The Dragon's Choice

by Wesley Allison

  “Good to know,” she said.

  Their discussion turned to other matters, ones that Clitus didn’t recall later. However the topic seemed very much a prelude to the rest of their evening when they reached the opera house. The performance was of Maurice’s La Chute de la Magnifique Maison, which detailed the death of Magnus the Great and the dissolution of his dynasty into civil war. It was the same story told in the last book of the Grand Scriptures, the collection of works that made up the foundation of the Zaeri and Kafirite religions.

  “I thought that Miss Clemenseau was brilliant as Zurfina Magnus,” said Terra, as they walked down the steps of the opera house. “Mind, I never pictured her as a mezzo-soprano.”

  “I thought they did a wonderful job with the staging,” said Clitus. “With all the smoke and fire, I could have really believed Voindrazius was just off stage.”

  “Your Highness! A picture please?”

  A camera on a tripod had been set up near the sidewalk and couples coming down the steps were stopping in front of it for a photograph. The Prince looked toward Stigby, whose nod indicated that it was safe.

  “Shall we?” he asked Terra. When she nodded, he took her hand and moved to stand in the assigned spot. Seconds later an explosion of flash powder burned their image onto a photographic plate.

  * * * * *

  “I’m so upset!” Clitus cried. “This is just horrible! Inexcusable!”

  “Calm yourself, Clitus,” said Esther. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

  “She’ll be devastated when she sees it,” he said, holding up the newspaper, the banner of which exclaimed in two-inch typeface “HRH CONSORTS WITH BIRMISIAN WILD WOMAN!”

  “Good Kafira,” said Esther. “It must be a slow news day. That headline takes up half the page.”

  A moment, later Terra, in a red and blue day dress, strode into the parlor. She put her matching parasol in the holder near the door, and took off her boater, hanging it on the coat rack, but kept her small matching purse tucked under her arm. She stepped quickly across the room and sat down primly in a chair across from the Prince.

  “I am ever so sorry, Lady Terra,” he said.

  “About what?”

  “About the paper! It’s just so horrible!”

  “Oh,” she said calmly. “The wild woman. Yes, it must have been the face paint. I had wondered that my jacket might have caused them to label me a sapphist or at least a masher, but I suppose that would have been unlikely as I was escorted by a man.”

  “Aren’t you upset?” asked Clitus.

  “Why? Oh, the paper. No. It makes no difference to me.”

  “Miss?” said Mr. Barrymore the butler, sticking his head in the door. “The police…”

  He was pushed aside by three burly police constables who hurried into the room.

  “Miss Terra Dechantagne?”

  “What’s going on here?” demanded Clitus, jumping to his feet.

  “Sit down!” ordered one of the PCs, but one of the others recognized him.

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but we have a warrant for the arrest of Miss Dechantagne.

  “On what charge?”

  “Murder,” he said.

  “Your purse, Miss?” asked the third constable, taking a position next to the girl’s chair.

  She handed it to him. He opened it, reached in, and pulled out a bloody dagger.

  Chapter Thirteen: Questions

  It was perhaps the earliest that Yuah had gotten up in a very long time. It was only a biscuit after eight in the morning, but she was wide-awake and full of energy. She washed up and brushed her long hair, before throwing a dressing gown over her nightdress and leaving her bedroom. She met Gladys Highsmith at the top of the stairs.

  “Good morning,” said Gladys, smiling broadly. “You’re up early.”

  “So are you,” replied Yuah. “Dressed and everything.”

  “Oh, I’ve always been an early riser.”

  “I used to be,” said Yuah. “Shall we descend and see what will break our fast?”

  She held out her arm and Gladys took it and they came down the sweeping staircase, side by side. At the bottom, they found Augie, putting on his jacket.

  “Good day, Mother. I’m just on my way out. Busy day and all.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Good day, Miss Highsmith.”

  “Good day, Your Lordship. I want to thank you again for welcoming me into your home.”

  “Think nothing of it. Any friend of Mother’s is a welcome addition. You are welcome in perpetuity.” With that, he was out the door.

  “See?” said Yuah. “I told you he wouldn’t mind.”

  “But I’ve been here close to a month.”

  “And it’s been my most enjoyable month in a long time.”

  They continued on their way into the dining room where Iolanthe was already seated at the head of the table. She was engaged in eating a full breakfast while reading from a stack of correspondence. She looked up briefly, nodded, and then continued with what she had been doing. Yuah and her friend took their seats at the far end of the table from her sister-in-law, and opposite one another. A lizzie servant sat a plate in front of each of them containing eggs, bacon, black pudding, white pudding, beans, sliced tomatoes, mushrooms, and soldiers.

  “I have noticed that you don’t pray,” said Gladys.

  “We don’t do that,” said Iolanthe, from the far end of the table.

  “Um, I pray in the evening, when I’m by myself. I’ve gotten out of the habit of praying at meal time.”

  “I’ve never been much for religion myself,” said Gladys, “but I find the Zaeri faith very interesting. I think I would like to go with you next time you go to shrine.”

  “That would be lovely,” said Yuah. “I will sit in the back with you, so you aren’t all alone.”

