, doesn’t he? An officer of the peace.”

“You look just dashing,” said Mrs. Dechantagne, which made Saba blush a bit. He bowed low to her, saluted everyone else, and then headed out the front door, which one of the lizardmen servants held open for him.

Saba was quite proud of his position as one of the first two constables on the police force in Port Dechantagne. In fact, he could well say that he was the first constable, since he had badge number one, and Eamon Shrubb had badge number two. Even though he was only twenty, Saba had worked hard for this position. He had signed on to the Colonial Militia when he was only sixteen, eventually becoming the youngest sergeant at any time before or since. He had served his two years with what he thought was distinction and had volunteered for an extra year. Now he was a copper. Anyone who knew Saba recognized that few deserved a spot in the new police department more than he did. Anyone who knew the royal governor knew that she would not have sponsored him for the position just because she had known him all his life.

“Good morning, Constable,” called a woman in a plain brown dress with a brown shawl thrown across her shoulders and a brown bonnet on her head, pushing a wheelbarrow down the gravel road.

“Good morning to you, Mrs. Eamsham. Do you need a hand with that?”

“Heavens no. I was just taking the slop from the neighborhood out to the pigs and dinosaurs.”

“That’s a good five miles pushing that thing. You be sure and take several rest stops along the way.”

Mrs. Eamsham nodded and turned the corner heading for town square. Saba continued walking into the southwestern part of the town, where the homes sat on larger lots, but were not necessarily larger themselves. The leaves had long gone from the maples and the other deciduous trees, but the pines and cedars were still glorious green. A chill wind whipped here and there, but did nothing to Saba but turn his cheeks a little redder. His wool uniform was exceedingly warm.

Suddenly he heard gunfire erupting from directly in front of him. One, two shots. Then a pause. Then one, two, three, four, five, six, pause. He looked up above the trees and saw a flash of steel shoot across the sky.

“Oh, bloody hell!” he shouted and ran at top speed in the direction of the gunfire. That he carried no other weapon than a heavy truncheon, worried him not a bit. Two men with military issue service rifles, but wearing expensive hunting clothes stood in the middle of the gravel road.

“Guns down!” yelled Saba, as he skidded to a stop in front of them. “Drop your guns now!”

“See here chap,” said the first man, his accent labeling him as plainly as if he had worn a placard that he was from Old Town Brech. He must have been very new to the colony, because Saba made it a custom to get to know everyone, and neither of these men he recognized.

“We’re doing nothing illegal,” said the second man. “Just shooting some pests.”

“What exactly were you shooting?”

“We heard from some of the neighbors that these velocipedes….”

“Velociraptors,” Saba corrected.

“Yes, them. They’ve been a menace lately, to the point of endangering the local children.”

“Quite,” said the first man. “We went out to put a few down and found a small group digging right into those garbage bins. We shot a few and killed two, I think, but one took off and flew into the trees.”

“If you listen to me very, and I do mean very, carefully,” said Saba. “I just might be able to save your lives. Lay your rifles down on the ground.”

“But I don’t under…..”

“Do it!”

The men leaned over and carefully placed their weapons on the white gravel road.

“Nobody told you velociraptors don’t fly?”

A loud whomp made all three men jump, and they found themselves standing next to a pony-sized reptile with twenty foot wings, and more importantly a mouth open large enough to swallow a human head. Steel scales reflected the light from the winter morning sky like shields and swords on a forgotten battlefield. The steel dragon let out a huge roar, rending the air with a noise that must have been heard all over Port Dechantagne. Little puffs of smoke flew out of his mouth at the two men as well as bits of saliva which burst into little sparks in the air.

“They bloody shot me!” The dragon’s four word sentence disintegrated into another roar of rage.