“Are we celebrating tonight, Your Lordship?”
“Of course,” replied Augie. “I’m celebrating being out with this lovely creature. Bring us a bottle of your second most expensive sparkling wine.”
“Odd phrase that,” said Zoey, once the host had left. “Lovely creature.”
“Well, you objected yesterday, when I called you a woman.”
“True. Call me but Love, and I shall be transformed into whatever you wish.”
“You’re perfect already. What would you like to eat?”
“Lobster?”
A waiter arrived with the sparkling wine and two flutes. After popping the cork, he poured the two glasses.
“Would you care to hear the specials?”
“No need,” said Augie. “Two lobsters with all the accompaniments.”
“Very good, sir.” The waiter hurried off.
“You really are a lovely creature.”
“Thank you, kind sir.”
“A lot of people are out for dinner,” he said, glancing past her. “I see the Croffuts and your cousin and his wife over there—Geert and Honor, I mean, not the annoying ones.”
“You mean Senta’s cousins. They’re not really mine.”
“Of course. I forgot. But still, Senta’s like your mother.”
“Speaking of mothers, yours is sitting near the railing, behind you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Your grandfather and grandmother too.”
“The whole family then. I suppose I’ll have to go and talk to them, but for now, I’ll just pretend like I don’t know they’re there.”
“Your mother is looking right at me. She knows we’re talking about her. I don’t think she likes me.”
“Of course she doesn’t. She’s my mother. She thinks you’re not good enough for her little boy.”
“How can she think that? I’m a dragon. You couldn’t do any better as…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m being silly. Go say hello.”
Augie got up, turned around, and strolled across the room to the table where Mrs. Dechantagne was seated, along with Mr. and Mrs. Korlann. He was only there for a moment before his mother stood up and guided him into her chair. Then she walked over and sat down across from Zoey.
Mrs. Dechantagne was still a strikingly beautiful woman at forty-seven, with full lips, chocolate colored eyes, and dark brown hair, lightly streaked with grey, piled high on her head.
“What are you playing at, monster,” she hissed.
“Hey,” replied Zoey, with a frown. “Hurtful words.”
“What are you doing with my boy?”
“Lord Dechantagne is a man. And I’m…”
“An inhuman monster.”
“Wow. Creature, monster, goddess: everyone certainly seems to have me pegged.”
“I’m less interested in what you are than what you want,” said Mrs. Dechantagne, “like my son’s money.”
“Augie is so very much more to me than money,” said Zoey, but she couldn’t help smiling as the word money passed her lips.
“Good evening, Yuah, Zoey,” said a figure suddenly beside the table. Honor McCoort leaned down and kissed first Mrs. Dechantagne on the cheek and then Zoey.
Mrs. McCoort was a few years younger than Augie’s mother, without the bit of grey in her dark brown hair. She was pretty, but had a scar running from her cheekbone to her chin. Her white blouse and black skirt looked very plain next to Mrs. Dechantagne’s fuchsia evening gown.
“We already said good evening not twenty minutes ago,” Mrs. Dechantagne told her. “What is it that you want now?”
“Well, my intentions are two-fold,” said Mrs. McCoort, looking up at the colorful canvas that acted as a ceiling. “First of all, as you are both my good friends, I’m here to try to limit any animosity. Secondly, if Zoantheria were to transform into her dragon self in order to eat you, my dear husband would be right where her tail would fall.”
“I’ve never eaten a person,” said Zoey, “as far as either of you know.”
“This isn’t over, monster,” said Mrs. Dechantagne, getting up.
“Of that I am certain,” said Zoey.
“You really are a kibitzer,” Mrs. Dechantagne said to Mrs. McCoort, though it was said without real venom. She turned and walked back to her table.
“Good evening, Zoey,” said Mrs. McCoort, turning to leave.
“Good evening. My best to your husband.”
“So, what did my mother want?” asked Augie, returning to his seat, just as two waiters arrived with trays filled with two bright red lobsters, roasted vegetables, cheeses, and breads.
“Oh, nothing really. A bit of local gossip.”
“Oh.” He cut a piece of lobster tail and dipped it in drawn butter, before bringing it to his mouth. “Mmm.”
“I’m afraid I won’t see you for a while,” said Zoey.
He stopped, his second forkful of seafood in midair. “Why?”
“First, I have to sleep. But then I shall be away.”
“For how long?”
“A few weeks. Perhaps a month at the most.”
“A month? What ever will I do without you?” he asked. “Is this because of something my mother said? If she’s bothering you, I can do something. I’ll send her away on holiday. I’ll send her to visit my sister in Brech City.”
“No, no. It’s nothing to do with your mother,” said Zoey. “It’s um… dragon business. You know…”
“Something you have to do for Senta?”
“One might suppose, yes.”
“I shall miss you terribly.”
“Good. See that you do. And see that you don’t take up with any other young females.”
“As long as you’re not gone longer than a month,” he said. “After all, you know, I am a very sought-after young bachelor. There are plenty of fetching young women who would like to be showered with expensive gifts.”
