There was no getting around it. She had to get out of bed to put on her clothes. Then she would be able to go downstairs and get warm by the stove. As she dressed, she thought that Zurfina had come as close to normal clothes as she was likely to. She slipped into knee high black socks first, and then long white bloomers that came down to her shins. Not one, not two, but five petticoats, short ones, just below the knee, came next. Over that was a knee length black dress, just short enough that the petticoats were clearly visible, and of course the bottom eight inches of her bloomers were in plain view. The dress had long sleeves and a collar that went right up to Senta’s chin. Finally, over the top of everything, she slipped on a white overdress, sleeveless, and about eight inches shorter than the black dress. Stepping over to the cheval glass, Senta had to admit that it was a cute outfit, white on black on white on black, but it made her look like a little girl. Strike that, it made her look like a doll.
Frowning for a moment, Senta ran through the doorway and into the other room on the second floor of the house. This room was well lit now from the morning light. It had four large windows, where Senta’s bedroom had only one. The room was sparsely decorated, with two bookcases along the wall and in between them, an old, overstuffed chair. Just to the right of this arrangement was the wood-burning stove that seldom saw much use. In the center of the room was a thick animal skin rug. Across from the stove was a big chest that held the few toys that Zurfina had given her in the three years that they had been together. Walking warily over to the toy chest, Senta found her doll, the doll she used to take everywhere, but she hadn’t even taken out in months. Sure enough, it was dressed exactly like she was. Something was wrong with the dolls hair, too. Grabbing it and running back into the bedroom, she stood once again in front of the cheval glass. Sure enough, the doll had the same messed up bed hair that she did.
“Who’s cooking?” said Senta, as she came down the bottom steps of the staircase, still carrying the doll.
“I am,” said her friend Hero, cracking eggs into a heavy iron skillet at the stove.
Hero was dressed as she always was, in simple black, white, and brown clothing. Today, she didn’t look all that different from Senta, though Hero’s dress went all the way to the ground, as all proper dresses ought.
“How come?” asked Senta.
“I got here a little while ago. Bessemer had the stove going, and he said you weren’t up yet.”
“Well, make enough for everybody. Zurfina likes two eggs.”
“Oh, I already ate,” replied Hero. “And Bessemer’s gone.”
“Where did he go, then?”
“Didn’t say. I think he…” Hero put her hand over her mouth. Senta couldn’t tell if she was stifling a laugh or a gasp, but she turned around to see what the girl was gaping at. She watched the sorceress descend to the bottom of the stairs. She had on a black and white outfit just like Senta’s. If it made Senta look like a doll, it made Zurfina look bizarre.
“Sunny side up,” said Zurfina.
Senta looked at her mistress, crossing her arms over her chest, holding the doll to her so that it looked out over her arms.
“If you’re going to do the same hairstyle as me, you’re going to have to cover up your bald spot, you know.”
“Cheeky monkey!” snapped Zurfina. “Bald spot, indeed.” She walked slowly around the room, rubbing the location just above her right ear.
“It’s not really that bad,” said Hero. Then her eyes went large as she suddenly remembered to whom she was speaking. She turned quickly back around to face the skillet.
Zurfina stepped close to the dark haired girl and spoke into her ear. “I don’t have a bald spot.”
“She got it when that wizard attacked us,” said Senta.
Hero nodded without turning around to look at either of them.
“Come away from her.” Senta told her guardian. “You know she’s afraid of you.”
“Yes,” said Zurfina. “I never get tired of that.”
“Breakfast.” Hero’s voice was barely audible, even in the quiet little room.
There was more than enough breakfast—sausages, eggs, warmed bread, and hot tea—to fill up both the sorceress and her apprentice. They ate at the table, and though she had to be encouraged, Hero sat with them. As she was comfortable neither in the seat to Zurfina’s right, nor in the seat directly across from her, she pulled her chair very close to Senta’s left, and faced the door.
Once breakfast was done, it was time for magic. Hero took the dishes to the basin, but it was more to get out of the way than because of any desire to help clean up. Zurfina lifted Senta’s chin and looked down at her.
