He walked quickly to the edge of the waves. The tide was on its way out. The wooden box, now just above the waterline, was too heavy to move. He found a loose edge and pried open one side with his fingers. It was a treasure trove of wonders. He pulled out piece by piece, tossing each to the side. There were a dozen hammers, twenty small wooden boxes of nails, four hatchets, two axes, and twenty coils of thick braided rope. When the crate was empty, he pulled it up the sand to the trees, and then made a dozen trips back to carry all of his treasures after it.
Looking at the hammers and axes, Baxter realized he now had what he needed to build a permanent shelter. It had been warm and the light afternoon showers had not bothered him overmuch, but it would not always be so. He had to find someplace to live. For all he knew, he would be spending the rest of his life on this island. He would set out and find a permanent home after lunch.
So far the island had provided ample food. The slimy interior of small crabs and uncooked mussels had formed the basis of his diet. There were coconuts too, but until now Baxter had been unable to open them. Now he used one of his hatchets to cut off the end, drinking what watery coconut milk didn’t spill out onto the ground and then chipping out pieces of raw coconut.
Sticking the hatchet into his belt and carrying an axe in hand, he started off in the direction of the stream. If he were going to find a permanent place in which to live, it would have to be close to fresh water. The stream was not far, and as soon as he reached it, he followed it into the jungle. Scarcely more than a trickle, the waterway would best have been called a rivulet, rather than stream or creek. He followed the trail of the water all morning, noting as he did that it lay within a widened ditch, and he surmised that the tiny trickle must become a much larger river during the rainy season.
Baxter knew of course that as he made his way further into the jungle, he was climbing higher and higher. Water did flow downhill, afterall. He was surprised though when he passed through a small clearing and was able to look back over the tops of the trees and see far out into the ocean. He was hungry but had nothing but more coconut to eat. It was already starting to cause stomach discomfort. At least he had fresh water.
About another hour of climbing brought him to the base of a waterfall. Like the stream, it was only a trickle at the time, but he could see where it had widened during earlier wet weather. It took him another hour to find the easiest way around the rocky outcropping through which the water flowed, but when he did a wondrous sight met his eyes. A small, crystal clear lake sat amid the tropical jungle and beyond it, sitting below the carved rocky face of a high cliff, was the ruins of an ancient building.
* * * * *
“Happy birthday!” said Bessemer, opening his eyes, but making no move to get up.
“Thank you.”
“What are you going to do today? Go out? Party?”
“I thought I would just stay here and read.”
“Read? On your birthday?” The dragon waved his hand. “You want to spend your birthday reading in a drafty warehouse?”
“I don’t think it’s so bad.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Senta?”
“I didn’t do anything with her… I mean I’m me, silly. If you’re up, we can spend the day together.”
“Well of course I want to spend time with you, but I’m really still in the middle of my sleep cycle. I just woke up to say Happy Birthday and to give you your present.”
“Wonderful. Where is it?”
“First you have to promise me you’ll go out and have fun with your friends. I’m sure Graham is planning to take you out.”
“He’s busy,” said Senta, but when she saw the quizzical look in Bessemer’s eye, added. “But he got me this.”
She lifted the silver dragon pendant away from her breast.
“Not a very good likeness,” said Bessemer.
“It’s not supposed to be you. It’s a generic dragon.”
“Hm. Well, go spend some time with Hero at least.”
“All right, fine. Where’s my present?”
“It’s at home under your bed.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll get it later then I guess.”
“Yes, now go on out and find Hero. I’m going back to sleep.”
Senta didn’t immediately drop her book and leave the warehouse. She returned to her prone position on the cot and went back to her book. She had made quite a bit of progress deciphering some new incantations before Bessemer had awakened, but after he began to snore loudly she realized that she had read through the description of the same spell three times. She got up and rummaging through the carpetbag she had brought with her, picked out a simple brown dress. She matched this with a white overdress that went with one of the bizarre creations that Zurfina had provided. Leaving the sleeping dragon where he was, she stepped out the human-sized back door and walked up the alley toward Pine Street.
At the top of the hill, Senta paused to look around and appreciate just what a fine day it was. Bessemer was right to insist that she get out at least for a little while. She passed through the great gate and made a left down First Avenue, but she wasn’t in any great hurry. The truth of the matter was that she really wanted to see Hero, but she didn’t want to run into that other blond girl, and that seemed likely if she visited her friend. She was still thinking of this when she heard her name called.
“Senta!”
The young sorceress turned to see Saba Colbshallow walking toward her, only then realizing that she was right in front of his house. The Colbshallow home was a large, beautiful red brick house sitting back from the road in the shade of large pines and maples on a large fenced estate. A team of lizzies was busy planting apple trees, which the young police sergeant had apparently been supervising.
“Hey Saba.”
“I was just getting ready to run your birthday gift over to you.”
“You got me a present too?”
“Loana and I got you a present. Now we can give it to your in person. She’s just getting ready for tea in the garden. Come join us.”
“Who’s living in your old house then?” asked Senta.