“As long as you make them aware of the potential risks for those rewards.” She picked up her lobster, twisting it into two pieces, and then brought the top half to her lips, sucking out the green fatty paste from inside.
“I like a woman with a good appetite,” said her dinner companion.
“Then you are in luck, Lord Dechantagne,” she said. “You have no idea.”
Chapter Two: Yuah’s Morning
Yuah Dechantagne slowly opened her eyes, wondering how she got sandpaper on the inside of her eyelids. She stared up at the unfamiliar blue ceiling for several minutes before realizing she should look around to see where she was. As soon as her head moved, she was sorry. Somebody had hammered a big spike into her head, she decided, as she rubbed her temples. Climbing out of bed, she staggered over to the washstand and poured the pitcher of cool water into the basin. Setting the pitcher on the floor, she reached into the water with both hands and lifted it to her face. She did this several more times, the last time with her eyes open, trying for some relief of their itching. They hadn’t felt this bad since… well, since she had abused them. After drying her face, she looked down at her body. She wasn’t wearing nightclothes. She had on her foundations from the day before.
Looking around, Yuah saw a big, fluffy robe hanging from a hook on the inside of the door. Staggering across the room, she pulled it off the hanger and slipped it on. Then she opened the door and stepped out. Immediately, she was blinded by shaft of light beaming in through a window at the end of the hallway—her stepmother’s hallway, she realized. Her father had been married to Egeria Korlann née Lusk for some fifteen years now, but she still thought of it as Egeria’s house.
“Good morning, sister,” said a sweet voice from behind her.
She turned to see a thin girl, with alabaster skin and vibrant red hair, standing at the top of the staircase. She had on a pretty white play dress and carried a large emerald egg in the crook of her arm.
“Good morning, Olivia. What time is it?”
“It
’s quarter to the hour. Mother said that I was to come bring you to breakfast.”
“A quarter to what hour?”
“A quarter to nine. I’ve been up for hours.”
“And what is it you have there?” wondered Yuah.
“It’s my troodon egg,” replied the girl.
“Is that what’s for breakfast then?”
“No, silly. I’m hatching it. Mother said I could only have a troodon if I hatched it myself. That way it would know I’m it’s mum.”
“All right. Breakfast then. Lead the way.”
The girl hopped down the stairs in a way that Yuah thought would ensure that the egg didn’t make it, but it did. She followed her half-sister down to the dining room.
Olivia had been born to Yuah’s father and his second wife almost seven years into their marriage. She had been a surprise to everyone, especially her mother who had been told by doctors and priests that she would never be able to conceive. It had bothered Yuah that her father had married a woman only two years her elder, but she found it surprisingly pleasant to have a sister who was only seven. It made her feel younger. She felt for Egeria. She wouldn’t have wanted to raise a child at forty-nine. It was hard enough being forty-seven, and her children were essentially grown. Terra would turn nineteen soon, and Augie twenty just a few days later.
“Good morning, Yuah,” said Egeria, as her stepdaughter plopped into a chair at the table. “Would you care for a scone?”
“Oh, just tea please. What happened to me anyway?”
“You had quite a bit of wine last night, so I thought it better that you stay the night with us.”
Yuah looked around, noticing that it was only Egeria, Olivia, and she in the room.
“Where’s Papa?”
“He’s already gone into work.” Egeria poured the tea and then stirred in several ingredients before handing it over. “Here you go, dear. It has honey, lemon, and ginger. It will make you feel better.”
“Thank you,” said Yuah. “What do you mean, he’s gone in to work. He’s retired.”
“He has an office at Uni. He likes to go in and keep an eye on things.”
“Mm-hm. Did I hear Olivia say that you were going to allow her to have a troodon?”
“Yes, but she has to take care of it herself and keep up her studies.”
“You could have just had one of ours. Augie has at least a dozen of them. I can’t go in or out of the house without feeling like they’re going to leap on me and attack.”
“They aren’t aggressive, are they?” asked Egeria. “If one is aggressive towards a human, it should be put down.”
“Well, they don’t actually do anything, but I can see in their eyes that they want to.” Yuah sipped her tea. “I will have that scone now, thank you.”
* * * * *
Still feeling out of sorts, not the least of reasons because she was wearing her gown from the evening before when all around her were women in day dresses and walking dresses, Yuah stood waiting at the trolley stop. Home was close enough that she could have walked. In fact she had walked the distance many times, back in the early days of the colony, before there were any steam carriages and when there was no trolley. She had been there only a minute when the trolley approached, pulled by a triceratops that was almost twice as big as the car. It came to a stop at the mark and the driver hurried around to feed the beast some leafy branches. Yuah was about to step aboard when a loud squelch heralded the arrival of a hundred pounds or more of dung dropping from the triceratops’s bottom.
“Oh, bloody hell,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face.
“Sorry, ma’am,” called the driver.
Standing next to the driver’s seat, she suddenly realized she had no money with her. For a moment, she wondered if she should get back off.
“Allow me,” said a thin, grey-haired man, stepping forward to drop a pfennig in the glass box.
“Why thank you, Mr. Wissinger,” she said.