“You see them, of course?”
“The glamours? Sure.”
Floating around the sorceress’s head, orbiting it as moons orbit a planet, were small colorful gem-like objects. Though Senta could plainly see them, she knew that they were invisible to anyone else. These were glamours—spells that Zurfina had already cast, and had placed in a kind of magical storage, from which they could be released at any time. There were dozens of red, green, and blue ones. There were quite a few clear ones and half a dozen purple ones. There were two black ones. The sorceress plucked one of the clear ones from the air and squished it. Then she pointed first at her own head, and then at the girl’s. Both their hair swirled around as though they were in tiny hurricanes. When they stopped, both the woman and the girl had the same, highly intricate hairstyle.
Their long blond hair was parted in the middle and braided into three ropes. The braids were brought forward over the crown of their heads. Throughout the braids and evenly spaced across the rest of their hair were pearls. More pearls were laid in the waves at their temples, and a black velvet diadem, a band of cloth itself inlaid with pearls, was bound over the tops of their foreheads, down the sides, to fasten at the backs of their necks. The entire effect was striking, beautiful, and very extravagant. Though the style de-emphasized the bald spot on Zurfina’s head, it was still there.
“Oh my,” said Hero. “You look like princesses.”
“Yep,” said Senta. “Princess hair. Doll bodies.”
Chapter Five: Police Constable Colbshallow
“Eat more,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “You’re skin and bones.”
“I’m full up, Mother,” said her son.
Saba Colbshallow was full up, too. He had eaten a full breakfast this morning at the Dechantagne family home, and sat back to enjoy his morning tea. Around the large pine table sat his mother, Mrs. Dechantagne, Mrs. Godwin, little Iolana Calliere and at the head of the table Professor Merced Calliere. Mrs. Dechantagne’s baby was in the next room, being rocked in a cradle by one of the reptilian servants, and Governor Dechantagne-Calliere, who normally sat at the other end of the table from her husband, was not present at breakfast this morning.
“I’m sorry that I missed Mrs. C,” said Saba, though he wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. He had known her all his life, and had been in love with her from the time he was five and she was a striking, sixteen year old beauty, until he was seven and she was a very bossy eighteen-year-old. Then his affections had been switched to Mrs. Dechantagne, who back then had just been Yuah Korlann, and who had grown up to be a bit prettier and much nicer.
“She’s quite busy this morning,” said the professor, setting aside the book that he had been reading. “You’ll be quite busy too, I dare say. Another ship came in last night.”
“So I heard. Mirsannan freighter. Mostly cargo, but I bet there’ll be a couple of poofs out causing trouble.”
“Quite,” said the professor, saluting with his teacup. “Don’t let us keep you from your duty then, officer.”
“Right.” Saba drained his teacup and stood up, pushing in the chair as he left the table. He picked up his constabulary helmet from the small table in front of the window. It had gold braid around its base, a large gold star on the front, and a gold spike on the very top. Of course it was navy blue, just like
his uniform.
“Look at my boy,” said his mother. “He looks like a right man, doesn’t he? An officer of the peace.”
“You look just dashing,” said Mrs. Dechantagne, which made Saba blush a bit. He bowed low to her, saluted everyone else, and then headed out the front door, which one of the lizardmen servants held open for him.
Saba was quite proud of his position as one of the first two constables on the police force in Port Dechantagne. In fact, he could well say that he was the first constable, since he had badge number one, and Eamon Shrubb had badge number two. Even though he was only twenty, Saba had worked hard for this position. He had signed on to the Colonial Militia when he was only sixteen, eventually becoming the youngest sergeant at any time before or since. He had served his two years with what he thought was distinction and had volunteered for an extra year. Now he was a copper. Anyone who knew Saba recognized that few deserved a spot in the new police department more than he did. Anyone who knew the royal governor knew that she would not have sponsored him for the position just because she had known him all his life.