  “In the meantime,” continued her friend. “You are the lady of the house. You should be the one who decides if a prayer is given at meals.”

  “You are so right,” said Yuah, glaring at Iolanthe.

  She bowed her head and felt Gladys take her hand.

  “Our Heavenly Father, we give thanks for the bounty placed before us. We likewise give thanks for the health and prosperity of our family and friends. Please forgive us our offenses, as we should forgive those who cause offense to us. Amen.”

  “I thought you people prayed in Old Zurian,” said Iolanthe.

  “I said the prayer in Brech for the benefit of you and Gladys.”

  “If it had been for my benefit, you should have prayed for death to my enemies,” said Iolanthe, getting up. “Or at least, for a better offer on coal from Pearce and Hallbourgh.”

  “Your sister-in-law is a hard woman,” said Gladys, after Iolanthe had left.

  “Let’s not talk about her,” said Yuah. “Do you have plans for today?”

  “I would imagine that you want me to get out and find a place of my own.”

  “Why ever would you imagine that? Does it look as if we’re overcrowded? The answer to that is no. You should plan on staying here as long as you want. Stay until you meet a nice young man and agree to marry him.”

  “I don’t think that’s ever going to happen,” said Gladys.

  “Too picky?”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Maybe I am too,” said Yuah. “I loved Terrence from my very earliest memories. When we finally got together, we ended up having so little time.”

  “Did you enjoy being with him? The physical act of love?”

  “It wasn’t like you read in the books. I wasn’t swept away with love and mad with desire. In some ways, the whole thing is quite odd.” Yuah’s mouth curled into a secret smile. “Terrence wasn’t caring or sensitive. Not really. He was very… um, skilled, I suppose. He knew what to do to make me feel however he wanted me to feel. In some ways I felt like an instrument that he was playing—masterfully playing.”

  “Will you marry again, do you think?”

  “No,” said Yuah. “The
thought of any other man pawing me or climbing on me, just has no appeal. The long and the short of it then is that you may stay here forever, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Well then,” said Gladys. “What are your plans today? Maybe I could tag along with you.”

  “Of course. I thought I would shop for some new fall clothes this morning. Later, I’m having tea with Egeria. I could use your help in both of those situations. I always feel like an imbecile whenever I talk to Egeria, and of course, shopping is always more fun with friends.

  An hour later, Walworth was driving the two women to Mademoiselle Deneuve’s. The Mirsannan woman brought them each a glass of wine and had them sit while she finished with several other women. Yuah saw the three customers, none of whom she knew, cast furtive glances in her direction as they passed behind the curtain to change.

  “They’re whispering about me right now,” she told her companion.

  “Well of course they are,” said Gladys. “You’re the most beautiful woman in Birmisia Colony, as well as being His Lordship’s mother. Why wouldn’t they whisper about you? Half of them admire you and the other half are merely jealous.”

  “Do you really think so? Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Do I have a pimple?”

  “Don’t be stupid. You have gorgeous skin.”

  Soon enough, the other customers left, carrying boxes of clothing, shoes, and hats.

  “Welcome back Mrs. Dechantagne and Miss Highsmith,” said Mademoiselle Deneuve, kissing each of them once on each cheek. “More dresses for the both of you?”

  “Nothing but fall clothes today,” said Yuah. “We shall need dresses, foundations, shoes, and at least one fall coat.”

  “I have everything you need, and it is all so al a mode. Let me show you something special.” She turned and went through the curtained doorway into the other room.

  “I can’t wait,” said Yuah, excitedly holding onto Gladys’s hand.

  “She does always have the most interesting fashions,” said Gladys.

  Mademoiselle Deneuve stepped back out into the main shop area and both customers oohed and awed. She had on a golden walking dress, trimmed with tea-colored lace, and with a matching swept-back hat. The dress was just short enough that her shoes were exposed with each step—finely crafted leather with careful golden scrollwork and beads.

  “What do you think?” asked the proprietor.

  “It’s lovely,” said Yuah. “What type of coat would you wear with it?”

  Mademoiselle Deneuve held up a finger and disappeared into the back, only to reappear seconds later with a short coat made of golden fur.

  “What is it?” asked Gladys.

  “Fox,” replied Mademoiselle Deneuve. “All the way from Brecahlon.”

  “Wonderful,” said Yuah, standing up to run her fingers through it.

  Gladys followed suit.

  “We shall take the whole ensemble,” said Yuah. “Dress, shoes, and coat, for both of us.”

  “Oui,” said Mademoiselle Deneuve. “I thought so.”

  She returned to the back room.

  “It’s too much,” said Gladys. “I can’t accept.”

  “Nonsense. We shall be twinsies.”

  Gladys leaned over and kissed Yuah on the cheek, just as the bell above the front door rang, signaling a newly arrived customer. The two women turned to see Senta Bly walk in. She was dressed in tight brown leather pants with black knee high boots, and a black leather jacket that, while having a high neck and long sleeves, stopped just below her breasts, leaving her midriff bare and exposing a star tattoo around her navel. She had long earrings with huge sapphires tugging at her pierced earlobes, and she wore her tiara in her straight blond hair.

