“Good job Rusty,” said Shrubb, patting the trolley-sized monster on the haunch.
Shrubb put a pfennig in the class box next to the driver and pointed a thumb at Wissinger. “It’s for him.”
They traveled only about a half-mile before hopping off the trolley at the very next stop. A quick walk across an empty lot brought them to another street and to the front of a cozy little house with smoke pouring from a stone chimney. Little blue flowers lined a stone path to a whitewashed front door. When they stopped at the threshold, the PC rapped smartly on the doorframe. A woman of about fifty opened the door. She was a bit chubby with a pleasant, round face, her hair bun just starting to come lose, allowing a few strands of still lustrous brown hair to fall across her face. The front of her apron was covered with flour, as was one of her cheeks.
“Hello Eamon,” she said, looking inquiringly at them.
“Hello Magda,” he replied. “May I introduce Isaak Wissinger?”
The woman launched herself at the writer, grasping him so tightly around the middle that he couldn’t breathe.
“Oh cousin Isaak! Welcome, welcome!”
“I… I…” he had to pry her away to be able to speak. “I’m sorry but I don’t remember you.”
“Of course you don’t. We’ve never met. Oh, Zossef will be so excited that his famous cousin has come to stay with us. He will want to prepare your room for you as soon as he gets home, and tonight we will have a celebratory feast. I hope you like strudel. Well who doesn’t like strudel?”
She shoved him backwards and he landed in an old overstuffed chair, only then realizing that she had somehow managed to maneuver him into the house and across the small parlor, and that the police constable had left.
“I don’t think anyone doesn’t like strudel,” he said, thinking to himself even as he said it, that this was a very poorly constructed sentence.
“Of course they don’t!” his new cousin exclaimed, clapping her hands together and staring at him like he was a treasure pulled from the depths of the ocean.
* * * * *
Senta arrived back at the tower as a passenger in Saba Colbshallow’s carriage. After parking on the street, he came around and helped her from her seat. They had been silent all the way home and they continued in silence to the front door. Once inside, Senta gestured toward the comfy chair.
“Wait here and I’ll be down soon.”
Saba nodded and sat down, while the young sorceress ascended two flights of stairs to her room. Waving a hand, she sent faucet handles on her tub spinning and bath salts flying from the box into the warm water. After taking one quick look inside, she slid her carpetbag under her bed. Then she peeled off her clothes and tossed them onto the floor where her doll dutifully began dragging them to the hamper. Easing herself into the tub, she delighted in the luxuriousness of the warm water, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths.
“Tell me why the police have invaded my home,” said a voice just above her.
Senta opened her eyes and saw Zurfina standing above her, dressed as only the elder sorceress would dare—a rubber corset, a rubber skirt that barely covered her bits and boots that covered her legs up almost, but not quite, to the bottom of the skirt. She had her hair spiked out and her eyes were thickly lined with charcoal. For a moment, Senta wanted nothing more than to jump up and fall into her mistress’s arms, but then the memory of the past few weeks worked its way into the front of her brain.
“Oh, back, are you?”
“I’ve been back for days,” said Zurfina, her uniquely deep, sultry voice almost hypnotic. “Why are the police in my home?”
“I’m under arrest, that’s why.”
Zurfina stared at her for almost a minute. “No, that’s totally unacceptable. What have I always told you about allowing yourself to be arrested?”
“I don’t believe you’ve ever said anything about it at all,” said Senta.
“What did you do that was so bad then?”
“I blew up half of Mallontah, I guess.”
“Oh, nobody cares about Mallontah. It’s a dreadful place.” Zurfina paced across the room. “I suppose you were there to pick up my package.”
“Package? What package would that be?”
“My writer from Freedonia.”
“Oh, Mr. Wissinger,” said Senta, tilting her head back to submerge her hair. “He’s here in town. I suppose you can enjoy his company while I rot away in prison.”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Zurfina, and then arched her brow. “Did you pick up anything else on your trip?”
“No.”
“You’re sure you didn’t bring anything else home with you?”
“No, nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll see that you don’t go to prison. However, you have to admit my little absence has shown just how immature and unready you are, hasn’t it.”
“What do you mean?” asked Senta, standing up, stepping out of the tub, and reaching for a towel.
“Making multiple mirror images of yourself, throwing fireballs about with wild abandon, attacking people in restaurants, sneaking around in my study, and releasing my quasits to spy on yourself—it’s a wonder there’s anything left of Birmisia, let alone Mallontah.” Zurfina crossed her arms and smiled. “You know everyone hates you now, don’t you?”
“You did this to me,” said Senta, her eyes wide. “You set me up. You left me here all alone with all your responsibilities, and you somehow knew all the time what would happen. You knew exactly what would happen! You made me get into all this trouble! It’s all your fault! You’re a flipping monster, you are!”
