“Do you think a Kafirite Priest could have healed her?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve seen so many people healed by their priests. If Kafira is not the daughter of God, how can they work such miracles?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how magic works. I have seen Zaeri Imams perform miracles and I have seen it from Kafirite Priests, and I have even seen it from a frightening blond woman parading around in her underwear.”
Yuah laughed.
“I don’t know how any of it works,” continued Miss Hertling. “Then again, I don’t know how lighting a steam engine on fire makes it go faster either.”
“I’m sure my brother-in-law could explain that one for you.”
“Perhaps.” Miss Hertling leaned forward in her chair. “When our shrine is built here, I would like to invite you to come.”
“Is it actually going to be built?”
“Yes, just up the road. The foundation is already finished. It should be completed within the month.”
“But you don’t have an Imam.”
“That is true. But I feel confident that God will provide.”
“Perhaps you could get one from Freedonia,” suggested Yuah. “In fact, with all the strife there, so many problems, there must be many who would like to come here to Birmisia. They could start new lives here.”
“We are way ahead of you, I’m afraid. Don’t believe that there is no discrimination here though.”
Yuah pursed her lips. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“However, we have a great ally in your sister-in-law.”
“My sister-in-law?” asked Yuah, and the look on her face caused Miss Hertling to smile.
“Yes, the governor so much wants to see the colony grow, that she doesn’t even mind that it is ‘a bunch of zeets’ from Freedonia who are the new arrivals. She has, from her own pocket, paid the advance costs for three more ships to bring more refugees from Bangdorf. This after the Colonial Council voted against funding them with public funds.”
“Knowing Iolanthe,” said Yuah, “she must believe there is a profit to be made.”
“Oh, I’m sure that is the case,” replied Miss Hertling. “Nevertheless, I expect that her name will be expounded in song as the greatest Kafirite friend of our people since Princess Aarya.”
Yuah laughed again. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear that song!”
Augie was finished feeding, so she tossed him over her shoulder and patted him on the bottom until he gave a great burp. Miss Hertling held out her hands, and Yuah handed the baby to her to hold as she put back on her clothing.
“Well, I suppose I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“Not at all,” said Miss Hertling. “I am so glad that you came by. I do hope you will do so again. You should come by for dinner. I can’t fix anything as fancy as the famous meals of the Dechantagne household, but you won’t go away hungry. And that reminds me. I have you to thank for the loaf of bread you sent home with Hero. That was one more thing that I didn’t have to do this week.”
“Don’t mention it.” Yuah stood up and took back Augie from the young woman, stepping toward the door. Miss Hertling turned the simple wooden lock and opened the door for her, then followed her out. The baby was asleep again, as Yuah snuggled him into the baby carriage. She then turned to see Miss Hertling reach inside the door and pull out what at first looked like a cricket bat, but then she realized was one of the lizardman weapons, studded along the edges with sharp pieces of volcanic glass, creating a sharp edge. The young woman closed the cottage door. Then she stepped toward her.
“I think I will walk you home,” said Miss Hertling, pointing down the street.
“Thank you,” said Yuah.
Fifty yards away, three two-foot-tall, brightly feathered beasts were fighting over the remains of a small animal. They snapped at each other with long teeth-filled jaws, and ‘squawked’ loudly as they attempted to use their sickle-like three-inch claws to pull the carcass away from one another.
Chapter Three: Staff
There was chaos on the shore. Practically every citizen of Nutooka was pressed into the confines of the harbor. Some screamed. Some cried. Some waved to get the attention of the battleship off shore. No doubt all of them would have piled into small boats and rowed out to the ship, if Captain Mould had not already had all of the local boats scuttled. Even so, some of the people on shore jumped into the water, trying to swim out to the ship. The city of Nutooka itself was almost completely empty. This was not surprising, once one looked at the size of the army advancing upon it. For more than three years, the followers of the Ape god Guma and their allies, the antiforeigner Red Sashes, had built up their strength. Now they were ready to eliminate the Brechs, whose single naval installation was, they felt, the greatest blight on their great land of Enclep.
On the bridge of the battleship H.M.S. Superb, the captain and his first officer watched the locals’ panic, while several other officers hunched over a map of the region surrounding the port. Captain Mould was the youngest captain in the Royal Navy of Greater Brechalon, and looked every inch like a man capable of rising quickly in that prestigious service. His sharp nose and neatly trimmed beard gave him the look of a predatory bird, which his black eyes did nothing to diminish. He turned on his heel and looked at the men hunched over the map.
“Where are they exactly, Wizard Than?”
One of the officers, dressed no different than any of the others save a blue bar on the sleeve of his stiffly starched white uniform, waved his hand over the map and said, “Uuthanum.” A hundred tiny red dots appeared grouped in three large bunches on the map, indicating three massive arms of the approaching army.
“Whenever you are ready, Commander,” said the Captain.
“Aye, sir.”
Commander Staff seemed almost the polar opposite of his captain in some ways. Light blond and clean-shaven, his freckled face made him look far younger than his twenty-nine years. His small nose and well-formed mouth made him almost too pretty. For all that, he seemed nothing less of a naval man of action than his superior. He leaned over the ship’s phone.