Isaak Wissinger was a world-famous writer. He had become good friends with Yuah’s father after arriving in Brechalon back before the Freedonian War. She had seen him many times while visiting her father, as well as at shrine and around town.
“Will you sit with me?” he asked.
Giving him a nod, she sat down, idly noticing that the trolley was only about half full and that she didn’t see anyone else she knew.
“It is fortunate that I ran into you,” said Mr. Wissinger, sitting next to her.
“Oh? Why?”
“Well, I wanted to ask you something.”
The driver climbed back into the vehicle, rang the bell, and tapped the dinosaur on the haunch to start it moving once again.
“Oh?”
“Yes. I wanted to ask you if you would go to dinner with me?”
“Why?” wondered Yuah, looking through the window as they passed an iguanodon with three people riding in a howdah on its back.
“Why?”
“Yes. What would we talk about?”
“We could talk about anything you wanted,” he said. “Then I thought that we could go see a play.”
“What play is it? Is it one of yours? I thought you were focused on novels, although now I remember that you have written non-fiction as well.”
“No, it’s not my play,” said Wissinger, frowning. “It’s by a Brech playwright named Beasel, but… Mrs. Dechantagne… Um, Yuah, I don’t think I’m making myself clear. I’m trying to ask you out on a date.”
“A date?” She blinked.
“Yes. It’s when two people go out together and enjoy one another’s company while they dabble in one of a specified collection of mutual activities.”
“Mm-hm.”
“You have been on a date before, haven’t you?”
“Um, no,” she said.
“No? Never?”
“No. Never.”
“You and your husband never…”
“Oh, well. We did go out to dinner once or twice after we were married, of course.”
“I see. Well, I would like to take you to dinner and a play. Back in Freedonia, I would have found a chaperone, but even the young people don’t seem to bother with that anymore, and considering our age and the fact that you are a widow…”
“Yes, you are quite old,” said Yuah.
“Um, I am older than you, yes,” he said, frowning. “I’m in very good shape though. I have a bicycle and I ride it six miles each day.”
“No offense,” she said. “I just think of you as my father’s friend.”
“Well, I’m about ten years younger than he is. I also like to think that I’m still considered a handsome man, and relatively accomplished. I have a steady income now, thanks to my writing, of some 20,000 marks.”
“Of course, of course,” said Yuah. “I’m sure there must be any number of women interested in you, Mr. Wissinger. In fact, now that I think on it, I seem to recall hearing that you have had a number of lady friends.”
“I have been out with other women in the past.”
“So, I suppose my question is, why me?”
“Surely, Yuah, you must know that you are one of the great beauties of Birmisia Colony. Plus, you are smart and accomplished in your own right. We also share the same faith.”
“This is my stop,” she said, as the trolley slowed. She stood up and he did too. “I shall consider your invitation. May I send you a note?”
He nodded and she turned and exited the trolley car.
That was certainly an odd encounter. She looked down at her gown.
“And when I look such a fright,” she said aloud.
It was about fifty feet to the front gate of the Dechantagne estate. There were no other human pedestrians, but about a dozen lizzies, the reptilian aborigines of Birmisia, were going to and fro. She paid them little attention, but passed through the gate, closing it after herself, and started up the cobblestone walkway. Passing the fountain, she had to walk right between seven or eight troodons, sitt
ing in the grass like giant green turkeys.
Troodons were very similar to the deinonychus, which had been a scourge to humans since their arrival in the new world. Like the deinonychus, troodons had large toe claws to disembowel their prey and long mouths filled with sharp teeth, and at about a hundred pounds, they were nearly the same size. Unlike the deinonychus with its dirty-looking brown feathers, the troodons were emerald green with a yellow crest atop their heads. They were slightly taller but more slender. They were, however, more intelligent than deinonychus or their smaller cousins, velociraptors, at least according to Augie.
One of the beasts stood up and moved toward Yuah. She stopped and pulled her hands up near her chin. The troodon stopped next to her, leaned its head against her hip, and cooed.
“Give him a little pet,” said Augie, hopping down the front steps of the portico.
The other emerald creatures all came to their feet and ran to him. The one next to Yuah, at last deciding that affection was not coming its way, followed them. Yuah used the distraction to skirt around them and run up the steps. She had to stop at the front door and catch her breath.
“That’s a good fellow, Cecil… Benjamin… Ewart…” said Augie, fluffing the feathers of one after the other of this pets. “You need to get over your fear of them,” he said, following her back up onto the portico. “They’re perfectly safe. People are getting them to watch their children.”
The lizzie majordomo opened the front door for them and they both walked through, first her and then him.
“Why are you wearing an evening gown?”
“I stayed over at Egeria’s house and I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I’m off to take a long hot bath and then change.” She stopped and turned to him. “I suppose you’re off to see… the dragon.”
“No. It turns out she will be out of town for a few weeks.”
“Maybe you’ll find another young lady while she’s gone.”
“Possibly,” he said. “In any case, you needn’t worry about whom I choose to date.”
“What would you think if I did?”
“Did what? Worry about whom I date?”
The Dragon's Choice Page 2