“Don’t you raise your voice to me, you little bint,” Zurfina hissed. “You did this to yourself. Deal with it yourself, then.”
* * * * *
Wissinger sipped tea at a little table in the yard behind his cousin’s home. Zossef and his wife had made him most welcome. They had made up a room for him and even given him some clothes to wear, but he was determined to go out and find a job as soon as possible, and buy some of his own things. Maybe he would get his own apartment.
The squawking of the strange Birmisian birds called microraptors in the tree nearby alerted him that something was amiss just seconds before Zurfina walked around the corner of the house. She was dressed all in leather, but somehow after all he had seen and been through, it no longer looked that out of place.
“Huh,” he said.
“What is it, lover? Are you happy to see me?”
“No, I mean yes of course, but it’s just that it never occurred to me that you might just walk places.”
“I don’t make a habit of it,” she sniffed.
“Would you care to sit down?” he asked, standing up and pulling out the other chair for her.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she said, sitting.
“How is your apprentice?”
“Being a twonk, as usual.” She rolled her eyes. “One would think that she was the only person in the world who ever had to contemplate a life in prison.”
“She’s probably scared,” said Wissinger. “She’s just a girl, after all.”
“Yes, yes, I don’t want to talk about her anymore. I would much rather talk about me.”
“You mean us?”
“If you say so.”
“Yes, well in any case,” said Wissinger. “Thank you for helping me, um, all that you’ve done. But I was wondering why… why you went to so much trouble.”
Zurfina climbed out of her own chair and flowed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and sticking her tongue in his ear.
“Oh, I have this thing for creative men—men like you. I want you.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. I want you and I shall have you. You shall be my lover—for just as long as I continue to want you, and not a moment more.”
* * * * *
Senta moved her marble from one spot on the Argrathian checkers board to another and then watc
hed Hero triple jump her, collecting three of her four remaining marbles. The board sat between them and Hertzel watched from the third seat.
“I appreciate you guys coming over to keep me company,” said Senta. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to though.”
“Of course we do,” replied Hero. “We can’t let you stay all alone while you’re…”
“You can say it. While I’m under house arrest.”
“It’s only temporary,” said Hero and her brother nodded vigorously. “It’s been three days. Surely they won’t hold you much longer.”
“Hertzel, have you seen Graham?”
The boy shrugged.
“So you saw him, but he refused to come and see me?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have told him that you turned that Nellie girl into a cat and put her on a freighter for Natine,” suggested Hero.
“I was only kidding. You know I would never do anything like that.”
“Of course,” said Hero’s mouth, though her eyes said she wasn’t completely sure.
Senta played two more games, one against each of the twins, and then they packed up the board and headed home. Senta magically crafted a meal of bangers and mash from the now full cupboard and froredor, and Zurfina came down to the table. They ate in complete silence, having not said a word to each other in three days.
It was already dark outside and she was watching the dishes magically clean themselves when Senta heard a knock at the door. Opening it, she found Graham standing in the small patch of light streaming out from the lamp by the door. He held his hands behind his back and stared at his feet as he kicked at something invisible. The young sorceress couldn’t help herself. Jumping forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed.
“Come in,” she said, practically dragging him through the door. “What are you doing out after nightfall?”
“I had to come and see you,” he said, “and to, um, apologize.”
“Apologize for what? I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”
“I apologize for not believing you about Nellie. I got a letter from her, saying she was on her way home via St. Ulixes, and that she was safe.”
“I was in St. Ulixes, right about that time too,” said Senta, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you think that maybe I forged a letter from her?”
“Well, yes frankly, but I um, had it… authenticated.”
“How’d you do that?”
“I had Mr. Vever compare the handwriting.”
“Here and I thought he was just a jeweler.”
“Oh, no. He’s very good at that sort of thing. The police have him check documents and such. Plus, he has that little eye glass thingy—a loupe, they call it.”
“Well, anyway,” said Senta, pushing the boy down into the chair by the wood burning stove, and perching herself on the chair’s arm. “What does little Miss Ginger say?”
“Just some stuff. She’s safe, and um, she wants me to look her up if I’m ever in Brech City.”
“So, will you?”
“Of course not,” said Graham. “I’m never going back to Brechalon, um, not that I would anyway. What I mean is that everything I want is here in Birmisia.”
He lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “You’re here.”
“What if I go to prison for a hundred years?”
“I’ll wait for you.”
Senta smiled. “I seem to recall that I owe you something.”
Before Graham could move, she bent down and kissed him gently on the lips.
* * * * *
Senta was eating breakfast the next morning, still thinking about that kiss, and the cute way that Graham had scurried out of the house afterwards. Like a frightened little deer. She smiled to herself and took another bite of egg. At that moment Zurfina stomped down the stairs and swiftly crossed to the front door.