“Good morning, constable,” called a woman in a plain brown dress with a brown shawl thrown across her shoulders and a brown bonnet on her head, pushing a wheelbarrow down the gravel road.
“Good morning to you, Mrs. Eamsham. Do you need a hand with that?”
“Heavens no. I was just taking the slop from the neighborhood out to the pigs and dinosaurs.”
“That’s a good five miles pushing that thing. You be sure and take several rest stops along the way.”
Mrs. Eamsham nodded and turned the corner heading for Town Square. Saba continued walking into the southwestern part of the town, where the homes sat on larger lots, but were not necessarily larger themselves. The leaves had long gone from the maples and the other deciduous trees, but the pines and cedars were still glorious green. A chill wind whipped here and there, but did nothing to Saba but turn his cheeks a little redder. His wool uniform was exceedingly warm.
Suddenly he heard gunfire erupting from directly in front of him. One, two shots. Then a pause. Then one, two, three, four, five, six, pause. He looked up above the trees and saw a flash of steel shoot across the sky.
“Oh, bloody hell!” he shouted and ran at top speed in the direction of the gunfire. That he carried no other weapon than a heavy truncheon worried him not a bit. Two men with military issue service rifles, but wearing expensive hunting clothes, stood in the middle of the gravel road.
“Guns down!” yelled Saba, as he skidded to a stop in front of them. “Drop your guns now!”
“See here chap,” said the first man, his accent labeling him as plainly as if he had worn a placard that he was from Old Town Brech. He must have been very new to the colony, because Saba made it a custom to get to know everyone, and neither of these men he recognized.
“We’re doing nothing illegal,” said the second man. “Just shooting some pests.”
“What exactly were you shooting?”
“We heard from some of the neighbors that these velocipedes….”
“Velociraptors,” Saba corrected.
“Yes, them. They’ve been a menace lately, to the point of endangering the local children.”
“Quite,” said the first man. “We went out to put a few down and found a small group digging right into those garbage bins. We shot a few and killed two, I think, but one took off and flew into the trees.”
“If you listen to me very, and I do mean very, carefully,” said Saba. “I just might be able to save your lives. Lay your rifles down on the ground.”
“But I don’t under….”
“Do it!”
The men leaned over and carefully placed their weapons on the white gravel road.
“Nobody told you velociraptors don’t fly?”
A loud whomp made all three men jump, and they found themselves standing next to a pony-sized reptile with twenty foot wings, and more importantly a mouth open large enough to swallow a human head. Steel scales reflected the light from the winter morning sky like shields and swords on a forgotten battlefield. The steel dragon let out a huge roar, rending the air with a noise that must have been heard all over Port Dechantagne. Little puffs of smoke flew out of his mouth at the two men as well as bits of saliva which burst into little sparks in the air.
“They bloody shot me!” The dragon’s four-word sentence disintegrated into another roar of rage.
One of the hunters started to bend over for his rifle. Saba stepped on the gun and put his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Let me see your injury, Bessemer,” he said. The dragon folded its left wing, and held out the right wing showing an ugly lead mark on a shiny steel scale about midway between the first joint and the shoulder.
“It doesn’t look that bad,” said Saba. “And you know this was an accident. They were trying to knock off some velociraptors.”
“So was I,” said Bessemer. “I didn’t expect it would get me shot!”
“It was an accident, honest and truly,” said the first hunter, shaking a little. “Maybe we can make it up to you.”
“There was a time,” said Bessemer, “when the only acceptable payment for this type of transgression was a virgin given at midnight on the full moon.” Then he burst out laughing. “Of course I didn’t mean you, Saba.”
The two hunters laughed, a bit nervously, along with the dragon, happy that the anger he had arrived with seemed to be going away.
“Well, no harm then,” said one.
“You daft fools,” said Saba, looking down the road. “He’s the least one of your problems.”
By this time, neighbors from six or seven close by houses had come out to see what all the shooting and roaring was about. Saba saw it first, because he had been watching and knew just what to look for—a black and white streak was racing down the road toward them. And it was coming up quickly, headed directly for the two hunters. Saba reached out and caught it as it zipped by him, all spitfire and claws.