The small A-frame house, which had been Saba’s first home and stood on the corner of the property, looked like a storage shed next to the newly finished home. But Senta could see through the window that someone was moving about inside.
“I’m renting it.”
“I assumed that, since I can see someone has moved in. I suppose you can use the rent money to lavish your wife with imported fruit trees. So just who is it that you have living here?”
“It’s Mr. Clipers, the Zaeri Imam.”
“And that’s not making your wife crazy?”
“Of course not. She hasn’t been around many Zaeri, but now that she’s here, she’s become more cosmopolitan. Talking of which, when I first saw you I thought you were one of the Zaeri girls on her way home.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
“With your brown and white dress. It’s just the sort of thing they would wear. Anyway, come on back. Loana will be so excited you’re here.”
Loana was in fact, not excited to see Senta there, though she covered it well. With a quick admonition to the lizzies to keep working, Saba had led Senta to the garden behind the house. Here a white wrought iron table had been set for tea. Two matching chairs were in place, but Saba had quickly added a third. He was pulling out the chair for the young sorceress just as his wife stepped out of the garden door followed by a lizzie carrying a tray of food.
“I didn’t know you had invited a guest,” said the new Mrs. Colbshallow, a smile tightly affixed to her mouth.
“I just saw her walking down the road,” explained Saba. “Knowing how much you wanted to get together with her, I thought this was the perfect opportunity.”
“Yes indeed.”
Loana took the tray from the lizzie and sat it on the table, smoothed out her dress, and then waited for her husband to pull out a chair for her. He did and
then sat down himself. Loana was wearing a lovely dress, pink with black brocade and a low neckline, which was trimmed with a dozen large bows. It displayed her charms nicely. Loana was as perfect a beauty as could be found in all of Birmisia. Her chin, her nose, her waist—each of these might have been found in an encyclopedia showing the perfect version of that body part. Her hair was unusual, arranged in a very complex style, with each strand seemingly a different shade from very light blond to coppery red. Her eyes were also multihued, one deep brown and the other hazel.
“I made plenty of food. My Saba always has a healthy appetite.” Senta thought she perhaps placed a little too much emphasis on the possessive.
“Your garden is lovely,” she said.
“Thank you. It takes so much effort and it’s hard to keep up on a police sergeant’s salary. Tomato?”
Sliced tomatoes were only the beginning of a lovely tea. There was asparagus soup, turnip pasties, and a salad of mint, orange slices, and nettles. Though not the overabundance that Loana seemed to hint at, there was enough for the three diners.
“So Senta,” said Loana. “I understand there was some sort of disturbance at Finkler’s yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“How come I didn’t hear anything about it?” asked Saba.
“I’m sure that it was nothing that would involve the police,” continued Loana. “Just a bit of shouting between two young women over a young man.”
“People are crazy,” said Senta.
“Yes they are,” agreed Loana. “Some people hinted that you might know something about it, even that you might have been involved—you and a girl named Nellie something, arguing over your boyfriend?”
“Nellie Swenson. Yeah, I met her yesterday down by the docks. So we’re supposed to have yelled at each other or something?”
“Yes.” Loana seemed to be losing some of her steam.
“People make up stuff about me all the time. Mind you, if I found out Graham was spending too much time with her I might have something to say about it. He gave me this you know.” She held up the necklace.
“That reminds me,” said Saba, casting a glare at his wife and getting up from the table. “Let me get your present.”
“You really shouldn’t have,” Senta told Loana.
“Oh Saba is very attached to you. He thinks of you like a little sister.”
Saba returned carrying a small box with a bow. Opening it, Senta found a pair of simple earrings decorated with tiny pieces of amber.
“They’re beautiful,” said Senta, pulling first one and then the other out of the box and fitting them into the holes in her earlobes.
“They weren’t expensive,” he said.
“When Saba told me you had pierced ears, I just knew we had to get them for you,” said Loana. “I once thought of getting mine pierced, but I didn’t want to look like a tart.”
“You’re just as thoughtful and nice as everyone says,” replied the sorceress.
Senta bid farewell to the Colbshallows and continued on her way toward Zaeritown, though she was in no more hurry than she had been. As she walked, she thought about what Saba had said when he had first hailed her. She looked down at her dress. She did look a bit like a Zaeri. You didn’t run into any Zaeri with blond hair though. Then the thought struck her.
“Uuthanum,” she said, pointing her finger at the top of her head.
Her hair swirled around and when it came to a stop, she gathered a few strands together, holding them in front of her. Her hair was now a bit past shoulder length, but more importantly it was a deep brown. With another word, she conjured a small hand mirror and examined herself. She really did look like one of the Zaeri girls now. She was still looking at herself when the mirror popped out of existence.
When she walked down the street through the Zaeri neighborhood, the many residents out in their yards, working in vegetable gardens, or just relaxing, paid her little attention. They noticed her in the way they would have noticed anyone new walking through their neighborhood, but Senta didn’t draw the attention that she usually did. When she arrived at the Hertling home, she kept an eye out for the blond girl, but didn’t see her. She knocked on the door, which was answered by Hero.
