“No, what would you think if I dated someone?” asked Yuah.
“I suppose it’s not the worst idea, Mother. There are only the three of us in this gigantic house. With Auntie and I both at our respective duties, I worry about you. You could go wobbly here by yourself.”
Yuah looked around. The great mansion did seem like a vast empty tomb. When it had first been built, there were many people living in it. She had just moved in with the rest of them, after having lived alone only a short while. It was almost like it had been expected. She had been a dressing maid back in Brechalon. In fact, her daughter now lived, as the mistress, in a house in which she had been a servant. Of course Mrs. Colbshallow and Mrs. Godwin had moved in with the Dechantagnes too, but it was Yuah that had married into the family. Now Mrs. Colbshallow had moved in with her son, and Mrs. Godwin, like Yuah’s husband Terrence, had been killed. Both Iolanthe’s first and second husbands had passed away, and Iolanthe’s only child Iolana, and Yuah’s daughter Terra were on the other side of the world in Brech City.
“As I recall,” she said, “the last time the subject came up, you were against it.”
“I don’t recall ever having spoken on it. Was this when I was a boy? In any case, I’m for it now. Of course, I would have to approve of him.”
“You would have to approve?” she growled.
“Of course. I am the head of the family.”
“What about my approving of your whor…. um, your choice.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be proper at all,” he smiled. “But of course, I will take any of your comments into consideration.”
* * * * *
“Hot water?” asked Narsa, the lizzie dressing made, holding up a bucket.
“No,” replied Yuah, standing up in the large claw foot bathtub. “My towel.”
The lizzie handed her a fluffy towel and then offered her a hand as she climbed out onto the stone floor tiles of the bathroom. After drying herself, she slipped into her bloomers before Narsa helped her into a voluminous nightdress.
“Tell cook that I want some soup and maybe a bit of bread, if we have some. I’ll be in the parlor.”
The lizzie nodded and left, and Yuah padded her way, barefoot, through the long hallway to the front of the house and the parlor. Entering the room, she was startled to run into her sister-in-law Royal Governor Iolanthe Dechantagne Staff. She was dressed in a black pinstriped day dress with a white necktie. She had evidently just come in and still had a white boater on her head.
“What are you doing running around naked?” asked Iolanthe, though Yuah was in fact, covered from neck to ankles.
“I didn’t think anyone else would be here, obviously. What are you doing home?”
“I had a headache. I decided I’ve worked enough for today. Is luncheon being served?”
“I’m just having some soup.”
Iolanthe nodded and then snapped her fingers. A lizzie hurried into the room. She took off her hat and spun it toward him. It hit the lizzie in the chest and fell to the floor.
“Tell cook that I shall have what the lady of the house is having.”
The creature nodded, and then picked up the hat, and left.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” said Yuah.
“That is what you are, ever since you married my brother.”
The two women sat down, Yuah on the sofa, drawing her legs up under her, and Iolanthe, primly, in a chair across from her.
“It seems that I am socially inferior to my own son though,” said Yuah. “Now that I think on it, you are the bottom of the social ladder in your own house.”
Iolanthe pursed her lips.
“That must truly irk you.”
“It helps that you don’t lord it over me,” said Iolanthe, forming her face into an unpleasant smile. “Kafira knows you would be warranted. After all, I treated you like dirt when you were my servant.”
“How remarkably self-aware of you to understand that.”
The lizzie returned with a large tray that contained two bowls of soup, a small cutting board with a loaf of brown bread and a small tub of butter, setting it on the coffee table. Iolanthe cut each of them a slice of bread, and then they sat back and enjoyed their soup.
“I don’t know what to do about Augie,” said Yuah, after a few minutes of silence.
“What about him?”
“He’s carousing with that dragon.”
“Oh, yes. He seems to be quite attached to her.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?” wondered Yuah.
“Why would it bother me?”
“Because the Dechantagne family is everything to you. You’ve worked your entire life to ensure its legacy, and Augie is the only one who can carry on the Dechantagne name.”
“Yes?”
“What if he marries that monster?”
“Having a dragon in the family could prove valuable,” mused Iolanthe. “I don’t doubt Augustus has thought of that. He is very politically astute.”
“But then he couldn’t carry on the family name!”
“Of course he could. He could have a mistress or two to bare him children. As long as his wife was agreeable, he could acknowledge them and give them his name. Mind, in this particular case, it would probably be best to make that arrangement understood before the wedding.”
“You’ve actually thought this through? You’ve made plans for when my son marries a dragon?”
“Not when. If. One must always have contingency plans. You should certainly think about it more. Contingency plans should be ready for all kinds of horrible possibilities. What if Terra should succumb to some young man and end up pregnant?”
Yuah’s eyes grew huge.
“She wouldn’t!”
“I would have agreed with you before she went to live with the lizzies, but she didn’t seem quite right when she returned. Who knows what she might do, really. I’m glad that she went back to Brechalon. Perhaps being in a human city will have a good effect on her, again, if she doesn’t succumb to some handsome young man.”
“What about Iolana?” asked Yuah. “Do you have contingency plans if such a thing should happen to her?”
