“Relax,” said the Senta standing right next to her. “It’s not going to hurt.”
“Stop it you two,” said the dragon. “You’re being deliberately cruel. Come here girl.”
It was as if something inside of Nellie wouldn’t let her disobey. She stepped stiffly across the cement floor to stand beside the dragon’s snout. The two identical sorceresses moved closer to stand next to her.
“She must have some idea, don’t you think?” said one Senta. “Deep down, I mean.”
“Maybe not,” said the other. Then she pointed her finger at the girl reporter and said, “Uuthanum.”
Suddenly Nellie Swenson, girl reporter, was gone, and in her place was another copy of Senta, looking exactly like the other two and dressed exactly like them.
“Why?” she asked.
“Think about it.”
“Yes, I remember. I wanted to spend more time with Graham and I was afraid he was getting tired of me.”
“We were afraid,” corrected one of the others. “Men get bored with women. This way he could have someone new and it would still be me.”
“But you tried to kill us.”
“That wasn’t me,” said the Senta on her right.
“Well, I remember doing it,” said the Senta on her left. “But it really wasn’t me either. That one was crazy.”
“I guess you can only make so many copies, for only so long, before you start to get a bit thin.”
“You all have had your problems,” said the dragon. “Overeating, under eating, moodiness, depression, giddiness… shall I go on?”
“It’s time,” said Senta… it really didn’t matter which one. She stretched her hand out and the other two stretched out theirs until all three touched. A second later, she pulled her hand back and looked at it. She and Bessemer were all alone.
“I’m really tired now,” she said. “Do you mind if I sleep here with you?”
A long serpentine tail wound its way out of the shadows and around her waist, pulling her back to the spot along the dragon’s side. She sat down next to his extremely warm body and snuggled down into the pile of pillows upon which he rested.
* * * * *
Peter Sallow, third apprentice of the Great Wizard Bassington, skulked through the streets of Port Dechantagne. He’d spent the last three weeks living in a tent on the grounds of the militia base and working odd jobs at the dock to pay for meals. Folded up in the toe of his shoe was a document that would have provided passage aboard any ship going to Brech City, but he refused to use it. There was no way that he would let his master down.
Suddenly the girl stepped out from behind a corner, right in front of him. He of course knew her well by now. He had listened to the locals talk about her—new arrivals too. She was liked by some, feared by many. And he had watched her and her antics around town. There was something wrong with her and it had to do with magic, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Uuthanum,” he said, quickly calculating in his head how to construct a magical defense around him.
“Well, you bodged that up, didn’t you, you sad bastard?” she said. “Look at it. It’s all full of holes.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped. “You can’t see anything.”
The girl grinned, showing teeth that seemed too many, too large, and too white for Peter’s comfort.
“Of course I can. Watch. Uuthanum.”
She waved her hand in front of him and the protective globe around him glowed sickly yellow. Sure enough, it had several prominent holes. “See?”
“Yes, I see. You don’t need a magical reveal to see magic?”
“Not while it’s happening. Later, yes.”
“I’ve never even heard of that. I don’t think even Master Bassington can do that.”
“Talking of which, didn’t you have a message for me from him.”
Peter reached in his pocket, stopped for a second to make sure she wasn’t going to go for him, and then pulled out the small pebble-like object. Holding it toward Senta, it glowed a pale blue.
“Satisfied?”
“Yeah, all right.”
He popped the object into his mouth and bit down. He suddenly stiffened, his head rolled to one side and his eyes rolled up into his head. His body shook with convulsions several times as though he was suffering some horrible infirmity, but he stayed on his feet the whole time.
“Hello my little Senta.” Peter’s mouth moved, but it was not his voice that came out. It was Wizard Bassington. “I suppose you’re not so little anymore, are you? It’s been two years since we saw one another, after all. Still, I’ve been keeping up on you. How are you getting on with your mistress? Still leaving you to fend for yourself I’ll warrant.”
“You have no idea,” Senta muttered.
“She’ll never change. She’s just not one for settling down with one… um, interest. But I didn’t send this message to talk about her. I could have sent a letter for that, eh? No, I have something very important to tell you about. You see I’ve come into possession of a very valuable item—something that needs to be kept safe. So whom did I think of? You, of course. Unfortunately, I couldn’t send it directly to you. You must go fetch it. I sent it to St. Ulixes with a friend of mine. You might know him—Wizard Brockton. Find him in Mallontah and he’ll give you the, um, item. You must keep it safe and you must keep it a secret. It’s more than a matter of national security. I suppose you’ll want to tell Zurfina. I don’t think you should, but I won’t tell you not to. You’ll do what you want anyway, right? She might not care. Then again, who knows what that woman will choose to care about? One last thing: please see that my apprentice gets safely on a ship for home. He’s a good boy.”
The boy’s body convulsed once more and he dropped down to his knees. Then he dropped down onto his hands and vomited onto the ground.
“Oh, I hate that,” he said, his voice once again his own.
“Does he make you do that often?”
“This is the second time. He only does it for something very important.”
“I see,” said Senta, all the while thinking that this wasn’t all that important. “Come along, a hot drink will make you feel better.”