“Yes… Senta, is that you?”
“Yes. Can I come in?”
“Of course, of course.” Hero ushered her in and closed the door behind her. “What did you do to your beautiful blond hair?”
“I was just in the mood for a change.”
“Well it certainly is a big one. You look completely different. We could be sisters.”
“There you go,” said Senta.
“How did your expedition go? Did you find any coal for Mr. Staff?”
“Um, possibly.”
“How did you get along with Shemar and Benny? I think they’re both cute, don’t you? Graham isn’t angry with you for spending time with other boys, is he? You can tell him it’s all business.”
“Graham was busy anyway, as I understand it.”
“Well I’m so glad you came over. I was just thinking that I wanted to play a game of Argrathian checkers, but there was nobody to play with because Hertzel’s at work and Honor is at the Town Council meeting.”
“All right, set up the board.”
Before Hero could move, there was a knock at the front door. She crossed the kitchen in two steps and grasped the doorknob.
“Wait! Don’t open it!” cried Senta, but it was too late. The door swung inward on its hinges revealing the person beyond.
Chapter Five: Birthday Part Two
“I can’t believe how hungry I am,” said Senta, stuffing the last of a piece of sausage into her mouth. “I’ve eaten two breakfasts, lunch, tea, and I’m still starving.”
“You know I always thought you were too thin,” said Mrs. Gopling, “though I dare say you’ve put on a few pounds recently.”
Mrs. Gopling owned and operated a cart from which she sold smoky sausages on a stick. It was one of five such vending carts in Port Dechantagne that operated within fifty yards of the dock. In addition to Mrs Gopling’s there was Mr. Kordeshack selling fish and chips, Aalwijn Finkler selling cakes and scones, Mrs. Luebking, selling scarves, mittens, and knit caps for those who had either not brought warm clothing or were unable to find it in their luggage, and Mr. Darwin, who sold purses, wallets, belts, and hat bands, all made of dinosaur skin. Since it was well past lunchtime, Mr. Kordeshack and Aalwijn’s employee had packed up. Neither Mr. Darwin nor Mrs. Luebking had been present today because a ship had neither come in nor gone out of port. Mrs. Gopling had been closing up when the young sorceress arrived, but she had a few remaining sausages to sell.
“Give me one more,” said Senta, her mouth still full.
“Here you go, Dearie.”
Senta took the sausage in one hand and passed the woman a quarter mark piece with the other. Taking a bite of the new sausage, she looked at Mrs. Gopling. If she kept eating like she was, it wouldn’t be long before she resembled the round shape of the food cart proprietor, though with her blond hair and fair complexion it was unlikely she would ever have Mrs. Gopling’s mustache.
Senta knew she should be seeking out Graham and either apologizing for her behavior the previous day or at least insuring that he wasn’t still spending time with that what’s-her-name, but every time she thought about it, she started fuming. She didn’t want to stay around the docks too long or go to visit Hero, because she was in no mood to meet that blond girl. Though she had gotten up early that morning, she had stayed close to home, eating breakfast several times. All in all, it had been a pretty poor birthday so far. The only bright spot was the present she had found under her bed. Inside a brightly wrapped box was a woman’s black top hat decorated with a black bird, its wings outstretched. It just matched the black lace dress that was the only one she had found that she could still fit into.
She strolled north toward the park, walking between the warehouses rather than following the road because sh
e wanted to avoid lookie-loos in general as well as a few specific individuals. She was just about to exit the narrow passage between one of the governor’s warehouses and a private one when two men stepped into her way. They were both at least six feet tall and broad shouldered. They both looked to be in their early twenties and they both dressed poorly.
“It looks like we’ve found our little bird,” said one of the men to the other.
“I think you owe us a good time, little girl,” said the other.
Senta took the last bite of sausage and threw the stick on the ground.
“How about it? Are you going to show us a good time?” the second man continued, though the first man’s face showed the first hint of confusion. Why wasn’t the girl showing any sign of fear?
“Here’s a good time for you,” she said.
Reaching out, she touched the second man with her index finger. He let out a bloodcurdling scream and dropped to the ground clutching his crotch. He continued to scream and scream. The first man looked from his friend to the girl and back, panic slowly crawling up his face. At last his gaze stopped on the girl.
“Here’s an oldie, but a goodie,” said Senta. “Uuthanum.”
A blue cone spread from her finger to engulf the man. His skin turned blue as frost formed on his skin. Within a few seconds, he was frozen solid. The sorceress stepped over the prone man, still screaming and holding his privates, and around the standing man, still completely stiffened.
“How much fun are you going to have now, I wonder?” Then she continued on her way to the park.
* * * * *
Climbing down from the train’s caboose, Benny Markham turned and politely offered Senta his hand as she stepped down onto the station platform. She was followed by Shemar Morris. The station platform was empty except for them and the train’s fireman who stepped off with them, though a couple of station employees could be seen moving around in the office building. The train from Mallontah wouldn’t arrive for several hours. By then the station would be crowded with those getting on or getting off, and those meeting passengers.
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