Though Amadea Jindra makes a small appearance in Book 0: Brechalon, her only real part of the story is here in The Drache Girl. If however, I ever get around to writing a sequel series, she will play a part in it.
The Marchonds are just a couple that happen to fall into the story at the right point. Both make an impression in Radley Staff’s life.
The waiter brought steaming bowls of chicken soup and a large plate with thickly sliced dark bread and thinly sliced gingerbread. As soon as they were finished with their soup, the bowls were taken away and large bowls of salad in light vinaigrette and topped with orange slices were distributed. The three had almost finished with the salads when a fourth diner arrived. It was the raven haired woman who had been playing the piano in the lounge. Both Marchond and Staff stood as she was seated.
“Miss Jindra,” said Marchond. “I was afraid we weren’t going to see you this evening. Allow me to introduce Mr. Staff.”
“Call me Amadea,” said Miss Jindra.
“Miss Jindra is a sorceress of some renown,” said Mrs. Marchond, smiling at the reaction she received, as the young man’s face went unaccountably blank.
Rare prime rib was served for supper with baked potato and Staff gave over talking to tuck in. He hadn’t had a meal this fine in years. He certainly never managed prime rib in the officer’s mess. Dessert was trifle, and also ranked highly among all the food that Staff had eaten in some time. It reminded him though of his days spent ferrying a group of colonists across the ocean on the battleship H.M.S. Minotaur, and of the nights he spent dining with a strangely commanding woman with almost hypnotic aquamarine eyes. His mind wandered from there to the evenings spent strolling along a distant shore and a few stolen moments of frantic lovemaking.
With dinner over, he excused himself and walked outside. He leaned over the railing and watched as a pod of ichthyosaurs raced along beside the ship. They were so much like the porpoises of home waters, except for the vertical tails. After a few moments, he felt a warm body next to him and turned to see Miss Jindra in her deep purple dress.
“Mr. Staff,” she said.
“I gathered earlier that you had a rather poor opinion of practitioners of the art.”
“Have you known many?”
“I’ve known a few—a few sorceresses and quite a few wizards. You run across a lot of wizards in the service.”
“And you don’t like them?”
He shrugged again.
“I don’t know. I guess I find them to be self-important.”
“Is it self-important magic wielders who bother you? Or self-important women?”
He shrugged again.
“Birmisia is not the place to go if you don’t like powerful women.”
“Don’t I know it?”
“Is it magic you are afraid of, Mr. Staff? You know there is a sorceress in Birmisia who may be the most powerful in the world. She is said to have destroyed an entire city with a single spell.”
“That’s probably exaggerated,” said Staff. “She didn’t do anything particularly amazing when I knew her.”
“You know her?”
“So you really are not afraid of magic.”
“I’m not afraid of magic. I’m also not afraid of a steam train. That doesn’t mean I would stand in front of one.” He tried to change the subject. “You have an interesting accent, Miss Jindra.”
“My father was a Brech, but my mother was from Argrathia.”