  She strolled over to stand just in front of the two women and spun to face them.

  “Yuah.”

  “Hello, Senta,” said Yuah, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “How is your hunt for a man going?”

  “Not as well as could be expected,” said the sorceress. “I see that you’ve given up.”

  “Oh. Well, I suppose I have.” She lowered her voice. “I really wasn’t that interested anyway, truth be told.”

  “I can see that,” said Senta. “Still, I had no idea you were interested in tipping the velvet.”

  “I don’t…” Yuah frowned. “We’re not buying anything velvet. Maybe for winter.”

  The sorceress grinned. “You mean Miss High-ho here hasn’t shown you her gifts? She’s really quite good. Perhaps I let her go to soon. But then there’s really no substitute for being on your hands and knees as a big, strong fellow shows you what he’s got.” She drove her fist forward twice for punctuation.

  Gladys let out a squeak and dashed from the shop, sending the bell to ringing again.

  “What are you going on about?” Yuah demanded.

  “Your little friend there is a sapphist,” said the sorceress. “Didn’t you know?”

  * * * * *

  Prince Clitus paced back and forth across the crimson carpet. He’d been in the police inspector’s office for almost five hours, and during that time he had not been allowed to speak to Terra even once. He’d sent Stigby in to find out anything he could. Bob sat patiently. He was always patient. And calm.

  “Stop being so damn calm,” growled the Prince.

  Bob just shrugged.

  Stigby stepped in through the door. Unlike Bob, he looked grim.

  “She’s accused of murdering this fellow named Sebastian. I gather he’s some lowlife panderer. I can’t imagine how she would ever have come into contact with him. They’ll let you talk to her, but only with the investigator present. Try not to ask her anything about the case. You don’t want her to accidentally incriminate herself.”

  “Fine, fine,” said Clitus.

  Stigby led him back through a monochromatic hallway, to a small dull room. The only furnishings were three chairs, one in which Terra was seated, and another in which a police investigator sat. Clitus took the remaining chair.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m annoyed,” she replied. “They keep trying to get me to confess to killing a man.”

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss your case.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, exasperated. “I’m not guilty.”

  “Well that’s… that’s good to know.”

  “But his blood was on your knife,” pointed out the police inspector. “How can you explain that, miss?”

  “Well, obviously I stabbed him,” said Terra. “Only a few times though and all in non-vital areas—at least areas that are not vital in order to live.”

  “Why… why did you stab him?” asked Citus.

  “I came across him in Blackbottom. He was beating this poor young girl. I insisted that he stop.”

  “You insisted that he stop by stabbing him?” asked the inspector.

  “Precisely.”

  “What were you doing in Blackbottom?” asked the Prince. “That’s not a safe place for a young lady.”

  “And yet there are many young women living there,” said Terra, “many of them being preyed upon by curs such as the one I stabbed, but I reiterate, did not kill.”

  “You didn’t answer His Highness’s question,” observed the inspector.

  “No, I didn’t,” she said, looking him in the eye.

  A police constable opened the door to the small room and poked his head in.

  “Inspector? Could you come out for a minute? There’s something you need to hear.”

  The inspector got up and exited the tiny room. A nod of the Prince’s head sent Stigby following after him.

  “Lady Terra,” said Clitus. “I don’t think you comprehend the difficulty in which you find yourself. This isn’t Birmisia. You can’t just do whatever you want.”

  “Of course I can,” she said, smiling. “Everyone can. One must simply be willing to accept the consequences.”

  “The consequences may be prison.”

  “P
erhaps, but I doubt it.”

  “Why were you in Blackbottom?”

  “I prefer not to say,” she said.

  The inspector stepped back into the room.

  “You should thank your stars, miss. You’re free to go.”

  “Seems one of Sebastian’s gay girls found him after Lady Terra had diced him up a bit,” said Stigby, entering after the inspector. “He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t dying. Later, somebody else sliced his throat while he was in his bed recovering.”

  “You see there,” said Terra, standing up. “It’s just as I said all along.”

  “Just remember, little miss,” continued the inspector. “The only reason you’re not being charged with capital assault is that there is no victim to lodge a charge.”

  “Thank you for your strict adherence to the law,” said Terra. “I’m sure my brother will want to send you something for your kindness.”

  The inspector was not mollified.

  “If I see you in my station again, I’ll throw the book at you.”

  “Thank you, Inspector,” said Clitus. “I’m sure you won’t see her in here again.”

  “I would say twelve to fourteen percent chance, tops,” said Terra.

  Stigby ushered her out of the room, while Clitus followed. Outside, they met Bob and quickly left the building, heading down the steps to the waiting car.

  “Just why were you in Blackbottom?” asked Clitus as he helped her into the back seat.

  “I’d prefer not to say.”

  “And I would prefer not to spend my day trying to bail the Birmisian Wild Woman out of jail. Tell me anyway.”

  “I was looking for a drug dealer.”

  “You what?”

  “I was looking for a drug dealer.”

  “Sweet Kafira. You weren’t going to purchase an illegal substance, were you?”

  “Of course not,” she said.