“No chance of that,” said Iolanthe. “That girl would never do anything to bring happiness to anyone besides herself. Mark my words, she will be the dead twig at the end of my branch of the family tree. Any hope for the future of the family will rest with your two.”
Yuah passed another spoonful of soup to her lips.
“You should worry less,” said Iolanthe. “Terra will no doubt be fine. I’m sure she’ll make a good match. And Augustus knows what he’s doing. You will see. He’ll do what is best for the family. He’s a very smart young man.”
“Your brother was smart too,” observed Yuah, “and he married the dressing maid.”
Chapter Three: Magic of an Illicit Nature
Senta rapped neatly on the white door of the little cottage on Ghiosa Way. She carefully straitened her necktie as she looked down to see that her black skirt and white blouse were both in order. Reaching up, she tilted her boater ever so slightly to one side, and then, as an afterthought, spoke the magic word that made a large white daisy appear in the hatband.
“Who is it?” came the call from the other side of the portal.
“It’s me.”
The door opened wide revealing a pretty young woman wearing an identical outfit, except hatless. Brown hair parted on the side, with a few curls in the back, she was a head shorter than the six-foot tall sorceress.
“Senta,” she said, displaying neither surprise nor pleasure.
“Am I in time for tea?”
“You know you are,” said the woman tersely, but stepped aside to allow the blond sorceress entry.
Senta swept past her, through the parlor, and without an invitation, took a seat at the table in the small dining room. She removed her hat, which disappeared into thin air, crossed her legs, and folded her hands over her knee.
“Why, B
ryony Byenthal, you look scrumptious today.”
“It’s Bryony Baxter… again,” said the woman of the house, closing the door and passing through the parlor on her way to the kitchen. She returned with a large tray filled with cups, dishes, and a teapot, all of which she began to lay out.
“I think I have a very nice tea for us today,” said Bryony.
“You always do.”
“Yes, well, as you keep showing up at teatime, uninvited, I might add, I feel compelled to serve you.” She poured two cups of tea. “Four lumps, isn’t it?”
“Yes. How kind of you to remember.”
“I’m not likely to forget.” She began filling two plates from several small pyramids of dainty finger foods. “I purchased these sausages from the butcher this morning. They look very nice. And I’ve made cress and cucumber sandwiches. I also made some stuffed mushrooms. I gathered them from the forest, so with any luck they’re poisonous.”
“I’m sure they are fine,” said Senta. “But fear not. I always carry a detoxicant with me.”
“A wise precaution, considering the number of people who want to kill you,” said Bryony, setting a plate in front of Senta and one at the place across from her. She carried the platter back to the kitchen, before returning and taking her seat. “Have you been poisoned before?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I’ve also been shot.” Senta paused to take a dainty bite of a stuffed mushroom. “Several times, and stabbed.”
“Some people might take a hint.”
“I’ve never been very good at that.”
“Oh, I know,” said Bryony, removing a cozy from atop a breadbasket. “Pumpernickel?”
“Yes please.”
“I’m afraid you’ve missed your daughter.” The brunette buttered two slices of the heavy, dark bread, passing one to the sorceress. “She’s spending the day and night with the Markhams.”
“Yes, I know. She has no interest in seeing me, so I return the sentiment.”
“She may say she doesn’t want to see you, but I think she really needs to.”
“Children don’t know what they need,” said Senta.
“That’s what I’m saying,” said Bryony, with a frown. “You should show her that you care for her. How do you think you would have turned out if you thought your mother didn’t love you?”
“I turned out fine,” said Senta. She took a bite of sausage. “Anyway, I would much rather see little Baxter.”
“He’s with the Markhams too, though Mr. Baxter will pick him up on the way home.”
“Why is it you don’t have another little one by now? Big Baxter not pressing the baby button?”
“What?”
“He’s not plowing the bean field? Not negotiating the chasm? You two not pressing your dangly parts?”
“You are horrible!” hissed Bryony, but then she narrowed her eyes. “As a matter of fact, I shall be pondering the unicorn as soon as we’re alone together.”
“What?”
“Blitzkrieg mit dem fleischgewehr.”
Senta blinked. “My… how very vulgar of you, Bryony Byenthal.”
“Bryony Baxter,” Bryony glared back.
Senta took a sip of tea and studiously ate her meal, as Bryony watched her. After several minutes of silence, she looked up.
“You should eat too.”
“Yes,” replied the brunette slowly, forking a sausage.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“No. And you are to say nothing, or I’ll never serve you tea again.”
“But Bryony Byenthal…”
“Baxter!”
“… you know how much I enjoy our teatimes together, because of my deep and abiding affection for you.”
“You don’t like me at all, and I certainly don’t like you, and anyway, nobody must know until I tell Kieran.”
“I shan’t say anything at all.”
They finished eating and Senta leaned back to sip her tea.
“What would you think if I invited you to tea at my house, three days hence?”
“Oh?” wondered Bryony. “I haven’t consulted the almanac. Is that the day hell freezes over?”
Senta waved her hand and a lavender envelope appeared in it.
“What if I had an engraved invitation for you?”
“I would think you were plotting my death.”