“I really need to eat or I’ll just keep puking all day.”
“Come on then, we’ll go to The Beanery. I seem not to be allowed in Finklers’ establishments of late.
The Beanery was a sort of restaurant that had opened not too far from the site of the new colonial government building. The building itself was large enough only to contain the kitchen. Diners sat on long benches at two dozen rectangular tables outside, but beneath a canvas covering. A dozen lizzie wait staff served human patrons whatever the cook happened to be serving. One didn’t have a choice of menu.
It was between lunch and tea, but even so, more than twenty diners, mostly sailors, railroad men, lumber men, or coal workers, were happily eating away when Senta and Peter arrived. They sat down at a table furthest away from the other diners, however by the time their lizzie waiter arrived with a tray of food, the other diners had all vanished. The reptile sat down a large bowl of beans cooked with large chunks of pork fat, a plate with roasted meat covered with thick red sauce, and a cup of a steaming black beverage in front of each of them.
“Chicken?” asked the boy, pointing at the meat.
“Dinosaur.”
“That’s not tea.”
“Coffee. Don’t care for it much myself.” She waved to the lizzie. “Oy! Get a couple of Billingbow’s over here!”
The lizzie returned a minute later with two frosty bottles. Setting them down he tapped the table with a claw.
“Keep the change,” said Senta, tossing down a one mark coin.
She looked back at Peter who was tucking into his beans.
“So tell me, just how many apprentices does Smedley have?”
“The Great Wizard Bassington,” he stressed, then paused to wipe his mouth with his hand. “The Great Wi
zard Bassington has seven apprentices. I’m third—third of seven.”
He grabbed a piece of dinosaur meat and stuffed it into his mouth, leaving the thick red sauce coating his lips. Senta could see something in his eyes.
“What makes you third and not first? The other ones that much better?”
“It’s age. Geert and Shaun are both older than I am.”
“I have a cousin called Geert,” said Senta. “How old is this Geert?”
“He’s twenty-five.”
“Oh, not my cousin then,” she said, disappointed. “Do these other two know more magic?”
“They’re both further along in their studies, but…”
“But what?”
“I shouldn’t say.”
“You might as well,” she said, holding up a finger. “Of course, I could just magic it out of you.”
“I think I’m his son.”
Senta squinted her eyes and examined him. “What makes you think that?”
“I never knew my father and my mother never talked about him,” explained Peter. “But when Wizard Bassington came to take me as his apprentice, I saw him kiss my mother…”
“That doesn’t necessarily…”
“And they were talking… about me, and they were… familiar with each other.”
Senta shrugged. “Could be, I suppose, but I have to tell you that you’re not nearly as ugly as he is. If you’re really his son, I guess your mother is pretty.”
They finished eating and took the triceratops-pulled trolley all the way up to the docks.
“I think one of the ships is leaving for Brech City tomorrow, so I want to make sure you’re on it,” said Senta. “Smedley said that I should see you safely off.”
“You received and understood his message then? I’ve been carrying it around, but I don’t know what it was, and I don’t want to. It’s not my place.”
“Oh, I got it,” said Senta, and then thought to herself, “What I’m going to do with it, I don’t know.”
* * * * *
Xiatstist crept around the back of the big house. It was dark and both the humans and the lizzies that lived here had long ago gone to bed. He didn’t like coming here. In fact, he didn’t like being out at night. Traveling at night was dangerous in Birmisia, but it had to be done sometimes and this was one of those times. There were copper bits to be made and nowhere were they more abundant than the big house. There was more wealth in this structure than was to be found in all the land before the coming of the humans. This was where the Matriarch lived. That explained the wealth and that was one more reason not to be here if one didn’t need to be. On the other hand, the Matriarch had dozens of lizzies around and she probably couldn’t tell the difference between them. Xiatstist could come and go and not be noticed. In any case, he wasn’t here to see the Matriarch. He was here to see the other one—the thin white and brown one.
Stepping around the corner of the huge building, Xiatstist crossed the grass and went up the steps to the tiny house with no walls. This was where he was supposed to meet her. He didn’t speak any human words, but he didn’t need to. He had all the words he needed, tucked under his arm in a little wooden box.
Behind him he heard a low hiss and turned quickly around. It wasn’t the thin white and brown one. It was a lizzie female. He had barely noted this fact when her clawed hand shot out and ripped across his face. He hissed in surprise.
He felt his face, but even though her claws were sharp, they had not penetrated his thick scaly skin.
“What are you doing, you stupid eggless female,” he said. “Go away unless you want trouble.”
“I am your trouble,” said the female. “Take your staahstiachtio, and get out of here. Never come back.”
“I don’t know you but I know who you are,” said Xiatstist. “You’re the one khikheto tonahass hoonan. Now you’ve made a big mistake. You are dead.”
“No, you’re the one who is dead,” the female pointed her other hand toward him. Suddenly Xiatstist’s last meal wanted to climb back out of his mouth, as he realized she clutched one of the human weapons, the ones that spat fire and thunder and killed from spear distance, and it was pointed right at his chest. “If you come back here, you are dead.”