“Settle down girl,” he said, holding Senta around the waist and lifting her feet, which were still running, off the ground. She kicked and hissed for another moment and then stopped. He set her down. She stuck out her index finger at the two men. Saba grabbed her by the wrist. “None of that.”
He turned to the two men. “You’d best be on your way home, in case the big one comes along.”
“The big one?”
“I’ll boil your giblets!” hissed the girl.
“Bloody hell, man. Did you not bother to find out about where you were going to be living? You’ve already got Zurfina’s dragon and Zurfina’s apprentice after you. Do you want to wait around for Zurfina herself?”
Both the men turned the color of porridge. “The sorceress?” asked one.
“Yep.”
“We’ll… We’ll just head home, then.” The two men bent down and picked up their rifles and scurried away at a quick walk, glancing nervously over their shoulders as they went.
“Run now!” yelled Senta after them. “I’ll find you and then…”
“Little girls do not go around threatening people,” said Saba, turning her by the shoulders to face him. “It’s not even nine o’clock. You should wait till at least noon before boiling people’s giblets. Trust me, I know. My mother’s a cook.”
She stuck out her lip. “I’m not a little girl.”
“Of course you’re not. You’re a very frightening sorceress, with a very nice hairstyle, I might add.”
“Thanks.” She blushed for just a moment and then broke away from his hands to rush over to the dragon, throwing her arms around his thick serpentine neck. “Are you all right, baby?”
The dragon’s voice, which normally put one in mind of a young man, went high and weak and pathetic sounding. “I’ve got an owie on my wing.”
“And you just let them go,” growled the girl, looking at Saba.
“He’s fine. Their only real crime is being too stupid to own rifles. An
d if that really were a crime, I wouldn’t have room to hold all the men I arrested.”
She scrunched her nose at him, and stuck out her tongue.
“He really is fine. He was going to eat them a moment ago. Take him home and put some silver polish on that scale or something.”
“Come on, baby,” said Senta, leading the dragon away by the head. “I’ll fix you all up and make you some tea.”
“Okay,” said the dragon, pitifully.
“And you leave those men alone. I’ll be watching,” said Saba, though the girl did not look back. Then he turned to see the ten or twelve neighbors, watching. “Go on back to your homes. Nothing to see here.” He spotted Rorin Lander. “Rorin, there’re a couple of dead velociraptors down by Mrs. Madderchar’s. How about disposing of them before the smell of blood brings around something worse.”
“I’m on it,” said Rorin, starting back toward his house to get his wheelbarrow and shovel.
“Never mind,” called the dragon, its voice now back to its normal tone. “I’ll eat them.”
“Never mind Rorin,” said Saba.
“Right-O”
Saba turned north, going in the opposite direction from Senta and the dragon. He passed three houses, the third of which was the one he was sure had been leased by the two rifle-toting newcomers. He hung around the front for a quarter of an hour, strolling around nonchalantly, just to make sure that the sorceress’s apprentice didn’t show up to exact any vengeance. He mentally reminded himself that the same went for the sorceress herself, though what he would be able to do if she was to show up completely eluded him. Taking a quick look at his gold pocket watch, he continued on his way.
Walking north on the gravel road, which was officially Bainbridge Clark Street, Saba passed a road crew of five lizardmen and their human foreman. They were moving very slowly in the cool morning air. Within a month, most would stop showing up for work at all, and the repair of roads, building of sewers, and installation of gas lines would be suspended for the winter as the few lizzies who did show up would be put to work on the docks. Saba thought it fitting that the reptiles were repairing Bainbridge Clark Street, as Bainbridge Clark the man had been instrumental in stopping the lizardman army of King Ssithtsutsu, when it had attacked the colony. He had later been Saba’s sergeant in the militia, and a friend. Sadly, Saba’s first call as a constable had been to find Clark’s dead body, in bed, at the home of Miss Tabby Malloy; better than taking a lizardman spear or being eaten by dinosaurs.
The Drache Girl Page 7