“Where are you off to then?” asked Senta.
“Out,” said her mistress, stiffly. “I’m ordering the construction of a barn, for our boy.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Thank you,” said Zurfina, visibly softening. “He’s worried about you, you know. You should go see him as soon as possible.”
“If I ever get free.”
“Oh, you’ll be free this afternoon. I have a sense for such things.”
Not thirty minutes after Zurfina had left, someone knocked on the door. Opening it, Senta found Saba Colbshallow’s smiling face.
“Good news,” he said. “The charges have been dropped. You’re a free… little girl.”
“Tosser,” said Senta. “So Zurfina got me lose, did she?”
“Kafira, do you even know her? Zurfina didn’t do anything for you. Did you really expect her to? At least Governor Staff put in a good word for you. In the end though, it was the Ministry of War. Seems they chose to blame everything on Freedonian Wizards.”
“I suppose I have friends in high places,” said Senta, wondering if she really did.
“Don’t let it go to your head. It was a fluke.”
“Thank you for coming in person to tell me.”
“Well,” he said, with a crooked smile. “You know… don’t you?”
“Yes, I know,” she said, closing the door in his face.
Making her way upstairs to her room, Senta pulled her carpetbag from beneath the bed. Opening it, she carefully lifted out the beautiful, perfectly round dragon’s egg. It was warm—almost too warm to hold with her bare hands. Almost.
Carefully stroking it, she whispered, “Who are you in there?”
The End
About the Author
Wesley Allison has served as a public school teacher for the past 18 years, so buying one of his books could well keep his family above the poverty line. He has a Bachelor of Science degree from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas and a Master of Science degree from Nova Southeastern University in Florida. He still teaches English and American History in southern Nevada where he lives with his lovely wife Victoria, his two grown children Rebecca and John, and a large iguana named Cissy.
For more information about the author and upcoming books:
Visit the City of Amathar Blog at http://amathar.blogspot.com.
Visit the Author Wesley Allison page on Facebook.
You are also invited to visit the Facebook fan page for this book.
Books by Wesley Allison
Look for them wherever fine ebooks are sold. Select titles are also available in traditional paper formats at the City of Amathar Blog and by special order from your favorite bookseller.
Princess of Amathar
Transported to the artificial world of Ecos, Earth man Alexander Ashton struggles to understand the society of his new friends the Amatharians. As he does so, he finds himself falling in love with their princess and being thrust into a millennium-long war with their mortal foes the reptilian Zoasians. Princess of Amathar is a sword-swinging novel of high adventure.
His Robot Girlfriend
Mike Smith's life was crap, living all alone, years after his wife had died and his children had grown up and moved away. Then he saw the commercial for the Daffodil. Far more than other robots, the Daffodil could become anything and everything he wanted it to be. Mike's life is about to change.
His Robot Wife
In His Robot Wife, the novella-length sequel to His Robot Girlfriend, it is the year 2037 and Mike has been married to his robot wife, Patience, for five years. Troubles are on the horizon though. Prop 22 promises to annul marriages between humans and robots. And Patience hasn’t quite been herself. Is there something wrong, or does she just need a software upgrade?
Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess
Eaglethorpe Buxton, famed adventurer and story-teller, friend to those in need of a friend and guardian to those in need of a guardian. He is a liar and braggart, not to be trusted, especially around pies. Who are we to believe? Buxton himself leads us through his world as he comes to the aid of… a poor orphan?
An elven princess? Who can guess with Eaglethorpe himself telling the tale?
Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Sorceress
Eaglethorpe Buxton, famed adventurer and story-teller is back, this time to put on a play about a sorceress. When the sorceress, subject of his play arrives with fire in her eyes, Eaglethorpe must pretend to be his good friend Ellwood. Will he pull off this charade and survive? And what happens when the real Ellwood shows up? One can never tell, especially when Eaglethorpe tells the story.
Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 0: Brechalon
Brechalon is the novella-length prequel to The Voyage of the Minotaur and the books which follow in the story of Senta and the Steel Dragon. Meet the people who will change a world-- the Dechantagnes, wealthy siblings from a disgraced aristocratic family who plot their revenge; the imprisoned sorceress Zurfina; and Senta, the orphan girl who will one day rise to great fame and power.
Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 1: The Voyage of the Minotaur
In a world of steam power and rifles, where magic has not yet been forgotten, an expedition sets out to establish a colony in a lost world. The Voyage of the Minotaur is a story of adventure and magic, religion and prejudice, steam engines and dinosaurs, angels and lizardmen, machine guns and wizards, sorceresses, bustles and corsets, steam-powered computers, hot air balloons, and dragons.
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