Xiatstist thought for a second. There should have been something for him to say, but for the love of Hissussisthiss, he couldn’t imagine what it was. Turning on a heel, he hurried down the steps, across the grass, and out the back gate into the alley. Kusst would be angry that he hadn’t delivered the staahstiachtio, but he could just be angry. He could take it up with Ssterrost. Xiatstist had been in Chusstuss when the humans had attacked with their loud weapons. When they were done, almost seventy lizzies lay dead on the ground. There was no way he wanted to be in front of one of those things, even if it was in the hand of a crazy eggless female.
* * * * *
The grey spot had spread to Odval’s entire leg and she seemed to have lost all her energy. Baxter had brought her back to their home beside the little lake, but she had barely been able to make the journey. He had carried her the second day though the jungle and when they arrived, he carried her on his shoulder up to the raised platform in the tree.
Following the stream that ran from the lake into the jungle, Baxter caught two of the large crawfish and boiled them for dinner. Carrying them up into the tree, he served them to his companion, along with a coconut full of the crystal clear water of the lake. She seemed to revive a bit and smiled up at him.
“Je souhaite que je pourrais vous aimer,” she said.
“I wish I knew what your were saying,” he replied. “But you don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of you until you’re fully recovered.”
“Je sais qu'elle vous aimera.”
“You’re welcome.”
That night Baxter dreamt of his life in the navy. Naval life was often a subject of his dreams, as was his service for Captain Gurrman aboard HMS Minotaur. Inevitably in his dreams, the battleship was even larger and more powerful than in real life. He sometimes dreamt of shipboard actions or some of the wondrous sights that he had seen in his time aboard that ship. This time, he dreamt of something else—it was of the time long ago, when they had ferried the first colonists to Birmisia.
At first, Baxter didn’t recognize what was going on. He walked quickly down the hallway, sure that he had to be somewhere on time, but unsure where it was. Coming toward him was a beautiful dark-haired woman. He knew that he should remember her name, but it simply wouldn’t come to his sleeping mind. She was a doctor. That much he knew. They came closer and closer. She smiled. Then suddenly a hatch opened and out stepped a womaen.
This new woman, Baxter knew immediately. She was Zurfina, the sorceress. Baxter had dreamt of her quite a few times. He had also spent more than a few hours telling stories about her to unbelieving fellow pub-goers. She wore a thin black dress, obviously without a bustle, with matching gloves and a black bow in her blond hair. Beside her was a little girl dressed identically.
“Well, a good evening to all,” said Zurfina.
“Good evening,” said the woman whose name he couldn’t remember.
Baxter smiled and graciously bowed.
“Shall we make our entrance?” Zurfina knocked on the hatch opposite. A servant opened it, and they all filed in.
Inside, the servant led them to what Baxter recognized as the captain’s personal dining room, and placed them at the table. Seated around them were Lieutenant Augustus Dechantagne, already two sheets to the wind, a beautiful redhead, and an older woman. Baxter could remember who neither of these women were. Sweeping into the room was the female leader of the colonial expedition, Miss Iolanthe Dechantagne. Baxter remembered her. With the sole exception of Zurfina, no other woman had ever made as great an impression on him as she did.
She sat down and then turned to the sorceress. “And what is the child’s name?”
“My name is Senta Bly,” said the little girl.
Two waiters s
erved crawfish, just like the ones Baxter had caught in the waking world. This was followed by some kind of soup and wine. Then they served toad-in-the-hole. My god, how Baxter missed sausages, potatoes, and onions! Unfortunately, in the dream, nothing seemed to have any taste at all except the wine. As he drank, he noticed that the little girl did too.
“Do you think the child should be drinking wine?” asked the older woman, clicking her tongue.
“Pish posh,” said Zurfina. “Wine will make her a much better lover. Don’t you agree, Mr. Baxter?”
“I haven’t the foggiest,” he replied.
“You want her, don’t you? You want her as your lover?”
“Of course not! She’s just a child!”
“We shall see,” said the sorceress.
Baxter woke with a start. What an odd dream. He remembered being at that dinner, but nobody, least of all Zurfina, had asked him about the child. In fact, none of them had really talked to him at all. Why had he dreamt that? Was the girl, Senta, still living in Birmisia with Zurfina. That had been… what… six years ago. She would be thirteen or fourteen now—still a child.
Reaching over, he felt Odval’s shoulder. Her skin was clammy, and she shuddered a bit when she exhaled. Curling himself around her to give her more of his body warmth, he drifted back to sleep. When he woke the next morning, he found that her skin had gone cold. Sometime during the night, she had died.
Chapter Thirteen: Mallontah and Hell
The train ride to St. Ulixes, Mallontah was a three day ordeal. Senta had left on the U-711 at 5:00 AM of 23rd of Quaduary. She had spent almost all her money on the round trip ticket, with just enough left over to allow for meals. She had a sandwich from the snack trolley at teatime, but wasn’t hungry the rest of the day. So she sat there, thinking that she should get her carpetbag from the rack and read The Contracting Universe but having absolutely no desire to do so.
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