“Sixteen degrees, eight minutes. Twenty-two degrees, five minutes. Elevation, make it five thousand yards. Load high explosive.”
The entire ship shook slightly as the two massive front facing turrets, each with three twelve-inch guns, turned into position. Once they were in place, Staff leaned back over the phone.
“Lay down a pattern of fire.”
Six giant guns fired, rending the air with a sound that thunder could only envy. Huge gouts of flame and monstrous clouds of acrid smoke shot across the bay. As soon as the flame was gone and the great sound began to die away, the guns fired off again. And again. And again. Three hundred massive shells were fired into the advancing army on the far side of the city of Nutooka.
“Hold fire,” said Staff into the phone. The thundering of the cannons ceased.
“Are they getting the message, Wizard Than?” asked the Captain.
The wizard and the other officers watched the red dots across the map. They began to spread out from the three masses of their original formation into an even dispersion throughout the jungle.
“Just what we hoped for, Captain,” said the wizard.
“You know what to do, Mr. Staff.”
Once again, Staff leaned over the phone. “Raise elevation to seven thousand yards. Load anti-personnel.” Then turning back to Captain Mould. “Ready, sir.”
“At your discretion, Mr. Staff.”
“Lay down your pattern of fire.”
The six giant guns began firing again. While the first three hundred shells had just grazed the advancing forces’ front, this extended volley fell right in their midst. The raised elevation spread the falling shells throughout the army. The first wave of fire, laid down with high explosive shells that had blown up upon impact, created huge craters in the jungle battlefield and knocked down thousands of trees. This second attack was made with ant
i-personnel shells, which burst upon impact releasing tens of thousands of flechettes, needle-like bits of iron, which then flew in all directions, slicing through the warriors on the ground and their terror-bird mounts, like hot tacks through butter. Captain Mould and Commander Staff stepped back to lean over the officers and look at the map. The red dots, indicating the cult fighters and the Red Sash terrorists were disappearing from the paper. The red dots were fading away not in ones and twos, but in hundreds, in thousands. By the time three hundred shells had been fired, only a tiny fraction of the symbols representing the enemy remained.
“All right Mr. Staff, hold fire.”
“Hold fire,” called Staff into the ship’s phone. The great cannons became quiet.
“Mr. Rise.” The captain turned his attention to the man inside the nearby wireless room. “Signal Major Black to advance.”
Captain Mould stepped stiffly back to the other officers watching the map. A line of blue dots began sweeping across the map from the far right side. These dots represented the contingent of Royal Marines, whose job it would be to finish off the enemy and who ironically enough were dressed in their bright red coats and white pith helmets. The captain nodded in satisfaction at the outcome of the operation. With any luck, it would be a permanent blow to the forces of instability in Enclep. If not that, at least it would set them back years.
“Commander Staff, it looks as though you will be able to make your rendezvous with the S.S. Arrow.”
“Yes, Sir.”
* * * * *
One month later, as the winter wind whipped through his blond hair, Radley Staff climbed up the long rope ladder to the deck of the cruise ship S.S. Arrow. The launch, which had carried him from the Superb, turned and the stout seamen rowed it back across the choppy sea. At the top of the ladder, he climbed through the opening in the railing and stepped onto the deck. The purser was there to greet him.
“Welcome aboard. Glad to have you with us, Commander Staff.”
“It’s just Mr. Staff now.”
“Yes, of course. The captain has asked me to inform you that even though we only have a second class cabin available for you, you will have access to all the first class amenities.”
“That’s very nice. Thank you.”
The purser smiled broadly. “The cabin boy will show you the way.”
“Thank you.”
The cabin boy, a lad of about ten years, lifted Staff’s duffle bag to his shoulder, and headed across the damp deck toward an open hatch. Unlike the hatches on the battleship, this one resembled the door of a building. Staff followed the youth inside and then down three narrow sets of stairs, up a long narrow corridor and finally through another door into a small room. At six feet wide and sixteen feet long, the second class cabin was actually larger than the first officer’s quarters on Superb. The boy sat the duffle bag next to the bed, and Staff handed him a silver ten pfennig piece. Saluting, the boy left, closing the door after him.
Staff sat down on the edge of the bed. Pulling the duffle bag strings open, he reached in and pulled out the pieces of his wardrobe, setting them on the bed beside him. He had made his way about halfway to the bottom, when he reached his shaving kit. Sitting atop of it was the letter. He looked at it for a moment, and then unfolded it. The fold lines were so pressed into the paper now that they seemed the most permanent part of it. The ink was faded, but still legible.
Dear Lieutenant Staff,
I wanted to let you know that I will be marrying soon. Please do not write and please do not return. I wish things could have been different. Good-bye.
Sincerely,
Iolanthe.
He must have read it forty-five thousand times, but he read it again anyway. Thirty-five words. Not a lot of wasted ones. Not a lot of wasted emotion, either. He folded the letter back up and placed it along with his shaving kit, on the small vanity next to the bed. Taking out the last of his clothes, he put his socks in the single drawer, left the rest of his clothing sitting on the bed, and taking his extra pair of shoes, he stood up and stepped out the door of the cabin. He placed his shoes in the hallway by the door and walked up the hallway toward the ships bow.