“Nonsense,” said Senta. “There will be witnesses… I mean I’m inviting others too. All of our mutual friends will be there.”
“Just the one then?”
“And another of your friends and several of mine, and a relative or two.” Senta lifted her chin into the air. “What if I agreed to call you… Bryony Baxter… just once, mind.”
“I suppose I can’t say no.”
“Go ahead and try,” suggested Senta, smiling evilly.
“Nnng. Nnng.” The brunette seemed unable to open her mouth.
Senta laughed aloud as Bryony frowned fiercely.
“Oh, come on! Don’t be cross. It’s a funny little spell. If you come to tea, I’ll make Gabby Drake cluck like a chicken.”
“I… suppose,” Bryony carefully tried out her mouth. “I suppose I will come. But I shall have to bring the children.
“Bring them, of course. There will be others there. I’m sure all the little Markhams will be in attendance.”
“Fine. Until then.”
“I’m leaving now then?”
“If you don’t mind,” said Bryony. “I have my housework to do before I fix dinner.”
“Dreadfully boring,” said Senta, lifting her hand into the air. “Rezesic idium uuthanum tortestos paj.”
With a small pop, the sorceress disappeared, leaving only her dirty dishes and the colorful invitation to indicate that she had been there. With a sigh, Bryony stood up and began clearing the table.
* * * * *
Senta reappeared at her garden door. The sleeping form of Zoantheria dominated the garden, as it had for the past several days. She was curled into a circle, so that her head faced her tail. Having grown quite a bit in the last five or six years, she left little room in the garden for anything else. Even the lawn furniture had been stacked in a corner.
As she watched the dragon take long, deep breaths, exhaling little whiffs of smoke, Senta supposed that she was the world’s foremost expert on dragons. She had essentially raised two of them, and there were only four or five known to exist. Dragons grew quickly when they were young. At age five, Zoey had been the size of a large pony. By eight, she had been nearly the size of a trolley car. It had been the same with Bessemer the steel dragon, with whom Senta had grown up. From this point on though, her growth would slow, but would continue all her life. And dragons had long lives. Voindrazius was literally thousands of years old.
Stepping inside, the sorceress found Thonass, the lizzie maid, standing on a chair, dusting the top of the china hutch. Like all members of her race, she looked something like a cross between an iguana and an alligator, standing upright, but with a long tail, that normally hung just above the floor, but now waved around in midair. Others of her kind were some shade of green from yellowish olive to bright emerald. Thonass was dark forest green across her back, with a belly striped olive and lime green.
“I shall be out this evening,” said Senta. “Send cook home.”
The lizzie nodded.
Taking the back stairs up to her bedroom, the sorceress stripped off her clothes, leaving them strewn across the floor, and flopped down onto the bed. Thoughts of the Baxters filled her head—more specifically thoughts of Kieran Baxter, Bryony’s husband and Senta’s former lover. He had studiously avoided the sorceress for months, and Senta missed him. He had been a deviously inventive lover. If she were to admit it to herself, she missed him for more than his creativity in the bedroom, but Senta had become unaccustomed to admitting things to herself. Soon she dozed off, and when she woke, it was dusk.
Glancing through her closet, she found a burgundy evening gown. She
put on her corset and bustle, but didn’t bother with the multiple layers of undergarments that Brech women usually wore. She stepped into the gown, and pulling it up, she fastened it using a magic dressing wand, which worked by simply passing it over the two dozen tiny buttons in back. The gown was voluminous from the waist down, but fit tightly over her stomach and bosoms. The top of her chest, her shoulders, and almost all of her back were left exposed.
Back downstairs in the parlor, she found Cheery, her butler.
“Call a rickshaw for me,” she ordered.
“Yesss.
It was almost an hour before the lizzie pulling the rickshaw arrived at the front door. Senta gave no thought to what Cheery had to do to get a rickshaw, but he had sent a message with one of the runners, lizzies who made their living around town carrying messages or doing odd jobs, who had then walked more than a mile to find an area near some local businesses where rickshaw operators gathered. Then it was a matter of finding one willing to work for the Drache Girl, whom all the lizzies knew and most feared.
Eventually the sorceress was comfortably reclining in the back of a rickshaw with a very large male lizzie nervously looking at her through large yellow eyes.
“Do you know Café Idella?” she asked him.
He bobbed his head up and down.
“Very good,” she said, waving him on. “Let’s be going then.”
It was almost an hour long ride to the restaurant and the motion of the vehicle lulled Senta into a doze, one which she popped out of whenever they passed one of the chugging steam carriages. The buzzing of the insects, which filled the air as sunlight gave way to night, only added to her drowsiness, but none came near her. A ward against pests was one of the first bits of magic that she had learned.
Finally the cart stopped and she climbed carefully out. She pulled a gold decimark out of the air and handed it to the reptilian.
“Wait here for me.” She sauntered up the walkway to the front door of her destination, without waiting to see what the lizzie did.
Café Idella was similar to Café Etta as far as the dining area was concerned. It was, however, completely enclosed with walls and ceiling, though with many large windows around the perimeter and a skylight above. Restaurateur Aalwijn Finkler was stationed just inside the doorway.
The Dragon's Choice Page 3