He had passed five or six cabins when one of the doors opened and a cabin boy stepped out. Staff wasn’t sure if it was the same boy who had escorted him to his own cabin. The boy looked up.
“I need my clothes pressed,” said Staff.
“Yes, sir. Cabin?”
“213.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And which way is the first class lounge?”
“Straight ahead, sir. Up the first staircase on your right. Royal deck. Third one up.”
“Thanks.”
Staff followed the boy’s directions and found the first class lounge with no problem. Though he wore a new suit that he had purchased in Nutooka, he felt decidedly underdressed. The dozen people in the spacious room already wore their evening clothes though it was only sixteen hundred hours. Four PM, he mentally corrected himself. A beautiful raven-haired woman, in an iridescent purple taffeta ball gown with beaded and sequined trim, sat at the piano, playing a wistful tune.
Most everyone in the lounge was seated in the large comfortable stuffed chairs, which were placed in large groupings. No one was at the bar, so Staff set that as his destination. The dark mahogany bar was massive, ornately carved, and so polished that patrons could see themselves as though they were looking into a mirror. The bartender was a small balding man with a thin black mustache in white shirtsleeves. He looked up inquiringly as Staff stopped in front of him.
“Whiskey. Rocks.”
A moment later the bartender placed the drink in front of him. Carefully sipping, Staff was momentarily surprised at how good it tasted. It had been a long time since he had really fine Brech whiskey. The concoctions that sailors smuggled aboard ship or found in port often left much to be desired.
He turned and watched the piano player. Her thick black hair was styled into a complex Mirsannan twist and decorated with five or six small purple bows. Her dark eyes were unfixed as though she were interested only in the melody she played. Her thick lips were painted a deep purple that almost matched her dress. Staff continued to watch her as he finished his drink and ordered a second.
Two men dressed in expensive evening suits entered the lounge and made their way across the room to stand next to the former naval officer. Both were in their late fifties, the first with thinning grey hair and a thick black mustache. The second man was clean-shaven, with jowls that shook when he talked, and had a thick pile of white hair.
“Two glasses of fortified white,” the first man ordered from the bartender. Then he turned back to his companion. “I’m telling you now Shannon, you won’t be sorry you came and you won’t be sorry we brought our crew with us. There’s no time to waste.”
“I know,” said the jowly man. “I just hate traveling in Hamonth. It’s bad luck, you know.”
“No. It’s bad luck to start a journey in Hamonth. We’re already at sea. Did you ever hear that it was bad luck to start a journey in Kafirius?”
“No.”
“Well, there you go. If anything, it’s good luck. We’ve got to move quickly too, you know. The latest report is that the railroad will reach Port Dechantagne by the end of Festuary.”
“That soon?”
“Yes. Say,” the first man tapped Staff on the shoulder. “Don’t I know you?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Staff, keeping his eyes on the piano player.
“But you’re a navy man, right? An officer?”
“I was.”
“Did you serve in Birmisia?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Allow me to make an introduction. I’m Alastair Merchant, and this is my partner Wendell P. Shannon.”
“Merchant and Shannon,” said Staff, turning to shake hands. “Like the shipping lines.”
“The very same.”
“Radley Staff, late a commander in His Majesty’s
Royal Navy.”
“A pleasure to meet you. We’re on our way to Birmisia to conduct a little business and we could use a man who knows the lay of the land. Somebody who’s been there, knows how things are done. Say, I’ll bet you even know the royal governor.”
“We’ve met.”
“Fantastic,” Merchant turned to Shannon. “It looks like fortune has smiled on us again.”
Shannon nodded.
“Don’t you have people in Mallontah who could help you?” wondered Staff.
“Yes, we have an office in St. Ulixes. That’s a shipping office though. In fact, we have people right here on the ship that are going to open an office in Birmisia too. This is going to be the beginning of regular service, you know.”
“You own this ship?”
“Yes, yes. We bought the Arrow Line last year. Arrow and her sister ship Comet. We’re going to make as much money bringing passengers over as we are shipping freight on the continent. You wouldn’t believe how people in Brechalon and Freedonia are lining up to come to the new world.”
“What do you need me for then?”
“Opportunity, my boy,” said Shannon. “Opportunity.”
“Yes, yes,” continued Merchant. “There are more opportunities to be had in Birmisia than just bringing over passengers and freight. Lenahan Norich has already procured the timber rights to six million acres. As soon as the railroad arrives he’s going to be raking in marks hand over fist. We’ve been writing to the royal governor about coal rights, but she’s being coy.”
“Don’t underestimate her,” warned Staff. “She can be… formidable.”
“A real dragon-lady, I hear,” said Shannon.
“All right, what’s the offer?” asked Staff.
“You come to work for us,” said Merchant. “As what? President? President of M&S Coal. Thirty thousand marks a year.”
The Drache Girl Page 4
